Highland Spitfire (25 page)

She was.

But she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. “I just wanted to stretch me legs.”

Bhaic’s expression softened, a hint of compassion flickering in his blue eyes. “I’ve
something I wanted to show ye.”

He guided her down the steps and lifted her up to the saddle. He mounted behind her
and pulled her against his body. He looked back at her escort. “Taking her up to the
stables.”

Finley nodded before Bhaic turned his stallion and sent it toward the gate. She was
suddenly surrounded by him, shivering as he enclosed her with his embrace.

The stallion carried them easily beyond the walls of the castle and up toward the
stable. He slid from the saddle first, reaching back up to help her down.

“I’m not delicate.”

He raised one dark eyebrow. “I do nae want to argue with ye, but ye look as though
a stiff wind might blow ye over.”

“It was only a little fever.”

He looked at her as if she’d gone simple. “Do ye remember yer father coming to see
ye?”

“Me father?”

Bhaic chuckled softly and reached up to tap his jaw, where she noticed a dark bruise.

“How could me father land a blow on ye?” she scoffed.

“I let him.”

“Oh,” she said softly, completely at a loss for words. “But why?”

She’d stopped next to a stall and realized her knees were weak. She leaned on the
railing as a young lad took the stallion.

“It was me failing that allowed ye to end up fighting for yer life.”

She tried to think. “I just went for a ride to clear me thoughts…oh…someone shot at
me.” The memory rose up from what seemed like a long passage of time she couldn’t
recall. But bits and pieces were starting to take shape. They were flashing through
her memory, startling her as though she were experiencing them for the first time.

Bhaic nodded. “At yer colors, Ailis. The man thought ye were raiding.”

She looked down at her arisaid. “Oh, I suppose…well…”

“Aye. It’s something more than one man would think in the predawn light.”

She looked back at his jaw. “Ye shouldn’t have let me father hit ye.” She reached
out and touched the dark spot.

Touching him dusted off another memory, and another and another. “Did ye…were ye there
with me? I recall ye.”

“Of course I was. Every night.”

She pulled her hand back, but he caught it, folding his fingers around hers. The touch
was strangely intimate and surprisingly familiar. She stared at their fingers. “Ye
were. But why?”

He kissed the back of her hand. “I did nae send ye from me bed, Ailis, and we’re going
to be discussing things when ye’re a bit stronger. On that, ye can count. But no’
just now.”

He pointed out one of the wide doorways. She followed him outside and smiled at the
young colt playing in the sunlight next to his mother.

“I would have brought ye up a bit sooner if fate were nae having such a fine time
toying with us.”

“So this is the fellow who interrupted us.”

He was a black colt. His coat shimmered in the morning light, his eyes glittering
with spirit. He would dance away from his mother’s side, kicking at the air before
returning when she snorted at him. Someday, he’d be a powerful stallion, worth a fortune
if he could be trained to take a rider. She avoided using the word “broken,” because
there was something in the colt’s eyes that told her he was far more valuable with
his spirit intact.

Bhaic took her to the rail of the corral, and she sat down. “Aye. I plan to remind
him in a few years when he spies himself a pretty mare and I tell him she’s no’ ready
for him. But I’ll likely end up commiserating with him, for I know the frustration
of waiting out a lass.”

She reached out and slapped him on the shoulder. “Ye had to wait an entire week to
have me. What suffering ye have endured.”

“Ye think that’s all I’m waiting for?” He clicked his tongue. “There’s more to a good
marriage than passion, but I’m no’ complaining about the fact that ye can nae keep
yer hands off me.”

He flashed her a grin, and she discovered her cheeks heating. They might have been
anyone. In that moment, there was only the warm spring day, the scent of growing crops
all around them, and the twisting in her belly as she looked at Bhaic. He was watching
her, his gaze full of hunger. It shifted to her mouth, making her breath catch. He
leaned toward her, his breath teasing her lips.

Finley’s voice intruded. “There they are.”

Bhaic grunted. “I always thought getting married would end the need to sneak off into
the shadows with a lass.”

“Can nae ye tell them to simply go away?” she asked as she blushed. “I thought it
was only a matter of us…um…”

“Making things official?” he teased her.

She nodded, certain her cheeks had never been so red. Bhaic noticed, reaching out
to tap one of her crimson cheekbones.

“Do nae enjoy yerself so much,” she warned him.

His grin grew until his teeth were flashing. “I plan to enjoy meself quite a bit with
ye and make sure ye like it too.”

“Well no’ at the moment, it would seem.” She looked over to where Finley was leaning
against the side of the barn. He was looking off to the side but keeping them in his
sight.

“Aye. Ye may thank me father for them this time.”

“I thought it was Marcus setting them on me heels,” she said. “Is nae he now satisfied
that I am no’ planning to take secrets back to me father?”

“Aye,” Bhaic answered. “But now yer father made me father swear ye would nae be at
risk.”

Her jaw dropped. “Me father…
made
…yer father?”

Bhaic nodded once, obviously suffering from injured pride. “No’ that I was nae planning
on taking ye in hand.”

“What do ye mean ‘in hand’?”

He grunted and stood up. “This is no’ the time.”

“It is indeed a fine time,” she argued.

“Ailis,” he warned her in a low tone.

“Do nae sound like yer brother.” She stood up to face him, actually poking him in
the chest with her finger. “Ye’ll be telling me what ye want from me now. I’ve had
quite enough of worrying over ye and me circumstances.”

Something flashed through his eyes before he leaned over and tossed her right over
his shoulder.

Her belly twisted, and she realized it was with excitement.

Well, what’s the matter with that? He’s yer husband, isn’t he?

She was giggling when he let her down in another stall freshly made with a bed of
sweet-smelling hay.

“A much better place to be telling ye what I want from ye, lass,” Bhaic informed her.
He was big and imposing, just like the first time she’d seen him. Sensation rippled
across her skin, but this time, she knew anticipation when she felt it.

Aye, “anticipation” was the right word.

She was nervous, twisting her hands as she tried to decide what to do. She felt the
buckle of her belt and unfastened it. She pulled her arisaid free and shook it out
so that it lay on the straw.

He pulled off his sword belt and left it hanging on the stall post. He reached out
and cupped the top of her breast. “Ye enjoy me taking ye in hand…”

“Sometimes…”

He leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss. She hadn’t realized how starved she
was for it. The memory of her tumbling in the river returned, bringing with it a need
to live.

No, a desperation to survive.

She kissed him back. Opening her lips and thrusting her tongue up into his mouth.
Her passage ached, too empty to endure. She needed him. Needed him to fill her. Fill
her with life.

And she wanted him right now.

He was pulling on her laces, opening the front of her dress until he could get at
her. He scooped her up and cradled her on the way to the ground. Coming down to nuzzle
against her breasts.

“I’ll make sure that ye like it every time, lass, I swear that to ye.”

The husky promise made her twist with anticipation. He kissed his way across one plump
mound until he captured the puckered tip between his lips. She gasped, feeling as
though his mouth burned.

But it was a sweet agony. One she wanted more of. She plunged her hands into his hair
and held him in place. He suddenly lifted away from her.

“Does it hurt? Yer back?”

She’d been sinking into a vortex of heat and had to blink before his words made sense.
“Why should it?”

“Because the bullet tore across yer shoulders. The healer had to stitch it.”

He lifted her and rolled over so she was sitting on top of him. He grinned, reaching
up and cradling her breasts in his hands.

“It doesn’t hurt, but I’ve half a mind to tell ye otherwise.” Her knees were on either
side of his hips. She should have felt awkward, but a sense of control was sweeping
through her, filling her with a confidence she’d never suspected she might feel. He
was hard, his member a solid presence beneath the thin layers of his kilt.

His expression became hungry. “Like being in the saddle, do ye?”

“Possibly.” She lifted herself up and settled back down to see what it felt like.
“But I’m fairly certain I haven’t successfully mounted ye just yet.”

She rose up again and made sure her skirts were out of the way. Bhaic grabbed handfuls
of the fabric and tossed it up so her thighs were bared. He gripped the bare skin
above her garters, his expression tightening with hunger.

The sight sent confidence roaring through her. She’d never felt so much in control,
so much a match for anyone.

She lifted off him again, and this time, he yanked his kilt up. His member sprang
up, and he held it steady as she lowered herself onto it.

“Now, let’s see if ye can stay in the saddle.”

She’d started to close her eyes, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. But his
words were edged in challenge, and she opened her eyes and considered him.

“I’m a Robertson.”

“Ye are indeed.” He reached around and cupped her bottom. “But ye are also mine.”

He lifted her and thrust up into her. She gasped, reeling in a wave of sensation before
she tried to regain control. It became a battle, Ailis trying to set the pace while
he met every downward thrust and held her bottom in place so he might impale her.
Frustration grew inside her at the same pace that the need to surrender to him did.

Sweat beaded on her skin, her heart pounding frantically as she tried to hold back
the building explosion until she’d pushed him to the same extreme. But he wasn’t going
to let her. He suddenly released her bottom, letting gravity slam her onto his length
as he slid his hand across her belly and found the little pearl at the top of her
sex. He fingered it, pressing hard on it as she rose and fell on him again. She was
fighting back her climax, riding him hard as she tried to push him into one as well.

But she was losing her grip, her body refusing to obey. Pleasure spiked through her,
twisting her as it exploded beneath his fingers. Her passage contracted, gripping
his flesh as she cried out. He sat up, taking control as he flipped her over onto
her knees and started hammering into her.

She ended up braced on her elbows, Bhaic gripping her hips as he took her. It was
the hard possession she’d craved, setting off another, deeper wave of satisfaction.
It was too intense to contain, her cry echoing inside the stall.

Bhaic growled a moment before his seed began to flood her. He pumped himself against
her a few final times before they ended up in a heap of quivering limbs. Somehow he
rolled over and pulled her with him, pressing her head onto his chest as they lay
there, trying to recover.

Ailis didn’t really care if they ever did.

In those moments, she didn’t have any doubts. She was floating on a wave of satisfaction
and could feel Bhaic quivering with the same feeling. The circumstances of their forced
union were finally irrelevant. What mattered was the way they took each other into
ecstasy.

Somewhere in the distance, Finley laughed. Bhaic smoothed a hand over her shoulder
before moving to right his clothing. She found the ends of the tie threaded through
her chemise neckline and tugged it tight again.

But she froze when she realized Bhaic was watching her.

“Do nae begrudge me yer private moments, lass.” He was sitting in the straw, one knee
raised and his arm resting on it.

Her fingers were clumsy as she worked the lace through the eyelets on the front of
her bodice. She tugged them tight, suffering from embarrassment when she had to adjust
her breasts with him watching.

“Becoming yer maid suddenly has merit.”

His gaze dropped to the Robertson plaid spread out beneath them. “Yer colors…”

He stood up and lifted her to her feet. She reached back down for the length of wool,
but stopped when she realized there was a hole torn through the fabric. It was large,
and the edges charred.

“Ye can nae wear them.”

He pulled the fabric from the floor and held it over his arm.

“Haddox will no’ be the only one who sees these colors and thinks we’re being raided.”

It seemed she wasn’t finished settling in. His words were logical, the charred hole
lending weight to his argument. She offered him a single nod and turned toward the
stall doorway.

Bhaic pulled her back. “I’m sorry, Ailis. I know what I’m asking of ye.”

He did.

She witnessed the proof of it in his eyes. The sight touched something inside her,
some need she wasn’t able to define. It felt as if he might be able to fill it, if
she were willing to surrender completely to him.

Of course, it would be an unconditional surrender.

But then again, she doubted a MacPherson knew any other way.

Or that she could bend so very completely without snapping.

“I think I’d like to bathe.” It was an excuse. A place to hide while she sorted out
her thoughts. He knew it too. His expression tightened, but he let her remain silent
as he took her back to the castle.