Kiltless In Carolina

by Ashantay Peters

  Isla jumped to hug her gran, surprised to feel her fragility. Maybe coming this weekend had been the right decision after all.

  Gran pointed to her. “Sit. I’ve something for ye.”

  Isla looked skyward, but no writing lay upon the clouds revealing the strange tradition she’d just heard mentioned for the first time. She sank into a camp chair.

  Gran returned from the camper with her right hand fisted. She lowered carefully into the seat next to her granddaughter. “Gi’ me yer hand, ma lass. First, picture what ye most desire.”

  “Like a new top of the line digital camera and the accompanying computer programs?”

  She sighed. “Nae hope for the young. Don’t ye want somethin’ mair personal and warm?”

  Isla’s face heated remembering her morning interlude. She wouldn’t mind having a bigger piece of that.

  Gran grabbed her hand, slipped something small against her palm and wrapped her fingers around the item. Isla felt an initial heat, she supposed from Gran. Then a jolt passed from her hand up her arm and into her heart.

  Her eyes widened. “What did you give me?”

  Gran kept her hand around Isla’s. “Before ye look, ye must hear the story. Ken the magic.”

  Isla cleared her throat. “Magic?”

  “Back when Faeries lived in peace with humans, dragons ruled the skies, and unicorns ran free, the women in our Clan were desired for their beauty and grace. An Elf prince named Aidan, the Fiery One, became enamored of Sorcha the Bright, a warrior princess.

  Tall he was, and dark of hair with eyes gleaming like a full moon when he looked upon his human lover. Sorcha was near as tall, with dark hair but eyes green as moss. Together the love they created blinded human and Fae alike.

  Isla leaned forward not wanting to miss a syllable.

  “Aye, for lovers they became not long after they met. In turn, they had two beautiful daughters and lived in peace.

  “But humans can hold deep jealousies and an abiding need for revenge ye ken, and Sorcha was the target of one such. A foul man named Brochan, and broken he was for he could not release either his envy of Aidan or unhealthy obsession with Sorcha. He bedeviled the lovers and, in league with a dark witch, succeeded in murdering Aidan.”

  “No! What happened to Sorcha?”

  “Thar’s the heart of ma story. In his final moments, Aidan imbued a pin with his remaining power. Sorcha added a spell, ensuring those of her line would realize their dreams. After entrusting her daughters to a sister in another land, she died o’ heartbreak.”

  Isla opened her hand. A small pin gleamed. Besides the metal’s patina, a soft glow surrounded the piece.

  “Yer fondest wish, what ye were thinking when ye received the pin, will come true, dearie. After ma mither gifted me this, I met and married ma Ian. We had yer mum and yer uncle and came to America fer a better life. As long as I’ve had possession of the pin, everything I hoped for came true.”

  “But I like my life as is.”

  Gran raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Is tha the truth o’ yer heart?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, that’s not what I saw when I passed the tradition onward.” She patted her granddaughter’s hand. “In fact, my friend Fiona has a fine son in need of a good woman. We’re agreed the two of ye would suit like neeps and tatties. The photos I saw showed a fine, brawny lad. A piper, she said, blessed with talent and heart, though he’s had his heart broken and lost his way.”

  “Gran, I don’t want a family sponsored Scottish blind-date complete with folk prophecies.” Once again, MacKay’s face flashed before her mind’s eye. She should follow her own advice and forget him and his guarandamntees. “Did you say he’s a piper? You know my opinion of pipers.”

  “Ach, ‘tis true Scottie treated you ill. Still and all, one bad piper doesnae a dozen make.”

  Dumping me at our engagement party was more than a bit “ill.” Disloyal shithead. And where did gran get that strange saying?

  “The magic will steer ye.” She caught Isla’s eye. “Guard this pin carefully. ’Tis said if treated carelessly, the disregarding woman suffers a most grievous loss.”

  “I’ll be careful, Gran.” She started for her luggage.

  “What are ye doin’?”

  “Putting the pin away. I don’t want to lose it.”

  “Och, not a bit; once given ye must wear it close to yer heart all the day long. Tis why ye’ve not seen the pin before now.”

  “Oh, well.” She studied the metal in her palm. The thistle was beautifully rendered, the detail clear, with an amethyst in the middle. Magic jewelry? Not likely. Gran should have entered the storyteller’s contest this year. Still, she’d felt an electric jolt. “I’ll wash up first.”

  “Ye’ll see, Isla. The truth of yer heart lies close.”

  ****

  “No, Mom. I won’t meet your new friend’s granddaughter.” Graeme ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve promised Liam.”

  “And shame on Liam for convincing Kenzie to desert her cousin.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek and stifled the comment that Kenzie was as hot for time alone as Liam.

  “I met Selkie Adair this morning, a lovely woman. If her granddaughter has half her beauty, you’ll be smitten.”

  Once again, he bit his cheek to keep from answering honestly. All he needed was a willing non-Scot body. Smitten? Not likely. The green-eyed mess from earlier invaded his thoughts. Should he hook up with her? He had no doubt he’d gotten her hotel room.

  “She has beautiful black hair. Green eyes,” she said. “You’d make beautiful grandchildren for me.”

  He’d already met a woman meeting the description, one with a lush ass and lips that wouldn’t quit. Better that than kids. The inside of his cheek would be raw if this conversation lasted much longer.

  “I know what you’d like, but as I said, I have a dinner engagement.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Fine. Encourage your brother in his foolishness, but it’s all arranged.”

  His stomach muscles contracted. “What do you mean?”

  She tossed her head. “We’re to meet the family after the Parade of Tartans.”

  He wanted to toss his head in return. “Oh, hell no.”

  “I don’t ask much of you.”

  “True, Mom, but I have a rehearsal. Had a last minute request to fill-in for another piper. I’ve not played with the band before, so I’ll need time with them.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then you’ll participate in the Bachelor’s Sporran Event.”

  “No.” He immediately rued his tone. “Sorry, Mom. I can’t.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. Her eyes softened. “You can’t let what happened with Cait dictate your life.”

  “She has nothing to do with anything.” He hoped she hadn’t noticed his muscles tightening under her hand.

  She shook her head. “If you say so.”

  “I’m headed back to the hotel. I need a shower.” What he really needed was for her to back off. “Later, Mom.”

  Chapter Five

  Graeme recognized the ass. The one he’d grabbed less than an hour ago. The owner stood in line for the coldwater showers, looking like a squealed off note sounded. Until they’d kissed, he’d have predicted she loved ice water or another frigid substance that resembled whatever channeled through her veins. Warm blood hadn’t seemed probable.

  His lips tingled. Who’d have thought she’d prove him wrong. Against his better inclination, he joined her in line, crowding her position.

  In a nod to the rapidly warming day, she’d deep-sixed the coat and hat. Her long legs were nicely displayed in tight shorts that he’d already noticed hugged her ass. A short top showing off a flat abdomen didn’t hurt the look, either. His unruly dick stirred. Jesus H. Why her?

  Why not her, his dick shouted back. She turned and their glances met. He overtly scanned her. She’d already called him a pig. May as well act like one. Could be fu
n. “Hey, baby, can’t handle the heat?”

  Her eyebrows rose. Her chin jutted halfway to the Atlantic coast. “The day is young. Oh, wait. Are you referring to yourself?” She made an oinking sound. “Looking for mud?”

  He stifled a laugh. Could be his dick did know best. She may not be as bad as he thought. “I’m on my way back to the hotel for a hot shower. Want to join me?”

  “You’ll be using the hot water meant for me?”

  “You’d look good in the shower.” He placed his lips next to her ear. “Or in my bed. That may have been meant for you, too.”

  “I don’t think—” She stilled.

  “Not thinking is good. To paraphrase Yoda, just do.”

  She appeared not to hear him, instead staring at something over his shoulder. Her eyes widened. “Ginger Bastard. I knew I shouldn’t have come this weekend.”

  He turned to spot whatever had caught her attention. Fuck. Couldn’t be she knew the asshole. Could she?

  “If we leave now, you won’t have to say hello to someone you’d rather avoid.”

  “You’ll lose your parking spot.”

  “VIP lot.”

  “Figures.” She straightened. “Let’s go.”

  They made the trip to the lot and climbed into his car in silence. He drove down the mountain and into town before finally seeking answers. “Want to tell me more? Hey, I’m sharing my shower with you. Least you could give me is your name.” He knew she’d told him when they first met, but he’d been more interested in checking out her tits.

  “Isla McAllister.” Her mouth snapped shut, and her throat undulated in a series of swallows. He knew the feeling and waited. She needed to spill.

  “The man I saw was my bastard ex, the one who chose our engagement party to decide he wanted someone else. I found him in a linen closet, screwing a skinny blond skank.”

  “The skank have a name?” Not that he needed an answer. He already knew.

  She turned angry green eyes his way. “Like I asked?” She shook her head. “Bitch is a dancer. She’s probably here, too. And unlike me, isn’t sleeping on a leaky air mattress.” She sighed and he heard a world of hurt.

  He dropped the topic and once again, they were silent until he closed his room door behind them.

  “So this is what my room looks like,” she said. “Nice.”

  Not about to escalate that argument, he raised the topic uppermost in his mind. “I know one sure way to get back at the ginger-haired bastard.”

  “I thought I was the only person using the name.”

  “Forget him. Fuck me. Here, now. Give yourself a reason to want a long, hot shower.”

  “A pity fuck? No thanks. Besides, after sleeping out last night, I could live in the shower. All by myself.”

  He grabbed her upper arms, yanking her against his chest and looking her in the eyes. “Pity fuck, my ass. The image of you naked in the shower gets me hot.” He ran his hands down her spine. “How about living up to the kiss you planted on me earlier?”

  Cupping the back of her head, he lowered his lips to hers, watching her pupils darken before her eyelids fluttered shut. He nibbled and nipped until she responded. Then he kicked up the heat, repetitively thrusting his tongue in her mouth.

  She retreated a step. “I can’t believe I’m in a hotel room with a man I’ve just met.”

  Nerves? A belated sense of sanity, more like.

  “We met yesterday. And again this morning.” He caught her jaw between his fingers and lifted her head. “You changing your mind? Tell me now.” His voice softened. “I’m not going to force you, hurt you, and I won’t stop you from leaving. You can even take a shower first.”

  Graeme saw doubt in her wrinkled forehead and clouded green eyes. “I know your name but nothing more. You could be married. Have a fiancée.”

  “Will you believe what I say or are you looking for an out?” She placed her fingertips on his jaw. The tension he carried there dissipated.

  “Crazy as it sounds, I want you but not at the cost of hurting another woman the way I’ve been betrayed. So tell me the truth. Please.”

  He held her gaze. “I’m not in any kind of relationship.” He wasn’t about to tell her that her ex had run off with his. Bad history didn’t need repeating. “What happens next stays between us. I always use condoms, so I’m as clean as I have any right to be. I’m no player. My…last woman was some time ago.”

  “So was my boyfriend. Guess we’re both ready for action?” She squirmed. “I know I’m primed.”

  “Jesus H. I want to undress you. With my teeth.”

  “That’ll take too damn long.” She shoved his t-shirt hem to his shoulders. “You gonna help me or what?”

  He tugged off his shirt with one hand, tossing it over his shoulder. “What’s taking you so long?”

  Isla removed her top. His breath caught. Her breasts were already plumped and spilling from her red lace bra.

  He cupped her full tits, his fingers dancing over her silky skin. Damn it. She was even softer than he’d imagined.

  Bending his head, he plucked a rosy nipple out of her bra and into his mouth. He sucked. She moaned and pressed her hips against his. His fingers traced over the lace, snagging on a bit of metal. “What the hell is this?”

  “I forgot. It’s a gift from my gran. Hang on. Let me unpin it.” She fumbled with the jewelry clasp.

  “Let me.” He unhooked her bra, throwing it after his shirt.

  “I can’t lose the pin.” She sounded nervous.

  “Don’t worry. Your bra isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Which reminds me.” She tapped her forefinger against her pursed lips. “What are you doing about the rest of your clothes?”

  “Tell you what. You can start with my sporran and work your way in. You won’t find much blocking you.”

  “Regimental? Incentive works both ways.” She lifted her breasts from beneath and raised her eyebrows.

  “I can multi-task.” He tugged her beside him on the bed. She landed facing him on her side. “On your knees.”

  “Ha, I’m sensing you want me to suck you off. Why don’t you ask nicely? Oh, wait. I forgot. Sodding piper that you are.” She remained on her side, her green eyes challenging him from under long, dark eyelashes. Her pupils darkened, absorbing all but a ring of emerald.

  “You forgot bleeding, fucking and whoring.” Graeme’s hands roamed her smooth skin, exploring the area above her ribs. If he didn’t want to tease her a little, he’d detour and tongue her rosy nipples. A body filled with lush wonders and less than two days to find them all. The thought made his breath hitch.

  He watched her legs relax and fall open when his hand hovered above her zipper. Her scent rose, a combination of soap and sexual arousal. His mouth watered. He unfastened her shorts and ran his finger along her inner folds. “Is that why you’re wet?”

  She inhaled with a gasp. “I, uh, it’s been awhile since I’ve, you know.”

  Isla’s low, raspy voice made his dick twitch. Her words were at odds with her inviting body language. Huh. He still wouldn’t have pegged her for nervous. “Then let me take care of you.”

  He nudged her shorts to her ankles and she shook them off without looking at him. He wondered what would happen if he ran his hands over her ass and rubbed his finger along her crack. His fingers followed his thoughts. Her gluts tensed. His heart pounded.

  Yeah, he’d make sure her sexual drought got rain. In buckets.

  She ran her hands under his kilt, rubbing her fingertips along his thighs and avoiding his cock. Good thing. Her strong fingers would have him shooting his wad too soon.

  He redirected her questing fingers. “Forget about undoing my plaid. I can’t wait for more of your delectable ass.”

  She moaned as his fingers encompassed and squeezed her gluts. Her hips undulated. She clasped her arms around his bare shoulders her face nestled against his chest.

  Nope. He wanted to watch her come. See the green fire.

&nb
sp; He lifted her into a sitting position, propping her from behind, facing the dresser mirror. Her eyes widened.

  “Isla, get on all fours for me.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him rather than catching his glance in the mirror. Jesus H. Could someone with such a lush body really be shy? No way.

  “I wanna see you watching me taking you from behind. You up for that?” He hoped so because his dick thickened with the idea. Electricity ran through his veins. Had he finally met a woman who’d go for more than the missionary position? Someone willing to experiment? With fantasies of her own?

  She shifted to her hands and knees on top of the bedspread, still looking over her shoulder at him. “Bring it.”

  Her skin glistened. She panted, her eyes large. Damned if the picture didn’t make his heart stutter. Blood surged into his shaft, guiding him to her heat. He flipped his tartan back, too much in a hurry now to consider more than rolling on a condom.

  Cupping a breast with one hand, he stroked her folds with his other, probing until her panting moans echoed in the room. “Raise your ass for me.”

  Graeme’s pulse pounded in his ears, his breaths short and fast. His cock strained to take her hard and fast. Holding her waist and hips, he plunged, filling her cunt. She gasped, lifting and rotating her ass against his groin.

  Sweet Jesus H. Her firm mounds fit perfectly against him, making his body howl for closer, deeper contact. He thrust into her over and over, her tight sheath gripping his dick like she’d never let go.

  Isla’s long, dark hair was caught between his chest and back, adding extra friction. He wrapped one arm around her stomach, anchoring her, using his free hand to circle and tease her nipples. Her soft skin made his fingers tingle.

  Alternating shallow lunges with deep penetration, he thrust against her, his scrotum tightened with the repeated impact of their bodies, now slick with moisture. Her breasts jiggled with every impact.

  Their gazes tangled in the mirror, pupils dilated. “Ah, god,” he said. “Too hot.”

  She closed her eyes, lost in her heightened pleasure, and he felt cheated. Robbed of a treasure he hadn’t known he wanted.