Authors: Jenna Stone
“Kate,” he
growled, shuddering as he fought to remain in control.
As I took him
fully into my mouth, he let out a groan of ecstasy and twisted his hands into
my hair. I made love to him with my mouth, stroking him with my hands,
enjoying the feeling of him shuddering under my touch, barely holding onto his
control. I drove him to the brink of orgasm, then slowly withdrew him from my
mouth and looked up to meet his eyes.
“Promise you won’t
be gentle?” I said, inviting him to use me for his pleasure, throbbing with the
need to feel him inside me.
“Aye,” he growled,
pulling me to my feet, eyes wild with desire. “Back down on the floor with ye,
I want tae take ye as I was thinking about earlier,” he commanded.
I obeyed his order
and lowered my hands onto the rug before the fire and pressed back until my
bottom was up in the air, giving Devon a delightful view and bringing his
fantasy to life. He was standing behind me in an instant, his hands grasping
my hips as he growled and entered me without hesitation. I moaned with
pleasure as his cock stretched me fully, driving forcefully in and out with
each stroke. He used my hips as leverage to thrust deep inside me, causing my
breasts to bob beneath me with each powerful thrust. My fingers twined in the
wool of the rug, curling with the pleasure that I felt as he took me so
forcefully, with so much need.
His manhood bucked
as the first wave of his orgasm overtook him. He thrust into me one final time
and called out, letting his back arch in response to the power of his release
as he came inside of me.
Placing one hand
on my bottom to steady himself, he reached his other hand around in front of me
to tease the nub in the folds of my womanhood. The mere touch of his
fingertips on my slick skin brought me to orgasm, and he stroked me gently
while thrusting inside of me, already hard with desire again.
“Aye, love, let it
happen. Ye feel sae good,” he coaxed, stroking and encouraging me to let go
and enjoy the deeper waves of my orgasm as he supported my body. “Aye, let go,
release, Kate. It feels sae good, does it no?” he said, slowing the speed of
his caresses and thrusts as I finished my orgasm, the final tremors flooding my
body. He gave one final thrust and spilled his seed again deep inside of me.
We collapsed on
the floor, exhausted from the fury, the wild need of our love making. I laid
my head on his chest as we settled down on the rug in front of the fire,
caressing each other and enjoying the afterglow of sex.
“Did I hurt ye?”
he asked, gently brushing my hair behind my ear.
“No, you didn’t
hurt me,” I whispered, fingers dancing across his chest in the firelight.
“Ye would tell me
if I did?” he said softly, concerned.
“I would tell you,
but no, you didn’t hurt me. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I liked it,”
I said, now slightly embarrassed. “I could feel how much you wanted me.”
“Och, lass, I want
ye all the time. I just felt like I lost control a bi, and I never want tae
hurt ye,” he said.
I lifted my head
from his chest and propped myself up on one elbow so that I could see his
face. His hair was just beginning to grow back, and it curled slightly at the
ends, giving him a boyish look in the glow of the fire.
“You would never
hurt me, Devon,” I whispered and leaned in to kiss him softly. I knew that
there was truth in my words. Devon would never hurt me and it made me hate
myself even more because I was on the edge of hurting him very badly. The
worst part was that I didn’t know how to prevent this hurt from happening.
He left for war
with the Camerons two days later. We held each other silently in the courtyard
of the keep, as if we both somehow knew, but were afraid to speak the words out
loud that something was about to tear us apart.
Chapter Twenty
Laird McClain, 15 October, 1756
Your
recent letter and our daughter’s marriage certificate have caused us great
alarm regarding the welfare of our beloved Catherine. The name signed at the
bottom of the certificate is “Katherine,” and our dear Cate spells her name
with a “C.” Both my wife and I are certain that the handwriting on the
certificate is not that of our daughter, which has caused us further concern.
Our Catherine has always been prompt in her correspondence and although my wife
and daughter have sent multiple letters to Catherine, none have been replied
to. We have not heard word from Catherine since she was taken into the care of
your Clan. Also, the description of our daughter that you provided in your
most recent letter struck us as inaccurate. Our daughter does not have auburn
hair like that you have described, hers is a light brown. I would never
describe her features as “striking,” although my daughter is beautiful to my
own eyes, most would see her as quite plain.
We are
consumed with worry about these recent developments, longing for news from our
dear Catherine. I have decided to send two men to Glenhaven, halfway between
our lands to ensure that Catherine is well and safe. Please deliver her to
there in one week’s time from the receipt of this letter. I must assure her
safety, and as a father, I am sure that you will understand this desperate
request.
Regards,
Ellis
Berkshire
A smile spread
across Collin McClain’s face as he let the letter fall to his desk.
“An imposter,” he
said out loud. It had been a remarkable story that Nathan relayed, finding the
murdered travelers along the road, yet Kate escaping unscathed. The fact that
she had no memory of the attack or the names of the individuals that she had
been traveling with also had not added up.
Collin rang the
bell on the edge of his desk, prompting Milly to peek her head timidly inside
the library.
“Find Kate
immediately and deliver her at once here to the library. I’d like tae have a
word with her,” he barked, his voice vindictive.
“Yes, of course,
Laird. I’ll find her right away,” Milly said obediently, startled by the
strange tone in the Laird’s voice.
***
I brushed the dirt
from my hands on the apron of my dress, wondering what could possibly be so
urgent that Collin would need to speak to me right now, while I was in the
middle of collecting root vegetables for dinner. Devon’s warning to take care
in dealings with his brother stuck in the back of my mind as I entered the keep
and climbed the stairs towards Collin’s library.
Strangely, as I
climbed the stone steps, I knew that this was the moment that I had been
dreading. I was not as afraid as I had thought that I would be and it was
surreal now that the moment had finally come. Although I was nervous, I was
almost relieved that I would no longer have to live under the veil of my lies.
I rapped quietly
on the door and peeked inside to see Collin working on some figures, seated in
concentration behind his desk.
“Hello, Kate.
Come in. Close the door if ye would,” he stood from behind the desk, and
walked around as if to greet me. Instead, he continued past me to the door,
and as he clicked the bolt into place. There was a sickening feeling in the
pit of my stomach. My intuition had been right. Collin now knew my secret.
“What do you
want,” I challenged, engaging him with a direct stare. I hoped that I was
showing him that I was not intimidated by his action, although on the inside,
fear was building, beginning to course through my veins.
“Take a look at
this,” he insisted, tossing a letter at me. I grabbed the paper and scanned
its contents, feeling sicker the farther I read down the page.
I had been
discovered.
This poor father
was desperate for news of his daughter, his daughter that I knew had been
murdered on the roadside and lie buried next to where she had fought for her
life. As I read his description of Cate, “light brown hair,” “rather plain,” I
immediately knew that the young lady with the slashed throat had been his
daughter. She was the one whose identity I had assumed and this moment of
confrontation was the consequence to my hasty actions.
I finished reading
the letter and handed it back to Collin. His eyes searched my face for an
answer.
“Who are ye?” he
asked, looking directly into my eyes, defying me to lie to him.
“I’m Kate,” I
said, meeting his eyes, my hand trembling as I held the paper.
“Not good enough,”
he said, taking a step towards me. “Who are ye?” he repeated, this time his
voice was angry, livid. “I ken that ye are not Ms. Berkshire. I’ve already
questioned them men who discovered the travelers alongside the road. I ken
that one of the dead women matched the description of Ms. Berkshire. I’ll
caution ye not to press me. Let me repeat. Who are ye?”
I inhaled sharply
and responded, “I am Kate, Kate McClain.” Bringing our shared last name into
the conversation was a vain grasp at protection from Devon. The protection
that I knew my husband would give me, had he been here to protect me.
“Ye bitch!” he
shouted. “Tell me the truth. Tell me who ye are!” he yelled as he closed the
gap between us and slapped me across the face.
That, I had not
been expecting. The force of the blow left my face numb. My façade of
strength vanished and I felt the tears welling in my eyes, hot and stinging.
My voice came as a
whisper, “I don’t know who I am.” I suddenly became emboldened and speaking
with more confidence I said firmly, “I told you already that I remember nothing
of the attack on the coach. My memory of the incident begins when Nathan
caught me in the forest and he asked my name. All I know is that my name is
Kate. When I told him my name, he hugged me and told me that he was glad that
I was safe.” Collin appeared to believe my story, so I continued. “Being that
I couldn’t remember anything and Nathan seemed to know who I was, I assumed
that I was Ms. Berkshire. Maybe I am not.” The words hung in the air between
us.
“Liar,” he raged,
smacking me again across the face. “I plan tae make ye pay for this, bitch! he
seethed, eyes wild with rage. “I’ve already spent the money that I was expecting
from Ms. Berkshire’s dowry and thanks to what ye’ve done tae her, ye murderess,
the Clan will no be receiving her dowry,” his accusing stare made my stomach
roll and my knees feel as if they would no longer support me.
“I didn’t murder
them!” I shouted, defending myself, terror now coursing through my body as I
weighed the consequences of his accusations.
“Ye may no have
been the actual murderer, I’m sure ye had some help with that part, but I ken
that ye were in on it.”
“No, I told you, I
don’t remember what happened. I just remember Nathan, and,” I stammered.
“Are ye a spy for
the Camerons?” he demanded, glaring at me and trying to read my response.
“No, I’m not a
spy!” I exclaimed, desperate now to defend myself against Collin’s wild, rage
filled accusations.
“I’ve had enough
of yer lies,” he said, dismissing me with a flick of his hand as he turned
quickly and strode towards the bolted door. He lifted the bolt, actions
ringing with rage. “Arthur!” he bellowed, swinging the heavy door open. The
guard appeared, head bowed to avoid consequences associated with the Laird’s
rage. “Take her to her rooms and collect a change of clothes. Bring her to
the stables. The horses will be ready and waiting.”
“Where are we
going?” I demanded, scowling at my brother-in-law. “I’m not going anywhere
with you,” I challenged before he had a chance to reply to my first question.
Ignoring my
opposition towards the idea of going with him, he answered tersely, “We are
going to settle this matter once and for all. When the Berkshires confirm that
ye are an imposturous spy, ye’ll hang for this.” The anger in his voice was
palpable.
Collin dismissed
me with a shove in Arthur’s direction, and closed the door with a slam behind
us. Arthur’s grip on my upper arm hurt, but I refused to let him know that I
was in pain.
My thoughts were
on Devon and how angry he would be when he returned to the keep to find me
missing. I realized that I would probably never see him again. My heart broke
when I thought of how my lies would affect him. He would be so hurt, so angry,
so broken when he found out.
My departure from
the keep was hurried and hasty, more of a whirlwind than anything. I was
loaded unceremoniously onto a horse whose reins were tethered to the back of
Collin’s horse for good measure. I found this extra measure of caution
ridiculous being that I could barely stay astride a horse on my own, let alone
stage an escape on horseback from my much more experienced captors.
We rode at a break
neck pace and although I was tired, I refused to let my guard down, fearing
that I would fall from my horse. At dusk, Collin whistled loudly to the two
men that accompanied us and we made camp for the night. I was given a horse
blanket to cover myself with and although it reeked of sweaty animal, I was
thankful for its warmth.
I slept restlessly
on the hard, cold ground with the blanket pulled up over my head, thinking of Devon,
hoping that he would find me. I knew that Nathan would get word would get to
him that I had been taken from the castle, but I didn’t know if he would find
out soon enough to make any difference. If we made it to the Berkshire’s
before Devon intercepted us, I would be killed for being an imposter for sure.