Those small sparks of hope I believed were being snuffed out forevermore have seen a breath of new life. And although they be small and guttering right now, those sparks within me have become flames.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Catherine
The night is dark and chilly. The sky above is layered in thick clouds that carry the promise of rain, but it is holding off for now. Birds call to one another, flitting from branch to branch overhead, and small creatures rustle the brush all around me, making me jump whenever I hear the shuffle of dry leaves or the snapping of a twig.
I swallow hard, doing my best to settle my nerves, which are tighter than a drum right now. It is not just being out here in the dark − all alone − that has me so jumpy and nervous. It is the fact that I snuck out of Caldryn House at all. I have never been permitted to leave after dark, and I have never disobeyed that command from my father.
Not until tonight.
It took Maggie and I a couple of days to get it all set up, but she was true to her word, and we figured out how to get me out of the castle. But if my father finds out that I stole away under the cover of night, he will have my skin. He is not a stupid man and would be able to intuit why it is I snuck out after dark. And any lingering doubts that he would ship me back to Carlisle − not that there are many right now anyway − would blow away like dust on a breeze.
If I am caught, there will be no argument I can make that will sway him. He will be more disappointed in me than he ever has been before. I dare say if he ever found out about my liaisons with Malcolm, I would become an object of disgust and revulsion in his eyes not just because I gave my maidenhead to Malcolm but because I will have yet again, reduced my chances of finding a suitable match − one that could still bring some measure of prestige and financial advantage to our House.
Those are two things that would not be forthcoming if it is known that I have allowed myself to be tainted by a savage Scotsman. After all, nobody would spend their coin or their influence and prestige on used goods.
I try to push such thoughts out of my head, lest my mood turn sour. Tonight is not for that. Tonight is for me. I am not often selfish, but this is one time when I must be. If I am to be sent back to Carlisle, then I must see Malcolm one last time.
I hear the sound of footsteps on the path moving toward me, and my heart leaps into my throat. As they draw closer, my stomach lurches, and I am nearly overcome by the urge to turn and run, sure that my father’s men have discovered me.
But then I see Malcolm appear from the darkness, and my stomach roils hard, but for a very different reason. I look at him and feel my heart stuttering drunkenly in my chest. It is as if I am seeing him for the first time, and I take him in. He wears a saffron-colored tunic that falls to his knees and a dark-colored brat draped over one shoulder and belted around his waist. Leather shoes cover his feet, and leather wraps are corded and tied around his calves.
His hair is pulled back into a tight tail that falls just below his shoulders. His facial hair has grown more thick and full, adding to his rugged good looks − though to some, I suppose he would appear to be a wildman or a savage. To me, he is the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. But that opinion is based on much more than his physical appearance. He is such a layered and complex man − intelligent and thoughtful, articulate, and best of all, kind and generous. He has a warmth that, sadly enough, I see in too few people.
He steps close to me, and I feel the breath catch in my throat. His eyes glitter like chips of sapphire as he looks down at me, and in their depths, I see a longing I am sure is mirrored in my own.
“I was surprised to get your message,” he says. “But I was glad to get it all the same. How did you get out without being seen?”
I give him a small smile. “Maggie is a very resourceful woman.”
“So it would seem.”
His warm Scottish brogue does unspeakable things to my insides, and even though it has been just a couple of days since I last heard it, I realize how much I’ve missed hearing his voice and that thick accent.
“I wanted − no, I needed to see you,” I state.
“Why is that? You seemed to be distancing yourself from me the day I met with your father. Seemed like you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
“That isn’t fair, Malcolm,” I reply.
“No?”
I shake my head. “We both did what we had to do, and you know that. I understand that you traded me back to my father to protect your people,” I tell him. “But I felt as if I had to distance myself from you to protect − myself.”
“Protect yourself from what then?”
“From the pain of having to walk away from you,” I say.
I look into his face, and I know he understands. I can see that plain as day, though it is wrapped in uncertainty. He tries to hide it, but I see it anyway. Malcolm can hide himself away from those around him − his true essence. I’ve seen him play the role of the stony-faced Clan Chief with his men. But with them, he has to be hard. He must not let himself be seen as weak or vulnerable. I understand that. I have seen the same in far too many men in my life. Very few of them though have the depth or the complexities Malcolm does. Very few of them are as layered as he is.
Malcolm tries, but he is unable to hide his true emotions from me. He cannot hide his true essence or those things that make up who he is. Not from me. I can see through his masks and his facades, and what I see is something so pure and beautiful, it makes me want to weep. And hold tight to it, never letting it go.
What I have come to understand over the last couple of days is that not having him in my life has left a void. It has left a massive hole inside of me − a hole I do not believe anybody will ever truly be able to fill. And the thought of leaving Scotland − of leaving him − is tearing my heart into pieces.
But as long as I am here, I will do as Maggie said and seize control of these moments I have. Until I am forced to leave, exiled to Carlisle, I will see Malcolm as often as I can and make memories I will cherish forever. For it may only be those memories that get me through the cold, dark, and lonely days of my life that are bearing down on me.
“Come,” I say and take him by the hand.
I lead him up the path that cuts through the forest. The trees are thick and press close to us on either side. The silence around us is suddenly as deep and perfect as the darkness as the birds and animals silently mark our passing.
I lead him to the small, abandoned one-room house Maggie directed me to, and Malcolm follows me through the door. The interior is bathed in the soft, flickering light of the candles I set out, and a fire burns low in the hearth, casting a warming glow about the small home. Malcolm looks around and then turns to me with a curious look on his face.
“M - Maggie,” I stammer a reply to his unasked question. “She sometimes comes here with − a friend.”
Malcolm nods and smiles as if he understands. We stand in an awkward silence for a moment, neither of us seeming to know what to say to the other, and I feel myself flush. I had practiced what I wanted to say a thousand times on the way here. It was a grand speech filled with declarations of emotion straight from my heart. But as I stand here looking into his eyes, I find that all thoughts have fled my mind, and I am utterly speechless. I stand before him, looking like an idiot. But then Malcolm thankfully breaks the silence, which seems to unlock the door holding all of my words back.
“What are we doing here, love?” he asks. “I’d wager a few coppers that if your father found out, he wouldn’t be well-pleased.”
A small grin quirks a corner of my mouth upward. “That is putting it mildly, I fear.”
“Then why take the risk?”
“As I said, I needed to see you,” I tell him. “I did not like the way we left things, and I wanted to make that right.”
He gives me a gentle smile, and I see his face soften. “You have nothing to apologize for, Catherine.”
“I feel as if I
do.”
He shakes his head. “It was an impossible situation. As you said, we both did what we had to do. There is no fault in that.”
A loud pop comes from the hearth as the fire crackles, and suddenly, the room feels warmer. I take a step forward, closing the distance between us, our gazes locked together. The air between us is thick and filled with anticipation. There is so much I want to say to this man. I want to make him understand how I feel about him − or at least give voice to the emotions running roughshod through me so that I may understand them myself. But more than anything right now, I just want to lose myself in him.
Reaching up, I loosen the ties at the throat of my dress and then untie them completely. The tip of his tongue pokes out of his mouth, and he moistens his lips as he watches me slip the plain, dark fabric from my shoulders. The air inside the house cools my skin, which suddenly feels as if it is aflame as I push my dress down further. Malcolm’s eyes glitter and fill with his desire as my dress spills down my body and pools at my feet. Pulling the pins out of my hair, I let it flow down my back as I gently step out of my slippers. My eyes never leaving his, I stand before him in nothing but my skin.
The fire casts flickering shadows about his face, slightly obscuring his expression from me, but I hear his breath quicken as he drinks me in. I flush warmly as he admires my body in that way he does. His gaze is intense as I watch his eyes slowly move from the top of my head to the tip of my feet and then back again.
“I do not believe God above has ever created anything else as beautiful as you,” he whispers.
Malcolm reaches out and runs the tips of his fingers along my cheek. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, relishing the feel of his hands on me. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, gently at first, but as I melt into him, his kiss grows forceful. His tongue slides into my mouth, dashing against mine. I shudder as he slides his fingertips down my back, goosebumps marching across my skin.
He kisses my neck and slides his tongue down to my collarbone as he cups my breasts in his massive hands. Kneading them gently, he takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around my stiff nipple, sending waves of pleasure washing through me. I run my fingers through his hair, pulling out the tie that binds it and let it fall to the floor. I gasp as he turns his attention to my other breast, his breath warm and moist on my nipple, and I cry out as I grip his hair with both hands, pulling it tight as my body lights up from within.
As if I weigh nothing at all, Malcolm picks me up and sets me down on a table in the corner of the room. It creaks beneath me, and I worry that it might break under my weight for a moment. But then all thought is driven from my mind when I feel the tip of Malcolm’s tongue on my painfully swollen bud.
He parts my thighs wider as he sinks to his knees, plunging his tongue deep within me. The fire between my legs is burning out of control as he laps eagerly at my wetness. He grips my thighs with his hands, his fingers pressing into my flesh as he slides his tongue deeper inside of me. My cry is loud, and my grip on his hair tightens as Malcolm looks up at me, his eyes filled with raw need as he licks at me with a zeal that nearly steals my breath.
He takes my bud into his mouth and rolls his tongue around it as he pierces me with two fingers, driving them deep into me. I draw in a long, shuddering breath, unable to make a sound. All I seem able to do is feel right now. I throw my head back and close my eyes, reveling in the feel of his fingers moving within me and his warm breath, then his tongue on my button. He laps at it faster as he pumps his fingers into me, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
The scream that is suddenly torn from my throat is so loud; I fear they will be able to hear it back at Caldryn House. My body shudders hard, and I pull Malcolm’s hair almost violently. But as my stomach churns and the rush of warmth fills the center of me, he continues to lap at my wetness, seeming to savor the taste of me.
As the shuddering within me slowly starts to fade, Malcolm stands and finds my mouth with his. He forces his tongue into my mouth, his kiss so passionate and intense; he steals the breath I have only just reclaimed. Reaching down, I grip his staff through his tunic. The feeling of it, so thick and hard in my hand, sends a fresh flood of warmth through me, and I feel myself growing slicker.
Our tongues swirl together in my mouth as I unclasp the belt around his waist and drop it. Then I pull the brat off his shoulder and let it fall to the floor along with the belt. Malcolm pulls back and slips his tunic off over his head and tosses it aside, the floor of the small home now littered with our clothing and as he steps forward, I feel the head of his rigid staff pressing against my opening, hot and dripping wet.
With another kiss, he slips the head of his cock past my velvety folds and slides himself in even deeper. He sheaths himself in me fully, and I cry out as I am gripped by a sharp stab of pain. Leaning forward, I sink my teeth into his shoulder, and he draws in a breath. Slowly, the pain fades and is replaced by the rush of pleasure so vivid it makes my head swim.
I kiss Malcolm again, and he starts to move inside of me, the feel of him sliding against my inner walls setting off bright flashes of pure bliss behind my eyes. He slides his hands down and cups my bottom, squeezing it tight as he starts to drive himself into me harder. Putting my hands on his broad, muscular shoulders, I grip him tight as he thrusts himself deep into my core.
My body is awash in feeling, and my cries are lost in his mouth as he kisses me. I cling to him, tightening my legs around his waist as he plunges his length into me as his mouth finds my breasts, swirling his tongue around the nipples and sends white-hot bolts of lightning shooting through me. He straightens, and I press my forehead to his, our eyes locked as he impales me with his manhood, the eye contact somehow making the sensations coursing through me even more intense than they already were.
He pushes himself into me as deep as he can, and the feeling of him filling me so completely is exquisite. We both let out a low, shuddering moan, and I feel his staff swelling within me. Malcolm steps back, pulling himself out of me and smiles. He gently lays me down on my back, the table groaning ominously. If he notices though, he does not show it − his attention is focused solely on me.
He rolls me onto my side and steps forward again. I lift my head, watching as he nestles his thick, engorged rod between my slick folds and then wantonly moan as he starts to move. Malcolm grunts as he pumps himself into me wildly, the sound of our bodies slapping together, filling the small home around us.
With one hand gripping my thigh tight as if for leverage and the other kneading my breast, Malcolm pierces my molten core over and over again. I cry out his name as I am inundated with sensations to the point of being overwhelmed by them. I feel his thick length inside of me swelling and beginning to pulse against my sensitive inner walls.
The pressure is building inside of me as he moves within me, filling my most intimate parts with his sex. I feel tight bands of steel wrapping themselves around my chest, making it difficult to breathe as my heart stutters in my chest, and my stomach churns. I am rapidly approaching that brink once more and feel my entire body tightening as Malcolm continues to pound himself into me.
I see the strain in his face, in the corded muscles that stand out in his neck, and in the tautness of his body. I bite my bottom lip as he looks down at me, his expression one of absolute rapture. Using the muscles inside of me, I grip his cock tighter, and he lets out a loud grunt, his rhythm broken. But he drives himself into me one last time with such force that I gasp. He holds himself there, deep against the most sensitive spot within me, and I cry out his name once more.
With a shuddering gasp, I feel Malcolm explode inside of me. I feel his hot, sticky seed spurting into the center of me, the sensation of it touching off an eruption within me. I grip his forearm tight, my nails digging into his flesh as I tumble down into that hole of ecstasy along with him.
We cling to one another as the waves of pleasure wash over us. He holds himself inside of me until his staff stops throbbing
and then steps back. He slips out of me and helps me into a sitting position. Malcolm steps forward again and embraces me. I lean into him, wrapping my arms around him and hold him tight. I breathe deeply, savoring the scent of him as well as the musky aroma of our sex.
He looks down at me and smiles softly before placing a tender kiss upon my lips. It is a chaste kiss but one that is filled with emotion. As our lips meet, I feel a bright white light filling my body that’s filled with Malcolm’s feelings for me. He doesn’t have to speak the words. I just know. He steps back and picks my discarded clothing from the floor and sets it on the table next to me.
We both get dressed, and then I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his waist again, unable to get enough of feeling myself wrapped up in his embrace. Of feeling his hard, strong body pressed to mine. The thought that this might be the last time I feel it sends a dark lance of pain through my heart.
“This isn’t what I thought you wanted to see me about,” he grins.
My cheeks flush, but I cannot keep the smile from my face. “But I would bet that you had hoped.”
His laughter is soft. “Aye. You have me there.”
“I must admit, this was not my first intention. I merely wanted to apologize. I had a full speech prepared and everything.”
He smiles and runs his fingertips over my cheek softly. “A speech? Let’s have a listen then.”
“I think sometimes words only get in the way.”
He pulls me to him, and I lay my head against his chest, the feeling of being engulfed by his massive body comforting and filling me with a sense of contentment I have never known before.
“Aye,” he says softly. “Sometimes words do only get in the way.”
The Highlander's Claim (Highland Romance) Page 18
