Tempting the Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  “Am I going too fast?” she asked, looking not the least bit worried that she might be.

  He took hold of her hips, stilling her movement. “Aye, I’m thinking ya are, lass. If we don’t slow down, this whole place will go up in flames.”

  She blinked in confusion, looked around the cabin, then shot him a glorious smile. “Did you do that?”

  “Nay, little Cat, you did.”

  Her lovely chest puffed up until her breasts all but spilled from her bra. Robbie reached up and covered them with his hands, feeling her nipples pushing into his palms through the lace. She reached behind her back, undid the clasp of her bra, and slid the straps off her shoulders until only his hands were holding it in place. He let the bra drop down to his own chest and quickly returned his hands to her naked breasts. She threw her head back with a moan of pleasure, placed her hands over his, and moved her hips along the length of his shaft.

  Robbie could no longer stand the sweet torture. He rolled until she lay beside him and spanned one hand across her chest to keep her in place while he propped his head on his other hand so he could stare down at her.

  Satisfied that she’d stay put, though unable to still her restless movements, Robbie leaned over to kiss her—but shouted instead when she wrapped her strong, delicate fingers around his shaft. “Nay,” he growled, quickly trapping both her hands over her head. “You’ve had weeks to explore my body, little Cat. Now it’s my turn to become acquainted with yours.”

  “But I haven’t explored all of you,” she countered, sticking out her lower lip.

  “Aye,” he said with a chuckle, kissing her pout and then letting his mouth trail down her chin to her neck. “But ya needn’t worry,” he whispered at the base of her throat. “We won’t leave this bed until ya have.”

  “Is that a promise or a thre—oh!” She gasped, arching her back as he covered one firm, budding nipple with his mouth.

  It seemed he had found a most interesting way to subdue her. Robbie spent several minutes keeping Catherine so busy moaning and writhing in pleasure that she forgot all about driving him crazy with her own explorations. He made delicious love to her breasts, then continued his mouth’s journey down over her stomach to the top of her panties.

  He slid his fingers under the elastic and slowly lowered the thin lace, exposing more and more of her, drinking in the dew of her heated body. Her freed hands dug into his shoulders before grabbing his hair and guiding him on a savory journey from one sensitive spot to another. He slipped her panties down her long, beautiful legs and then off completely, and came back and kissed her belly button. He moved lower, opening her thighs and covering her feminine bud with his mouth, sliding his hand under her backside when she arched into him.

  He could feel her tightening, straining toward her orgasm, and Robbie continued to pleasure her, reveling in the feel of her blossoming fire. He moved quickly, settling himself between her thighs, keeping his arms rigid so he wouldn’t crush her.

  “Open yar eyes, Cat.”

  His voice seemed to startle her, and her eyes flared with recognition as she came back to her senses. She reached up, grasped his shoulders, and smiled. “Yes. I certainly wouldn’t want to miss anything,” she whispered, lifting her hips and wiggling until his shaft touched her entrance. “I’ve been told this is the best part.”

  Despite his urgency and overwhelming need to claim her, Robbie couldn’t stop the laugh that broke from his chest. He lowered his forehead to hers, closing his eyes with a frustrated groan. “Dammit, Cat. This is serious business.”

  She flexed her fingers into his shoulders and licked his lips with her tongue.

  Robbie reared back and glared down into her sparkling eyes.

  “Aye, husband,” she murmured in a guttural mimic of his brogue, lifting her hips just enough that he started to enter her. “Being in love is a most serious business.”

  He kept his gaze locked on hers and slowly eased inside her, then retreated just enough to return even deeper with another careful thrust.

  Her smile disappeared, replaced with a moan of pleasure, and her eyes widened as her fingers bit into the straining muscles of his shoulders. “Yes,” she gasped on an indrawn breath. “It truly is magic.”

  “Aye,” he whispered when he became fully embedded inside her. He leaned down and kissed her smile, then started moving in a primordial rhythm that sent bolts of energy rushing through him.

  And again, he felt Catherine tightening, straining toward fulfillment as she met his thrusts with eager and rather loud cries of encouragement.

  He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was so freely and boldly giving herself to him, so unabashedly enjoying their pleasure, so vividly open with her response that Robbie lost the last of his control. He quit being careful and began feeling instead—every flex of her muscles sheathing him as he unleashed the full force of his urgency.

  The cabin filled with blinding light, the flames on every candle flaring with simmering heat as the air charged with the pulsing glow of a magic so powerful that time stopped for the merest of heartbeats, only to start again with the explosion of their mutual fulfillment.

  Catherine cried out, and Robbie actually shouted as the crashing waves of chaos took them over the edge of reality and into the realm of their consummated union—into that magical, wondrous world where two hearts start beating as one.

  The pleasure lasted for what seemed like forever, and Robbie refused to move, instead holding himself rigid, deeply inside her as her lingering pulses continued to tighten around him.

  Apparently, Catherine had more presence of mind than he did, for she reached up and trailed one finger down the side of his face, ending at his chin and gently pushing his mouth shut. She smiled—a warm, smug, I’ve-got-you-now smile.

  “That really was the best part,” she whispered, lifting her hips slightly. “And definitely better than anything I could ever dream up.” She looked around the cabin flickering with candlelight, then brought her shimmering gaze back to his. “If I didn’t love you so much, I might be a little freaked out. Is this going to happen every time we make love?” She cupped his chin in her palms. “Because it’s going to cost us a fortune in candles.”

  Realizing he was about to collapse, Robbie rolled off her, bringing her with him and tucking her against his side as he stared up at the shadows dancing over the ceiling. “I truly hope not, little Cat, or I’ll be dead before my next birthday.”

  She threw an arm and a leg across him, kissing his nipple before settling her head in the crook of his arm. He could feel her smile against his chest as she let out a satisfied sigh.

  Then she suddenly lifted her head, looked at the table beside the bed, and started laughing. Robbie turned to see what was so funny and started them both shaking with his own laughter. There on the bedside table, leaning against a gently burning candle, were three packets of glow-in-the-dark condoms.

  “I’m guessing it’s Cody,” Catherine said, settling back against him and drumming her fingers on his chest. “No, it’s Rick.” She tilted her head to look up at him and frowned. “I think there’s really a prankster lurking behind that quiet demeanor of his.”

  Robbie captured her drumming fingers and kissed her upturned nose. “Do we need the condoms, Catherine? We really haven’t discussed adding to our family.”

  She pulled herself up until she was straddling him again and slowly shook her head. “No. We don’t need anything between us,” she whispered. “I could never have too big a family. You want a boy or a girl, Mr. MacBain?”

  Robbie thought about that, looking up into his wife’s beautiful, glowing face as he tried to picture her pregnant. “Maybe six of each,” he finally said.

  Which made her laugh.

  Which made his toes start to curl again.

  “I love you, wife.”

  She gave him a smile that outshone the candles. “And I love you, husband.” One of her eyebrows rose inquisitively, and those maddening fingers of hers started
walking up his stomach again. “Have you gotten your strength back yet?”

  Every candle in the cabin suddenly flared again.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Catherine would say one thing about Scots: it didn’t seem to matter if it was eight hundred years ago or today, they certainly knew how to celebrate a wedding.

  There was enough food laid out on several tables in the yard to feed a small nation. And the people! There were dozens and dozens of MacKeages and MacBains. Cousins had come from all over the country, towing husbands and wives and babies with them, to add their blessing to their marriage. Catherine was a bit overwhelmed to find herself in the middle of such a large family, considering she’d been an only child and orphaned at nineteen. Even Nathan and Nora were in a daze, inundated by hordes of children wanting to play and suddenly calling them cousin. Then there were the townspeople who kept coming up, welcoming Catherine to Pine Creek and wishing her well, almost to a person telling her that Robbie was the catch of three counties.

  “That was a very big mistake you made, asking me to notarize a forged signature,” Martha Bailey said over her cup of punch just before she took a sip.

  “You knew it wasn’t Robbie’s signature?” Catherine asked.

  Martha nodded.

  “Then why did you notarize it?”

  “Blackmail,” the judge said with a smile. “Marcus Saints told me there’s room for two more boys here.”

  “We’re going to fill those beds with babies,” Robbie said as he walked up and wrapped an arm around Catherine’s shoulder.

  “You can build more bedrooms,” Martha said, waving that away. “And besides, everyone knows kids are cheaper by the dozen.” She batted her eyelashes at Robbie. “I have two boys in juvenile right now who are due to be released in July. You should be able to have the addition finished by then.”

  “I’ll be in your office Monday morning to sign a new license,” Robbie told her. “And when Gunter gets an apartment, we’ll continue this discussion,” he finished with a nod, leading Catherine away.

  Marcus Saints stepped into their path, rolling down his shirt sleeves and buttoning his cuffs. He spotted his dirty hands and wiped them on his pants with a laugh. “I’ll be a millionaire,” he told them. “Cody and I are going into business manufacturing potato guns to sell on the Internet.”

  Nathan came running over, his own shirt covered with potato pulp. “Did you see me, Mom? I splattered the rock three times.” He looked up at Marcus. “I heard what you said to Cody. Can I be in your business? I can test each gun before you sell it.”

  Marcus ruffled Nathan’s hair, realized he had only smeared potato pulp through it, and tried to wipe it down with his sleeve. “Sure, Nathan. You can be our quality control manager.”

  “In ten years,” Robbie clarified, again dragging Catherine away with a wave to Marcus.

  Father Daar rushed over, a can of soda in one hand, a bowl of dip in the other, and several carrots and celery stalks sticking out of his chest pocket. “I’m wanting a word with you, Robbie,” he said, just before he lifted the bowl and licked dip off the edge.

  “Tomorrow,” Robbie told him, turning Catherine away again.

  She was starting to feel like a horse being dragged around by the cart. She planted her feet and pulled her husband to a stop. “What’s your problem, Father?” she asked.

  Daar shook his head. “It ain’t exactly a problem I got,” he said. “It’s more like a mystery.”

  Robbie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what would that be?” he whispered.

  “It’s the root,” Daar whispered, looking around and taking a step closer. “It’s not what I was expecting.”

  Robbie glared at the priest. “What do you mean, not what you expected? It’s from Cùram’s tree. I know it is.”

  “Aye, aye,” Daar said, bobbing his head. “And it’s growing just fine, but it’s not an oak. The tree is a white pine sapling.”

  Robbie shook his head. “Nay. That root came from an oak.”

  Daar took a sip of his soda and then canted his head. “Are ya sure? Could ya have taken a root from a nearby pine by mistake? Was there one growing near Cùram’s oak?”

  “Nay. It stood alone in the cave. Are you saying the root is worthless? That you won’t be able to reverse your spell?”

  “Nay,” Daar said. “It has the energy of a tree of wisdom. I can feel it. I just don’t know what it means, is all, that ya brought me an oak root and it grows into a pine tree.” The old priest suddenly gasped, spilling dip on his hand. “Cùram!” he whispered. “That blackheart is up to something.”

  “He can be up to whatever he wants,” Robbie growled, “as long as you can still reverse the spell.”

  Daar absently nodded. “Aye. That’s not a problem, MacBain. Yar papa and the others will be staying here.” He looked at Robbie for several seconds, then turned and walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

  “Do you believe your father and uncles are safe?” Catherine asked, looking up at her scowling husband.

  “Aye. Daar knows better than to lie to me.” Robbie forcibly shook off his black mood and suddenly smiled. “Come to the hayloft, wife. My toes are wanting to be curled again.”

  “We can’t just sneak off. There’s too many people here.”

  As if on cue, they spotted Libby and Michael approaching. Michael was holding his granddaughter, smiling with the pride of a grandfather who thought he’d had something to do with her creation.

  “Go wait for me in the hayloft,” Robbie whispered, placing his hand on Catherine’s backside and giving her a push. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

  Catherine pretended she didn’t see her new in-laws and quickly ran toward the barn.

  She stopped just inside the door to let her eyes adjust to the dimness and then walked down to Sprocket’s stall and pulled a carrot out of her pocket. “Here, big boy,” she said, letting him bite off a large piece. “I stole this for you before it made it to the platter.”

  “Whose wedding are you celebrating, Cathy?”

  Catherine spun around with a gasp and found herself facing Ron, who was standing in the doorway of the tack room. “What are you doing here?”

  “Word on the street is you invited me here,” he said, stepping into the aisle, placing himself between her and the barn door. “But I don’t think it’s because you missed me. If you did, you would have been waiting at home when I got out.”

  Catherine tucked her hands behind her back and touched her thumb to her wedding band. “The celebration outside is for me. I was married yesterday.”

  Ron’s face darkened, and his fists clenched at his sides as he took a step forward. “Then why did you put the word out you wanted to see me?”

  She untucked her hands and crossed her arms under her breasts, inconspicuously looking around the barn for a rake or shovel or anything else that would work as a weapon. “I thought you might like to see your children,” she said, walking to the center of the aisle while keeping her distance from him. “One last time before getting out of our lives for good.”

  He matched her move with one of his own. “How kind of you,” he sneered, stepping between her and the shovel leaning against the wall. “Do you have any idea what prison is like for a cop?” he asked, his voice pitched low in a tone Catherine recognized as the first stage of the coming tantrum. “I had to fight for my life.”

  Unable to stop herself, she smiled at him. “Welcome to my world, Ron. I spent six years fighting for my life.”

  Catherine watched his rage kick up another notch, and her smile widened. She relaxed her arms at her sides. “Do you want to see your kids or not? Because I need to get back to my husband.”

  He lunged probably before he even realized he was going to. But Catherine was ready and feinted to the right, toward freedom, but then darted to the left and grabbed the shovel. By the time Ron had twisted toward her, she had her grip balanced and the shovel handle m
oving toward his shoulder.

  She pushed her right hand forward with all her might, using her body as a pivot point. Ron reacted just as Robbie had said he would, and Catherine used the momentum of his defensive block to follow through with an upper cut to his jaw.

  Ron dropped like a stone, his wide, surprised eyes turning glassy, then dazed, and then closing completely as his body hit the concrete floor with such a painful-sounding thud that Catherine couldn’t stop herself from wincing.

  Her sympathy, however, lasted less than a second.

  Laughing chatter came from the rafters of the barn, and Catherine looked up and saw Mary.

  “Don’t you dare laugh!” she snapped. “Violence is not supposed to feel good.”

  Mary glided down and landed on Ron’s chest. She gave him a nasty peck on his cheek, drawing blood, and then hopped off and walked down the aisle toward the barn door.

  Catherine threw down the shovel and rubbed her forehead. “Okay,” she muttered to the retreating bird. “Maybe Robbie’s plan did have some merit. But only because Ron’s a guy, and violence is the only thing he’d understand. Go on,” she said, waving Mary away. “Go get my husband. We’ll let him clean up this mess, since this whole thing was his idea.”

  “But you know what?” she said softly, stopping Mary. “It was almost anticlimactic, for all the worrying I did. I thought there would at least be some sort of emotion, but I don’t feel anything. Not anger or relief or even pity. Just…nothing,” she finished with a shrug.

  Mary blinked, then turned and flew out the door.

  Catherine sat down on a bale of hay and studied Ron while she waited, only to find herself surprised by how small he was. Three years ago—heck, three months ago—Ron had seemed twenty feet tall. But after living with, loving, and making toe-curling love to a true giant, Catherine decided that five-foot-eleven was rather tiny. Insignificant. And yeah, downright wimpy.

  Ron had gained weight, she noticed, to the point that he looked slovenly. He had a paunch, his cheeks were puffed, and the peck Mary had given him—oh, that bad bird—would likely leave a scar on his sallow face.