Highland Pull (Highland Destiny: 2)

by LAURA HARNER

  Randi slid her hands up his arms, along his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. She pulled him into a deeper kiss, relaxing her lips against his, touching his lips with the tip of her tongue. Gabhran exploded with passion, grasping her face in his hands, he pressed hot kisses on her, their tongues danced and fought. He reluctantly pulled his mouth from hers, then pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

  “What manner of madness is this?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want it to stop.” She pushed against him, letting him know she couldn’t breathe under his weight. They rolled and suddenly Miranda was on top and he was looking at her hungrily.

  Gabhran removed her girdle and pulled the bodice of her dress down, exposing her breasts to the starlit night. He sat up, keeping Randi on his lap, and began to palm her breasts with his big, callused hands. He kneaded and massaged both breasts before he began to pinch and roll her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

  Randi arched her back, dropping her head back, and lost herself as his hot mouth began to explore her breasts. She became aware of the hard press of his erection through her skirts. When his kisses worked back up her neck, she leaned her head to the side giving him greater access and he planted open-mouthed kisses along her neck and jaw.

  Suddenly she wanted to feel his skin and pushed against his shirt, trying to pull it off. He laughed, a whisky-rich sound that filled her heart with joy. It was a part of him so like her Gabhran. He pulled his shirt over his head, and then fussed with his plaid, loosening, but not removing it.

  Randi pushed against his chest and he unwrapped a bit of his plaid so it was on the ground when he laid back. She started at the top, planting kisses on his mouth, his neck, his collarbone, wanting to taste every part of him. She continued working her tongue across his chest, his sculpted abs, reaching the top of his kilt, which was barely hanging on at this point.

  She pushed the remaining material aside and sucked in her breath at the sight of his rock hard cock, majestically displayed in the dark highland night. She reverently wrapped her hands around it, and lowered her kisses. Gabhran moaned into the night.

  He shoved her roughly away, and pushed her over onto her back. “I’ll not spill my seed outside of you, wife,” he said. His voice was a low and menacing growl. Then he pushed her skirts up, and Randi knew he would find her hot and wet. He planted tiny kisses and took nips of flesh across her thighs, and Randi groaned with pleasure and desire. He buried his face between her thighs, and his velvet tongue began long, slow strokes, and she moaned louder.

  “That’s right, wife, let me know if it feels good.” He flicked his tongue against her nub. He started alternately sucking and licking, and slipped a finger inside her. Randi moaned louder, her breath came in uneven and ragged gasps. She ground against him, pushing her hips, seeking her pleasure. He licked and pumped faster.

  With a choked scream, Randi cried, “Oh, ah, yes, it feels good Gabhran, don’t st—”

  Her words lost their coherency and faded into a series of moans and whispers, while she shuddered and clenched around his finger. She threw her head back, closed her eyes as her hair spilled around her.

  “You are a vision, my wife, yet surely you must be a witch, come to claim my soul.”

  She felt the dark within him suddenly uncoil, freed by his words. He grabbed her ankles then pulled her legs up, draping them over his shoulders and entered her roughly, one stroke, as deep as he could. She whimpered at the rough entry, she was still tender from the newness of the experience and sensitive from his tongue.

  His darkness grew stronger with every cry he wrenched from her, and each thrust was harder and deeper than the last. It felt dirty and nasty, and it reminded Randi of the previous night when she had begged to have it hard and fast. She felt the darkness fighting her for control of him, and she would not give up. She began to push back, her cries became ones filled with pleasure, directing him, goading him. More. Harder. Faster. Her nails raked up his back, before she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled him into a demanding kiss.

  She knew Gabhran was at the very edge of his control, fighting the darkness, feeding it. He threw his head back and yelled as he released his seed, slamming into Randi so hard, she thought he might cleave her in two.

  *

  Her legs were so shaky she was unable to make them move in a purposeful manner. He’d practically had to carry her to her room. Her mind felt equally shaky. She was sure of one thing. Last night, in New Orleans she and Gabhran had made love. Tonight, with this Gabhran? She’d been well and thoroughly fucked. She couldn’t even say she was sorry when he had undressed her to her chemise, tucked her into her own bed, then locked the door behind him when he left.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sometimes he felt like the biggest ass imaginable. There was a beautiful woman in the solar of his personal rooms, and he was anywhere but with her. He was being ripped in two. He needed to have an heir; it was a very straightforward plan. He had paid a bride price and been surprisingly pleased with the results. Yet his darkness was telling him that his wife was the enemy and that he needed to be rid of her once she’d fulfilled her purpose.

  He thought over the events that had brought him to this moment in his life.

  He hated his dark feeling when it was this aroused. When e’er the darkness had felt so strong in the past, Gabhran had ridden off to war to slay his demons. It was easy to know where you belonged in a battle. The bards composed and performed epics recounting Gabhran’s legendary and deadly skills on the battlefield. Aye, he knew what to do in a battle of men.

  Months ago, when Robert sent a messenger to the MacLachlan requesting Gabhran serve as an envoy seeking aid to preserve Scotland’s independence, Gabhran had been away, fighting an inconsequential border battle between two clans. His elder brother, Alexander, deemed the king's request so urgent, that he elected to go in Gabhran’s stead, rather than delay the trip by a sen`night.

  By the time Gabhran returned, in a rollicking good humor after emerging victorious in the clan battle, Alexander was already at sea. A fortnight later, pieces of the royal ship carrying the emissary washed ashore off the coast of Wales, all souls lost at sea.

  Christ, I miss my brother. He let his thoughts drift even farther back.

  Alexander and Gabhran were separated by a scant three years, and were as different in temperament as they were similar in looks. Alexander had taken over the duties of the Laird when he was but fifteen and their parents had both died of the plague. Alexander had embraced the role of responsibility thrust upon his young shoulders. He had run the estate, managed the lands, made stellar appointments to keep the manors and territories running smoothly. Gabhran had not made it easy for him.

  Gabhran resented the loss of his best friend and playmate and constantly got into scrapes from which he needed to be extricated. The older brother was hard-pressed to maintain his role as family head when the younger seemed determined to undermine him at every turn.

  Alexander had decided it was time for more extreme measures one afternoon, when Gabhran had been seen tupping a young maid, just off the main courtyard, in front of God and everybody.

  “Gabhran, it is clear you canna accept me as the head of our family, yet we both know you are not yet able to best me in a fight for the seat. I am sending you to foster with the Gailtry near Inverness. It was our father’s wish we would both attend the Gailtry, however, you shall now be our only representative. You will stay until the next Beltane, and at that time you will be old enough, should you wish to challenge me for the seat, so be it.”

  Gabhran’s perpetual smile slid from his face. Although he had enjoyed getting his brother’s dander up, he had not intended harm by his actions.

  “Come now, Alex, ‘twas only tupping, I was.”

  “Nay, Gav. ‘Twas not only that. You were making a public display of yourself and the lass, and we do not treat our servants in such a fashion. Ian will escort you, your horse is ready
, you leave immediately.”

  Then Alexander turned on his heel and left the room, but not before Gabhran noticed the sheen in his eyes.

  As the boys headed their horses south, young Gabhran felt his throat constrict with the thought of not seeing his brother or his home until the year had passed.

  Ian seemed to sense his mood, and sought to lighten it by observing, “I doona think he would have been so angry if you hadna asked the other three maids there to form a queue. Well, that and if you had confined it to some place a little more private. Did you have to use the courtyard?”

  The young men laughed and thus began Gabhran’s apprenticeship with the Gailtry. The Gailtry were of the Druid ways, and he discovered while he was there that his family and the Gailtry’s were part of an ancient alliance, sworn to look after the people of their lands and protect the traditions of Druidry.

  It eventually turned out that Gabhran trained with the Gailtry’s for nearly seven years, returning to his brother’s keep several times a year to perform the necessary Druid rituals. On each visit, Gabhran and Alexander grew closer, and each was increasingly proud of the other’s accomplishments. The family’s wealth and influence increased and all was well with their small clan.

  Gabhran shook himself, putting the memories back in the past, carefully secured lest he be tempted to linger there overlong. He thought of the first lesson the Gailtry taught him upon his arrival, when Gabhran had been feeling alone and resentful.

  “Aye, lad,” he’d said in a solemn voice, “your actions have directly resulted in your being sent from all that is familiar, to remain in my keep. However, had your father lived, you would have been sent here to train, as well. It doesna matter how or why you came to be here, here is where you are. Now what are you made of, lad? What will you do with the opportunities presented?”

  Aye, here he was, no longer able to access his Druid knowledge or powers, filled with a dark presence, with a wife he kept confined. What would he make of his future?

  ****

  Randi paced. The windows were open, letting in sunshine and a briny breeze. Outside, the sky was a cloudless, brilliant blue, and the sea sparkled, light reflecting into a million shimmering jewels. Randi longed to walk along the cliffs, her bare feet feeling the grass between her toes. Or wander farther onto the sandy beach that was just at the periphery of her view.

  She would even muck out the stables if she could just be allowed to go outside. She had been confined to this room since they’d arrived, nearly a week ago now. The first night had gone well she thought, and even though he hadn’t stayed with her after returning her to her room, she hoped progress had been made in her plan to seduce him.

  She snorted to herself; she wasn’t fooling anyone. She had tried to seduce him, and he’d fucked her until she could barely stand. She smiled at the memory. She hadn’t been able to walk the next day, and had slept for much of it. Lissa had been surprised to find her mistress in such a languid mood, and wondered aloud at what might have occurred. Randi had confided that the previous evening had been a success, and asked Lissa to select her gown for the evening with care.

  When Lissa had later returned, she’d not brought a gown, but rather a dinner platter and a message. It seemed the Laird would be unable to join her for dinner this eve. As the long evening passed, it became apparent that Gabhran didn’t plan to join her at all. Eventually, Randi stripped to her chemise and lay down in her big bed, alone.

  Several hours later, she’d awakened to feel Gabhran pressed behind her, his chest to her back, his hand on her breast. He bit a tender spot between her neck and collarbone, then he grabbed the front of her chemise and ripped it, right down the front, the tiny buttons no match for his strength. His fingers slid between her breasts, along her stomach, twirled the silky curls at her juncture, before slipping between her legs.

  She jumped when he touched her; she was still sensitive from their wild coupling the previous evening. He took no further time to prepare her and entered her from behind. There were no words of endearment, no whispers of enjoyment, no clever fingers ensuring her pleasure. He took her as impersonally as if he had been masturbating.

  She felt his body tense, and knew he must be close, but they were locked in a silent embrace, and Randi’s eyes stung with unshed tears. When he was finished, he withdrew, and wiped himself with her sheet. Then he walked to his bedroom door and issued a final decree before leaving.

  “I doona wish to find you clothed when I come to you at night.” Then he locked her in again.

  And it had been that way each night ever since. She was not allowed out, even for meals. He never came to her until after she was asleep, and he never made an attempt to pleasure her. She wanted to talk with him, make him look at her; she needed a chance to connect.

  She’d been pacing and thinking for hours now, and had come to some conclusions. First, she was sure she’d been drugged with something each evening in her meal or drink. Nothing strong, perhaps an herbal concoction that made her ready to sleep earlier than she normally would. She had always been a night owl. She’d prowled the streets of the French Quarter, whether or not she was working. Now it seemed she could barely last an hour or two after dinner before she was exhausted. Whatever it was, it didn’t keep her from waking when Gabhran came to her, rather it left her lethargic and compliant.

  Second, Gabhran was working very hard at not making any personal connection with her. After that first night, they’d not spent any time alone together, except for his brief nocturnal visits. They’d been very close to something special that night on the cliff, under the stars. Then some thought of Gabhran’s had awakened the dark beast within him, and he’d been bordering on hostile ever since. The dark had to go. If she couldn’t make it go away completely, she at least needed to tame it for a while.

  The third and most important realization she’d come to was that she had powers of her own. Growing up in New Orleans in a family that practiced voodoo rituals, with a cousin who was the established Voodoo Queen, left Randi with a healthy respect for the supernatural. Any other woman thrown back in time over five hundred years might have lost her mind. Randi had believed right away. She had believed in Gabhran’s darkness. She believed in the powers of her own family.

  She’d always thought of her ability to read people a casual fluke, nothing more than being observant. A talent that made her a good cop. Now she wondered if it was something more. Could it be part of the magick that made her family special? Was there more to her abilities, latent talent she’d failed to recognize?

  She had secreted food and water from her breakfast and lunch trays, and hidden them from Lissa. She would not eat or drink anything from her evening tray. Although she had read Lissa and sensed no bad intentions on her part, the less she knew of Randi’s plans at this point the better, so she could not be compromised. When Lissa entered with the evening tray, it was time for part two of Randi’s plan.

  “Lissa, has the Laird returned for the day?”

  “Nay, miss, he has not yet returned.”

  “I need you to do me a favor.” Then Miranda concentrated very hard at sending her intentions to Lissa. “I left a necklace that is very important to me in the Laird’s chamber on our wedding night. ‘Twas a gift from my mother.” She sniffled slightly. “It is on a long gold chain, and it is just a small cloth bag on the end. It would mean the world to me if you could bring it to me.” Then she flooded Lissa with the most sincere thoughts of pleading and added a touch of homesickness for good measure.

  She felt Lissa waiver, and added a verbal plea and another sniffle.

  Lissa whispered that she would try and then left Miranda to eat her dinner. Randi hid some of her food, poured her drink in the chamber pot, and waited for Lissa to return, praying the gris gris came through time with Gav.

  Lissa returned for the tray, successful thievery written all over her face.

  “I found it, miss, are you sure he will think you had it all along?”

 
“Yes, he will never know I left it in his room. He will believe I had it all along.” Randi allowed herself to feel guilty for a minute, because she knew Lissa was in danger if Gabhran discovered her thievery. On the other hand, all was fair in love and war, and this was definitely both. She had to get rid of the dark in order to get to Gabhran.

  Lissa gathered Randi’s dinner tray and bade her good evening.

  Randi sat late into the evening, staring into the fire, concentrating very hard on the flames. Not that she cared overmuch for the flames, it was just that for years she had watched Marie use candles to gather her spirits, and Randi was desperate to reach any friendly spirits hanging around and seek their help. She stayed there until she finally heard Gabhran enter his chamber.

  She removed her chemise but left the gris gris around her neck and crawled into bed to await her husband.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gabhran hungered to have Miranda, and not in the business-like way he covered her the past sen’night, but slow, deliberate, and in every way imaginable. The siren song of her pull on him seemed especially strong tonight. He felt her as soon as he had entered his chambers. He thought mayhap ‘twould be a good thing to spend more time with her this night, given his plans for the day beyond the morrow.

  He and Ian would leave for the south, to aid Ian’s family in the lowlands. They were expecting the neighboring clan to take some action any day, now that his family had openly declared loyalty to Robert and Scotland. ‘Twould be good for him to go fight an honest fight, banish a bit of this darkness from his soul, to calm it for a while.

  He decanted a glass of brandy and sat by his cold hearth, thinking. He had sensed no duplicity in the woman. His wife, he amended. Nay, she had been everything her father had promised: beautiful, intelligent, virgin. Yet the darkness within him, a force that had guided him through many a battle, had flared in her presence. It drove him to avoid her, convinced him that he was in danger from her. Whispered she was naught but a witch.