Unwilling (7 page)

Chapter
Thirteen

The berserker remained bent over
her body, soothing and distracting her with enticing licks and hungry kisses. 
He throbbed inside of her, hot and pulsing, but refused to move until she
relaxed beneath him. 

After the stinging pain passed and
her body accepted him, she nudged at him with her hips and kissed him deeply. 

With his inner rumble vibrating
through her, as well, Connor began to move.  Slowly at first, with absolute
care, stretching her tender flesh around him as he almost withdrew, then
plunging forward again, gaining ground within her.  She moaned his name.  He
growled his pleasure.

She should have known that growl
was a warning. 

The rhythm intensified then, as
though he tried to rally the last vestiges of his self-control.  But the dam
had broken and the flood of passion engulfed them both.  Before long his hips
pumped into her with wild abandon.  Some thrusts angled so deep, he touched her
womb.  The sensation rocked her, causing her to cry out each time. 

Wild, deep, elusive pressure built
inside Lindsay until she clawed at him in desperation.  Her nails scored his
back.  Her teeth sank into his ear, his shoulder, his neck.  His grunts and
growls spurred her on as his skin stretched tight over straining muscles.    

With a ferocious snarl, he reared
back.  Crushing her to him with one arm he lifted her leg high against his
waist with the other.  This angled his cock impossibly deeper and touched
something inside her that catapulted her into the stars.  A burning and potent ecstasy
jolted through her with such intensity it would have thrown her back had Connor
not had such a strong hold.  Her whole body convulsed, possessed by a demon of
unrelenting lust, indulgence, and bliss.  She cried his name to the skies, a
supplication for mercy or a plea for fruition, she couldn’t be sure.  She
didn’t care.  White-hot pleasure like this couldn’t go on forever.  It would
swallow her into the abyss that swirled in her lover’s eyes.  Mortals weren’t
supposed to comprehend the divine, but in that moment, Lindsay was certain she
stared into the face of his Goddess and was blessed.

His thunderous bellow permeated her
haze and grounded her into the moment.  She felt him swell and kick deep inside
her body, releasing a warm rush against her womb.  He was most beautiful in
this moment, coming apart in her arms, his eyes containing the two halves of
his nature. 

When the storm passed, they stayed
locked together for an endless span of time.  His panting breaths hit the top
of her hair and hers broke on the tattoos of his chest where she rested her
cheek. 

“Did I hurt ye, Lindsay?” Connor’s
deep voice held a hint of terror.  His release must have freed him from the
Berserker’s hold. 

She tested her muscles with him
still inside her and enjoyed his breathy hiss. 

“A little,” she admitted with a
smile against his skin.

“Ohh… Christ…” he let out a
tortured groan and withdrew from her. 

Lindsay tilted her head back to
look at him.  He was looking from her torn and discarded nightgown back to the
fireplace as though he didn’t know whether to cover her or hurl himself into
the flames. 

She took his face in her hands,
forcing his tormented gaze to meet hers.  “Take me to bed, Connor MacLauchlan,”
she ordered.  “I want to look into your green eyes the second time.” 

With tenderness born of
incredulity, he lifted her into his arms and wrapped them both in his tartan. 

***

Lindsay stirred alone in her bed,
surrounded by violet and sunshine.  A luxurious stretch brought twinges to
muscles only recently awakened and awareness of a sublime satisfaction
emanating from within.  She hadn’t felt Connor leave this morning.  Though
after conveying her to her room, he’d exhausted her with his tender and
passionate mouth.   She barely remembered falling asleep against his chest. 
Hardly a word had passed between them that wasn’t command or plea in the
darkness.  They hadn’t spoken of the future.  They didn’t profess to love.  But
they set aside their insecurities, fears, and aspersions and gave themselves
over to the intensity of emotion and sensation flowing between them.

Energized at the thought of seeing
him again, Lindsay threw her covers off, bounded out of bed, and dressed.  She
made it through her morning toilette in less time than she probably should
have, and left in search of Connor and breakfast. 

As luck would have it, she found
both in the same place. 

Breakfasts were simple and held in
a sunny nook off the solarium overlooking the loch.  Evelyn sat at the square
table, flanked by the hulking Lachlan brothers, looking fresh and lovely in a
bullion kirtle that matched the rope of golden curls braided down her back. 

“Lindsay!  Wonderful of you to join
us.”  Her face was full of warm delight as she rushed from her seat to pull her
into a tight hug.  “I’ve set a place for you at every meal, just in case.” 
Evelyn motioned to an empty seat directly across from her.  Hearty bread, oils,
fruits and cheeses lay out in abundance.  An empty goblet stood where she was
to dine. 

Despite her unorthodox
circumstances concerning her status as a “guest” in castle Lauchlan, Lindsay
was shamed by her discourtesy to the lady who’d shown her nothing but
sweetness.  “Evelyn… please forgive me for—”

“Speak nothing of it,” the woman
cut in with an insistent wave of her hand, “Just sit down and balance the
conversation.”

Feeling suddenly shy and demure,
Lindsay sat and smiled at Evelyn as she took her adjacent place.  She also cast
a polite smile at Roderick to her right, but was unable to look above Connor’s
forearms, which rested on the table.  Instead, she studied the four neat
crescents her nails had marked the previous night and tried to suppress a
blush. 

“Good day, my lord.”  She tore a
crust of bread and poured nectar of pear into her goblet to dip it in.  “I
trust you slept well?”

“The night passed very vigorously,
my lady.”  His murmur was a rumble of amusement.

Lindsay coughed and dropped her
bread in her lap.  “Is that so?”  She retrieved the crust and fidgeted so that
she didn’t touch her cold hands to her burning face.  “And this morning?”

His dark chuckle washed over her. 
“I spent the morning in the library, cleaning the remnants of a hasty
occupation.”

Lindsay risked a sharp glance at
him then.  His eyes sparkled at her, much like the sun off the deep loch.  He
looked younger, somehow, relaxed and at ease.  In the white light of morning,
his strong, tanned face took on a boyish cast as he quirked a mischievous smile
at her.

Suddenly she couldn’t catch her
breath. 

“What kind of occupation?” Evelyn
queried, her eyes narrowing on the both of them.

“A rigorous study in conquest, you
could say,” Connor answered, his hot gaze never breaking from Lindsay’s.

Lindsay bit back a discomfited
smile.  “I’ve become quite fond of your library, sir.”  Popping a grape in her
mouth, she rolled it about with her tongue before biting down.  “So far, I’ve
found it quite gratifying.”

Connor’s hand fisted.  “I should
show you the old Rectory, I can promise a
religious
experience.”

Roderick made a choking sound
around a mouthful of smoked fish. 

“Just promise me that nothing
happened to my chaise.”  Evelyn managed to look horrified and pleased at the
same time.  “I imported that from the continent!  I won’t even let Roderick
have me on it.” 

Roderick swallowed, smirked, then
said, “Ye would if I tried.”

Evelyn swatted him.

“Actually,” Connor addressed his
brother.  “It was your magnifying glass that didn’t survive the night.”

The younger berserker’s brows drew
together.  “What… were you doing with my magnifying glass?”

“Nothing, it just got in the way,”
Connor shrugged.

Lindsay hid her abashed smile
behind her hand.  How could this family discuss such things at the breakfast
table of all places?  She took some responsibility for her banter with Connor,
but here they were, easy as you please, reporting the casualties of their
new-found passion. 

She’d never been so mortified in
her life.  But neither had she never been happier.  Nothing could ruin such a perfect
moment.

“My Laird, I have a missive from
the MacKay.”  Jamie Dougal, Connor’s man-at-arms unceremoniously strode across
the solarium.  A solemn expression sobered his animated face.  “Angus is
calling for your blood and demanding his bride.”

Chapter
Fourteen

Two days, eight hours, and twenty
seven excruciating minutes.  Lindsay calculated the time since Connor had
strapped his sword to his waist, his double-bladed axe to his back, and kissed
her good-bye at the gates of the stables. 

“I have things to say to ye,
Lindsay, but I doona want them punctuated in the blood of your betrothed.”  His
gaze had been intense,
meaningful
.

She’d fingered his scorched black
leather armor, unwilling to let him out of her sight.  “Will you not take
Roderick with you?”

He shook his head, “Angus wanted me
to bring Roderick, which makes me worry that he’s planning violence against
castle Lachlan.  I canna leave ye unguarded, ye’ve become too… precious to
me.” 

He hadn’t looked at her as he’d
said the words and Lindsay understood that such declarations were alien to him. 

“Roderick would lay down his life
for my mate as well as his own; ye’ll be safe with him.”

Heart full, Lindsay hadn’t been
able to say the rush of words bubbling up her throat either, for fear she’d beg
him to stay with her.  He couldn’t do that.  He wouldn’t put the people of
Straithlachlan and the surrounding clans under his protection in danger on her
behalf.  And it would stain her soul to ask it of him.

He’d meet Angus on MacKay lands,
and there her vile betrothed and his remaining band of pillagers would meet
their deaths at the hands of his berserker.

She grasped his neck, pulling his
head down to meet his lips with her own.  Throwing her maelstrom of emotion
into the kiss, she pressed her full body against the hard leather of his armor
and he crushed her to him in an almost painful grip.  Yes, their bodies did
seem to be able to convey what their words could not. 

“When will you return?” she’d asked
breathlessly when they broke apart. 

“I’ll revisit your bed in two
night’s time.” he promised, before mounting Colm and galloping south, toward
MacKay lands. 

***

Lindsay kept herself busy in the apothecary
with Evelyn, or out in the market with Roderick.  She enjoyed an easy rapport
with Connor’s younger brother, appreciating his quick wit and easy smile. 
Though evening meals with the three of them were full of lively conversation,
an undercurrent of tension laced through every moment their Laird was absent. 
Lindsay tried to fill it by slaking her curiosity about their kind. 

“Do you and Connor ever fight
together?” she asked.  “Or would you end up trying to kill each other, as
well?”

Roderick smiled, his dimples
identical to his brothers, made her miss Connor all the more.  “Nay, in fact,
Berserkers recognize each other, and were bred to fight alongside one another
in battle.  It is very difficult for us to slay another of our kind.”

Evelyn had reached out and caressed
her husband then, gratitude shining from her golden eyes. 

“In fact,” Roderick continued,
after kissing his wife’s hand.  “It’s unlikely for a berserker to kill those of
his own clan, who he’s sworn to protect, unless they provoke him.”

“Provoke?”

“Aye, kind of like beating a
hound.  He’ll be loyal until he rips out yer throat.”

Lindsay nodded with a relieved
smile.  “I’d wondered about that, fearing for every child about the keep who’d
skin a knee.”

“Actually, once a berserker is
mated, he has more control over his change, and his magic.  I’ve heard tell
that he could even learn to will the change regardless of blood, though I’ve
not had chance to test the theory.”  Roderick shrugged, as though completely
comfortable that the time would come. 

Lindsay had looked for Connor’s
return that night, readying herself with a fragrant bath and brushing her hair
until it shone a glossy black and crackled beneath the comb.  Her body warmed
with anticipation of his touch, of his possession.  Sitting on the edge of her
casement, her ears had strained to hear the sounds of his stallion’s hooves
carrying him back to her arms.

The night had been long and darker
than any other in Lindsay’s entire life.

***

“He’s been late before,” Roderick
soothed her at breakfast the next morning.  “We both have.  Besides, he’ll skin
my corpse and wear it if I leave the two of ye unprotected.”

“Castle Lachlan is a sound keep.  You
have the men-at-arms,” Lindsay had argued.  “And the added hands of the men at
the market, should something happen.”

“Tell that to Connor if he returns
and finds me missing,” he’d said wryly.  “Doona worry lass, if he’s no’ home by
tomorrow morning, I’ll go after him.”

Lindsay had remained perched upon
the library table for untold hours watching the slow progress of the morning
sun through the sky. 

Something was wrong.  She felt it
in her blood.  In her very bones.  Her stomach churned with dread and something
akin to pain.  She wasn’t merely worrying.  A sick and terrible knowledge tingled
at the base of her skull causing her head to ache and her heart to pound.

“You have to go to him.”  Stunned
by Evelyn’s voice, she looked up to see the woman framed in the grand archway,
a frown lining her forehead. 

“What?”

“Connor.  He’s in danger.  If you
don’t go to him tonight, he’s going to die.”

“Have you word of him?”  Lindsay
launched off the table and hurried to Evelyn, looking for a missive.  “What has
happened?” 

“I can’t be sure.”  Evelyn worried
her lower lip.  “I know this is going to sound unorthodox, but ever since I was
a girl I’ve been able to foresee the deaths of others.”   She grasped Lindsay’s
hands in a desperate grip, her earnest gaze burning with veracity.  “He’s
trapped at Dun Keep almost a day’s ride from here.”

Lindsay looked at the sun as it
rode high in the noon sky and her heart plummeted.  “You said he would die
tonight?  It’s already too late for me to make it.”

“You might have a chance if you
ride like a demon.  Leave now.  Take one of the Arabians.”  Evelyn turned and
they sprinted through the hall in a frantic dash for the stables.

“We should get Roderick,” Lindsay
called.

“
No
,” Evelyn cried.  “If
Roderick goes, the same fate awaits him.  It
must
be you.  In fact—” Her
soft brown eyes lowered to the floor.  “I didn’t tell him.”

“I understand.”  Lindsay blindly
followed Evelyn as she was pulled down hallways barely familiar to her.  “What
do I do to save him?”  Frantically, she considered her aspects.  She knew
nothing of combat.  She’d never been attributed with an abundance of intellect
or a head for stratagems.  She was neither strong nor particularly courageous. 
In fact, her arsenal had only ever been a pretty face, a self-serving wit, and
a sharp tongue. 

“That, I cannot say.”  Evelyn led
them through the stone square that separated the keep from the armory and the
stables.  “All I know is that you’re his only chance.”

Lindsay froze in the doors of the stables,
watching dumbly as Evelyn ordered and oversaw the preparing of her horse. 

Of course she was going to go after
him.  To question that never even entered into consideration.  She wasn’t going
to let him die.  He still had ‘things’ to say to her.  Apologies to make. 
Undying devotion to pledge.  He’d promised to return and she’d hold him to that
promise even if she did have to go after him and drag his lumbering, oafish
arse back to Castle Lachlan herself. 

Connor MacLauchlan wasn’t dying
this night.  There was no way he was getting out of this that easily. 

It caused her some pause, though,
wondering what could possibly be fearsome enough to endanger the life of her
ferocious berserker.   She was about to find out, and she was his only chance. 

“Lord help us both,” she whispered.