Read Charlotte Boyett-Compo- Wyndsheer Online
Authors: Unknown
Charlotte Boyett-Compo- Wyndsheer (12 page)
“But which I really need,” she stated.
A long, indrawn breath, a slow hunch of a shoulder, an equally slow inhalation of air, and he gave in to her. “If it will keep you content,” he agreed.
“I was thinking I could write,” she said, “so I’ll need a computer, too.”
Another long breath. “All right.”
She arched a brow. “You didn’t ask what I’d write.”
“Do I want to know?” he inquired.
“E-books,” she said. “I have a friend who makes about twenty grand a year just writing short stories for a couple of websites. I’m sure she’d hook me up with her publishers.”
He sipped his coffee, not commenting on her suggestion. If she thought she could write, he was sure she could. Though his carvings made enough money to keep them extremely comfortable, he realized she was a woman who needed to contribute.
“I have quite a bit of savings,” she informed him. “We could buy one of those modular homes and have it delivered in sections to ....” She stopped for he was shaking his head. “Why not?”
“I would like a log home with a dark green tin roof,” he said. “One I can put together with my own two hands.”
She didn’t argue. “Okay, but I will furnish it with stuff you can’t make with those strong hands of yours.”
His lips twitched. “No velvets or silks or brocades or frou-frou wallpaper.”
“Leather and burlap and heavy cotton?”
“Aye, but not in pastel colors.”
“Earth tones only, then,” she conceded. “But I want a real bathroom with a big tub and a walk-in shower.”
“I think I can arrange that,” he acknowledged, “but only if I lay the tile.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll have to live here until the inside of the house is complete,” he said. He finished off his coffee. “I’ll go down and have Elspeth start ordering the lumber for me. There’s a man and his son who do concrete work so I can have them pour the foundation. How big a house do you need, lass?”
“At least twenty-four hundred square feet,” she said. “Three bedrooms. The master bedroom on the first floor and the other two upstairs.”
He frowned. “Why do we need two other bedrooms or a second story?”
“One bedroom for my writing and one bedroom for your workroom,” she said with an emphatic nod of her head. “That’s non-negotiable, Wolfman.”
His frown wavered. “I thought you were thinking about children,” he said. “I can’t give you…I won’t give you ....”
“I can’t have children,” she interrupted and held his gaze. “I had a hysterectomy ten years ago.”
He gave her a concerned look. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Fibroid tumors. They run in my family.”
He seemed to relax and she thought she detected an inaudible sigh of relief.
“I see one problem though,” she said, wanting to change the subject of children. At his raised eyebrow, she asked if he would have help in building the house. “You won’t be able to do it all on your own.”
“There are men down in the village that will help me,” he said. “Men who have been helping to hide me up here for years.”
Now she breathed a sigh of relief. “Then what are we waiting for?” she asked. “Let’s go down to the village and ....”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “Not until I know the men who came here looking for you are gone.”
That made sense to her, but she chaffed at knowing she had to stay underground awhile longer yet. Though she trusted him explicitly, she was itching to see the daylight, to feel the wind on her face, to smell the clean air. Being cooped up was making her nervous. She was not used to the restriction.
Jamie leaned forward, putting the chair legs on the floor and reached out a hand to cup her cheek, rub his thumb over her lips. “I’ll go down and check on things,” he said. “My instinct tells me they’ve gone, but I want to make sure.” He thought about the agent he’d thrown up against the Guardian and wondered if that man was wondering mindlessly around the mountainside or if the others had rounded him up and taken him with them.
“You won’t be gone long?” she asked, searching his eyes.
“I’ll be back before sunset,” he said. “There are things I will need to see to like the lumber and the foundation.” He shrugged. “And lead the men to the spot where the house is going to be built.” Another thought--that of the Guardian--flitted through his head, but he didn’t think there would be a problem.
At least he hoped there would not. The land he had in mind was just inside the Guardian’s realm but far enough away from the Gateway that there should be no problem. The land would fall under the protection of An Fear Liath Mor if the Guardian agreed they could live there.
“I see no problem.”
The words were like a harsh caress, but the next were spoken with more gentleness.
“I will welcome the company.”
Jamie silently thanked the Guardian then got up from the table, beginning to clear it but she would have none of that.
“You cooked,” she said. “I will clean. Now go sit in your chair and relax. I can tell you’re hurting.”
He chuckled. “Bossy woman.”
“I’m getting cabin fever,” she grumbled.
“When I come back--and provided the men are gone--we’ll go for a walk outside.”
“I can’t wait,” she said as she began filling the sink pan with hot water from the stove.
Taking a seat in the rocker, he watched her moving about the kitchen. It made his heart swell with contentment for it was a domestic scene in which he’d never expected to take part. When she was finished and was drying her hands on a towel, he pushed himself up--ignoring the ungodly ache that moved through his back--and went to her, encircled her in his arms, bringing her back to his front.
“All I could think about while I was gone was you,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“All I could think about while you were gone was
you
,” she countered and rubbed her rump across the growing bulge in his jeans.
“And what was it you were thinking?” he asked. His breath was warm on her neck, his lips teasing the nape, his teeth nibbling, his tongue swirling to send quivers through her body.
She turned in his arms and draped hers around his neck, gazing up into his chiseled features with a look so hot, so demanding there was no need for her to reply. He scooped her up and took her back to bed, trying desperately to push aside the agony in his back.
It took him but a moment to rip open the shirt she was wearing to bear her breasts. Like a serpent he slithered over her to latch his mouth upon one firm peak and as she spiked her hands through his hair, he drew upon that sweet, tender flesh until it was a hard little pebble, sweeping the tip of his tongue over it to tighten it even more.
She lifted one leg and hooked it over his, turning him to his back with ease until she was sitting astride his hips, her hands upon the zipper, tugging it downward as he stared up at the heavy weight of her breasts revealed in the forced opening of the shirt. She eased her hand inside the crotch of his jeans and eased him out, curling her fingers tightly around him.
“I honestly believe I’ve created a monster,” he told her. “One who can’t keep her hands off my cock.”
“Or your chest hair,” she said as she caressed him.
“That, too,” he said, then sighed as though much put upon.
“You have no right to look so good,” she said as she pushed herself up to her knees and then guided him to her wet heat. “You put most men to shame, Jamie MacGivern.”
He blushed and she laughed, settling down on his rigid length. She squeezed her vaginal muscles around him and he drew in a quick, deep breath as she leaned forward, braced the edges of her palms on his chest, and took his nipples between her thumbs and first two fingers to rotate, to pluck, to lightly pinch, to scrape gently with her fingernails.
Jamie was mesmerized by what she was doing to him. He wanted to squirm beneath her but she wasn’t moving anything save her fingers and the muscles of her cunt. She was alternating tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing as she sat upon him and her fingers continued to work his nipples in counter rhythm to the pulses of her slick inner heat.
He reached up for the headboard and wrapped his hands around it, eagerly sacrificing himself to her wicked torture. Though the pain drilling through the left side of his back was so intense he could barely draw breath, what she was doing was so important to his state of mind he would have endured a raging fire burning his flesh to ash to experience it.
“You like that?” she asked and squeezed his cock, held it.
“Aye,” he said, licking his lips. He felt sweat popping out on his forehead as he anticipated her releasing him but she didn’t. He was as hard as stone—pressed as far up inside her sweet body as he could reach—and could feel the beginnings of release building in his testicles.
She smiled. “Say my name.”
“Mairi,” he stated firmly. "My Mairi.”
“Aye, Wolfman. Your Mairi.”
Her inner muscles began a tight little undulation to simulate orgasm and as it pulsed, it gave no quarter and as it rippled around him. It was the most riveting sensation he’d ever felt and he let himself go, pouring into her with a grunt of satisfaction that only increased as he felt her real orgasm claim her.
Her fingers closed tightly around his nipples as she let her head fall back, her release quivering through her lower body with such intensity, such strength she growled deep in her throat. She actually purred when his hands clamped onto her breasts and he thumbed her nipples, bringing still another orgasm to her aching body and she rode it out hard, bouncing, grinding, pivoting on his still hard cock until she was completely drained, falling forward onto him and into his strong arms as one last shudder ran through her.
He wrapped her in his embrace and nuzzled her cheek, feeling his heart and hers galloping like wild horses. They were both slick with sweat and he wanted to lap every little bit of it from her flesh.
“I love you, Jamie,” he heard her sigh.
He put a hand to her face and swept her hair back from her forehead to plant a soft kiss there. “I love you, too.”
“Always?”
“Until my last breath and beyond,” he vowed.
She snuggled against him and closed her eyes, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat.
* * * *
Long after he’d left her, she sat in his rocking chair and thought of the new life she was beginning. She’d told him she would have a letter of resignation ready for him to take to the village in a few days. She wanted to think of just the right things to say to her boss, the right way to explain why Cody and Hobart had not been able to find her. She didn’t want agents returning to look for her or to cause Jamie problems. More than anything she didn’t want the scientists who had hurt him to step up their effort to get him back.
She knew he stayed in a constant state of discomfort and most of the time in very severe pain yet he tried to hide it from her. When he returned, she was going to sit him down and have a long talk about that.
* * * *
Jamie stood behind Elspeth in the kitchen of her apartment over the general store and watched as she surfed the Internet, looking for log home companies. His hands were curled over her shoulders as he peered down at the computer screen. When she found a site with floor plans of which he approved, she agreed to be his representative and contact them to purchase the model he liked.
“That’s a beautiful place,” she told him.
“Do I have enough money in my account to pay cash for it?” he asked, straightening up.
Elspeth twisted her head around. “Son, you have enough money to pay for a dozen of ‘em if you’re of a mind to make yourself a subdivision up there,” she teased.
“One will do,” he said, squeezing her shoulders before he moved to one of the chairs at the table and hooked a leg over it as she printed out a copy of the floor plans for him to take back to his lady.
“I’ll take care of everything for you,” she said. She took the sheet from the printer and handed to him, watched him fold it and stick it in the pocket of his coat. “Don’t worry.”
“I won’t,” he replied.
For years the old woman had been managing his finances for him--depositing the monies from his carvings and withdrawing what he needed for the supplies she ordered for him. He lived so frugally, the money had accrued nicely drawing substantial interest through wise investments she’d taken out in his name. He had done very well under Elspeth’s guidance.
“How’s she gonna explain coming back from the dead?” Elspeth asked as she settled back in her chair.
“She’ll say she found a cave and holed up in it,” he said. “Had amnesia so didn’t know who she was or that there would be people looking for her.” He shrugged. “That’s partly true.”
“And they’ll believe that when you were all over that Ridge looking for her?” Elspeth shook her head. “You’d best come up with a better plan or they’re gonna know you was hiding her all along.”
“It doesn’t matter if they do,” he said. “What can they do if they don’t believe it?”
“Charge you with obstruction of justice? Hampering an official government investigation?” she suggested. “Give you a nice long jail term?”
“They have to catch me first,” he replied with a wag of his dark brows.
She laughed. “I wish I had just a little of your sass, boy.”
“Did you see them leave?” he asked.
“Every last one of them except for the one I heard is running amuck somewhere up on the mountain.”
“I’ll have to fetch him,” Jamie said. “If he hasn’t gone flying off a ledge somewhere.”
Elspeth scratched her cheek. “I was glad to see that asshole Wendt leave. They had him all doped up.” She gave him a sharp look. “Saw something he shouldn’t have, did he?”
“I suspect he did,” Jamie answered. “Up close and very personally.”
“The mountain takes care of its own,” she said and pushed her chair back. “You want some tea?”
“No, thank you,” he said, also rising. “I need to go see the Tolberts and take them up to show them where to pour the foundation. They can begin clearing the plot.”
“Would you happen to know who owns title to that plot?” she asked.
