My Seductive Highlander (15 page)

She hitched sideways with a jaw-cracking yawn then rolled and propped her head in one hand, glancing about the once neat and tidy room custom made for comfortable lounging. Lilia huffed out a snorting giggle. They'd lounged all right. In one afternoon—well, actually, one afternoon and one night—they'd drastically altered the décor with used condoms and scattered clothing. It looked like someone had set off a condom bomb and the shredded purple packets had rained down like confetti.

Lilia smiled down at Graham's peaceful countenance as a soft, whistling snore escaped his barely parted lips. The man had done himself proud. And—damnation, that beard and moustache of his were better than any battery-operated tickler she'd ever owned. She flashed hot and wet all over again at the memory of Graham's expert use of what he had affectionately termed his lady pleaser.

She eased up from the pallet of sofa cushions and pillows they'd piled on the floor, snatched the extra throw off the back of a chair and wrapped it about her body like a sarong. Pulling a small bin out from under a table, she tiptoed around the room, retrieving and disposing of all the little balloons of love and their wrappers.
Sheesh. We went through a bunch of the little buggers.

Her stomach growled just as she eased past Graham's head. Lilia froze.
Damn, that was loud enough to wake the dead.
She held her breath and watched the steady rise and fall of Graham's chest. Good. She hadn't wakened him. The poor man had earned some rest.

“I'm no' asleep.”

Lilia shoved the trash bin back under the table, making a mental note to empty it herself before they left the stable. After all, there really wasn't any need for anyone else to see just how many condoms they'd gone through. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Without opening his eyes, Graham held out his hand. “I'm no' asleep. Come ta' me.” His grin widened. “Keep me warm.”

“You
were
asleep because you were snoring.” Lilia fished her jeans out of the corner behind the sofa and wiggled into them. She really didn't enjoy going commando but she hadn't brought any extra panties with her and Graham had totally destroyed her thong. “And you should be plenty warm. It's August. Remember?”

Graham rolled to his stomach, propped his chin atop his fists, and smiled. “Take off those trews. They only get in me way.”

Lilia picked up the empty condom box and shook it. “We're out of condoms. Sorry, but playtime is over. Time to go back to the real world.” A gnawing sense of disappointment filled her as she said the words.

Graham winked and rolled his upper lip, wiggling his moustache from side to side. “We can still enjoy a wee tastin' this fine mornin'. We'll no' need yer wee skin socks for that.”

“You're insatiable.” Lilia shook her head as she turned back to her bag on top of the desk and rummaged through it for a hairbrush. Before she realized he'd even risen from the pile of pillows, Graham had sprung across the room and embraced her from behind. His morning wood prodded her in the rear as he pulled her back against his chest and filled his hands with her bare breasts.

“Aye, m'woman. My hunger fer ye ne'er wanes.” He rolled her nipples between his fingers and flicked his tongue along her nape and down across her shoulders.

Lilia couldn't resist pressing back against the heat of his chest, lifting her arms to pull his head closer and arch her breasts into his teasing hands. He already had her aching to ride him and the crotch of her jeans was now soaked. “Maybe there's some condoms in the back of the drawer,” she wished aloud as she ground her ass back against his hardness.

Graham reached around her, yanked open the drawer to the desk, and rummaged through it with one hand. He slid his other hand down the front of her jeans, working two fingers inside her as he held her back against his chest. Lilia arched into his expert touch, grinding her aching clit into the heel of his hand. Eyes closed, head thrown back against his shoulder, she squirmed and groaned as Graham deftly fueled her fire.

“What the hell?”

Gasping through a preorgasmic shudder, Lilia forced her eyes open at Graham's confused tone. “What?”

His fingers stilled inside her as he pulled a sealed clamshell package with a bright red-and-blue battery-operated cock ring and a matching star-spangled condom out of the drawer.

Lilia nearly choked on another snorting giggle. “Vivienne must've kept her Fourth of July party favors here and missed that one.” She glanced up at Graham, amusement building at the perplexed look on his face. “They were quite the hit at the party. I told her about the celebrations back in the States but apparently when I mentioned sparklers, she got a little confused.” Lilia cleared her throat and failed miserably at assuming a calm, matter-of-fact expression. “Quite the patriotic party favor, don't you think?”

Turning the package in his hand, Graham frowned down at it. His other hand remained anchored down the front of her jeans. “I ken what the wee speckled sock be but what the hell is that beebaw bit of gaudy jewelry beside it? 'Tis far too large for a finger but too small for a wrist.”

Lilia held her breath and counted to ten. Now was not the time to explode with uncontrollable laughter—not when the morning had suddenly gifted her with such a pleasant opportunity to introduce Graham to a fine example of twenty-first-century engineering. She took the package from Graham, eased his hand out of her jeans, then turned to face him. She smiled up at him as she tapped on the knobby-fingered knot at the top of the ring. “Would you like to see where you wear this?” She glanced pointedly down at his erection, smiling as the head of his cock slightly bobbed as though agreeing of its own accord.

Understanding dawned across Graham's face like the rising of the sun. “Aye,” he rumbled out as he quickly undid her jeans and yanked them to the floor. “Teach me.”

Damnation.
The heat of the room increased exponentially. Lilia squirmed in place, considerable dampness wetting her thighs. What the devil was up with her? They'd been at it like rabbits all night with just a few naps in between. How could she still want him so badly—as if she'd never had him at all? She pointed to a heavy, ladder-backed chair sitting beside the pallet of cushions. “You go sit over there while I open our toy.”

Graham obediently walked to the chair, flexing his sculpted ass and thighs with every slow step.
Damn, he knows what he's doing and damn, he does it well.
Lilia shook herself free of the mesmerizing play of muscle beneath burnished flesh, grabbed a pair of scissors out of the desk drawer, and hacked at the plastic clamshell packaging until she managed to work the precious playthings free.

Sitting with his legs spread, his cock at attention, and his hands folded behind his head, Graham slowly licked his lips as Lilia walked toward him. “Ye've got me achin' as though I've ne'er felt the wonder of yer heat before.”

“Good.” His feelings mirrored hers. Lilia knelt between his knees, then leaned forward and ran her tongue from the base of his shaft slowly up to the tip. His sharp intake of breath made her smile. Wait 'til he felt the vibrating cock ring while he was buried inside her. She squirmed in place, her clit throbbing at the very thought of it. In one sliding motion, she smoothed the star-studded condom down his swollen shaft. “Ready?”

“Oh…aye, love. That I am.”

Heart pounding with anticipation, Lilia worked the cock ring down over the condom and settled it against the base of Graham's impressive erection. “Not uncomfortable?” She watched him closely. Graham was well hung. She didn't want anything to damage his fine piece of artillery.

He shifted a bit in the chair. “Nay. Not too tight—just different.”

Lilia rose, straddled his body, and leaned forward to give him a reassuring, blood-heating kiss. Then she leaned back with a smile. Rubbing her body up and down Graham's torso, she pushed her breasts together and guided her nipples to his mouth.

Graham slid his hands up and down her back as he sucked and nipped at her nipples. The head of his cock bounced against her, teasing up and down across her slit until Graham groaned, grabbed her just below the cheeks of her ass, and slid her down into place.

With Graham's hands still kneading her breasts, Lilia slowly rocked backward then forward on his long hard shaft. She stretched forward and claimed Graham's mouth, tonguing and suckling him with the same erotic rhythm of her body. His hips matched her rocking movement, bucking and arching into her as she rode faster.

Lilia lifted her mouth from his, smiling down into his eyes as she slid her hand down between them. She wanted to see Graham's face when she flipped the switch. She found the knobby bead snugged up against her clit and squeezed. A moan escaped her as the cock ring and its promising little knot of
hell yes!
vibrated to life.

Graham's eyes flew wide open and his hands clutched at her ass. “God a'mighty.” He peered down between them.

“Do you like it?” How could he not like it? Lilia rocked and ground into him harder and faster. At the rate she was careening toward orgasm central, this might not even be an eight-second ride.

“Son of a bitch!” Graham clutched her harder, bucking his hips to drive himself deeper.

Orgasmic bliss overtook reason. Lilia grabbed hold of the spindled tops of the chair, crying out and hanging on for dear life as she shuddered and shook atop Graham's buzzing shaft.

Graham roared as he rolled them to the floor, lifted her ankles to his shoulders, and pounded furiously into her. Veins bulging, muscles tensed, he hammered harder and harder until another wave of shuddering orgasms rocked across her. He suddenly stiffened, clutching hard against her with a strained groan. Lilia fell limp back into the pillows, her legs still draped over his shoulders as his cock pumped and spasmed inside her. Not bothering to open her eyes, she slid her hand down to the magical ring and squeezed the wondrous little clit-pleasing knob until the vibrations stopped.

Graham collapsed atop her, still gasping for breath. “Ne'er in m'life…”

“I know.” Lilia snuggled against him with a contented, purring groan. “Aren't batteries awesome?”

“Aye.” Graham pecked a weary kiss to her damp temple. “The wee bastards are a gift from the gods themselves.”

Graham bent, hanging on to the door of the strange metal box as he sorted through the items in the bright, frigid interior.
No' a bit a meat t'be found. Damn, what I wouldna give for a bit a venison.
A hard clear box filled with what looked to be a block of yellow cheese caught his attention.
Aye. That'll do.
He tucked it into the crook of one arm and closed the door to the magical tomb of coldness.

“I'd begun t'think ye'd gone back to the past without me.” Angus pushed through the swinging kitchen doors, yanked a chair out from the table, and plopped into the seat. “Where the hell were ye last night?” He drummed his fingers atop the table. The drumming gradually faded then stopped. “Ne'er ye mind. I ken by the look on yer face.”

Graham ignored him and retrieved a crusty loaf of bread from the tin at the back of the counter. When he turned back toward Angus sitting at the table, he froze in place. “What the hell happened t'ye?”

Glowing yellow-green splotches of color stained Angus's arms, hair, and the lower half of his face. The only part of him completely free of the strange splashes of color was the area surrounding his eyes. Angus shook his head and lifted his hands in despair. “I didna ken this thing they called a paintball gun and I didna wield the weapon well. They said I shouldha wore the full face mask and overclothes they offered but I dinna think it wouldha helped m'aim a damn bit.”

Graham plopped the bread and cheese on the table, returned to the cold box, and retrieved a glass pitcher filled with the orange-colored liquid Lilia had called juice. “Yer bit of paintball war was late yesterday, was it not? D'ye no' think ye should be washing this morn?”

Angus stared at Graham as though he thought he'd lost his mind. “I washed yesterday morn. Ye ken 'tis no' healthy to wet yer body overly much—even in the heat of summer.”

“Ye smell worse than a Highland goat most of the time—I ken that well enough. I grant ye'd find ye survive just as well if ye found yer way to the water a bit more often than ye do.” Graham wrinkled his nose as the oddity of the small bladed machine whirling on the kitchen counter blew a gust of air past Angus and wafted it over to him. Angus might've washed as recently as yesterday but ye'd never know it by the smell of him. The man reeked.

“Ne'er ye mind about me washin'. Where be yer lady?” Angus stretched across the table and helped himself to a chunk of the cheese.

“My fine woman took a…” Graham paused, glared at Angus, then drew out the word slowly,
“shower.”
Angus was oblivious to the subtle hint.
There's no changin' the stinkin' bastard.
Graham huffed out a disgruntled breath while nodding toward the door leading to the garage. “And now she's gone for her mornin' visit with Mistress Eliza.”

“Ye ken 'tis no' goin' to be pleasant when the old woman decides the time has come to move on?” Angus wrapped his hand in his shirttail then scrubbed at a particularly large splotch of green paint staining his arm.

Graham tore off a hunk of bread, wrapped it about a bit of cheese, then shoved it in his mouth. He washed it down with a deep draw of the orange liquid.
Strange, stringy stuff, that juice.
Lilia had called it
pulp.
He swished another swallow of the tangy liquid around his mouth and slowly lowered the glass to the table. Angus was right. Lilia would no' handle her guardian's passing well. “That unpleasantness is one of the verra reasons we're here.” He refilled his glass then clamped the lid back on the jug and pushed the juice to the center of the table. “D'ye no' recall Mother Sinclair tellin' us so?”

Angus spit on the length of shirt wrapped around his hand then scrubbed harder across a bright yellow splat covering his forearm. “Even spit doesna work. What the hell is this dye made of?” He wrestled his hand free of the shirt and yanked it back in place with a shrug. “Mother Sinclair told us too much. She had me poor head achin' with all her natterin'.”

The man had a point
. Graham wouldna argue the truth of that statement but he wasna fool enough to say so aloud.
The old she-devil could damn well be listenin' somehow.
Graham cut away another chunk of cheese, bit into the waxy, pungent bite, and pondered as he chewed. There was no' a doubt in his mind where Lilia got her fire.

Lilia.
His soul exhaled a relieved sigh at the thought of her. Never in his life had he ever hoped to meet such a woman as Lilia. Now here he was, blessed by the Fates and Mother Sinclair herself with a match to the incomparable lass. They had to take the oath. Soon. His soul wouldna rest until he was properly tied to Lilia for all eternity.

Vivienne burst through the swinging kitchen door, one hand holding aloft one of the strange metal squares—one of the
phone
things. “I just got a text from Lilia—” She came up short behind Angus, a grimace of distaste puckering her face as she quickly sidestepped away from him. “
Phew,
love! Ye stink like shit.”

A look of shock widened Angus's eyes. He jumped up from the chair and hurriedly edged toward the back staircase. “Forgive me, lass. I was too weary t'wash last night. I was just about to shower when Graham begged me ta sit with him a bit and advise him.”

“Yer a lyin' bastard.” Graham folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in the chair and nodding to Vivienne. “What were ye sayin' about my Lilia?”

Vivienne's brightly stained red lips tightened into a flat worried line as she glanced back down at the square of black and silver in her hand. “She says I'm to bring ye to hospital. She says she needs ye.” Tears glistened in Vivienne's eyes as she worried her fingers through her spiked red hair. “Mistress Eliza must be…worse.” She hurriedly clicked across the room in her spike heels, pinched free a paper napkin from the stack, and pressed it to the inside corners of her eyes. Waving Graham forward, she hurried to the door leading to the garage. “Come on, ducks. Time's a'wastin'.”

A sense of dread and urgency launched Graham out of the chair and across the room.
My poor Lilia. I must get to her. Fast.
“Get me there. Now.”

Angus started toward Vivienne then tucked his face close to his armpit and hitched in a loud sniff. He wiggled his nose and ducked his head. “I best stay here and have a wee scrub.”

“Ye think?” Vivienne rolled her eyes at Angus then waved for Graham to hurry. “Come on, love.” Vivienne hurried them both down the steps, through the garage, and out the rear door leading to the street. She paused once they reached the sidewalk and glanced back at Graham with a worried glance. “I'm no' sure how we'll be a-fittin' ye in my wee Audi. But we've got to find a way.”

“I'll ride atop the damn thing if I hafta.” Graham hurried to the passenger side of the bright red bit of curiosity that looked like it was made for a child rather than a full-grown man. He bent down, yanked open the door, and peered inside.
This is no' going t'go well
.

Vivienne pushed past him, bending down to grab hold of a black handle, lifting it up and shoving the tiny seat as far back as it would go. “There. Now ye'll have a wee bit more room.” She scurried around to her side of the car and hopped inside. “Come on, ducks. I've no' got a good feelin' about Lilia's message.”

Graham backed his arse into the tiny vehicle, whacked the back of his head on the doorframe, then shoved himself back into the seat. “Dammit ta hell!” He curled forward, scrubbing the back of his skull as he folded in his long legs. Knees nearly up to his chin, Graham sat hunched forward, one arm wrapped about his bent legs. A grunt squeezed free as he stretched sideways, hooked the door handle with his fingertips, and pulled it shut.

“I don't think it's closed properly.” Vivienne tapped on a glowing glyph on the panel in front of the tiny leather steering wheel. She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, lovie. See the little door what's lit up a bright red? That means ye've got to give it another go.”

“Surely ye jest.” Graham grunted and huffed as he squirmed about to better fit in the tiny space.

“Sorry.” Vivienne tilted her head and tapped on the glowing board again.

“Never in all my days did I ever dream I'd be trapped inside a godforsaken metal box by choice.” He wormed his hand down beside his right leg, found the handle, opened the door then yanked it shut again. Hard.

“That's it, lovie! Light's out.”

The vehicle roared to life. Graham squinted his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath.
I willna grow ill,
he repeated over and over to himself. This was no time for weakness. Lilia needed him.

They picked up speed and careened around what seemed like an endless stretch of sharp turns and curves, his body swaying from side to side with every turn. His stomach gurgled and lurched. Graham tightened his gut and swallowed hard.
God a'mighty. This woman will surely kill us both.
Vomiting became the least of his worries.

“I'll have ye there in no time flat.”

“Just have me there in one piece,” he muttered through clenched teeth without opening his eyes.

The humming beast squealed and growled as they swerved and bounced through another set of turns, then came to a screeching halt with a hard jolt.

“Open yer eyes, my brave beastie. We have arrived.”

Graham risked cracking open one eye and looked around.
Aye—I ken this place
. 'Twas the cave Lilia had called the parking garage attached to the building where Mistress Eliza waited for death. “Thank the gods.” He shoved open the door, whacked his forehead against the frame, then rolled out to the ground beside the infernal contraption. “Sons a bitches!”

“Lore a'mighty, lovie. Now the front of yer noggin' has a knot to match the one in the back.” Vivienne grabbed his arm and helped him stand. She frowned as she shoved a hand into the pocket of her jeans. “I just got another text. Pray we're not too late.”

Graham didna wait to hear what the wee contraption reported.
Ta hell with texts. Lilia needs me. Now.
Ignoring Vivienne's shout to wait, he loped through the maze of metallic beasts, found the magical sliding doors, and pushed his way through them before they'd fully opened.
The metal doors wi' the buttons. Where the hell are the double metal doors?

He careened down a vaguely familiar hall of gleaming white tiles and metal plaques bolted into the walls. There. The metal doors. The silver portals with the glowing buttons and the arrows. Several people stood in front of his target.

“Beggin' yer pardon.” Graham eased through the small group and bounced his fist against the button with the up arrow. 'Twas already lit. He scowled down at the button with the down arrow. The down arrow was lit too. What the hell did that mean? He needed to go up.
Aye. Up seven levels.
He clearly remembered Lilia saying she would hit the “7” button when last they visited Mistress Eliza.

A sharp ding sounded and the metallic doors finally whooshed open. Graham plowed inside, growing more frustrated by the second as more and more people crowded into the wee box with him and jostled him to the back. What the hell did they play at? He'd ne'er get to the panel of buttons wi' this many folk stuffed around him. “I must get to the panel. Beggin' yer pardon. I hafta reach the ‘7' button.”

“Seventh floor?” A young man who greatly resembled a ruddy-coated Highland cow chewin' its cud stood beside the wall of magic buttons, his finger poised as he waited for Graham's response.

“Aye, lad. Please hurry. 'Tis quite urgent.” He flexed his hands open and closed against the roughness of his jeans as he waited for the doors to shut and the damnable box to move.

Several of the other people called out different numbers to the shaggy-haired lad beside the wall. He obligingly jabbed a finger against the corresponding buttons until several of the numbered circles glowed with their tiny lights. The doors slid shut and the box jerked with the same stomach-thumping bump as it had the first time Graham had visited the strange place.

They didna travel but a few seconds before the box shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open. Graham shoved his way to the front. He had to get out before the doors closed again.

“Nah, mate.” The pimply-faced lad pressed a hand to Graham's shoulder. “Ye said seventh floor. This here's just the second level.”

Son of a bitch. Why the hell did I no' wait for Vivienne?
“I thank ye.” Graham stiffly bobbed his head. Damn, if this didna sorely grate on his pride. “I canna make out the strange glyphs. I thank ye for yer help.”

“Forgot yer glasses, eh?” The young man smiled and nodded. “Me da has the same problem. Can't see a feckin' thing without his specs.” Whatever the boy was chewing popped and crackled with his toothy smile.

“Aye.” He didna have a clue what the lad had just said, but apparently the kind boy was offerin' a wee bit o' balm for his bruised pride.

The box shuddered to a stop again and the doors shushed open. Graham glanced over at the lad and waited.

“This is yer floor,” the boy whispered with a wink.

“Thank ye kindly.” Graham rushed out, filled his lungs with a deep breath then slowly hissed it out between clenched teeth.
Thank the gods.
He glanced around.
Aye. This is the place.
He hurried down the gleaming hallway. An eerie quietness filled the air. The few people standing about softly murmured to one another in low reverent tones. Even the beeping of the strange machines seemed muted.
Death walks these halls.
Graham stifled a skin-prickling shudder. This place must surely be the gateway to the other side.

He gently pushed open the door to Mistress Eliza's room. His heart fell at the scene revealed as the door slowly swung aside. The tiny old woman lay curled on her side in a tight knot as though she were still in the womb. Lilia had pulled a chair close to the bed, her face pale and shining with tears as she hugged one of Eliza's mottled, blue-veined hands tight against her cheek.