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Authors: Kimberly Killion

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BOOK: Taming a Highland Devil
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She watched him as she pleasured him, alternating her speed based on the volume of his moans. Sweat beaded over his scalp and gathered around his neck as she tugged and sucked at him with the most exquisite pressure. Then she angled her head and thrust downward, shoving his cock head into her throat. Her bottom teeth scraped the thick vein at the root of him, her nose buried in his groin, the sides of her throat constricted around him like a serpent squeezing its prey.

Tantalizing zings of pleasure shot through his erection and coiled thick and heady in his sac. He groaned and wove his fingers into the masses of black silk tickling his thighs. His mind yelled,
Pull her off!
But his mind no longer led his actions.

When he thrust upward, she stretched her mouth wider, enveloped the base of his shaft with her tongue and allowed him to pump in earnest.

Oh, she would make him a good wife, a passionate wife, a willful lover.

His head fell back. His eyelids slid shut. A prisoner of his body’s lust, he could do naught to stop her when she slithered up his body and crawled into the chair with him. Knees wedged into the cushion beside his hips, she positioned his cock at her entrance, then sank atop him.

“Faugh!” He’d been dangerously close to spilling his seed into her delicate mouth, and now that she’d wrapped her hot woman’s flesh around his throbbing member, he feared he would come prematurely. She bounced up and down, grinding her velvety nock against him, torturing him anew.

“I daresay I suit ye well, m’laird,” she whispered in his ear, then nipped his lobe and opened the seams of his robe, exposing the jagged lines crisscrossing his chest. A short pause interrupted the rhythm of her movements. She turned her head and closed her eyes.

Her reaction to his scars angered him, stole his passion, but his body sought finality.

She reached for the back of the chair and slammed her bottom hard atop him over and over, creating a scorching friction. “Come with me. Seek your release.”

The pleasure overwhelmed him. The pain insisted he give her what she wanted. He gripped her hips as pulsing sensations thrummed through his cock. His heart thundered. His throat dried. His resolve shattered when her muscles tightened and cinched and seized him until he came inside her.

He growled, grunted and shook with each burst of seed he sprayed against the wall of her womb.

He couldn’t say how long he sat waiting for the tingles to subside and the spots to dissipate, but when he opened his eyes, he stared into the face of a seemingly satisfied woman. Albeit, she hadn’t broken a sweat. She wasn’t the least bit flushed. And he couldn’t say for certain whether or not she’d enjoyed an orgasm.

Yet, the grin pulling at the corners of lips he’d yet to taste was one of victory.

“We will be verra good together, m’laird,” she announced with confidence before she eased off his spent member and reached for her robe.

Chapter Three

Effie’s mind drifted as she methodically dipped a candle in and out of the wax. While she congratulated herself on successfully denying Laird Sutherland’s summons for three days, she knew ’twas unlikely she could hide from the man the remainder of her time at Dunrobin.

However, there were a multitude of reasons why she needed to try. For one, Ian had instructed her to avoid the man at all costs. For two, Laird Sutherland was well-reputed for his skill with women, which made him a lecher in Effie’s opinion, and she held no desire to be wed to another faithless man. And thirdly, the sight of him alone made her tingle and shiver and ache. Just thinking about him made her swell like a bleating doe in heat.

Oh, it had been far too long since she’d been touched by a man, which was exactly why she needed to keep a distance from Laird Sutherland. If he came within two steps of her, she would likely let him have his way with her. She squirmed on the bench seat and forced her attention back to the chandler’s chatter.

“That’ll be the last one this day, m’lady.” The elderly gaunt woman used a poker to spread the dying coals in the hearth and glanced at the pegged walls striped with candles. “I’ll be returning to my cot-house after the embers cool a bit more. Ye are welcome to join me for sup, if it pleases ye.”

Effie smiled at the chandler, deciding the woman was more agreeable than the weaver had been the day before and accepted the offer. “Thank ye, Sylvie. That would please me verra much.”

Sylvie continued to fill the silence with talk of kin, cats and candles, the same as she’d done for the past several hours. She was alone in the world, her bairns all grown and gone, her grandchildren, too. Effie knew all too well what it felt like to be alone and welcomed the prospect of providing her company for the remainder of the eve. Not to mention, Effie held no desire to return to the keep where she would be forced to listen to Vanna boast about how big the laird’s cock was. Jealousy ground its big toe into Effie’s gut, making the supportive smiles she offered her sister more difficult to wear.

Mayhap it was Vanna’s confident bragging that made Effie want to vie for Laird Sutherland’s affections. Or mayhap there was a deeper seed she’d been nurturing for years—a seed Besse had planted.

The door whipped opened and with it came a great gust of icy air. But it was not the spitting snowflakes that raised gooseflesh on her arms.

Laird Sutherland bent low to clear the doorframe when he entered, and his intimidating scowl sent Sylvie into a tizzy.

“M’laird.” The chandler bowed as deeply as her old bones would allow. “We were just—”

“Leave us,” he cut Sylvie off sharply, and Effie might have thought him a tyrant for being harsh had he not wrapped his own fur around Sylvie’s shoulders before sending her out into the cold. He closed the door and turned his scowl on Effie. “I sent for ye two days past, and ye did not come. I sent for ye again yestereve, and ye ignored my request again. I would know why?”

Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Still, she held fast to a face of indifference. “I have no intention of being a pawn in your game, m’laird.” She stood and hung the twin candles on the last open peg then willed her hands to stop shaking before turning back. “Furthermore, ye have been betrothed to my sister for six months. My presence here shouldn’t have changed the agreement ye made with my brother.”

The fury fell away from his stiff posture. He scratched the nape of his neck. “I dinnae understand. I would think ye would relish the opportunity to position yourself as my wife.”

The tiniest of chuckles escaped her throat. “Ye are more vain than I had given ye credit.”

His brows angled sharply and his scowl returned. “Ye are bold to insult me.”

“Might I speak frankly, m’laird?”

He nodded a single time, widened his stance and crossed his thick arms over his chest.

She drew a breath, but the words wouldn’t come. How did she explain to him that she wasn’t the type of woman who exuded rapture? She’d been a good wife to Gavin, but their marriage bed had lacked a certain…creativity. Not once had she screamed herself hoarse or broken the bed frame. He’d mount her, spend himself inside her and that was verra much the end of things.

“I’m waiting.” Laird Sutherland drummed his fingers on his arm.

“I cannot compete with Vanna in the bedchamber, and I’ll not subject myself to ridicule, knowing I will lose.”

“Ye wound me, m’lady.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “Your opinion of me is tainted by my reputation.”

“It is,” she admitted without hesitation.

“Ye should know I sent for ye so I might know ye better.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What is it ye would like to know?”

Laird Sutherland leaned against the trestle table and rubbed his unshaven jaw. “Have ye bairns?”

“I did. Leena died in infancy. Ann-Elise lost her life to a fever when she was just eight winters. And Bretton died in a border raid alongside his father.” Salty tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. Her children had been the light of her existence, but now they were gone and she was alone.

“It must pain ye deeply to have outlived them.” His demeanor softened.

“It does.” She swallowed her sorrow.

“Does the prospect of filling your arms with more bairns not appeal to ye?”

Anger straightened her spine instantly. “My children cannot be replaced with new ones.” She snatched her mantle off a peg in the wall and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’ve lived my life, m’laird.’Tis Vanna’s turn now.”

Laird Sutherland stepped in her path, blocking her escape. His size might have intimidated her if she hadn’t fallen under the spell of his scent. Wood-spice and man floated into her nose and held her in place long enough for him to touch her. He traced the line of her jaw with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Ye speak as though ye are kissing the grave.” He held her cheek. His gaze dropped to her lips. “When I look at ye, I dinnae see a woman finished with life. I see a woman waiting to embrace it.”

Quivers racked her body. Zings of lust coiled low in her belly. Oh, she wanted to succumb to the man. She wanted to taste his lips and feel the weight of him pressed against her. But it would be a fleeting affair. In the end he would choose Vanna, and Effie would live in shame the remainder of her life knowing she’d bedded her sister’s husband.

She pulled away from him and tied her mantle at her neck. “Forgive me, m’laird, but I suspect what ye see is a woman, and this is all.”

“I would wager I see more than ye do.” The line between their gazes burned hot and heavy until Effie looked away. She was strong enough to crush this attraction, but feared her desire for companionship weakened her. He made her want for something she couldn’t have, something she’d yearned for since the day the wars took her husband and son.

“If ye do not wish to be my wife, then I will accept it as final.”

“’Tis my wish for ye to marry my sister.” Why did those words feel like a lie?

“Verra well then.” Laird Sutherland pivoted on his heel. “I will escort ye back to the keep.”

“Thank ye for the offer, but I accepted an invitation to dine with Sylvie.” Effie flipped the hood of her mantle over her head when he opened the door. A harsh wind coiled around her as she stepped onto a snow-covered path. “Good eve, m’laird.”

He bowed, turned away from her and strode toward the keep. Shards of ice sliced her exposed skin, but she was accustomed to its bitter sting. What caught her unguarded was the cold numbing her insides while she watched the man disappear inside a swirl of snowflakes.

She hoped Vanna might one day appreciate what Effie had done for her this night, but doubted the girl would ever know the depth of her sacrifice. But that’s exactly what it was. She was sacrificing the chance at a new start. She was giving up the prospect of having a home, a husband and a family.

Envy sank its claws in deep while she dined with Sylvie. It didn’t help that the woman sang Laird Sutherland’s praises throughout the whole of their meal. Jealousy shifted to resentment by the time she returned to Dunrobin Castle, and as she walked the richly decorated halls toward the guest solar, she felt herself being pulled toward Vanna’s chamber. Effie wanted her sister to know what she’d done for her. In short, Effie wanted Vanna’s gratitude.

Effie raised her knuckles to Vanna’s door, then paused when she heard a deep throaty chuckle mixed with Vanna’s girlish giggle.

“Why did ye tie a bow around your cock?” Vanna’s silky voice was easy to recognize.

“’Tis a wedding gift,” a male voice responded.

Embarrassment scorched Effie’s cheeks as images of Vanna and Laird Sutherland filled her head. For the briefest of moments she felt betrayed, but those feelings were reminiscent of another time. She cursed her own foolishness and tried to push away the emotions squeezing her heart. The man didn’t belong to her. She had no right to feel this way.

Laird Sutherland was not Gavin, and Vanna was not Besse.

She rushed back down the curved stairwell and nearly collided with Laird Sutherland carrying an elderly man. She jerked to a sudden stop. If he was here, then who in the bleating hell was in the guest solar with Vanna?

BOOK: Taming a Highland Devil
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