Courage Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “My lady,” Sean whispered again.

  He still could not quite believe it. Beside him, Marguerite stirred in the bed.

  “Sean,” she whispered.

  Her big brown eyes were wide and there was, just at their edges, a hint of apprehension. There was also trust.

  Sean felt himself shivering. He was hopelessly aroused, his whole body aching. He stared at her, the way her cheeks were pink-touched in the flame-light, the way her chest rose and fell. He wanted to take her.

  Slowly, Sean. She's afeared. Go slow.

  He breathed out, raggedly.

  “Marguerite,” he whispered. He stroked her hair gently. He smiled down at her. She smiled up at him and shifted so she lay against him, nestled close to his chest.

  He leaned down and gently laid his lips against hers. She sighed and her lips parted sweetly. He felt his tongue slide in. His loins twinged and ached.

  He probed her mouth and she nestled closer, her full breasts pressing against him. He sighed and his arms tightened around her, drawing her close. He loved the way it felt to hold her in his arms, to feel the warm fullness of her mold against him. He breathed in the scent of her skin and buried his face in her hair.

  “Marguerite,” he sighed. He still couldn't believe it. She was here beside him. He let his eyes drink their fill of her beautiful face, her glowing hair, and rest on the sweet full cleavage at the neck of the bridal gown. His loins throbbed.

  He reached down and very gently laid his hand there. He felt the soft warm rounds of her breasts and wanted to groan with the pain as his whole body ached. He breathed in raggedly.

  “Marguerite,” he whispered again. He said her name over and over and then covered her face with kisses, small, slow ones, relishing the softness of her skin as he moved down her neck to her chest.

  He sighed as his lips touched the soft velvet of her skin. He breathed in her fragrance and kissed her there, feeling his whole body ache for her. He moved lower. Then he sat up and looked down into her eyes.

  She looked up at him. His hand stroked her breast and he gently moved it up to trace the top of her cleavage. He frowned. She nodded.

  “Yes.”

  He reached down and then carefully worked at the laces of her gown. First the bow, then the knot, fell apart in his hands. Then, carefully, he worked it apart, separating the two sides and working them down, inch by slow inch, down her breasts.

  He slid the dress down, teasing himself as it uncovered her. He felt like a child being given a gift wrapped in a cloth, that he must reveal inch by slow inch, delaying the wonder of it as a kind of sweet torment of himself.

  He stared at her.

  The dress dropped to the floor. Underneath it, she wore a soft linen shift that molded to the curves of her body. The neck was low and her breasts, free of the gown, were soft and shapely. He reached up and kissed them through the fabric, feeling her nipples tense.

  She gasped and the gasp fired his blood. He could feel the warm tautness of them under the fabric and suddenly he sat up and stripped it from her body, moaning with his own desire. She moaned too and twisted beneath him, helping him to strip off the clothing. Then, to his astonishment, she was naked beneath him. He stared.

  Her body was sweetly curved, the firelight playing on her full breasts, her pale belly, and her softly shaped thighs. He drank in the curve of her waist, the sweet round of her buttocks, the place where her soft thighs met. In a world of harsh angles and cruel rocks, she was a soft, fragrant, sweet place of rest.

  He sighed and crawled up the bed toward her. She opened her eyes, cheeks flushed sweetly pink. Her lips moved apart in a slight moue and he felt his loins ache. He leaned forward and let his tongue push gently between. She sighed and he felt that sigh fire his blood.

  He rolled off her and looked down into those dark brown eyes. She was smiling at him, her mouth lifted in a sweet, naughty grin. He shivered.

  “You trust me, lass?” he whispered.

  She smiled, a happy smile. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”

  He swallowed. “I trust you too, lass,” he said seriously. “You saved my life.”

  She giggled. Then she frowned. “We saved each other.”

  “Aye, we did, that.” He nodded. “We did.”

  Then she shifted slightly on the bed and reached for him and he lost all restraint. He stood and stripped off his tunic and his trews and joined her, naked, on the bed.

  Marguerite let her sight linger on the warm, firm body before her on the bed. She stared at the broad shoulders, the narrow waist, and the chest with its taut muscles. She smiled.

  “I never knew men were beautiful too,” she whispered.

  He laughed, and blushed. “You think me beautiful, lass?”

  She felt a blush creep up into her face. “Yes.”

  He sighed. “You are the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”

  She felt his words run through her body like a sweet flame, melting her inside. She shifted on the bed and he stared at her, his eyes warm, lingering on her curves.

  He smiled again, slowly. “You trust me?” he asked again.

  She nodded shyly. Thoughts of what men and women did went slowly through her mind. She had only a sketchy idea, gleaned mainly from her maidservants and, lately, from Rubina. She herself was laughingly vague on the advice; save to tell her that it was a wonderful experience.

  “You'll soon never want to let him out of your sight,” she’d said.

  Marguerite blushed. Was that true?

  He reached over and gently cupped her breast in his hand. His fingers stroked her nipple. She sighed and gasped as they elicited a raw tingling sensation that raced up the nerves and through her body, making her belly tighten with excitement.

  He leaned in and took her breast in his mouth. His lips clamped on her nipple as his hands, teasing and tender, played with her other breast. She sighed and groaned as her whole body shivered. When he swapped round, she gasped aloud.

  Somewhere inside her a slow, sweet urgency was building. As he touched and teased her, the feeling was growing, flaring, and spreading through each fiber of her being. She shivered, shuddered, and groaned.

  “Lass?” he whispered.

  “Yes?”

  He sat back. She saw that the member – thick and turgid – at his thigh was throbbing a little. Seeing it filled her with need.

  “Lass?” he asked again.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She knew exactly what she wanted. “Oh, yes.”

  He knelt at her knees and gently parted them, then placed his body between her thighs. He leaned forward, so that his body brushed against hers. He reached between her legs and gently parted them, his fingers sliding up between her thighs in a way that made her gasp. The sensation that flared there was almost pain it was such pleasure.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  Then he slid inside her. The feeling was such relief, such release, that she cried out. Then a sudden pain flowered in her as he pushed harder. As abruptly as it started, the pain melted away and left behind it the sweet sunshine of fullness.

  He was groaning with pleasure, and then he pulled out and pushed in again, filling her quickly and intensely. She sighed, moaned, and reached for him and then he thrust out and thrust in again. Soon he was thrusting into her and out, in and out, pushing and pulsing and probing and filling her again and again with that sweet sensation. She moaned and wriggled a little, until she felt the way he slid into her change, so that it rubbed against her, tingling and tickling and throbbing. She felt that sensation grow and build, the sweet tickling tingle filling her and growing and building until...

  “Uh!”

  She felt the sweetness flow through her, from her, and out of her, crashing through her like a tempest, washing away her thoughts.

  She collapsed back onto the pillows in a sweet, wondrous fullness.

  Later, she became aware of his presence as he rolled off her and wrapped her in his arms. She must have been sleeping, fo
r she woke now to feel his lips on her forehead, his arms folding her close.

  She sighed and snuggled closer, letting her body mold to his embrace.

  He rolled over and his arms wrapped round her. She sighed as his lips touched her cheek and felt her whole self melt as he tenderly kissed her.

  When he sat up and looked down at her, she was weeping. However, they were tears of joy.

  “Oh, Marguerite,” he whispered.

  He made her name a cherished thing, and she felt the touch of it in every part of her. She reached up and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close. She felt a sweet fullness inside her, an ache of fulfillment. Her heart melted as he kissed her again.

  “Oh, Sean,” she whispered as he lay down again. “I love you forever.”

  He rolled over and their eyes met and held. He took her hand. “And I love you forever too, my dear.”

  They kissed.

  EPILOGUE

  EPILOGUE

  Marguerite sat by the fire, looking into it. They were in the turret at Aberleigh. She leaned back on the settle, feeling a slow, safe contentment.

  “Mara?”

  “Yes?”

  “How is Cam?”

  “He's awake and wondering where his mama is. Can I bring him in?”

  “Please,” Marguerite nodded.

  She leaned back, her eyes closed in contentment. She heard the maid – who was now a healer, trained at the wise, strict hand of Lady Joanna – returning.

  “Here we are, Master Cam. Here's your mama.”

  Marguerite smiled down at the baby. Over at the fire, her daughter, Estella, turned to look at her.

  “Can I hold him, Mama?”

  Marguerite smiled. “Of course.”

  She was still tired after the birth, but she would never tire of seeing her two children together. She sighed and leaned across and Estella, her hands small and strong, already showing the fine bones they would have as an adult, reached across to take him.

  Marguerite supported him as her daughter smiled down at her young relative.

  “Hello, Cam.”

  “Oh,” he said, a little breathy sighing noise. He smiled, a peaceful expression.

  Marguerite and Estella shared a smile. She had the same just-auburn hair of her father, darkening a little in the winter. At eight summers old, she was a beauty just coming into her own. Marguerite smiled.

  “Mara?”

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Will you settle him down for me?”

  She passed the baby across to the young healer, who smiled at him fondly.

  “He's a fine babe,” she said.

  “He is.”

  Marguerite listened to the soft sound of Mara comforting him and watched the firelight make highlights in her daughter's hair as the small girl watched it, eyes fascinated and focused.

  She thought her heart would melt, she was so happy.

  In the hallway, she heard a heavier footstep. “Sean?” She didn't say it loudly, but she saw her daughter tense and knew she had heard the same steps.

  “Daddy?”

  “Aye, it's me,” Sean said, walking in. He spoke quietly, but Mara, quick for her age, pressed a hand to her cheek in a shocked gesture.

  “Whist, Daddy,” she said softly. “Cam's slumbering.”

  Marguerite grinned as Sean nodded at the rebuke.

  “I'll hold my whist.”

  “Good.”

  She wanted to giggle as he smiled and then went to sit by the fire. He took his daughter in his arms and held her, and together they watched the fire.

  “How was your day?”

  Sean smiled at her lazily. He looked contented. He had taken over the command of the garrison here, now that Camden was often away touring the defenses of Buccleigh's landholdings. The war had ended, and the whole country waited to see what would happen next. There were whispers of an uprising, words that Robert de Brus would not rest until the country was under his kingship.

  So far, in this peace, they were only words. Up here in the north, it was hard to give it thought. Hard to think of anything, at this moment, but peace. And love.

  Sean smiled. The flame-light played on his cheeks, his sinewy face strong and calm.

  I love him so much, Marguerite thought, wonderingly. I love him so much it hurts.

  She heard another step behind her.

  “Auntie Marguerite?”

  “Joanna!” She turned to smile at the tall, lovely girl who was now a sweet eleven, her brown eyes big and tremulous as she looked at her. “Is your mother about?”

  “She's coming now,” Joanna said calmly. “Granny Amabel was seeing to her injured horse. Mama is with her. She'll join us in a moment.”

  “Good.” Marguerite let her eyelids drop a little as Mara placed the baby in her arms and Rubina came in, quietly, and joined her daughter on the settee.

  This is life, Marguerite thought contentedly. All war, all conflict, all hate – it was all illusion. All mist and storm-wrack that drifted, shifted and floated away, leaving only the rock of truth. And love.

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  ALSO BY EMILIA FERGUSON

  Lairds of Dunkeld Series

  Book 1 Link -> Heart Of A Highlander

  Book 2 Link -> The Highlander’s Challenge

  Book 3 Link -> The Highland Hero

  Book 4 Link - > The Cursed Highlander

  Book 5 Link - > The Highlander’s Dilemma

  Book 6 Link -> The Highlander’s Awakening

  Book 7 Link -> The Highland Secret Agent

  Book 8 Link -> A Highlander’s Terror

  Book 9 Link -> Soul Of A Highlander

  Book 10 Link - Courage Of A Highlander

  Acknowledgement

  Thank you for taking your time and energy to read “Courage Of A Highlander”. Without your continuous support, I would not have written this book.

  Wherever you are, I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart. I also want to thank my wonderful Facebook fans, my advance copy reviewers and beta readers in advance for making this series a success.

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  Publisher’s Notes

  Copyright © 2017 & 2018 by EMILIA FERGUSON & MOUNTAINSKY HOUSE PUBLISHING CO.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real or dead people, places, or events are not intentional and are the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author/publisher. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

 

 
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