Kilting Me Softly: 1 (6 page)

Once she was on her feet, he took her by the wrists and untied the sash, draping it across a nearby chair. “Get in bed,” Conall whispered in a low-timbered command.

He retrieved a t-shirt and boxers from one of her bags and handed them to her. Morgan dressed quietly while he checked the locks on the windows and door. She snuggled under the blankets, her body weary but soothed and replete with calm from head to toe. For the moment anyway.

“You’ve had the day of your life and you’ve need of a good night’s sleep.” Conall slid in beside her, the warmth of his body like a crackling fire. Tucking her to his side, he wrapped his arm around her. “A good night’s sleep and plenty more fucking.”

Conall couldn’t sleep for shit. That didn’t surprise him. He couldn’t sleep anywhere but his own bed. Then again, what man in his right mind wanted to sleep when he had someone as beautiful as Morgan Keevy beside him? Not to mention there was the matter of his brother and Morgan’s sister to keep him awake. Nope, no impediments to restful sleep there.

God, what a day. When he replayed the night’s events in his mind, it made him dizzy. A stressful clan gathering, meeting Morgan, a knife in the chest and the best sex he’d ever had. Still his mind raced a hundred kilometers an hour.

He was being torn down the middle. On the one hand, he was doomed to lose his brother, half his soul, to the maddening effects of some unfair curse. On the other hand, he’d been blessed having just met the woman he truly believed was the love of his life. In a few hours, they’d lived and loved more than most people, and he wanted more.

Tomorrow. He would deal with it all tomorrow. Once Morgan was safely moved into another hotel, he would try once more to convince his brother to do the right thing. There were two choices. He could turn himself in to American authorities or he could turn himself over to the clan elders. Conall hoped he chose the latter but for selfish reasons. Ciaran would survive in the prison their father built. In a small cage built into the face of a cliff he might lose his mind but he would never harm another person again. Perhaps in time, he could help Ciaran find his way back to restored sanity and a chance at happiness.

The woman in his arms stirred softly. He wasn’t sleeping well lately and he could tell Morgan wasn’t either. The beast in him had something to tire them out and he had half a mind to act on his animal instincts. But the civilized man decided to give sleep one more chance.

Just one more.

Morgan sat by the window and defied the cold seeping in through the old seal. The full moon made it bright out but aside from grass and rock, there was little to see. She admitted to no one that she drew comfort in her own reflection. But it was not for vanity that the eyes the color of a November sky staring back at her soothed the tender place in her heart. It was that she used to share those same eyes with someone else. Again, her mind drifted to Megan.

At the news of her sister’s murder, she’d spent the following weeks sobbing into her pillow, sitting by the window waiting for the lost piece of herself to return home, for the nightmare to end. But Megan never returned and the nightmare continued. And now the nightmare was her life. Thanks to Ciaran McCade.

For days and days after hearing her sister was dead, Morgan didn’t venture from the upstairs bedroom they’d shared from grade school to graduation. She’d turned down her scholarship, stopped going out with friends and lost too much weight. She’d taken pills to numb the pain and stared down more than a few counselors who all preached the same message: grieve but move on.

And she would. She promised her mother that much. But she needed resolution first. Resolution, or the first hint of it, was here in a sleepy little rural community in Scotland. The journey hadn’t been easy, but at long last she was on the cusp of the long-sought peace of mind she craved. Each new town, each new hotel room, each new recitation of her promise to the ghost in the mirror made this strange new life, if one could call it that, a little easier. At least it had until she met Conall McCade.

Tonight she’d come full circle to have justice dangled like a carrot in her face and then cruelly snatched into thin air.

My name is Morgan Keevy and I’ve come to kill you…

Tonight the words had been a dress rehearsal. The time to say it once and for all was yet to come. Morgan considered the circumstances. All points northeast of their current position were isolated. She considered the geography of her location and took a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that unless the monster could swim, she would have him cornered. Where they were, there were few cars, almost no planes and few boats. Best of all, there would be few people crazy enough to interfere. Even fewer to render aid.

She glanced at the slumbering man in bed, the dark shadow his lashes made on his cheek like a weeping willow’s wispy branches. His features were the same as the monster who’d done her so much harm, and yet on his twin were totally different. This man was tender, funny, loving. Everything she could want in a man and more.

But it changed nothing. She would do what she came halfway across the world to do. She would kill her sister’s murderer. If not tonight, tomorrow.

Morgan glanced at the bed. The sexy beast lay on his stomach, the sheet around his waist. Thank God he was facing the opposite direction. Quiet as a mouse, she sneaked into the bathroom and got herself together. Luckily, she’d packed her bags before Conall showed up and scared her half to death. Now all she had to do was make it past the bed and out the door.

She turned the doorknob and held it in the event it might make noise when she let go. Turning it silently back into position, she stepped out of the bathroom without making a sound. One quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Conall remained still and undisturbed, the silhouette of his shape under the covers.

One more door. As she turned the deadbolt, she prayed the light from the hallway wouldn’t wake Conall. If she slipped out quickly enough, she would be home free. She pushed down on the handle and with a slight pull, the door sprang open.

And quickly slammed shut with such force as to cause her to cry out.

There against the wall, hidden in the shadow stood Conall, arm extended away from his body, his hand in the form of a fist. She looked back at the bed and realized he’d put pillows under the sheet and made it look like he was still in bed. A classic trick.

Morgan looked at Conall, his expression one of quiet discontent. It was raining now. Pouring down the windows and casting a watery reflection on his face. Even angry he was breathtaking.

“Conall, I—”

He returned the deadbolt to the locked position without taking his eyes off her. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“I said, turn around.”

God, it wasn’t normal to love the sound of his voice like she did. Especially when he was clearly pissed. But she complied. The weight on her shoulder disappeared as he removed her bags and tossed them aside.

“Put your hands on the wall.”

That sent up a red flag and she moved to protest.

Impatient, he took her by the wrists and placed her hands on the wall above her. “I don’t care if the place is on fire,” he whispered in her ear and moved to the other. “Don’t fucking move.”

Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded in her ears.

“All packed and ready to go, I see.”

“Conall, please—try to understand.”

“I don’t recall asking you a question.”

She set her jaw and bit back her colorful reply.

“You’re dressed for travel. Where’s the slutty skirt?” Conall’s voice seduced from directly behind her, smoothing his hand around the curve of her ass.

“The sweater that outlines your tits?” He ran his hands up and over her breasts, pinching her nipples as he went. Startled by his rough touch, she squeaked a sharp wordless reply.

“Those thigh-high stockings?” His fingers traveled back down her trembling body and disappeared between her thighs. When she didn’t answer, he hoisted her off the floor with his hand, his forearm like a giant hook.

“In my bag.” Overcome with relief, she squeezed her eyes shut when he set her back down.

“So you’re gonna run? Is that it?” His voice was like an entity all its own. There in the dark it embodied everything about him—tenderness, humor and a hint of danger.

“Conall.”

“I think one of us is a little overdressed. What do you think?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t find one suitable. Much less her tongue.

He tugged a handful of her hair with the right amount of forceful tenderness. “That was a question.”

“That’s for you to decide.”

He paused, she hoped impressed by her reply.

“That’s good, Morgan. That’s very good. Because it
is
for me to decide.” He brushed his nose on her ear.

Conall bent down, the muscles in his upper back and shoulders on display, his biceps and the long lean muscles of his forearms twisting and flexing as he worked to unlace and remove her boots.

At the risk of raising his ire, she twisted a little, trying to explain herself. “Conall, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Face the wall.”

She didn’t like that he wouldn’t engage her. Talk to her directly. She needed to apologize. To be forgiven. Explain once again until he understood.

He stood close, wrapping his arms around her waist. But not to hold her. His fingers worked at her waist, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. Without gentleness, he pulled them down her legs. When he got to her ankles, he lifted her feet one at a time, eased them off and threw them in a wad across the room.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” In complete control, he ran his fingertips down the insides of her arms, evoking a shiver within her. The realization that he was naked behind her made her pussy weep with arousal. He couldn’t remove her clothes fast enough.

Slipping a finger inside the elastic waistband of her panties, he breathed in her ear. “I don’t think you’ll be needing these.”

Holding a handful of material in one hand, he gave the panties a sharp tug and they fell to the floor in tatters.

With her lower body fully exposed to him, she gasped, not out of fear but anticipation. Now there was nothing between them but skin.

He ran a hand down one of her buttocks, squeezing the plentiful flesh in his grip. “You’ve got a beautiful ass, Morgan. You know that?”

She shook her head, feeling her arousal grow in intensity. No. No man had ever told her that.

“Makes me hard. So fucking hard.”

He directed his cock to the crack of her ass and her breath hitched in her throat. Helpless to her desire, she bucked her hips, eager to have him fill her.

“Oh no, no, no.” He chuckled wickedly. “You don’t get off that easy.” Teasing her, he rubbed her with the smooth head.

To her surprise, a soft sob escaped her. The pent-up tension his caress created and recent events being what they were, she’d reached her maximum capacity for stress, good or bad. She needed a release. Now.

Conall wrapped his arms around her and she awakened once more to the healing power of his touch. “You were thinking of leaving.” His voice hung in the air above her head.

“Yes.”

“He’d come after you.” Tenderly, he kissed the crown of her head. “And then
I’d
come after you.”

He’d intended his words to be a joke. Morgan conjured a small smile. “I know.”

“And then you’d never see the light of day.”

A secret thrill raced up her spine at the thought. She knew he’d make good on his promise. The next time it would be
she
who was tied to the bed.

“You must be punished.”

Morgan swallowed hard, uncertain she would be able to remain standing.

“You’re trembling, Morgan. Are you excited?”

“Yes.” Excited wasn’t the word. Electrified was more like it.

“Good.” He blew a triumphant sigh softly in her ear. “Now spread your legs.”

She did as she was told.

“More.”

The second time she overcompensated.

“So eager. Too far.”

Adjusting in tiny increments, Morgan brought her feet closer together.

“Right there. Stop.”

She concentrated on the sound of his voice guiding her. Everything else fell away.

“Just enough that I can see all of you.” He backed up a little. “Do you know what I mean when I say
all
of you, Morgan?”

“No,” she answered, her voice soft and subservient.

“I mean I can see both your beautiful little pussy and your ass.”

Beyond her control, a sharp chirp of surprise escaped her. Surprise and delight.

“I can’t decide which one I want.”

Sweat trickled down her side. She was still wearing her coat and was not permitted to lower her arms to remove it.

“So I’ll have both.”

Both? Until recently, she was a virgin. And she had never let a man near her ass. That would explain her thundering pulse. “But first things first.”

He brought his hand firmly against her backside.

She yelped, her entire body going up in flames.

Then another. Enthralled, she blinked away her tears and concentrated on the delicious anticipation of the next whack.

Then another.

He slipped his hand between her thighs and dragged it over her clit, through the silken folds of her pussy lips, causing her to arch her back like a cat. “What’s this?”

No way to hide it. Her desire laid bare, now he saw what he did to her.

“Mmm.” His voice hummed in her ear, tickling her to her toes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked it.”

Emotion taking her by total surprise, she started to weep uncontrollably. There would be no reining it in.

“Oh God, Morgan.” Conall spun her around and brought her to him in a crushing embrace. “If something happened to you, I’d lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Morgan let go and cried like a baby. And the beauty of it was he let her. He didn’t chide her, try to stop her or ask questions. He just held her. “You must know you can’t run from Destiny, Morgan. She has an uncanny way of finding you.”

Lord, did she know the truth of his words. Right about now it seemed Destiny had her big thumb directly on her. And yet it was still difficult to accept. Especially certain parts. “Is it true, what you said about being a wer—”

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. “Werewolf.”

She put her fingers to his kissable mouth and he took them in his hand. “Is everyone in your family like you and Ciaran?”

He chuckled softly. “No. Just us.”

Her eyes flooded with tears and instinctively she shielded her face. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I saw it with my own eyes but…it’s crazy.”

“No crazier than anything that’s happened so far.”

Her eyes locked on him once more. Crazy as it was, the man who could morph into a snarling, salivating beast was now the voice of reason. He was right. God help her.

“How?”

He shook his head, casting his gaze downward. “It’s a long, ugly story.”

“Tell me.”

Conall sighed and paused as if collecting his thoughts. “My father, Alastair McCade, was a married man when he met my mother, Ismay. They had an affair and she got pregnant with my brother and me. My father’s wife Maire learned she was also pregnant. As you can imagine, Maire was devastated. She sought out Elspet, a woman everyone in the village feared, for obvious reasons as it turns out. She agreed to curse my father and his mistress, my mother.”