Highlander's Prize (21 page)

She should have scoffed at him, challenging him over his comments, because it was unlikely he’d never been in a similar position. But she didn’t want to think, didn’t want to quibble with him. The head of his cock was burrowing into her passage, and all she wanted to do was sink down until his entire length was deep inside her.

“Easy now… The night is young.”

Need was pounding through her, but he maintained a grip on her hips that kept her obedient to his will. She sank inch by inch onto his length, every moment feeling too long. At last he relinquished control, and she rose instantly, up until only the head of his cock was within her and then down until she no longer held her weight.

“I recant, woman… Go as fast as ye like.” His voice was husky now, his expression tightening. He guided her with the grip on her hips, helping her to learn the rhythm.

“I’m telling you what I want… Broen MacNicols…” It was nearly impossible to form her thoughts into words, so she stopped trying. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. All she wanted was to feel the sensations being unleashed by her motions. Every lift granted her light friction, but when she came down, his rod was pressed firmly against her clitoris, threatening to send her into the vortex of pleasure she’d experienced last night.

She craved that pleasure, but she wanted something else too. Forcing herself to look down at her partner, she watched his face, seeking out signs of what he enjoyed best. She adjusted her pace and held the one that seemed to intensify his pleasure. For long moments, they were locked in a battle of wills. He tried to maintain his composure, while she attempted to break it.

“Ye learn too quickly, lass,” he growled before pushing her down and turning over with her clasped to his body. He pressed her onto her back and took command of their pace. “But I’ll nae be unmanned before I hear ye cry with delight.”

“You brute.”

He growled at her but grasped her wrists and pulled her arms above her head. His pace was driving her insane, the hard, driving strokes making her mindless. He leaned close to her face, pressing a hard kiss against her mouth as his body drove her closer and closer to climax.

“Aye, and ye enjoy every bit of me brutish nature, because it allows ye the freedom to meet me.”

It was true.

She cried out, not sure if it was because of the motion of his driving hips or his words. Everything was tangled inside her mind, and she surrendered to it. Lifting her hips to meet his, moving faster and faster until her heart beat at a frantic pace—it didn’t bother her, because it allowed her to feel so much more. Her clitoris was tightening, and the explosion of release beginning to wash over her.

“That’s the way, lass. Take yer pleasure.” His voice was like a clap of thunder, accentuating the flash of intense light that split her in two. She strained toward her lover, crying as she felt him begin to give up his seed. For a moment that felt endless, they were spinning through the wildness of the storm together. When the wildness released her, she was bathed in satisfaction so heavy she felt pinned to the bed.

But she realized the weight was Broen. He kissed a trail along her arm before releasing her wrist and then tenderly rolled off her. The only sounds in the chamber were of their heavy breathing. She lay where he’d left her, feeling too spent to move. He reached for her and pulled her next to his body with one solid arm.

“What are you doing?”

He nuzzled against her hair, drawing in a deep breath. “Going to sleep.”

“But…” She tried to disengage herself from his body, but he smoothed her back into his embrace and even tugged the bedding over them as though she hadn’t tried to escape.

“Lovers lie together long after the hunger is fed, lass.” He slid one of his legs over hers, tangling their bodies even more.

She wanted to argue but couldn’t seem to form her thoughts into words—at least not any that made any sense. Railing at him for wanting to remain after he’d had her certainly made no sense. Women the world over struggled to overcome the hurt inflicted on them when men used their bodies for release and left moments after gaining it.

So what did it mean when a man pulled her close?

Love…

She scoffed at the word that rose in her mind. It was born in that part of her that wanted to believe in courtly love. Reality wasn’t so peaceful. Affection for a husband was a wife’s duty, but only after marriage. True courtly love didn’t involve physical intimacy.

So what was Broen doing? The man wasn’t chilled and in need of a bed partner to keep the Highland night away. He was warm, and she snuggled closer because his heat was inviting. So what…

Her mind refused to continue trying to understand the situation. Instead, she sank into slumber, satisfaction still radiating inside her. Morning would be soon enough to contemplate the issues surrounding her.

***

“I’m riding out to see Broen MacNicols.”

Donnach Grant sputtered and struggled to his feet. “Ye’ll do nothing of the sort! That man is set on running through every Grant.”

“Exactly why I’m set on clearing up this matter.” Kael Grant already had his mail tunic on, and his gillie followed behind his master with his helmet. “Ye may have given yer word, Father, but I’m… reckless. So I’ll be riding out to set the matter straight, since ye cannae.”

“Ye do nae need to sound so smug. The ploy we’ve employed was to benefit the clan. No’ give ye the freedom to do as ye pleased.” Donnach grunted, his face turning red, but he lost the battle to remain on his feet. He dropped heavily into a chair positioned next to his bed because his leg supported him less and less these days.

“This leg is a curse,” he muttered. “It keeps me from doing the things I need to.”

“This is nae yer duty,” Kael insisted. “By the rules of this ruse we’ve begun, I’m the only one who can make peace with the MacNicols. Ye gave yer word to keep the secret of Laird MacNicols’s death, but I did nae.”

“Aye, I did, and I will nae break me word. I’m grateful ye came home, for ye’re right. Ye are the only one who can ride out and keep Broen MacNicols from spilling our blood. But I do nae like it, no’ a bit.” He slapped the armrest.

“The only part I like is that I’m able to shoulder the duty of serving ye and this clan, Father. I understand it frustrates ye, but I’m proud to be able to assume me duty as yer son.”

Donnach struggled back to his feet. Kael stepped forward so his father could clasp his shoulder.

“I’m proud of ye, Son.”

Once outside the master chamber, Kael frowned. His sister, Nareen, stood there, waiting on him. Her lips were lifted in a satisfied smile.

“Ye have too much cunning for a female,” he announced on his way toward the yard. Nareen laughed, her voice soft and musical. He turned to look at her. “And ye have all the charm of a siren.”

“Ye needn’t sound so surly, Brother mine.” She paused near the doorway to the yard and pulled her arisaid up to shield her head from the rain. “What good would I be to ye today if I were timid? Ye are nae the only member of this family who likes to receive Father’s approval.”

Nareen stepped into the rain without a care for it.

“Fate has a misplaced sense of humor for sending ye to this life as a female,” he remarked. “Ye have the spirit of a Highlander.”

Nareen took the reins of her mare and mounted the animal without any help from the men waiting to ride with them. The mare was a feisty creature and danced in a wide circle before his sister took control. Nareen’s eyes sparkled with enjoyment of the challenge.

“Of course I do. Am I nae riding out with ye and yer men?” She scoffed at him with a pout that made her too fetching by far. “Do nae be so dense as to think only men can be Highlanders.”

“Ye mistake me, Sister. I was lamenting the lack of feminine graces ye were not endowed with. Finding a man to wed ye will be a chore, to be sure.”

“An easier task than finding a bride who will wed ye, thinking ye a man of no position who is naught but a rogue.”

“I might take that wager, Sister, and ye know I do nae ever lose when I accept terms. Ye’ll find yerself behaving meekly in order to best me.” Kael tilted his head. “It might just be worth losing to see ye behaving all sweet and submissive.”

“Nothing is worth that.” She tossed her raven hair and shot him a sour glance, but she also looked toward the gate. Kael took his helmet from the young lad acting as his gillie and gained the back of his stallion. A priest was offering a blessing to the men who were set to ride out with him.

Maybe he was a fool to forgo kneeling in front of the priest. Broen MacNicols wouldn’t be friendly. But the season had changed fully, and there was no longer any time to spare. War was looming over the entire country, which meant he couldn’t leave his father with a neighbor who felt he had a justified reason for feuding.

“Let’s ride, lads. There are important matters to resolve.”

Or die trying.

***

It was a gray morning.

Clarrisa woke to the sound of the church bell ringing. She lifted her head, only to have the bed rock violently as Broen erupted from it.

“It’s only Mass.”

He turned to glare at her. “That is nae the church, Clarrisa. It’s the village bell.”

She sat up and listened, hearing the difference in the tones. This bell rang faster, like a cry for help.

“Cover up. We’ll nae be alone much longer.” He had already shrugged into his shirt and was pleating his kilt.

She heard the pounding footsteps of his men and grabbed the coverlet before they made it to the chamber door.

“Enter!” he snapped before they made it close enough to knock. The chamber door was yanked open, and Shaw came in with others on his heels.

“Grants are riding over the hill, Laird. Looks like Kael is leading them.”

“So… Donnach’s son has returned at last.” Broen’s tone was ominous. Clarrisa hugged the bedding closer, certain the temperature had dropped.

“Out,” he ordered his men.

Shaw looked confused, switching his attention between his laird and her. Clarrisa was sure her cheeks would catch fire.

“Right, lads… Let’s wait in the hallway…”

Clearly Broen hadn’t given his men such an order before. They all glanced at her, contemplating why she was pulling their laird’s attention away from them.

“Just for a moment, lads.”

Broen finished dressing, and his men left. They didn’t go very far, for she couldn’t hear their footsteps on the stone stairs.

“Come and kiss me, lass,” Broen muttered softly, too softly, for he was trying to hide his emotions, keeping his voice low so the tone wouldn’t betray him.

Kiss
him
good-bye…

It was a personal request, one that sent tears to her eyes. He was a proud man, but there was no missing the tension in his expression. It was possible he was riding out to defend his people with his life. She could see that knowledge reflected in his eyes, the solid commitment to do his duty, no matter the cost.

She pushed the bedding aside and went to him. His eyes were bright and focused on her. She felt a connection to him, one which was tugging her closer. It was the need shimmering in his eyes. It pulled her toward him because she wanted to be worthy of how much he desired her.

He reached for her, gently cupping the sides of her face. The kiss wasn’t hard; it began slow and sweet, a tentative meeting of their lips. He tasted her, slipping the tip of his tongue along her lower lip before deepening the kiss. She felt his need burning and kissed him back with equal fire, but he set her back all too quickly.

“Stay in the tower, lass.”

He’d withdrawn behind his stony expression, the one she remembered well from the first time she’d met him. This was the laird, the man who felt responsibility for the clan resting on his shoulders. He reached over and retrieved the sword leaning against the wall. She hadn’t seen him place it there and felt frustration needle her for not realizing the man had come to her chamber with the intent to take her to bed. She’d have been a hypocrite to say she was sorry.

She watched him go and waited until the chamber door had closed before she allowed the tears stinging her eyes to fall. They eased silently over her cheeks while she tried to decipher her feelings.

Did she care if he died out on the hills today? If so, why? Was her concern for herself and what would become of her? Faolan Chisholms came to mind with his teasing—or was it a promise? She wasn’t sure.

Or were her tears for the man who’d held her through the night, in spite of every reason he shouldn’t have any liking for her?

So many questions and so many tears. There was no stopping them, and she didn’t try. The truth was impossible to ignore. Broen MacNicols had touched her heart.

Such the fool she was.

***

“What the hell.” Broen looked across the valley, taking longer than necessary because he was hoping the view might change. It looked as though every retainer the Grant clan had was facing him. They’d brought their shields and axes. Every last man wore mail, and there wasn’t an unprotected head in sight. Except one, which was covered only by the Grant plaid. “That bastard Kael brought his sister.”