My Brave Highlander (40 page)

He held himself still, their bodies joined in a most primal, soul-stirring way, his lips brushing over hers, his darkened heavy-lidded eyes staring into hers. Somehow she felt he was staking his claim on her. Finally.

She licked at his lips, hungry for the taste of him. He withdrew almost all the way and plunged into her again, quickly and without hesitation. She gasped at the stunning, thrilling sensations. Again and again, the driving pleasure pounded through her, each thrust more amazing than the last. Faster and faster until she couldn't breathe. Just like last time, some unfathomable rapture exploded through her, possessing her body and mind. She screamed.

His mouth covered hers, caught her cries. Thrusting deep, he growled against her mouth. Grinding his hips one final time, he shuddered against her. A harsh groan rushed out of him along with a curse.

Withdrawing as he carried her, he staggered toward the bed. He fell to it on his back, holding her tightly to his chest. Her face was pressed to his neck and she didn't want to move.

"Saints, Isobel," he rasped, breathing hard. "You near killed me with that."

She smiled. "Nay, surely it takes more than that to fell such a great warrior."

A short laugh escaped him, then they caught their breaths in the silence.

"I have a question," she said.

"Aye?"

"I experienced an intense and indescribable feeling while we were making love each time, toward the end."

"I did as well."

"What is that?"

"The climax of the pleasure. The French call it
le petite mort
, the little death."

"Aye, for a moment I thought I was dying of pleasure."

He rolled her to the side and grinned. "In truth?"

"Aye, it frightened me the first time."

"There is naught to fear from the climax." He looked smug of a sudden, and proud of himself.

"I wondered if you are a skilled lover, and you are. Incredibly," she said.

His eyes narrowed. "When did you wonder this?"

"When we spent that night alone together in the cottage in Scourie."

"You were a virgin then. What did you know of skilled lovers?"

"Very little. Beitris has tried to tell me what goes on between a man and woman. I could not truly imagine it being appealing until…"

"Until?"

"You. When we were traveling, the way you touched me—helping me on and off the horse, holding me gently but firmly while Rebbie set my finger, not to mention riding behind you on the horse. This only made me want you to touch me more."

He drew in a deep breath, giving her an enigmatic look. "You know what this means, do you not?" he asked.

"Nay."

"I'll not be letting you go back to the MacLeod," he said in a possessive tone.

"I wasn't going back anyway."

"And this means war." His eyes glinted in a fearsome way.

"War? Nay. My brother would not make me marry the MacLeod with his brute of a brother in the household, abusing me. So the MacLeods have naught to get up in arms about. 'Tis their fault I left."

"Well, let's hope your brother works out an agreement with the MacLeod before he realizes I've stolen you away."

"Did you steal me?" She grinned. "Are you a bride thief?"

"I am now. Saints! I never thought I'd do such a thing."

"Because you are so honorable?"

He shrugged. "I believe in doing the right thing."

It is right for us to be together.
She almost said the words, but she wasn't sure how he would take them. She hoped he would stake his claim even further and say he
wanted
to marry her. Not that he felt forced into it. She would only wed a man who truly wished to marry her, for her. Not for her property or her dowry. Nor because of honor.

She wanted a love match.

Dirk got up, crossed the room and poured some mulled wine into a mug. He took a sip then brought the mug to the bed and offered it to her. His delicious nude body had her too distracted to think about wine. She took a sip and gave it back to him.

After setting the mug aside, he lay down in bed beside her and covered up to the waist. He seemed distracted and in deep thought of a sudden.

She shoved down the covers, exposing him to her view again. She knew she was being audaciously wanton, but she wished to learn more about him and his body.

With heavy-lidded eyes, he watched her surveying his size and dimensions.

"That is… heavenly," she said, stroking her fingertips along his silky shaft which was neither hard nor soft, but somewhere in the middle.

A chuckle burst from him. "Only
you
would say such a thing about a most carnal and earthly tarse."

"Is that what it's called? A tarse?"

"Aye, that's one name. The others are too vulgar for your delicate ears."

Her face heated but her gaze slid down to the appendage in question. She sat up and stroked Dirk's tarse with her fingers. How fascinating that it was growing harder and longer with each moment that passed. She wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed. He growled, the dark blue passion of his gaze telling her he wanted to ravish her again.

Aye, please do
.

Dirk could not believe what he'd done. Now that he wasn't drugged, he remembered every second, every detail of taking Isobel to the heights of pleasure. How breathtaking and lovely she'd been.

"You're the one who is heavenly," he murmured, then placed wee kisses on her lips, like taking tiny sips of wine and savoring each one. She was intoxicating, and her midnight eyes bewitching as she gazed up at him in the candlelight.

Nay, he could never let her go now.

Her hand squeezed his hard tarse, propelling keen pleasure and a rush of raw need through him. Damnation, how he loved her penchant for wantonness.

"Did I hurt you earlier?" he asked, suddenly remembering he should've been gentler since she was barely past the virgin stage.

She shook her head, giving him a mischievous grin. "Nay. 'Twas the opposite of hurt."

He glanced down, realizing he was naked but she was fully dressed. "Take off these damned clothes." He should feel abashed that he'd taken her so quickly he hadn't even given her time to undress, but she'd taunted him beyond toleration. His mind had been naught but a buzz of arousal and hungry need that had to be satiated.

He helped her disrobe. Once she lay naked beside him, his eyes devoured her luscious curves and pale, smooth skin. He cupped one of her generous breasts tipped with a gorgeous nipple of dark rose. "Beautiful," he whispered, then drew the succulent morsel into his mouth and suckled, relishing the feminine taste of her skin.

He inhaled her sweet scent. "Mmm, you smell like flower nectar."

Moaning, she speared her fingers into his hair to cradle his head close to her. He savored the affectionate, enthusiastic gesture and switched to give her other breast some attention.

She tugged at him, as if trying to drag him closer. Raring to go himself, he rolled between her thighs, savoring the silky feel of her skin against his.
Saints!
How many times he'd dreamed about being right here.

"Again, please, Dirk," she whispered in a desperate tone.

He growled, cherishing her desire for him. He felt the same way, unable to get enough of her. Rising over her, he slid upward and looked into her dusky enchantress eyes, while guiding his tarse into her. Again experiencing how hot and drenched she was, he near lost control of his actions, his mind spinning out of control. He wanted to instantly drive to her depths, but somehow refrained, reminding himself she might be sore.

While he devoured her mouth, flicking his tongue against hers, she wriggled her hips, an action that made him want to give her a good hard swiving. "Mmm, you're asking for it," he muttered, barely able to hold himself back.

"Aye, please. More," she begged.

Unable to resist, he lifted himself up and increased the tempo of his strokes. Moments later, she was crying out, her body clutching at his in climax. Covering her mouth with his, lest someone in the corridor hear her, he savored the way her inner muscles caressed him tightly, driving him over the edge of sanity and desire. His own release burned through him like a cannon blast, with an explosion of pleasure that obliterated all thoughts.

When his reason returned, he wondered, as he gasped for breath, how the hell he was going to get out of this quandary without a clan war.

***

A sound awoke Dirk sometime later. What was that? He roused from a deep relaxing sleep to find Isobel spooned in front of him, warm and naked.
Mmm.
She wiggled her round arse against his aroused shaft. Lust shot through him, spurring him to explore her silky curves. He slid his hand up her thigh, over her hip and waist to her lavish breasts. He filled his hand with one of the firm, yet soft, globes, then tweaked the hard nipple. Moaning, she pushed her arse against him.

Urgent, sharp knocking rapped against the door. "Dirk!"

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dirk muttered a string of mindless curses, annoyed beyond measure to be dragged from this paradise of drowsy sexual arousal while he was nestled with Isobel in bed. His shaft was stone-hard and he needed her now.

"Dirk, are you in there, lad?" Sounded like Uncle Conall's voice.

"Aye," Dirk yelled back, then dragged himself from the bed. The room was near pitch black, except for a few orange coals in the hearth. Where the devil were his clothes? He slid one of the wool blankets from the bed and wrapped it around his waist.

The door opened and Conall entered, carrying a lantern.

"I'm coming! Wait in the corridor," Dirk said, trying to prevent Conall from seeing Isobel in bed behind him.

"What's happening?" Isobel asked, stirring and turning over.

Conall's brows shot up his forehead.

Hell.
Dirk rolled his eyes. "If you could give us some privacy, Uncle, I'll get dressed. Leave the lantern."

"Indeed. But hurry, lad." Conall set the lantern on the floor, then exited, closing the door behind him.

"What is it?" she asked again.

"I know not yet. I have to get dressed and find out." What damned timing. It had to be important or Conall wouldn't have burst in. Dirk opened a trunk, removed several items of clothing and quickly dressed. "You stay there. I'll return and let you know what's happened when I can."

She sat up, her brows furrowed. "I hope you'll be careful."

"Of course." He wanted to kiss her but that might tell her he was feeling emotions he didn't want her to know about. "Bar the door and allow no one in."

She nodded. "Hurry back."

Taking the lantern, he met Conall in the hallway. "Not a word about this to anyone, Uncle," Dirk warned.

"Much as I'd love to tease you about the lass in your bed, there are more important things afoot."

"What?"

"Haldane and some others broke all the prisoners out of the dungeon, including McMurdo."

"How the hell did they accomplish that?" Dirk asked, quickening his steps.

"They killed two of the MacKay guards and a third is injured."

"
Iosa is Muire Mhàthair
. That little bastard. I'm done giving him second chances and treating him like a brother. I can't overlook murder."

"Agreed."

"How many with him and who were they?"

"We know not for a certainty, but they took ten horses. And someone did see one of Lady MacKay's guards with them as they fled. Once we searched for the rest of her guards, we found them all missing."

"She's behind this of course."

"Without doubt. 'Haps one of her maids took a missive to one of her guards or Haldane."

"I've been too lenient with her and Haldane."

Conall nodded.

"I'll be right back. I have to speak to the guards I placed at the witch's door." After hurrying along the corridor and up a different flight of stairs, Dirk arrived at Maighread's bedchamber. The two guards stood on either side of the door.

"Who entered or left this room?" Dirk asked.

"Her maid took supper in to her last night," one of the guards said in a hesitant tone.

"Allow no one else to enter. She's to have no contact with anyone. No talking and no missives. Make sure she hides no notes beneath or inside anything that leaves this room. Two guards are dead because of her scheming. This is a matter of utmost importance. Do you understand?"

"Aye, m'laird," the two guards said in unison.

They'd best obey his command or he'd send them packing. He wouldn't tolerate insubordinate or slovenly guards.

Moments later, Dirk rejoined Conall in the lower corridor and they descended the narrow stairwell to find several angry, shouting men in the great hall.