My Seductive Highlander (12 page)

Lilia rolled across the mat, wiggled under the ropes, and retrieved her sword. Grabbing the pointed tip of the dull blade, she drew it back behind her head, took deadly aim, then powered the throw with every iota of rage pounding through her being.
Nobody whips my ass. Nobody.
The sword flew across the room end over end, then the weighted pommel connected with the back of Graham's head. Hard.

The man crumpled, dropping to the floor as though he'd been shot.

“Lilia!” Vivienne and Alberti scolded her in unison as they hurried to Graham's downed form.

“Well…shit.” Lilia flinched with a delayed sense of guilt, heavily riddled with a
maybe I shouldn't have done that
feeling.

Angus rushed to her side. “Dinna fash, lassie. The numpty's thick-skulled. Just ask yer kin.” He winked, then swept forward in a gallant bow. “And I'm honored to ken such a fine warrior.”

“Not now, Angus.” Lilia scurried around him. She couldn't see past Alberti and Vivienne to make out if Graham was moving.
Please don't let him be dead.

“Dammit ta hell and back.” A strained growl rumbled up from where Alberti and Vivienne crouched with their backs toward her.

She couldn't see Graham yet, but from the sounds of it, he wasn't dead—just thoroughly pissed. A sense of relief washed over her, allowing her to breathe again.

Lilia hurried over, rounded her friends, and crouched down beside Graham where he sat rubbing the back of his head. “Uhm…I'm…sorry. Are you all right?”

“What the hell did ye do that for?” Graham kept his eyes squinted shut as he turned toward her. His grimace was colored a ruddy shade—whether from pain or anger, Lilia didn't know…more than likely, a whole lot of both.

“She rarely thinks her actions through when she's suitably irritated.” Alberti pulled Graham's hands away from the back of his head and pressed a towel-covered gel pack in place. “This will help. Hold it tight.”

“Really. I am sorry.” And she was. Lilia moved closer and gently replaced Graham's hands with her own, cradling the icy pack against the back of his head. “And Alberti's right. When I'm pissed…I don't always think things through before I act on whatever pops in my head. Gets me in trouble sometimes. Well…not just sometimes. A lot.” She knelt closer, still holding the ice pack snugly against Graham's skull. Bending forward, she peered up into his face. “I really am sorry. Forgive me?”

Graham's narrow-eyed gaze slid to her. His moustache barely twitched to one side as an unreadable look settled across his face. “A kiss,” he growled.

“What?” The ice pack slipped. Lilia caught it, palming it higher and harder against Graham's head. The herd of butterflies residing in her stomach spread their wings and readied for takeoff.

Graham flinched, closing one eye as he leaned forward, pulled her hand away, and held the wad of towel and coldness himself. He wet his mouth and lowered his voice, easing a finger under her chin as he repeated, “Yer penance shall be a kiss.”

Somehow, and she wasn't quite certain how, she and Graham were suddenly very much alone. Part of her panicked. But another part of her, the side of her warming to the opportunity and about to thoroughly embrace the idea of the seductive penance, thrilled at the prospect.

“A kiss?” she whispered.

“Aye.” Graham slid his fingertips up along her jawline, cupping her face as he leaned in closer. His gaze lowered to her mouth. The heat of him drew her in, caressed her, promised to make her whole. The ice pack hit the floor with a plop as Graham curled his other arm around her waist and dragged her astraddle his lap. He never blinked, just snugged her against his chest. “A thorough kiss. A claimin' and a proper apology, ye might say.”

I can't resist him.
Lilia held Graham's face between her hands. The soft springy curls of his closely cropped beard caressed her palms with an addictive tickling sensation that made her ache to snuggle him closer. A nervous giggle escaped her.

One burly brow arched a bit higher. “Ye laugh about yer punishment?”

“Your beard makes you cuddly—like a teddy bear.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and held her breath to keep from groaning. Damn, she needed better filters on her mouth.
I just called the man a freakin' teddy bear. Lovely.
At least she didn't add that she could just imagine how orgasmically wonderful that beard would feel tickling the insides of her thighs.

A deep chuckle rumbled Graham's chest against her as his arm tightened about her and settled her more firmly in his embrace. “I'll be yer cuddle bear anytime ye wish.” His fingers slid deeper into her upswept hair, gently steadying her as his mouth closed over hers.

Urgency. Need. Longing.
Were those Graham's emotions she sensed or her own? Lilia melted against him, sliding her hands atop his shoulders and holding him tighter as she closed her eyes and spun away into the heat of the kiss. He gently sucked at her lower lip then groaned as he opened her mouth wider, exploring, tasting, claiming until her body hummed with the need for more. Lilia squirmed, still straddling Graham's lap, arching against him as his hands slid down her back, cupped her ass, and snugged her tighter against an exquisite hardness that couldn't possibly be just a sports cup.
Oh my God. I could take him right here in the middle of the arena. Alberti's dance class can just be damned.

Lilia finally pulled back; cradling Graham's face between her hands, she struggled to catch her breath. “Uhm…penance. Paid up. Right?” They had to stop this before one of the dance class mamas showed up and either called the police or threatened Alberti—or both.

“Nay, lass.” The emotions flashing in Graham's eyes left no doubt that her penance had just begun.

Thank the gods, Lilia had suggested changing back into their regular clothes before they went to the stable. A rock-hard cock and that damnable codpiece didna make for comfort. The wicked cup had nearly beheaded his aching member. Graham rolled his shoulders and yanked at the snug crotch of his jeans. Those damn trews were nearly as bad. What the hell had happened to a man and the freedom found in soft leather trews and a freely flowing plaid? His poor bollocks couldna breathe and his cock wasna farin' much better either.

“I'm a thinkin' ye best be strikin' whilst the iron is hot, I do.” Angus fell into step beside him and elbowed him in the ribs. “And I owe ye greatly for the heat o' that kiss back yonder.”

“What the hell are ye talkin' about?” Graham shoved through a swinging gate opening into the largest covered paddock he'd ever seen in his life. A great dirt plot was fitted with its own metal roof and walls—larger than the entire walled-in grounds surrounding MacKenna Keep. Who wouldha thought ta build such a thing?

“Mistress Vivienne has grown quite friendly since watching ye fill yer hands with Mistress Lilia's fine bit a round arse.” Angus's face fairly glowed as he threw out his chest and rolled up on the balls of his feet with each hopping step.

Graham spun about, grabbed Angus by the throat, and shoved him back against the railing. “I'll rip yer disrespectful tongue outta yer head if ye e'er speak in such a way again.” No one talked about his Lilia in such a way. No one. Graham rattled him again, jerking Angus so hard that the man's head bounced back against the wall behind the railing. “Never again. D'ye understand?”

Angus squirmed to be free, hands flailing in the air as he sputtered and spit. “Forgive! I spoke ill without thinkin' ”—he coughed and wheezed in a strained gulp of air as Graham's grip tightened around his throat—“meant no harm…I swear it! Willna happen…e'er again.”

Graham slammed him hard against the fence one last time then pushed him away. “See that it doesn't.”

“Angus, are you all right?” Lilia rounded the corner, arms overflowing with folded padding and a leather saddle.

Angus bobbed his head up and down, stealing a quick glance at Graham as he coughed and thumped his fist against his chest. “Aye. Just fine, m'lady. I must ha' sucked a midge down me throat.” He hurried away, trotting to catch up with Vivienne and Alberti, where they'd disappeared into a separate wing of stalls.

Lilia hiked the saddle higher against her chest as she watched Angus scurry away. “I hope he's all right. His face is awfully red. That
midge
must've been the size of a horsefly.”

“The man's fine.” Graham hefted the saddle out of Lilia's arms, cutting off what he knew would be a protest with a stern shake of his head. “Not a word or I'll bend ye over m'knee again.”

Lilia cocked a brow and totally failed at assuming a reprimanding scowl. The corners of her mouth twitched with a barely held-back grin as she spoke. “You and I need to have a long talk about your predilection for spankings.”

Aye. That's it, lass. Allow yer heart to warm ta me.
Graham wasna entirely sure what “predilection” meant but he did admire the wicked gleam in Lilia's eyes when she said it. “Aye, sweetling. I'd love to have such a long discussion with ye anytime ye like.” He swallowed a grunt as the inseam of his jeans cut even deeper into his crotch.
Damn and fer certain. A hard cock is a hindrance in these trews.

A delightfully rosy flush spread across Lilia's cheeks as she hurried around him. She cleared her throat and waved him toward a nearby line of stalls. “Uhm…this way. Odin's over here.”

Graham chuckled to himself. Lore, he loved when the color rode high upon her cheeks. They came up even with the stall just as a long black nose pushed open the top half of the wooden double door. Ignoring Graham and Lilia, the great black horse mouthed at the metal latch on the outside of the door until he'd managed to rattle free the mechanism and unlatch it. Then he nosed open the lower half of the door and walked out of the stall.

“Odin.” Lilia's tone reminded Graham of a mother's affectionate scolding of a favorite child caught stealing a treat from the kitchen. “You know you're not supposed to do that.”

The monstrous black horse whickered in reply and bumped his nose against Lilia with an affectionate rub. Lilia hugged her arms around his muscular neck, smiling as she stretched on tiptoe to scratch behind the tall horse's ears. Odin obligingly leaned her way, rumbling with a happy grumble as he guided her hand to the perfect spot with a turning of his head. “You knew it was time to ride. Didn't you?”

Odin replied by grumbling some more.

Graham settled the saddle across the low wooden railing beside Odin's stall without taking his gaze from the horse. Fine animal. Strong. Big. The perfect warhorse. The symmetry of the horse's lines gave testament to his pure blood—until Odin turned to fully face him. One side of the horse's face was badly scarred and his right eye was missing.

For the first time since they'd arrived, Odin noticed Graham. The eerie-looking beast flattened his ears, bared his teeth, and stomped a pace toward Graham, clearly daring him to come closer.

“What happened to him?” Graham held both hands open, palms up, and didn't attempt to approach the horse. Before he'd been cursed to live as a dragon by day and a man by night, he'd spent his days training Ronan's father's horses. Respect from the animals had to be earned.

“Abuse.” Lilia bit out the word as though spitting out poison. She pressed a cheek against the horse's neck and hugged him close again. “But Odin is
my
friend now and the one who hurt him will never deal out such suffering again. Ever.” Her tone cold, the look in her eyes was even colder as she turned and leveled an emotionless gaze on Graham. “I don't tolerate the abuse of innocents.”

Graham understood completely…and admired her for it. “I hope ye killed the bastard slowly.”

“Oh no,” Lilia replied softly. “I didn't kill him—at least not physically. In this day and age, the destruction of a person's image…his public persona…is much more satisfying than their death.” A chilling look of satisfaction settled across her features as she affectionately combed her fingers through Odin's long black mane. “They suffer longer when you take them down financially and ruin their careers.”

A yapping black ball of fur exploded out of the stall, charged between the great horse's feet, then came to a stop right in front of Graham. Tiny teeth bared, bouncing forward then back with every growling bark, the viciously vocal fury made it clear in no uncertain terms that Graham was not to take a step closer to the horse.

Lilia's face softened and she smiled down at the little dog. “And this is Buzz, protector and best friend to Odin, the fearless black Percheron.”

Graham slowly squatted then extended the knuckles of his right hand toward Buzz. “Courageous beastie, ye are. Will ye find me friend or foe?”

“I wouldn't do that. Buzz hates every…” Lilia's words faded away as Buzz eased forward, still rumbling but with his tiny black nose twitching. He cautiously circled Graham's hand. The small dog paused, short pointed ears perked toward Graham, then charged ahead with an excited wiggle and a high-pitched yipping bark. He bounced around, yapping and licking Graham's fingers as though they were reunited best friends.

“I've never seen him react like that with anyone except me.” Hands fisted atop her hips, Lilia studied the little dog as though he were some alien creature. “How did you do that?”

“Animals know.” Graham scooped up the little dog and cradled him in one arm. Odin ambled forward with a grumbling nicker then shoved his velvety black nose between Buzz and Graham's chest. “Poor beast. Ne'er fear.” Graham understood Odin's uneasiness. “I'll no' hurt yer wee friend. Ye can be sure of that, I grant ye.”

Odin jutted his nose up under Graham's chin and gently shoved as though testing to see if the man could be trusted. Cautiously, Graham lowered Buzz to the ground then slowly straightened. He lifted his right arm out to his side, palm up. Best let the lad see his hand preparing to touch him. Let the beast know him to be safe.

Odin stepped forward, tilting his head so he might better see Graham, then tossed his head toward Graham's hand.

“Aye, lad.” Graham gently rubbed the horse's muscular neck. “Ken me as a friend. I'll ne'er bring ye pain, I swear it.”

Odin responded with a more relaxed whicker as he leaned in to Graham's touch.

A sharp, hiccuping intake of breath pulled his attention away from the horse. Graham turned toward the sound. “Lilia?”

Lilia turned away, ducking her head as she furiously raked the back of one hand across her eyes.

Graham closed the short distance between them and turned Lilia around to face him. “Do ye cry?” The lass had ne'er given way to tears. What the hell had he done?

Lilia's pale brows arched higher and her eyes widened. The dark green of her irises shimmered brighter than fresh spring grass beneath the sheen of her unshed tears. She sniffed and blinked hard and fast, refusing to meet his gaze. “I'm not crying. I never cry. Not ever.” The quiver in her voice betrayed her. “I was merely touched because Odin and Buzz trust you.”

“Aye, and now ye ken ye should be able to trust me too. Why d'ye find that so difficult to accept?” Graham gently cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him. “I only wish to keep ye safe.” He didna add that he would be makin' her his—not just yet. He must move cautiously even though he had little time. Instead, he brushed his mouth across the warm velvety seam of her lips, breathing in her irresistible sweetness as he whispered, “There is no shame in sharin' yer tears. I have strength enough for the both of us.”

His gut wrenched as Lilia pushed away.
Sonofabitch. 'Twas the wrong thing ta say.
Graham pulled her back into his arms, holding her so tight, her head tilted back of its own volition. “Yer a strong woman, Lilia Sinclair. Tears take nothin' from that strength.” Easing his hold, he cradled her head in one hand while softly stroking her face with the other. “Me mam, right afore she died, when I was but a wee lad…” Graham paused, struggling to sort through the myriad of emotions he saw playing in Lilia's eyes.

Help me find the words,
he prayed. His mother had been so wise—surely her words would bring Lilia peace.
Help me,
he silently pleaded, then thanked the gods and his mother's memory when he felt Lilia gradually relax in his embrace. Certainty filled him as the rest of his mother's words came to him: “Me mam said tears are no' a sign of weakness. Not ever. They are but the soul's way of growing and healing.”

Lilia eased back but didn't pull completely out of Graham's hold and he was sorely glad for it. But her unshed tears had disappeared. His lovely lass had quickly restored her calm mask of control.

“Why are you here?” Her chin lifted as she stirred in his embrace. “And I want to know the truth this time. Why did Granny really send you here?”

“Come, come,” Alberti interrupted from the end of the line of stalls. “We're losing the day and still need to practice your running jump with Odin.”

Lilia spun out of Graham's arms, then paused and turned back to face him. “This conversation is not over. I expect an answer later.” She hefted the saddle off the low railing and clumped up a three-stepped stile leaning against the fence. “Come on, Odin. Playtime.”

Odin flicked an ear then ambled over alongside the fence and patiently waited for Lilia to put the padding and saddle across his back. Buzz yapped around the base of the steps, bouncing and leaping around like a spring-loaded ball of fur. “I'll put you in your pouch in a minute. You know you have to wait until I get all the straps tightened down.” Lilia gently pushed the little dog back as she descended the steps and deftly adjusted and tightened the saddle's straps.

Graham was impressed. Lilia's sisters might not have known anything of a horse other than which end ate and which end shit, but it was obvious Lilia was as comfortable with the beasts as he was. Perhaps there was hope of returning to the past and taking Lilia with him after all. Graham shoved the thought away.
I must bide my time. I must not push her.
And he suddenly realized, as long as he was with Lilia, he didna truly care what year it was.

“What horse shall I ride?” He'd be damned if he'd stand by and watch Lilia and the others enjoy a good ride without him.

“Alberti should have Freya ready for you.” Lilia bent, scooped up Buzz, then fitted him in a custom-made leather pouch strapped across the broad slope of Odin's right shoulder. The little dog crossed his front paws atop the rolled lip of the thick leather bag, his little face split wide open in an excited doggy grin.

Graham rubbed Buzz's tiny pointed ears as he examined the odd-looking pouch that snugly held the tiny dog against the horse's side. “Why do ye no' allow the wee lad ta just run along beside ye?”

Lilia pulled herself up into the saddle and settled comfortably in place. “He's too little and doesn't pay attention. I'm afraid he'll get stepped on.” She reached down and hooked two short straps to the back of Buzz's harness. “I have to attach these straps to his harness because the little turd sometimes tries to jump out.” Lilia shook her head and double-checked the silver clips. “Odin's an eighteen-hand horse. If Buzz jumps, it's a long way to the ground but Sir Yaps-a-Lot is fearless.”

“Freya's ready for you.” Alberti waved Graham forward.

A gray, slightly smaller horse, but definitely the same large breed as Odin, tossed its head in Graham's direction.

Odin stepped sideways, danced a few paces forward then retreated back. His nervous whickering echoed through the paddock.