To Wed A Wicked Highlander bboth-3

by Victoria Roberts

  “Tell me ye donna want me,” she whispered.

  His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. “I cannae. I told ye. There are nay lies between us.”

  The stubble of his beard burned her cheeks as his mouth came over hers. He forced her lips open with his thrusting tongue, shattering her calm with the hunger of his kiss. His hands pulled her closer, demanding a response. And she was more than willing to respond.

  Her hands roamed brazenly and traced the muscles of his hard body. She tried desperately to mold their bodies as one. He cupped her with his hands, skimming his way down to her taut stomach and hips. He lowered his head and his mouth was delightfully warm as he sucked her nipple, sending a bolt of awareness through her.

  She ran her fingers through his hair as his tongue whirled and nipped until the tips of her breasts formed hardened peaks. Heat flooded her body and her senses were drowning in pools of desire.

  Her hand moved from around his waist. She didn’t realize she had brushed the swollen tip of his erection until her instincts took over and she moved her fingers back to encircle him.

  He was so hard.

  “Careful, lass. Ye donna want this to be over before it has even begun.”

  She brushed her finger over his lips. “Alex…” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but the huskiness in her husband’s voice made him so very male. Her thoughts spun.

  God help her. She wanted him. Now.

  She sank back deeper into the bed. He lowered his hand and entered her gently with his finger. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back with the pleasure that he gave her.

  Before she knew what he was about, he’d drugged her with kisses down the entire length of her body. He moved and withdrew his finger, planting a kiss between her thighs. When she tried to push him away, he only widened her legs and continued to suck and lick her…there.

  Sybella let out a cry of delight at the delicious sensations he brought her. She was going to come apart. And he sensed it.

  He rose to his knees and entered her with a single thrust. Her nails bit into his arms and her hips rose to meet him, taking him deeper. She wanted it harder.

  “Alex…”

  “Come for me, Ella.”

  He lowered his hand and rubbed her most sensitive spot as he thrust in and out. Their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another. Desire inched through her veins, rousing her to the peak of desire. She wanted to yield to the sweet burning sweetness that was captive within her.

  The passion of his ardor mounted, and she finally abandoned herself to the whirl of sensations. Love flowed into her like warm, molten honey, shattering her into a million glowing stars.

  But Alex wasn’t done with her. He was unrelenting.

  While she writhed in bittersweet agony, he forced her to a second release. Hard. Fast.

  She hadn’t even known that was possible.

  Sybella lay drowned in a flood of liberation of mind and body. She was drawn to a height of passion she had never known before. Satisfaction pursed her mouth and she felt a bottomless peace. Tonight there were no shadows across her heart. This was where she knew she belonged. By her husband’s side. In his bed. As his wife.

  Alex placed his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “Ye may sleep in my bed anytime ye wish.”

  She giggled in response. “May I ask something of ye?” She brushed the tiny hairs on his arm with her nails.

  Alex stiffened. “Aye.”

  “I hope when ye share my bed that your only purpose isnae to get me with child.” She didn’t dare look at him because he paused. In fact, there was a heavy moment of silence and she thought at one point he may not even respond.

  “’Tisnae the only reason I share your bed, Ella.”

  And that was all he said. Nothing more. Nothing less. The next thing she heard was a snort in her ear as her husband slept. She rolled onto her side and faced him. Placing her head to his chest, she breathed in the scent of him and sighed.

  “Oh, Alex. Tha gaol agam ort.” I love you.

  Sixteen

  Sybella’s unruly locks tickled Alex’s nose. He wiped them away and then opened his eyes. This was most definitely not a dream. His bonny temptress of a wife lay nestled into his chest. For a moment, he did not move and simply watched her. She looked peaceful, like an angel who’d spread her wings and embraced him, touching his very soul.

  She stirred in his arms. “Are ye awake already?”

  He rubbed her shoulder tenderly. “Shhh…Go back to sleep, Ella.”

  She draped her arm over his waist and sighed. “Ye feel so warm and wonderful.”

  “As do ye.”

  “Do we have to leave this bed?”

  He chuckled in response. “I love the thought of keeping ye here all day, but I’m afraid there are things to which I must attend.”

  Sybella groaned. “I suppose Aunt Iseabail would wonder where we were.” She lifted her head and smiled. “Madainn mhath.”

  His finger traced her jaw. “Good morning to ye as well.” He kissed her tenderly and then sighed. “Ye know ye do make it nearly impossible to leave this bed.”

  “Then donna.”

  “Ye tempt me too much, Wife.”

  She buried her face in the corded muscles of his chest. “I do?”

  Alex suddenly had the feeling that the bonny siren lying in his bed had a burning desire, an aching need, for another kiss. “Thig an seo,” he growled. Come here.

  “What?” Her voice was a mask of innocence.

  Alex pulled her up, sliding her body against his. Parting her lips, Sybella raised herself to meet his kiss. His mouth continued to explore her soft ivory flesh. She was so incredibly tempting. He seared a path down her neck, her shoulders. He nibbled on her earlobe. And then he pulled back and gave her a peck on the top of the head.

  “If I donna stop now, I will keep ye chained to this bed all day. I really enjoyed being with ye, but I must get dressed and prepare for travel.”

  She raised herself up on her elbow. “For travel? Where? When?”

  “Your father has arranged passage for me to Lewis—in three days.”

  Sybella paled.

  * * *

  Three days. Sybella had three days to find that bloody stone.

  Fear and anger knotted inside her. If she didn’t discover that dreaded rock by then, she would be forced to tell Alexander the truth. He was entering into a war that was not his own, caused by her father, no less. Not only had her sire made an attempt on Alex’s life, but now her husband would be marked as an enemy of the MacLeods for killing their chief—who had never tried to kill her to begin with.

  God help her. Alex would never trust her once he learned the truth. Frankly, she wasn’t sure what he’d do, and for the first time in her life, she was afraid. Her only hope was to find the stone, deliver it to her father, and pray the man would do the right thing and stop Alex from going to Lewis.

  She rose from the bed and wrapped herself with a blanket. “I will do anything I can to assist ye.”

  Alex stood and donned his kilt. “Thank ye, but there is naught ye can do. I must meet with John and MacGregor. While I travel to Lewis, MacGregor will stay behind. He will see to your welfare.”

  She walked around the bed and faced him. “I donna want Ciaran to look after me. I want ye.”

  “Ye flatter me, lass, but I have nay choice. I must travel to Lewis.”

  All Sybella could manage to do was nod.

  “Donna look so troubled. I will return before ye know it.” He sat on the bed and put on his boots. “As ye said, I am a fierce Highland laird.”

  She smiled but knew the smile did not quite reach her eyes.

  He moved in an instinctive gesture of comfort. “Ye worry overmuch. I will be fine. Why donna ye take a walk to the loch? I am sure my cousin and Aunt Iseabail would love to go with ye.” He bent his head and kissed her lips. “I shall meet up with ye later.”

  She watched her husband close the door and th
en she pivoted on her heel. Sybella practically ran into her chamber, splashed cold water on her face, and dressed. For a moment, she thought about not breaking her fast, but she knew that if she didn’t show up, someone would come looking for her. She would just eat quickly and resume her purpose. Curse her father and brother. In truth, she wasn’t sure how many more times she could.

  Sybella walked to the great hall, running over her mission in her head. She’d already searched the library, the study, and the bedchambers, and she still needed to continue her search in the ladies’ solar. At least she had an idea of where to start.

  As she entered the great hall, everyone was seated for the meal. Her husband rose in a gentlemanly fashion and pulled out her chair.

  “Ella.” His voice was low and deep.

  She lifted her brow. “Alexander.” She sat down next to Rosalia, who held Lachlann on her lap. The boy smiled when Rosalia kissed his rosy cheeks. “How do ye fare? I see ye live,” Sybella said.

  Rosalia giggled. “I am well. And ye?”

  “The same.”

  Rosalia nodded to Ciaran. “I donna think we got ourselves into too much trouble last eve, did we?”

  Ciaran’s hand froze midair as he was about to take a drink from his tankard. “I think MacDonell and I agree ’tis the last time we leave your seanmhair to watch over the two of ye.”

  Aunt Iseabail’s eyes widened. “Whatever do ye mean?”

  “Ciaran…” Rosalia warned.

  He leaned forward, resting his arm on the table. “It seems our women entertained themselves last eve by getting knee deep in their cups and then practicing swordplay in the ladies’ solar…with their daggers.”

  Aunt Iseabail gasped and held her hand over her heart. “Truly? I must admit I am a wee bit surprised at the two of ye. Why would ye want to scrape up your daggers? I would’ve grabbed the swords from Alex’s study. After drinking three cups of ale, I was somewhat astonished I made it to my own chamber last eve in one piece.”

  Alex rubbed his brow. “Ye too, Aunt Iseabail? For the love of God, ye women must stop encouraging one another.”

  “Ye are far too serious, Nephew. ’Tis a good thing to have a lighthearted attitude every once in a while. It cleanses the soul. Ye might find it would even do ye some good.”

  Ciaran grunted. “Aye, MacDonell. We should get in our cups more often and then practice swordplay…in the ladies’ solar.”

  Rosalia elbowed Ciaran in the ribs. “Cease.”

  Sybella finished her meal and tried to keep her mind still, a hard task when Alex was so close. Although she’d thoroughly enjoyed last eve, she couldn’t afford to be distracted by romantic notions. And God help her, the man’s nearness made her senses spin.

  Finally, Alex stood and then bent and nuzzled her ear. “I will see ye later, Wife.”

  As she watched him walk away with MacGregor by his side, memories from last eve started to flood her. She mentally chided herself. She needed to quit dreaming and make her escape.

  Shifting in the chair toward Rosalia, Sybella spoke as casually as she could manage. “’Tis a lovely day. Alex thought mayhap we should walk with Aunt Iseabail to the loch. The fresh air might do her some good.”

  Rosalia nodded. “’Tis a wonderful idea. What say ye, Seanmhair? Do ye want to take Lachlann and we’ll walk to the loch?”

  “I donna mean to keep putting ye off, but I will have to join ye later,” said Sybella. “I promised Anabel something and I havenae yet started.”

  “Verra well.” Rosalia rose with Lachlann in her arms. “Let me change him first, Seanmhair, and then I will meet ye in the bailey.”

  To say that Sybella felt guilty did not reflect the agony she felt with herself. She despised what she had become, resorting to spinning tales. And it bothered her to speak of Anabel that way. No matter, once she found the stone, her father would have to leave her and Alex alone. Her sire wouldn’t have any other choice in the matter. She would make certain.

  Sybella reached the solar and closed the door behind her. Glancing around the room, she saw a book sitting on the table next to her dagger. After fingering through the pages the second time, she knew there was nothing odd. She tapped the book in her hand and noticed two pictures that hung on the wall.

  One portrait depicted a woman with long reddish hair, her flowing emerald gown blowing in the gentle wind. The picture to Sybella’s right looked like the same woman in a sapphire gown, bending down to pick up a yellow flower.

  Sybella lifted the first picture from the wall. She brushed her fingertips over the stone and felt for any movement or indentation. Nothing. She replaced the painting and then removed the second picture with the same result. She had never felt so frustrated in her life. Where the hell was the stone? At this rate, she would never uncover it.

  She looked at the shelf that held the cups, under, over—not a damn thing. She moved the chairs, lifted the table, and even checked the floor. She refused to believe that this was a hopeless cause and forced herself to settle down. Who knew? Perhaps Aunt Iseabail held the stone in her chamber.

  After putting things back in their rightful places, Sybella closed the door and made her way to Aunt Iseabail’s chamber. Once she was inside, she straightened her spine and got down to the task at hand. She pulled out everything from Aunt Iseabail’s trunk, searching through her clothes, jewelry box, anything and everything.

  After realizing her hunt was another unsuccessful jaunt, Sybella stood and stretched her back. All of Aunt Iseabail’s dresses were scattered across the bed; the woman’s jewelry box had been dismantled; and the room was in complete disarray. Sybella had done it now. With her luck or lack thereof, Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail would return from their walk and catch her in the act.

  She hastily replaced Aunt Iseabail’s belongings and made her way to the only other place she could think of that could hold the stone.

  The unsavory pit of hell.

  * * *

  A lady’s laugh wafted through the air, and Alex watched as Rosalia, Lachlann, and Aunt Iseabail returned from their walk. With the sun shining brightly and no clouds in sight, no wonder the women laughed. A gentle breeze blew through the bailey and MacGregor lifted his son in the air.

  Alex waited a moment, finishing his conversation with John. When Sybella did not appear, Alex walked over to his cousin. “Tha i breagha an-diugh.” It’s lovely weather today. “I assume ye enjoyed your walk. Where is my wife?”

  “She didnae come with us. She had something to do for Anabel. We did have a good time with Lachlann, though,” said Rosalia.

  Aunt Iseabail rubbed her hand over Lachlann’s tiny back. “He is such a good lad.” Turning her head toward Rosalia, Aunt Iseabail looked puzzled. “What was it, my dear, that I was supposed to tell Alexander?”

  “I donna know. Ye only told me to remind ye to tell Alex something. I think it was about Sybella.”

  Aunt Iseabail tapped her finger to her lip. “And ye say Sybella is with Anabel?”

  Alex rubbed his hand over Aunt Iseabail’s shoulder. “Nay, I think she is making something for Anabel.”

  His aunt giggled. “I would love to see that, especially since your wife doesnae even know how to stitch.”

  “Pray excuse me while I drag her away from whatever she’s doing. ’Tis too wonderful of a day nae to be out in the sun.”

  Alex knocked on Sybella’s bedchamber door. When no one answered, he walked to the ladies’ solar—and found it empty. He had the same result with the parapet, the kitchens, and the garden.

  He walked back out into the bailey and ran into John. “Have ye seen my wife?”

  John chuckled. “Have ye lost her?”

  “Search the grounds. She isnae inside.”

  “Aye.”

  Something gnawed at Alex’s gut. Sybella knew not to leave the castle without telling anyone. It was too dangerous after the MacLeod’s attempt on her life. But if his wife was not in the castle, where the hell was she?

  * * *


  Sybella found her way into the dungeon much easier than the first time. Since hell currently held no occupants, no guard slept at the entrance. Once again, she descended the stairs and was greeted with a chill. It was cold and damp, and she paused only long enough to light the torch.

  “Welcome back to the pit of hell, Sybella,” she said aloud. “Find the bloody stone or this is where ye will reside for the rest of your days.” She held up the light, pausing. “I can do this. I can do this,” she repeated for confidence.

  The same unidentifiable muck lay upon the ground, and the chamber smelled of something rotten, decayed. She didn’t want to think about any more of that. She held up the torchlight to the heavy stone walls and iron bars that lined the narrow center walkway. She inched her way to the first door and held up the candle between the bars. As before, she waited a moment until the flickering light stilled.

  She opened the door and walked in. There was no time to worry about what was there. Examining the walls, she ran her hand across the cool, slimy stone. She took one section at a time slowly, carefully. She did not want to come back here in the event she had overlooked something.

  Sybella made her way to the second door, trying to ignore the shackles that lined the wall. The smell and overwhelming sense of dread would surely be her undoing, but she imposed an iron control on herself to continue. Following the same ritual she did in the first cell, quickly and as thoroughly as possible, she finished and made her way to the last door.

  Praise the saints. Was that dried blood? When she became light-headed, she had no choice but to place her hand on the grimy wall for support. She paused for a moment when saliva pooled in her mouth. She wanted to take a deep breath but willed herself not to move, afraid she’d toss her contents.

  She fought hard against the tears she refused to let fall, and for an instant, she almost gave up. But then she waved aside any further hesitation and entered the last cell where the MacKenzie man had been held and, God help her, died.

  Damn.

  “Dè nì mi?” What will I do?