My Wild Highlander (30 page)

"Aye, I am your husband. And glad for it." He
set her on her feet.

She slid a hand around his neck and pulled
his head down. He devoured her luscious mouth and grew hard as a
pike. Her hand grazed him through the kilt.

He remembered the skirmish. "I should clean
up before—"

She shook her head.

"Nay?"

"I want you now," she whispered against his
lips. "I want you to make love to me."

Desire rushed through him, carrying something
sharp and sweet to his heart, making it thump like a war drum.
"With pleasure." At the moment, it seemed she accepted him
completely, flaws and all.

He lifted her onto the table in the center of
the room, removed the weapons from his belt, and shoved the skirts
up her shapely thighs to the top. Her auburn curls covered the most
feminine and arousing of sights he'd ever set eyes upon. "Lie
back," he said, pushing her thighs wider. When she did, he dove in
and tasted her. Oh, saints, she was wet and sweet, her lips swollen
and dark pink. She gasped and cried out while he feasted upon her,
slid his tongue deep. She arched, squirming, her hands clutching
his hair.

He could wait no longer. Standing, he lifted
his kilt, took his shaft in hand and trailed it through her
moisture. "Mmm."

He tried to enter her gently, but that only
lasted a trice. She was so very ready. Her body caressed his in a
most bewitching way, wringing profound pleasure from him…no,
something more than pleasure. Something strong he had not felt
before. Something that made him tremble and his blood race. He
growled, pushing deeper, thrusting harder while he watched her face
strained in passion, her eyes dark beneath the fringe of her thick
lashes. So beautiful.

She gasped, crying out.

"Aye, lass."

Sitting up, she clung to his neck. Murmuring
and whimpering.
"Oui, s'il vous plait, mon chéri."

My dear one?
She never called him
that. Her words alone made him want to give in to his release, and
with the added sensations of their bodies joining, gliding, he
almost lost control.

"Ah, saints, Angelique!" He loved being
inside her more than anything on earth.

Her cries of pleasure grew louder the closer
she slid toward climax. He did not attempt to muffle those
wonderful sounds, even though it was possible those in the nearby
great hall could hear her. He wanted all the clan to know how much
she wanted him. She displayed a cool façade before them. But his
wife was a fiery angel when he touched her. He hoped that showed
the clan her devotion to him and would help strengthen their
loyalty as well.

He made love to her slowly but intensely,
sliding deep; he wanted to draw every ounce of pleasure from her.
At her climax, she screamed. He feared even those out in the
courtyard could hear her now.

Lachlan's own release thundered through him.
He was lost in the mad pleasure long seconds. When he became aware
again, two guards burst through the door.

Angelique shrieked. Lachlan tried to shield
her, though they were both clothed. "What the hell do you
want?"

"Pray pardon, m'laird. We thought you were
murdering her. Such bloodcurdling screams, we have never heard
before."

He was too dumbfounded to laugh. "Does she
look murdered to you?"

She hid her blush and mortified expression
against his chest.

"
Le petit mort
." Lachlan grinned
broadly at the men. They chuckled and left the room.

Angelique smacked his arm. "Why did you tell
them that? And I don't see why they came in here."

"You screamed, very loudly, during the height
of your pleasure."

"I did not."

"
Mais oui,
you did, and I loved it,"
he said, more proud than he'd ever been of his lovemaking
abilities, and his wife's desire for him.

Her blush darkened. "Why did you not make me
be quiet?"

"I think that should be obvious."

She scowled. "You wanted them to hear
me."

"I'm wanting them to ken how much my wee
wifey likes me." He held back a chuckle, which he was sure she
would not appreciate.

"I do not like you."

"Nay, I ken how much you dislike me, ma
chérie." She could keep lying to herself if that was what she
needed. He kissed the upper part of her chest. Her corset was so
loose, he pushed it down a bit, yanked her smock out of the way and
lapped at her nipples, just visible at the top. "Mmm, these are
like sweet berries." His shaft still inside her, he felt her
muscles flex, squeezing him. He grew tighter, hardening fully
again.

Her breathing increased between whimpers.
"Lachlan." She tugged him closer.

He withdrew and slid in deep again.

"Oui,"
she whispered. "More."

He held beneath her hips with one hand and
pounded her harder and faster this time. Trapping her gaze,
breathing her breath, he clenched his jaw against an intensity
which seared him, body and soul.

Moments later, her keening cry near deafened
him as she clutched at him tightly.

"Aye," he growled, and again lost his seed
within her. Never had anything felt so astounding to him, as if the
stars in the sky had tumbled into his body.

He gasped for breath, as did she. Thankfully,
no one burst into the room this time.

An hour later, they were again immersed in a
hot bath in her bedchamber, when someone knocked on the door.

"Can we see no peace?" Lachlan levered
himself from the tub, held his shirt before him and opened the
door. "Aye?" he asked the bodyguard.

"M'laird, a woman just arrived, Lady
Angelique's cousin. She was attacked on the way here, near
Burnglen, and one of her servants killed."

"God's teeth! Kormad."

Chapter Fourteen

Angelique rushed across the great hall to
greet her second cousin and childhood friend, Neilina Lockhart.
"Thanks be to God you were not killed in Kormad's attack!"

Neilina's clothing was ripped, dirty and
askew, her auburn hair falling and tangled about her shoulders.
"Angelique." Her breathing harsh, Neilina pulled her into an
embrace. "I was lucky, but poor Jerome was not. They killed him and
rode away with his lifeless body. No doubt they threw him in the
river." She pulled back, her face scrunched, and sobbed into a
handkerchief.

"
Mère de Dieu
, you poor thing. You
must rest. The men will deal with Kormad." An arm around Neilina's
waist, Angelique ushered her up the stairs and toward a guest
chamber, then directed the servants to bring in her trunks.

Neilina's two maids straightened her drooping
hair and poured water in a basin. "You must change m'lady. Your
clothing is torn."

Despite the dirt smudging her cheek, Neilina
was a woman of great beauty. Angelique remembered she had been
pretty as a child, when they had played together during clan
gatherings.

"Nay, I will be fine." Neilina waved them
away. "I wish to give Cousin Angelique her gift."

"You are too kind to think of me in a time
like this."

"Nonsense." Once the servants set down
Neilina's trunk, she opened it and lifted out a carved box. "I'm so
glad they didn't steal the wedding gift I brought you and your new
husband. Congratulations on your marriage." Neilina handed her the
box and curtseyed.

"I thank you, but you should not have."
Angelique didn't see how Neilina could maintain such
self-possession, considering the violence she'd witnessed. She
could've been raped or killed, for heaven's sake. But the women of
her family were often considered strong.

Angelique opened the box lid to reveal a
beautiful set of silver spoons displayed on red velvet. "Oh what an
extravagant and lovely gift. I thank you." It truly was one of the
finest things they had received.

"I'm so glad it pleases you."

"Indeed. Lachlan will love it, too." She
closed the box. "I'm sure you would like to rest for a while and
change. I shall see you at evening meal. And I do hope you will be
staying with us for a while." Angelique said the words partly out
of politeness, trying to be the perfect hostess, and partly because
she truly would like to get to know her cousin again.

"Thank you. I would like that very much."

Angelique was certain she must have imagined
the sly twinkle in her cousin's eye, for when she looked back it
was gone.

***

At evening meal two days later, Lachlan
glanced at those around high table in the great hall. Angelique's
cousin's bold gaze met his and lingered. He had received such
glances from enough women to know what it meant. He didn't want any
woman interested in him except his wife who sat beside him. He
lifted her hand and kissed it, hoping that said to Lady Neilina he
was taken and interested in no one but his wife.

Angelique smiled at him.

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "I
cannot wait to get you into bed again." He kissed her ear. Their
last few nights together had been amazing.

Her cheeks flushed and she gently pinched the
inside of his bare knee beneath the tablecloth.

Och! It took no more than that to make him
hard? He wished she'd run her hand up his leg, beneath the plaid
and find out exactly how she affected him. The quick rush of
arousal near made him dizzy.

He placed her palm flat against his thigh.
Saints! He was stiff as a ram's horn. Why couldn't he get enough of
her? At this rate, he'd lift her from her chair and cart her off to
the bedchamber before the meal was over.

"M'laird," one of the servants said behind
his left shoulder.

"Aye?" He turned.

"A missive arrived for you."

Lachlan took the small folded parchment and
broke the red wax seal. The message was from Chief Robertson. He
invited Lachlan to his holdings to inspect the white mares and, if
they met with his approval, choose one for his wife. Another buyer
was interested in them as well, so Lachlan was to relay his
decision forthwith.

Lachlan quickly refolded the paper, before
Angelique could read it, and stuffed it into his sporran. The white
mare was to be a surprise wedding gift for her. He was certain she
would love it, especially after she'd mentioned having to leave her
white horse behind in France. The Robertson's holdings were no more
than two or three hours' ride one way. He could be there and back
in one day, before Angelique even knew he'd left.

"Is something amiss?" she asked.

"Nay. All is well." He hid a smile, wondering
if he might buy two horses. Indeed, two would surely make her twice
as happy.

Angelique eyed him, suspicion written in her
expression. But he could not spoil this surprise. He kissed her
cheek, then whispered, "Come upstairs with me, now."

Her face turned bright red and she glanced
about. But he did not care what the others thought.

"We must beg your pardon," he said to the
table at large as he arose, her hand in his, and tugged her from
her chair. Snickers and ribald comments ensued as they rushed from
the great hall. Clearly, she knew if she didn't follow peacefully,
he'd toss her over his shoulder. Or maybe her carnal hunger matched
his own. Aye, he hoped that was the case.

"Lachlan," Angelique chastised him in a loud
whisper once they were on the steps. "You are most uncouth!"

"Indeed I am." He chuckled.

***

The next morn, as they were breaking their
fast, Angelique noticed Cousin Neilina staring openly at Lachlan.
At first, Angelique thought Neilina must want to say something, but
quickly realized the woman's gaze held sensual interest. Had
Lachlan noticed? He concentrated on eating, but did flick a heated
look at Angelique and winked. Last night they had again shared an
unforgettable and enthusiastic session of lovemaking. She was well
and truly addicted to him now. Somehow, he had charmed his way into
her heart and soul. He and his playful, seductive affection were
the richest of ambrosia to her starved body and spirit. He filled
her with expansive feelings of bliss such as she never knew
existed.

Which was why Neilina's interested, furtive
looks filled Angelique with a rage of concern so great she felt as
if a battering ram slammed against her rib cage. There it was
again—her cousin was devouring Lachlan with her eyes. Angelique
hadn't expected such treachery from her own kin.

Mère de Dieu,
Neilina was beautiful,
more so even than Eleanor. What if Lachlan found Neilina
attractive, irresistible? A cold fear arose within her.

Angelique tried to act normal as the meal
ended and the people disbursed. But Neilina continued to peek
briefly at Lachlan as he talked quietly with Rebbie.

The bitch. Angelique would strangle her.

Lachlan appeared not to notice her regard,
but he had done that before. When he headed down a corridor,
Neilina trailed behind. Angelique stiffened, then forced herself to
follow silently and hid in the shadows.

"M'laird," Neilina said quietly.

After a few more steps, Lachlan paused and
turned back halfway. "Aye?"

"'Haps I could meet you later in your
chamber."

Poisonous hatred dripped into Angelique's
blood, hatred for her vile cousin. Hatred that focused her
attention and her vision. Her hands clenched in her skirts, craving
a weapon.

Lachlan observed Neilina in silence for a
long moment, but Angelique was so far away she could not see his
expression. "The south tower room, just after sunset," he finally
said.

Angelique froze, the blood pounding through
her ears blocking out any other sounds. Her legs lost all strength.
She slumped against the cold stone wall at her back, then slid down
into a tiny ball. Nausea clutched at her. And a lance of despair
smashed against her heart. The bastard! She'd known he would do
this, yet she'd trusted him. Why had she let him through her
barriers?