The Highland Dynasty: The Complete Series

by Amy Jarecki

  “Rather, it has grown attached to you.”

  “I would like nothing more than to be groomed by your capable hands, wife.”

  Colin here at last? She still could scarcely believe it—and none too soon. Praise God, her prayers had been answered. Why on earth was she so nervous? Her fingers hadn’t stopped shaking since the moment she’d realized it was he. How crafty his disguise had been.

  Aye, his grizzly appearance was a tad barbaric, but did nothing to allay his rugged good looks. Perhaps shaving him would put her jittery nerves at ease. Every night Margaret yearned for Colin’s touch, and now she was like a virgin again, unsure what to do or how to show affection. Heaven help her, she’d nearly married a ruthless scoundrel.

  The more she considered it, the tighter her chest became. With all her heart, she wanted to show Colin how much she loved him. The annulment papers came to mind. She shook her head. No. Colin would not be here if he had intended to proceed. I will not think of those vile documents again.

  She took a step toward the adjoining door. “I’ll fetch my shears.”

  When she pushed into her chamber, the heavy air lifted and her mind cleared. Margaret pressed her palm against her chest. Colin had come home. Again tears stung her eyes while she dug in her basket. Would he ever forgive her for trusting Ewen? She would do everything in her power to prove to Colin her loyalty and love.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the door. He’d moved to the chair and had his back to her. If possible, his shoulders had grown even broader in his absence. Perhaps fighting nonstop did that to a man. His dun locks had been trimmed to his nape, and they glistened blond in the firelight. The man’s stature was so magnificent, Margaret would wager he could turn lead to gold.

  When the door closed, he turned and smiled.

  Colin’s smile.

  Her knees wobbled like boneless limbs.

  “I was afraid you might be feeling too tired,” he said.

  “How could I be tired on an eve like this?” She crossed the floor and slipped her arm out of its sling.

  He tapped the splint ever so lightly. “You mustn’t jostle it.”

  “’Tis splinted, and I only need to use my fingers. I’ll do most of the work with my right.”

  “Are you sure you’ll not do further damage?”

  “Aye. A fortnight and Alana says it’ll be as good as new.” She held up the shears. “Are you ready?”

  His eyes sparkled with a wee bit of humor. “I have only one request.”

  “Aye?”

  “Remove that ridiculous headpiece.”

  She laughed, reaching back to pull the pin securing her constricting veil in place. “The new styles are rather garish.” In one tug, the conical contraption fell to the floor. “Oh my. I am clumsy with one hand.”

  He pulled the snood from her head and her hair cascaded to her waist in a messy heap. He fingered a lock. “One-handed you are far more graceful than any swan.”

  “You embellish the truth, and I thank you.” Again she held up her shears.

  He raised his chin and gazed into her eyes. “Trim me close, my love.”

  Colin need say not another word. Her heart melted. His deep voice still vibrated within her breast. My love. Can he truly forgive me?

  Margaret forced herself to steady her hands. As she stepped in, the alluring fragrance of musk and spice enveloped her. With each snip, Colin transformed until she trimmed the hair from his left cheek.

  She gasped and lowered her hands. A deep, jagged scar had been hidden by his whiskers. “My word. What happened?”

  “Bloody hell.” He brushed his fingers across the mottled pink skin. “It has been concealed for so long, I’d nearly forgotten. This was caused by a splinter from my own ship—right before it sank.”

  “With each word, your crusade gets worse.” Margaret knitted her brows and examined the deep scar. To think he’d been so close to death.

  “Pardon my vulgar tongue. I’ve been too long away from the finer sex.”

  “’Tis not that.” She trimmed the last bit of scraggly beard and smoothed her hands over the closely cropped beard that remained. “I…I never want to be separated from you again.”

  Colin grasped her waist with a firm hand. Margaret’s blood rushed hot through her veins. She’d scarcely felt a thing when Ewen touched her, but all her husband had to do was focus his gaze upon her and she was enslaved.

  His fingers clamped into her flesh. “I want to hold you in my arms forever.”

  She grasped his wrists and dropped to her knees. “Can you forgive me?”

  “There is nothing to forgive.” He tugged her up and gently set her on his lap. “I don’t want to cause your arm pain.”

  “My body is tingling so, I doubt I could feel pain this night.”

  He placed a finger on her lips and slowly trailed it to her chin. When he reached her neck, gooseflesh coursed across her skin. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze dipping to her breasts. “During all my time away, I lived as a monk.” He closed his eyes. “I feel as trepid as a virgin.”

  She shuddered. “As do I.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Nay. Not once.”

  “God, I love you.”

  “Kiss me, Colin.”

  Dark, soulful eyes met hers, wounded with atrocities she could only imagine. The longing in them was physical, profound. He lowered his gaze to her lips and dipped his head. Margaret’s womb inflamed with longing. His lips brushed hers lightly. His tongue slipped out, and she opened her mouth to receive him.

  Tasting of whisky and male, his mouth crushed over hers. With a rumbling groan, his fingers sank into her back and kneaded. Margaret clamped her good hand around his neck, holding on for her life. His ardent kiss ignited a bone-melting fire that raged through her blood.

  Against her buttock, he lengthened. Her body responded with desire. Her breasts ached for his touch. She ground her hips into him. Oh God, she could feel passion again.

  Another deep rumble filled her mouth.

  Utterly possessed by him, Margaret whispered, “Make love to me.”

  When her sultry voice expressed the words he’d dreamed of hearing, Colin forced himself not to rip the gown from Margaret’s body and take her like a barbarian. He’d abstained for so long, he clenched his stomach muscles to restrain his base desires and mount her like a stallion rides a mare. Besides, he could cause no further injury to her arm.

  “I want to do this right,” he forced out.

  She nodded and stood. Turning her back, she pulled her thick tresses around her shoulder in an unspoken request to unlace her gown. He rose. Thank heavens she had her back turned and couldn’t see his trembling fingers fumble with the ribbon. Colin needed to cool his blood, act like a man of four and thirty.

  With every tug of the laces, a little more of her scent ensnared him. She’d been bound so tight, he wondered how she could breathe. When at last he pulled the ribbon free, she inhaled deeply. Warmth from her body caressed his face. He ran his hands over her shoulders, her long neck prone to him. He inhaled her intoxicating scent and fluttered kisses along her nape.

  Her billowing skirts brushed the tip of his cock. His eyes rolled back, but it wasn’t enough. Colin pushed the gown from her shoulders, sending it to the floor with a whoosh.

  He hesitated, but she uttered not a complaint. The gown’s wide sleeves did not constrict her wounded limb.

  He slid his hands down her narrow waist and pulled her hips against his. A luscious, soft woman’s bottom teased him through her thin linen shift. He need only lift it up to slide into her from behind. He licked his lips and pressed harder.

  Margaret seductively moved her hips. If she did that again, he’d spill in his braies. He eased away, and she turned, her green eyes dark, her lips red. Her mouth parted. She unlaced the front tie of her shift and slipped it from her shoulders.

  He was afraid to move. Her beauty had Colin so entranced, if his cock met the slightest friction,
it would erupt. Her breasts had enlarged since he’d left, her tummy more rounded from birthing John, no doubt. But the added curves made her even more alluring.

  She looked wantonly, facing him wearing only her hose and slippers. Swallowing hard, Colin knelt to untie her garters. Holy Mary Mother of God. The floral bouquet of her sex hit him between the eyes. His cock strained, demanding to be set free. He worked quickly to untie the ribbons, remove her shoes and tug down her hose. Mouth completely dry, he regarded the triangle of chestnut locks that hid her treasure.

  As if she could hear his thoughts, she opened for him. The air flooded with her scent. His tongue darted out and lapped her. Moaning, Margaret thrust her hips forward, opening her sex to him. He spread her wider with his fingers and swirled his tongue around her sensitive button. She rocked against him, and ran her fingers through his hair.

  He slid a finger inside her slick, wet core. She mewled, her thighs quivering around his face.

  “Don’t stop.” Her voice hoarse, incredibly erotic.

  Colin took her cue. He slid his finger faster while his tongue relentlessly licked.

  Margaret’s breathing sped until she gasped. Her body stiffened, then her thighs convulsed with earth-shattering quivers. Crying out, she came undone in his mouth.

  Clenching his gut against his urge to release his seed, he continued to lick until her breathing ebbed.

  She tugged at his shirt. “Now you.”

  Chuckling, Colin stood. “I’ll not have you using that arm.”

  “But…”

  He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Gently he rested her atop the pillows.

  “I want to undress you,” Margaret persisted. “Here I’m completely bare, whilst you remain clothed.”

  Colin tugged off his shirt. “I’ll remedy that fast enough.”

  As she reclined on Colin’s bed, Margaret’s insides still pulsed. Her inhibitions and fears fled. She wanted Colin to see her naked, and more so, wanted to feast her eyes upon his flesh. When he discarded his shirt, she bolted upright. Another ugly pink scar slashed across his powerful frame.

  “Goodness, what happened?”

  “’Tis nothing.”

  “Did your armor not protect you from such a blow?”

  “I had no armor.”

  Margaret traced her finger along the jagged wound—trailing from his right chest, it marred his well-toned flesh all the way to his left hip. “Why?”

  “’Twas when I escaped from the filthy Turkish dungeon.”

  With every word, the atrocities he’d experienced unfolded. How long had he been imprisoned? What was it like? How did he escape? Margaret pushed these questions from her mind and kissed the puckered flesh. She ran her lips down every painful inch, her insides tearing, her heart bleeding for him. Reaching his hip, she pressed her cheek against his warm skin. “What can I do to take your pain away?”

  He smoothed his hand over her head and grasped a lock of hair. Raising it to his nose, he inhaled and closed his eyes. “To hold you in my arms again is all I need, mo leannan.”

  She unbuckled his belt. He kicked off his shoes and removed his hose. Wearing nothing but his linen braies, Margaret stared at his manhood straining against the thin linen. She reached for them with her good arm and tugged, but she only managed to expose part of his hip.

  Grinning, he helped her push the undergarment to the floor.

  Margaret’s breath stuttered. “It has been so long.”

  He crushed her in his arms and kissed like a man starved. His tongue danced with hers, his hard body plying her flesh. The thick column of his manhood jutted against her mons. The coil of hot desire filled her again. But this time she must have him inside her.

  His kiss eased as he cradled her in his arm and pulled back the bedclothes. With one arm, he lifted her and set her atop the linens.

  Colin crawled beside her, kneeling. Carefully, he placed her injured arm on a pillow. “Are you sure we should do this?”

  “Aye.” She panted. “I need you to join with me and become one. I cannot wait much longer.”

  He pushed between her legs and kissed her. Gradually, he lowered his body until his manhood caressed her hungry flesh. Sparks sizzled deep inside her womb.

  “I’m dangerously close to spilling my seed.”

  “We have a lifetime ahead of us.” She grasped his shaft and guided it to her entrance. His groan thrummed through her fevered womanhood. “I want a daughter this time.”

  He thrust deep and pulled back. His breathing sped with every plunge. He filled and stretched her, rubbing the spot that would send her to the stars. Margaret bucked against him, mewling uncontrollably. His scent enveloped her. His cock filled her. Every inch of skin craved more until she froze at the pinnacle of ecstasy. In one earth-shattering burst, she pulsed around him. “Colin, oh Colin. I will love you forever!”

  With a roar, Colin thrust and exploded within her. His body shook with his violent release, his breath coming in staccato gusts.

  After, Margaret rested in the crux of Colin’s arm. She floated like in a dream, tickling her fingers over his powerful chest. She grasped the charmstone and rubbed its polished surface. “It looks untarnished after all you’ve been through.”

  He grasped it together with her fingers. “Aye, I daresay the legends are true. I could have died any number of times, but your charms remained with me.”

  “Then it truly is a precious heirloom which must continue to protect our family throughout all generations.”

  “We shall cherish it and see our kin does as well.” Colin sighed and wrapped Margaret in his arms. “At long last, I can sleep soundly with you nestled by my side.”

  38

  Tromlee Castle, 3rd August, 1462

  Colin hated to leave Kilchurn the next day, but he could no longer allow his men to act in his stead. Argyll had come to fetch him, and together they rode onto the neighboring lands. Tromlee was but an hour’s ride—an ideal location from which to prey upon a grieving lady and her vast estate.

  Colin had killed more men than he could count, but never did he have a yen for it. Today, however, he not only wanted Ewen MacCorkodale’s blood, he wanted complete ruination of the man and his clan.

  The Black Knight’s men guarded the curtain wall and gates, weapons at the ready. No one said a word when he rode beneath the portcullis. Not a soul filled the cobbled courtyard. Even the blacksmith’s hammer had been silenced.

  Dismounting, Colin faced Maxwell. “Where is he?”

  “Bound and under guard in the solar on the second floor. His men are all contained in the pit.”

  Colin nodded and marched into the dank, moss-covered keep, with Argyll on his heels. He clamped his hand around the hilt of his sword. One clean swing and he could behead the fobbing traitor.

  He clenched his jaw so tight his molars ached. He’d force himself to adhere to Margaret’s wishes. She’d borne the worst of it.

  Arriving at the solar door, he nodded at the sentry to open it.

  Ewen MacCorkodale’s fear permeated the room like shite. Colin slowly slid his dirk from its scabbard and stepped up to the cur. He’d like to cut the bastard’s bindings and face him down right there, man to man…but that was not what Margaret wanted.

  Instead, Colin stood beside him and watched the sweat trickle from his brow. “Uncomfortable, are you?”

  Ewen stared ahead. The coward jolted when Colin used his dirk to cut the gag from his mouth. Then Ewen had the gall to smirk and stretch his jaw.

  Colin smoothed his blade along the swine’s neck. “The pieces of the puzzle fall into place at last. You were the mind behind Walter’s treachery. You have always tried to swindle me and take what’s rightfully mine.” Colin pushed the blade hard enough to break the skin. “Why?”

  Ewen leaned his head away from the weapon. “Ye are arrogant. I fought alongside you to rid Scotland of the Douglas threat, and to whom did the king award lands?”

  Colin smirked. MacCorkodale had b
rought up the rear and cleaned up the carnage whilst Campbell men fought the battle. And he reckons he’s entitled? “Funny. I didn’t see you beside me when I stormed the keep.”

  “You always were too proud to give a care for those who stood behind you.”

  “I beg to differ,” Argyll said.

  “’Tis the earl spewing off for you now, is it?”

  Colin frowned at his nephew. He’d handle this. “You took advantage of a woman. Where are my letters?”

  Ewen looked sideways. “Burned.” He chuckled. “Every one of them.”

  Argyll stepped in. “What happened to the messengers?”

  Ewen smirked. “I couldn’t allow them to walk away, now could I?”

  Colin slammed the bastard’s face with the hilt of his dirk. “You murderous, milk-livered coward.”

  Blood streamed from the corner of Ewen’s mouth. He lowered his gaze and licked.

  Pacing the room, Colin worked to calm his boiling blood. When finally he’d regained his composure, he faced his quarry. “Lady Margaret requested leniency, though I cannot say I agree.” He sheathed his dirk. “Out of respect for her wishes, Argyll will fit you with irons and drag you to Edinburgh. If you survive the journey, you will stand trial in his majesty’s court.”

  Ewen blanched. Fitted with irons, once found guilty, it would be easy for the king’s men to hang him from the battlements alive. It could take weeks for him to die while the crows pecked at his flesh. Colin could live with such a verdict.

  Good.

  “I will petition for your lands to be stripped and passed to the Campbell clan.” Colin snatched his dirk and buried the blade into the table. “And then I shall think on you no more.”

  A stream of sweat bled from Ewen’s temple. “You cannot do this to me. No respectable chieftain should be disgraced by irons—”

  Argyll and the guard muscled the traitor out of the room.

  Colin balled his fists against his urge to murder MacCorkodale here and now. “Aye, no respectable chieftain should.”