Highlander's Bride: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 1) (11 page)

He rolled his tongue around one delectably tight nipple, sucked the treasure deep inside his mouth and groaned as his need for her built to fierce and fiery life all over again. Damn it. He’d hardly gone soft down below and now he was rock hard once more. There would be no leaving the sanctuary of her body yet.

Lavishing her breasts, he nipped and licked as he surged into her. Never had he tasted a more delicious meal than his bride and if he intended on surviving the next few hours then he’d be partaking of all she could offer him, over and over until he’d saturated himself in her. Only then could he ride out as she’d asked. With one palm around the back of her head, he tangled his fingers in her long golden-red locks and kissed her with all the wild need flaring to ravenous life within him. “You’re my true mate, the one I’ll always hunger for.”

“As I will always hunger for you.” She caressed down his back and over his backside, her eyes twinkling with such devilment. “I feel so greedy.”

“That makes two of us.” He kissed her as he slid his cock back out then pushed all the way back inside her again. They fit together with sheer perfection, her body accepting every single inch of his, and with her mind open as she shared her thoughts along their connection, his heart and soul lifted even higher.

“Mmm.” Eyelids fluttering closed, she moaned her pleasure, every inch of her hot channel squeezing him to the point of pain, the pressure tightening his balls and making him want to ram into her.

“Am I too heavy?”

“Gloriously so.” She licked his bottom lip, nibbled along his jaw then pushed him over and rolled with him until she came up on top. Back arched and her breasts thrust toward him, she edged up until she sat across his hips, his cock still wedged deep inside her as she stretched her arms high above her head.

“I love it when you sit on top of me. This will likely become one of my most favored positions.” He glided over her lush breasts, every inch of her an enticement he couldn’t get enough of.

“I love being right here too.” She wriggled against his groin, her breasts swaying heavy and full and completely demanding his attention.

“You’re giving me the most wicked thoughts.” He dotted her breasts with love bites before he sucked one nipple deep inside his mouth and swiped the tip with his tongue.

“This one is missing out.” She lifted her other breast to him. “It also requires your very special brand of touch.”

He bestowed her other breast with the same attention as he’d given the first then grazed a finger through her curls below and fondled her nub.

She squeaked when he did and her breathing quickened. She lifted up and sank back down on him, did so again and again, building a wicked rhythm as she rode him so beautifully. “Oh goodness. I seem to tingle everywhere, no matter where you touch me.”

“If you feel too sensitive, tell me.”

“Aye, too sensitive, but I still want more.” Whimpering with need, she picked up her pace, her breasts bouncing about and he ran his tongue around each nipple in turn, the aureoles beading tighter and harder.

“I need more of you too.” He seized her mouth and kissed her, swept his tongue over hers in a hot caress that sent red hazing behind his eyes. He had to have her, now. He toppled her onto her back and with one fierce stroke, drove deep inside her and she scraped her nails down his back, her possessive touch making him lose all control.

Again and again, he thrust then with one definitive flick of his finger over her nub, she gasped and cried out, her channel pulsing around him and he gave into his need, his essence streaming from him and pumping into her. Sheer love for his woman took ahold of him and saturated his senses. With her in his arms, her heartbeat a pounding mess against his, he reveled in their joining and the deep depths their bond ran.

“Oh, glad I am that this is now your chamber too.” She stretched underneath him, the sunlight dancing over her flushed cheeks and lush breasts.

“I would starve if you ever kept me from your bed.” Slowly, he eased his rocking and brought them both gently back down. He’d taken her hard, needed to ensure all was well. That desire overrode all else and carefully, he eased out and knelt between her spread legs, glided his hands over her inner thighs and touched the smear of blood streaked across her flesh. Thank heavens he’d found her before she’d ever spoken vows with Duncan. If he’d taken only a few more days to reach her, then he would’ve been a few days too late, her innocence gifted to another.

“Your thoughts are clear to see along our connection.” Her blue gaze softened. “Dinnae consider what-ifs. You are here, and we are now man and wife. That is all there is to consider.”

“Aye, you’re right.” And he was supposed to be ensuring her care. He shuffled off the bed and crossed to her side table scattered with her personal belongings. He lifted the jug and poured water into the basin, flapped out a clean cloth from the pile and dipped it into the water. “I just wish I’d returned sooner to claim you.”

“You came as soon as you could, and I didnae make it easy for you being that I resided deep within the enemy’s territory.” She stretched where she lay on the bed and he returned to her, nudged her knees farther apart and tenderly wiped her flesh.

“How sore are you?” He cleaned his cock with the cloth, tossed it back into the basin of water where it landed with a splash then bent over his woman and pressed a soft kiss against her mouth. On his side, he lay down next to her, lifted one of her legs and eased it between both of his, wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer until every inch of their bodies touched. “I crave being near you.”

“I crave this nearness too, and I’m a little sore, as to be expected.” Along his hip, she stroked, her sweetly sensual touch bringing such a deep level of satisfaction to his very soul. “Even though I dinnae wish to leave this bed, ’tis morning and I should go and check on Gordon’s wounds and ensure all is healing as it should.”

“Gordon can look after himself. You’re going to remain right here with me. I need an hour’s rest afore I must leave.” He yawned and closed his eyes, his need for sleep overwhelming him. It had been some time since he’d last been so content and the dark swirled around him as he held his mate safe and secure in his arms. Nowhere else did he long to be, other than right here with her. “Rest,” he murmured as he succumbed to sleep himself.

* * * *

Kyla snuggled against Ronan as he slipped into sleep. He’d ridden hard right through the night, not resting at all as she had, and soon must leave. Outside, the clanging of swords ricocheted toward her. Her clansmen trained and even though Ronan had said Gordon could look after himself, she was still responsible for ensuring his wounds healed without any festering. She couldn’t rest when that need tugged at her so strongly.

As Ronan’s arms went slack around her, she slowly, carefully, snuck out of his hold and stood. Ouch. Muscles she’d never used before ached in protest, although she should have expected such a thing. She was a woman who’d been well and truly loved by her husband. A lazy smile lifted her lips and she hugged herself. This discomfort was one she intended to embrace and cherish.

Tiptoeing to her ambry, she moved with all stealth and eased the golden curtain back. Elegant gowns hung in a myriad of rich colors and fine fabrics. She nabbed a favorite gown and footwear, crept behind her dressing screen and set her things on the stool behind her. Over her head, she pulled on a cream under-tunic with rucked sleeves and slid her sleeveless burgundy gown overtop. The velvet swished over her hips and brushed her ankles. With the ribbons in hand, she tightened the bodice and made a bow at the top of the low-cut neckline embellished with cream crocheted detailing, the same adornment that ran in a long line down the center of her gown to her feet and ringed the hem. Seated on the stool, she tugged her matching burgundy slippers on then ducked over to her side table.

Ronan still slept, having not moved an inch.

She combed and braided her hair, selected a lacy white ribbon from the shell dish overflowing with ribbons and tied the silk at the end. Loose locks wisped free at the side of her face and she curled the strands around her fingers dampened with a little water and left them bouncing free.

Her new ring sparkled, so shiny and bright on her finger, although ’twas a little big and slipped off and on with ease. Mayhap ’twas best she kept it secure in her wooden keepsake box until the armorer could adjust the band. He honed weapons to perfection, made repairs on all manner of things and had a particular love of crafting trinkets and such. She’d ask him to resize it.

Around the bed, she crept, leaned over her chosen one and touched her lips to his cheek. His lush lips begged to be kissed and she wanted to lick and nibble on them but if she did, she’d wake him and right now she needed to tend to Gordon before she could return to him.

She snuck to the door and without a noise, slid the bolt across and stole outside.

Down the darkened stone passageway with its wooden floorboards and iron wall sconces, she walked, the immense joy in her heart making her want to skip and sing. Her love for Ronan overflowed her heart and never had she felt so alive.

“About time you surfaced.” Jeremiah stepped out from within a darkened niche at the top of the stairwell, his fiery red hair brushing his wide shoulders and his expression thunderous. Dirt clung to his green rawhide pants and his black war coat swayed against his legs. Heavily armed, his claymore sat snugly in a baldric across his back and a dagger glinted from where he’d tucked it into one knee-high boot.

“What are you doing here? I—I—how did you get in?”

“I hear you’re one of the fae, dear sister, an unskilled one, although you still hold strong fae blood and I want it gracing my own line.” His beady black eyes narrowed. “Father told me the truth about you and your abduction and he agreed I could claim you as my bride. ’Tis time for us to get to know one another better.”

He shoved her back into the nook and she hit her head on the rough stone wall.

Black dots danced before her eyes. Nay, she had to hold onto the present.

“Sleep now, lass.” Jeremiah thrust an odorous rag over her nose and rasped in her ear, “You’ll soon be mine to wed and bed, and I willnae allow you to sway me to any other decision. I will rule over you. Make no mistake about that.”

“I—” So woozy. Everything spun, and her legs dropped out from under her.

Jeremiah heaved her up and her belly thumped into his rock hard shoulder, the sedative lacing the cloth one she’d never mistake for any other. Belladonna. She tried to search for Ronan and connect with him along their merged link, to warn him of Jeremiah’s arrival, only all went dark and she sank into complete and utter oblivion.

* * * *

Pain slammed though Ronan’s chest and he jerked awake, clutched his sword where it sat propped against the headboard and bounded to his feet. He swung his blade within the stillness of the chamber, the light flaring through the window bright and the fire still well ablaze. ’Twas as if someone had struck him through the heart with a sword, the pain of his loss slicing deeply within him. He patted his chest to be sure, then went to reach for Kyla but the bed lay empty.

“Kyla?” He stalked around to her dressing screen. Not there. He marched to her ambry and flung the golden curtain aside. Gowns hung in an assortment of colors, but no Kyla. Surely she hadn’t dressed and left without him stirring to the noise? He held the battle skill and as such always maintained an alert state, even when he closed his eyes to rest.

He stormed to the door. The bolt had been pushed back, unlocked from within and only Kyla could have done that. Hell, he must have been beyond exhausted when he’d fallen asleep. Certainly joining with his chosen one had been an incredibly soul-satisfying moment, one that had made him languid and at such ease afterward. He rubbed his head as he tried to open their fused link. He should be able to now it remained a solid pathway either of them could open at will, only nothing but a stark darkness lay where she should be. Only a few things could cause that. If she spoke to another through her skill, if she rested or such, or if she’d chosen to keep him locked out. Since she’d clearly snuck out of their chamber after he’d fallen asleep, that left the last option as the most viable one. Aye, what could his wife be up to that would require such secretiveness, that she’d leave their bed and close her mind to him?

Well, he wasn’t having that. He nabbed his bag, swung it on top of the rumpled bedcovers and lifted the flap. Black leather pants in hand, he hauled them on, donned a blue tunic over top and tucked his shirttails in. He no longer needed to wear the MacKenzie kilt, the added protection of blending in now unnecessary since all within this keep would soon know his true name. Duncan had ensured his men here would never harm one of the fae either, which included him and as they’d soon learn, Kyla too. With her marriage to him, her secret would soon be exposed to her fellow kinsmen within these walls.

He pulled his boots on and strapped his sword in place. Time to find his wife. Mayhap she’d gone to check on Gordon, the healer in her too strong to halt. If she had, he’d toss her over his shoulder and march her straight back to their bed. She’d soon learn how deep his need for her ran, her continued protection as well.

“Ronan?” A knock rattled the door. “’Tis Duncan.”

“Come in.”

Duncan marched inside, his fists clenched as he searched the chamber. “Where’s Kyla?”