Terri Brisbin (2 page)

Chapter Three

Jocelyn walked away, aware of every second of his
silent and accusing scrutiny, and joined her friends at the door. Even as she
did, she felt strong misgivings about this plan, but her friends motioned to her
to follow quickly and she left Connor behind. When they reached the hall below,
Jocelyn stopped.

“We must stop,” she said to the two. Leading them over to an
empty alcove, she shook her head and crossed her arms. “Connor saw me.”

“When we saw him return to your chambers, we thought you might
need help,” Margriet said. “Did you search for the documents?”

“About the MacQuarries?” Marian asked. Her daughter would be of
marriageable age soon and her parents, with Connor’s would be preparing to
choose an appropriate husband. Unfortunately, the girl’s inherited wealth
attracted many interested suitors and their families, and Marian worried about
the possible matches. It was the only reason she’d become involved in their
attempts to find more information about potential matches now.

“I never got to them. He has moved the documents from the
strongbox.”

“He knows?” Margriet asked.

“He suspects.” Jocelyn shrugged. “I have been sloppy in
searching.”

“Mayhap we should wait?” Marian asked, though Jocelyn could
hear the concern in her voice.

No one said anything for several moments, each one, no doubt,
thinking of her own child who would be approaching marriageable age soon and on
their fate if the laird could not be swayed toward what they thought were more
suitable matches.

“I am not certain we can,” Jocelyn said, “so many are attending
this wedding, and I know Connor and Duncan will begin talks.”

She would have continued, but soon all three of them were drawn
into the final preparations for the wedding, and Jocelyn carried out her duties
as the wife of the laird in spite of receiving several dark glances from that
man. When they spoke to others, there was no sign of discord between them, but
Jocelyn’s heart felt a growing chasm between them.

As their guests arrived through the day, she saw to their
welcome and comfort and tried to meet as many of the people whose names she had
collected from the clan’s documents as she could, pointing out several to Marian
when she thought them promising.

By the end of the afternoon, she and her friends gained a good
understanding of possible candidates for husband for Marian’s daughter Ciara.
Now they could begin to influence that choice.

The sting of tears in her eyes as Angus and Ailsa spoke their
vows made Jocelyn look at Connor, remembering their own ceremony and how far
they’d come since. She expected to see that same dark expression, so the love
that shone at her surprised her. The tears that threatened now flowed and
Jocelyn decided that she must tell Connor the truth—that her efforts had
resulted in this marriage and that her friends planned to make even more matches
from within and without the clan.

But it would be some time before they had a moment of privacy,
so Jocelyn put her concerns aside and decided to enjoy the festivities. Ailsa
looked lovely in her new gown and Angus had given her a necklace, a family
heirloom, to wear, and she kept touching it and smiling at him.

So innocent. So much in love. A good family. A successful match
to be sure.

When the meal finished and the dancing began, Jocelyn joined
in, dancing first with Connor and then with other family and friends. Even her
eldest son, visiting for this family wedding, took her hand and led her through
a dance that left her breathless. She wanted to clutch him and hold him tight,
but there were certain expectations for the son of the laird and being fostered
by another clan was one of them. Though she cried many nights since Connor sent
him away, she was proud of the young man he was becoming.

Marian and Margriet joined her at table to laugh over the
children’s antics and to watch the others as they greeted the young couple and
teased them about the coming night. Ailsa blushed and Jocelyn saw her slip her
hand into her new husband’s, seeking comfort.

She would do the same thing with Connor when they stood
together, and the feel of his strong hand surrounding hers gave her strength.
They’d overcome so much over the years and had forged a good marriage. Now she
hoped her efforts for others would continue for the next generation of their
family and friends.

Pushing aside the softer feelings, she began to point out
various families and men to Marian and they divided up then, each going off to
speak with those under consideration. They would meet back in the solar before
retiring to discuss any promising matches and then their own introductions on
the morrow before their guests left…and watch the way Ciara interacted with the
young men they’d chosen. That was the crucial step before making their final
determination and beginning their earnest efforts with both families.

It had worked with Ailsa and young Angus.

It would work again for Ciara and Jocelyn’s own Aidan and
Lilidh and Margriet’s Isobel, all of whom were approaching marriageable age.

It would work.

Chapter Four

“Do not laugh,” Connor warned
Duncan and Rurik. “Your own wives are somehow involved in this.”

Connor swallowed down the last mouthful of the potent
uisge-beatha
in his cup and motioned for the servant
to fill it again. He’d watched Jocelyn all through the day and witnessed the
bout of conscience she suffered—it was in her eyes each time their gazes met.
Jocelyn was keeping something from him and felt guilt over doing so.

Then when her friends arrived so fortuitously at their
bedchamber door this morning at the right moment to save Jocelyn from his
further questioning, Connor understood that this was a venture of the feminine
kind and all three were involved.

And that did not bode well for any of their three husbands.

In his heart he knew she would never betray him, but watching
as she spoke endlessly with every young man at the feast—most he knew but some
he did not—made his blood boil. He swore countless times to himself that he was
not a jealous man, however the blood heating and racing through his veins said
otherwise. Combining her suspicious actions about the strongbox with this odd,
overfriendly behavior now—and that of her friends—and Connor knew something
strange was afoot and Jocelyn was at the center of it.

“I have seen nothing amiss with Marian,” Duncan said. “She has
just been helping Jocelyn and Ailsa’s mother with all the work.”

“As has Margriet,” Rurik added.

Connor waited for them to put it all together. As they looked
through the people, searching for their wives, he knew it would not take long
for them to feel the same thing he did.

“Why is Marian talking to that young whelp? Is he not the
MacQuarrie heir?” Duncan drank up the last of his whisky and watched more
closely.

“Margriet and Dougal MacKenzie have something of common
interest?” Rurik asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and Connor recognized
a warrior’s stance. “Why is she standing so close to him?”

“What is going on?” Duncan asked, not taking his eyes off his
wife as she spoke enthusiastically with the brash young man who would follow his
father as clan chief.

“I caught Jocelyn trying to open the strongbox last night and
again this morning.”

Both men looked at him as though he had three heads and he
understood their disbelief, for it had been his at one point. But Jocelyn’s
guilty gaze had confirmed it for him.

“What was she doing?” Duncan asked first.

“Did she take anything?” Rurik followed.

“Nay. But she did not have the chance.” Connor drank another
mouthful from his cup and shrugged. “There is nothing in that box, not the
documents or anything else stored in there from time to time, that she could not
see if she but asked. So what is she looking for that she does not want to
admit?”

Now their wives left those to whom they spoke and seemed to
change places, each one speaking to one to whom the others had just spoken.

“’Tis time to find out the truth,” he declared.

“Past time,” Rurik said as he slammed his cup down on the
table. Flexing his shoulders and stretching his arms, he readied for a
battle.

“They are my guests, Rurik. Remember that.”

“Hospitality can be stretched a bit, can it not?” Duncan asked
with a jealous glint in his eyes. Duncan had nearly violated the Highland
practice once in his past when it came to defending Marian, so Connor did not
doubt he would do it again if she was offered insult. Connor put his hand on
Duncan’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“She does not look in need of defense now, so be wary and slow
to act in my hall, Duncan.”

He put his cup down and stood, lining up next to his friends.
The women looked at one another and, with a nod from Jocelyn, they all walked
toward her solar. Now was their opportunity.

“It is time to find out what is going on between them,” Connor
said. “Get your wives, take them somewhere and find out the truth.”

“And you?”

“Jocelyn is about to discover that the Beast of the Highlands
yet lives.”

The three stalked their wives across the hall and reached them
just as they reached the chamber Jocelyn used for all manner of things. The
women noticed them at the same moment and lined up, facing them. Connor watched
as both guilt and nervousness filled their expressions—as though caught sneaking
into Cook’s store of sweets—and as though they knew the moment of reckoning was
at hand.

“Marian,” Duncan began as he held out his hand to his wife.
“Come with me.”

“Margriet.” Rurik said nothing more and waited for his wife to
walk with him.

Jocelyn watched silently as her friends were drawn away and
then turned to him. He looked over her shoulder at the solar and realized he
needed more privacy than what this chamber offered if he was to succeed in his
plan.

“Come, wife,” he said, offering her his hand. “I would speak to
you.”

She stepped back, opening a path into her chamber. “We can
speak inside, Connor.”

“We can but will not,” he explained, shaking his head to refuse
her offer. “I will be neither interrupted nor disturbed while this matter is
settled between us.”

She swallowed once and then again, took a deep breath and then
accepted his proffered hand, walking at his side toward the stairs to their
chambers. He waited, hoping she would just admit the truth to him on her own,
but the words never came. He guided her up the stairs to their rooms and gave
orders to the guard at the bottom there that no one be allowed up.

With the wedding feast still continuing, they could not remain
away for long, but Connor had two separate plans to persuade her to explain
herself and her actions to him. If the first did not work, the second surely
would.

He knew everything about this woman at his side, every inch of
her body, every facet of her soul, and he would use that knowledge to show her
she could confide in him over this troubling matter. If not as her husband, then
as her laird.

They stepped into their chambers and he released her hand,
turning to drop the bar across the door. Another way to ensure there would be no
interruptions. He waited for her to face him, which she did from several paces
away, but when she would have spoken, or looked as though she would, Connor
shook his head at her.

“I think, wife, you have forgotten the danger in rousing the
Beast of the Highlands.” He smiled at her and she blinked rapidly as though
trying to figure out his meaning. Connor did not let her wait for long. Striding
across the distance between them, he pulled her into his arms and lifted her
face to his.

“Now you will find out what happens when you do such a
dangerous thing.” And with that little warning, he paused only to inhale her
enticing scent and then he pounced on his prey.

Chapter Five

In spite of his fearsome reputation when they met,
Connor had never raised a hand to her. Now, as he made his threat, she wondered
in that momentary pause what his path would be and should have suspected this
one. He knew her body was his and now he would seek her soul by using his
knowledge against her, much as she had last night. She meant only to distract
him, but he meant to claim her and to show her that she was his.

It took him only seconds and one devastating kiss to gain her
body’s surrender.

His mouth grew insistent and hot as he touched his tongue to
her lips and pressed forward to taste her. One followed and another and another
until she lost her breath. Pulling her mouth from his did not help, for he
followed and captured her with another kiss. Her breasts swelled and she felt
him pull her closer, sliding his leg between hers until she nearly straddled it.
Allowing no space between them, he pulled her closer and she slid up along his
thigh, the friction of the layers of clothing between them a delicious thrill.
She felt him half carry her back a few paces, and then the hard surface of the
wall was at her back.

His mouth released her for a scant moment as he positioned her
higher in his arms and used the wall to support her. Then as she rode his thigh,
Jocelyn felt his hand seek a path under her skirts to the naked skin of her
thigh. Damn her body, for it responded by arching against him, almost begging
him to seek the heated, wet core of her being. He kissed her again and she
moaned into his mouth and his fingers did find her skin and then inched their
way closer and closer and…

Her head fell back against the wall and she panted, her body
aching for more than he gave her. His mouth traced kisses down her face and neck
and he reached his hands up and pulled the neckline of her gown until the laces
snapped. Drawing the edge of her gown and chemise loose and low, Connor kissed
and licked his way down from her shoulders and across the swell of her breasts
and lavished those heated kisses across her tingling skin. Just when she would
have lifted them to his mouth, he found them.

Her nipples tightened even before he touched them, and touch
them he did, first with the rough pads of this thumbs and then his mouth. The
grazing motion of his teeth and the wet heat of his tongue excited the tips
until they gathered into tight little buds. She arched, offering them to him,
and he accepted, sucking on one and then biting it gently before turning to the
other one. Jocelyn lost track of time, of space, of everything except the
pleasure and tension building within her.

When he lifted her and guided her legs around his waist, she
allowed it. When he tugged her skirts from between them and settled himself
between her legs, she allowed it. And when he lifted the plaid he wore and
placed his hard flesh at her opening, she begged him for it.

“Connor, please?”

She tried to settle herself on him, tried to bring his flesh
inside hers and tried to find the release he pushed her toward, but he slowed
and lifted his head, meeting her eyes. She waited for some word, but he held her
gaze as he lifted her higher and slid his hands around her thighs. His fingers
reached into the place between her legs and she felt the caress of many of them
along her cleft, as they opened her heated flesh and teased it relentlessly.

“Please!” she whispered again.

He rubbed the hard ridge of flesh against her then, letting her
feel it and want it deep inside her but not giving it to her. His fingers pushed
her toward her peak, and she moved her hips trying to push faster and harder. He
would not. His pace slowed when her body threatened to find its release and he
stopped completely when she reached down to touch him.

Connor let her touch him then, his flesh ached for her. He
wanted to plunge into her but held back. His plan, which seemed a good one at
some time, was to tease her until she begged, believing she would fight it. Then
he would give her the release she asked for in the prelude to his efforts to
find the truth.

But the truth he found was that he could not play this game and
not be pulled into it with her. His body was hers from the first moment when she
took his hand and walked at his side. It urged and hungered for hers and he
wanted to bury himself so deep within her that they were no longer two, but
one—moving together, breathing together,
being
together. Now as she lifted herself up and took his cock in her hand, he was
lost.

She watched him as her fingers encircled his flesh and then
began to slide along his length, massaging and caressing in the way he loved.
The corners of her mouth, those lips now swollen from his ardent kisses, curved
upward ever so slightly into the hint of a smile and it drove him mad. Even
while she continued her efforts between them, he leaned down and took her mouth
once more, possessing her as deeply as he could, thrusting his tongue into her
mouth as his cock would soon do into her feminine flesh. Her body melted against
him and he knew they were both nearing release. Drawing back, he looked at her
eyes, glazed with passion, and spoke the message he wanted her to hear.

“Ask, Jocelyn. Ask anything of me and it is yours.”

He knew what she wanted now but hoped she realized he was
giving her the key she sought—to his flesh, to his heart and to the strongbox
that seemed to hold what she needed.

“Please, Connor,” she whispered again, lifting her body, using
his hips so she could move against him.

“Ask. Me. Jocelyn,” he growled, kissing her again, a fast,
deep, possessive one that left them breathless once more.

She leaned her head back against the wall, exposing the creamy
skin of her graceful neck and luscious breasts to him. Taking a ragged breath in
and releasing it, she whispered her need to him.

“Take me, Connor. Fill me,” she urged. Lifting her head to look
at him, she smiled. “Love me, husband.”

It took but those few words and he moved, shifting her and then
placing the head of his cock at the entrance to her. With one thrust, he filled
her. Drawing back, he pushed even farther, feeling his seed building and his
flesh hardening even more. The third thrust and he found home as she contracted
and throbbed around him, bringing on his release and hers. As his seed spilled
and she moaned out her pleasure, he kissed her neck. Then as wave upon wave of
pleasure shot through him, he whispered his answer to her.

“I do, wife,” he said. “I do love you.”

He remained still and deep within her until every last moan was
wrung from her and until the heated flesh at her core calmed. Connor was not
done pleasuring her, not even close, but he waited for her to recover a few
minutes before moving again. He guided her legs down and waited for her to stand
before stepping back. The way her legs trembled pleased him in a wholly male
way. Then he bent over, gathered the layers of clothing she wore and pulled them
over her head, leaving her naked before him.

What an image she presented to him with her hair loosened from
his attentions and her creamy flesh exposed to him. She hid nothing from him,
allowing him to look his fill as he stripped off his plaid and shirt. Then he
reached over, slid an arm behind her legs and behind her back and lifted her
into his embrace. Carrying her over to their bed, he placed her on its wide
surface. When she thought to pull the bedcovers down, he stopped her.

“There is no time for sleeping yet, wife,” he said. Then he
reached out for her legs, and pulled her down to lay before him. Guiding her
legs apart, he kissed his way along them, pausing to lick and kiss and even
using his teeth to tease her once more.

Though only just finished with one release, her body responded
quickly, the musky smell of her arousal pouring forth as he traced his finger
along the curls that guarded that place. He glanced up and smiled as she leaned
up on her elbows and watched his every move. He held her gaze, opening the moist
fold of flesh and easing one finger and then another into that place. Hot and
wet, she arched against his touch, her body moving to open so he could do more.
The soft caress of her hand in his hair grew more insistent as she tried to
press his mouth against her.

She lifted her legs and slid her feet along the bed until her
legs dropped open, allowing him complete access to her. Her hips arched off the
bed as his tongue touched that place. Using his fingers to find the small, tight
bud of flesh between the other folds, he pressed against it, moving its hood
away to expose it completely. With just the tip of his tongue, he teased her
most sensitive spot over and over, sucking on it and using his teeth to nibble
on it, until her whole body tightened and arched and she screamed out her
pleasure and her release.

His own flesh roused and he crawled forward, easing his way up
her body and sliding his hand around and under her hips. Lifting them, he thrust
into her swollen flesh and filled her once more. Her indrawn breath the only
sound as he moved deeper within her and then out, until they were almost
separate. Over and over he repeated this movement, enjoying the way her body
accommodated his, tightening around him, pouring out moisture to ease his path
and then swelling around him to caress his cock.

This time he gave her full measure and sought it in return,
holding back on his own release until her flesh wept around his and her body
contracted and shook with release. Out of breath and completely satisfied, he
waited a long time before withdrawing from her. Her deep, even breathing hinted
that she slept, so he carefully climbed off her and moved off the bed.

Mindful of his plan, he walked over to the alcove and retrieved
the key he kept there. Then Connor called out her name softly.

“Jocelyn,” he said. Then again: “Jocelyn.”

He heard her rouse, sliding across the bed, and then watched as
she walked to where he stood. When she was but an arm’s length from him, he held
out the key to her.

“I am not certain what you need within this box, but all I have
is yours.” He waited for her to take it. Her hand trembled as she reached up
toward him and he asked the real question. “What is so important to you that you
must hide your actions from me?”

She glanced from his face to the key in his hand and back again
before answering, pausing for just enough time that he worried she would refuse
him once again.

“What is so important?” he asked, demanding an answer from
her.

“Only a woman’s heart,” she answered softly. “Only that.”