Lord of the Highlands

“I don’t think you have anything on under here.”

“This . . . this is unseemly.” Breath shuddered from his body. “We must—”

“Is that your sporran, Lord Rollo, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Och, Christ, woman . . .”

“Come on.” She nipped her teeth at his shirt. “Can’t we duck into a . . . whatchamacallit . . . a hedgerow or something?”

“I . . .” Will brought his hands tentatively to her shoulders. “But the others . . .”

She glanced around quickly. “There aren’t any others. Come on.” She began to step back, away from the house, to the fringe of trees in the distance. “Take me into the woods, Will. Your stupid brother took me into the woods,” she added, a dare in her voice.

“I fear my own base impulses far more than I fear my brother,” he muttered darkly.

She’d love to get a load of Will’s base impulses. “Then please, by all means. Trees. Now.”

She reached around his shoulders and slowly stroked down, all the way to the backs of his thighs. “Let me just get your cane.” Ever so gradually, she began to squat to the ground, drawing her hands lightly down his legs.

He was erect, his kilt tented out before him, his flesh extended long and solid, just for her. It gave her a ripple of pleasure.

She let her cheek graze his cock as she lowered herself to kneel. Will groaned at her touch, and the ripple in her belly swelled into hot, wet need.

She continued to move down, slowly.

He flinched as she reached the gnarled curve of his right leg, but she flinched back, a brief, hard grip that stilled him.

Her knee reached the ground. She took his cane from the grass. Pulled back up to standing, skimming even closer to his body as she rose.

The hard length of his erection settled between her breasts. She rubbed herself along it as she stood.

Their eyes met. He was coiled, grim, every aspect of him tight and dark with desire.

“Come,” he told her, his voice a low rasp. He pulled her around the corner of a boxed- off hedge into a tight cul-de sac of shrubbery. The green walls reached overhead, punctuated by statue after statue of mythic figures, their blank marble eyes staring sightlessly ahead.

She pulled from him, turning to tug at his kilt. “You’ve got to get this off.” Her fingers fumbled with his brown leather belt. “You can’t just show me this”—she paused to stroke his thick bulge—“and expect me to ignore it.”

“The plaid stays on,” he gritted, spinning her back around to face one of the statues. It was some wide-shouldered god dess, her hand raised in a gesture of triumph, or judgment.

“Then shouldn’t we . . .”

He wrapped his arm tight around her belly, grinding himself into the back of her skirts.

She shivered, slumped into him.

“Shouldn’t we . . . ?” he mimicked her, his voice pitched wickedly low. His accent, husky and warm in her ear, shot every nerve in her body to attention. Nestling his face in her hair, his mouth found her earlobe and he gave her a light nip.

“Oh.” She shuddered in a breath. “Nevermind.”

He wound his hand in a swath of her hair and exposed her neck. The air was cool on her skin, and her nipples pulled tight.

“I’ll not be taking you in the woods like some savage.” His body still cradling hers from behind, he trailed slow kisses up her neck. “But there’ll be none the wiser if we are two merely admiring the statuary.”

“You are full of surprises,” she said breathlessly.

He raked his hand through her hair. Cupping the back of her head, he tilted her face to him and took her in a hard kiss.

God she wanted him. Craved his hands on her, all over. Just when she thought she couldn’t wait a moment longer, Will eased his other hand down the belly of her gown, pulling her closer. She moaned into his mouth.

She felt him hard and urgent at her back. His hand grazed even lower, cupping firmly between her legs.

A gasp tore her mouth from his. “Yes, Will.”

Holding her more tightly, he began to knead his fingers steadily, rubbing her through the layers of fabric.

“Someday”—his voice was hoarse and hot in her ear—“someday I will see you torn from this gown.”

The mere suggestion of Will, standing behind her naked instead of covered in all these clothes, made her muscles quiver. She sagged even more against the hard length of his body. “Yes. Please.”

Will held her securely to him. “Hush, woman. And listen.”

His hand worked faster, and the chafe of linen over her bare flesh had her body shrieking for release.

And for once, Felicity was rendered speechless.

“I will have my hands on your bare body.” His palm ground against her in a steady rhythm.

Muscles deep in her core began to clench.

“I will touch you,” he threatened through gritted teeth. “And I will take you.”

Her knees buckled. Rollo’s strong arm held fast, his hand cradling her even tighter. Need and pleasure thrummed through her, suffused her.

“And I will have you.” He stroked more firmly, through all that fabric, and her pelvis rocked against his palm, urging him on.

“Yes Will,” she breathed. Her whole body trembled. She felt flushed, hot, weak. “Please.”

“Every inch of you will be mine.”

And Felicity felt his growl of release resonate through her, as he pulled her close, pumping hard into her back, riding her climax with his own.

Chapter 18

“This is something I’ve only dreamt of.” Will tenderly straightened Felicity’s skirts and smoothed her hair, and the look of pleasure on her face had him prolonging his touches long after she’d been put to rights. “You are something I could only have dreamt of.”

“Does this mean I can stay?”

Stay.

No, he thought.

Yes.

Impossible for her to stay. Impossible, too, to say good-bye.

“It means . . .” he faltered. Would he really push such joy from his life? He didn’t remember anymore why he’d once tried.

“It means we can discuss it, maybe?” she asked in no cently.

“Aye.” He smiled and watched her bend down to shake dust from her hem. His gaze dragged over that fine, firm der riere. The feel of it through her skirts had been just as sweet as he’d imagined it could be.

And some day he’d see it bare. Grip her bare hips in his hands, and ride her completely, utterly naked.

She stood, catching him, and gave him a quizzical look. Realization lit in her eyes. “You were checking me out!”

He felt the blood rise to his cheeks.

“Admit it, you were checking me out and . . .” Pointing a finger at him, she gave him a satisfied smile. “You’re blushing again. And now I know what it means.”

Shrugging, he gave her a smile, feeling a rush at such a trivial exchange.

“Mm-hm. Don’t play innocent with me.” She lifted her arms, gathering her hair and smoothing it from her neck. Her breasts strained against her bodice with the gesture, and Will felt his body stir, again, already.

“You gotta take it easy on a girl,” she told him, blithely chattering away, oblivious to the turn his thoughts had taken. “You men are lucky. For you, it’s a onetime deal. You do it, you’re done, and in my experience, you roll over and sack out.”

He looked at her, perplexed. Was she discussing what he thought she was discussing?

“A woman, though. You touch me like that.” Nodding toward the sculpture garden, she made a delicious little moan that shot life straight between his legs. “That just gets me going.”

Again already indeed, he thought, sliding his sporran to his hip.

“So don’t be checking me out if you have no intention of touching the goods.”

Rollo’s eyes narrowed, her meaning now crystal clear. “You are mistaken,” he told her in a low voice. He, in fact, had every intention of handling her goods. Furtive groping in the sculpture garden had him decidedly unsatisfied.

“Because I’m not nearly done with you,” he warned. “You once told me that I had no idea,” he continued, stalking toward her.

He’d thought climaxing would release the pressure he’d been feeling. And he’d been wrong. This hard knot between his legs that was his cock remained a constant ache. “ ’Tis you who have no idea, Felicity. No idea what I’ve been living with.”

Her eyes flicked to his plaid and back up again. The prettiest little flush suffused her cheeks, and such pleasure, such lust raged through him, his cock jumped in response.

“I am far from satisfied,” he gritted out, and there was no need for him to feign desire rekindled. The conspicuous stiffness under his plaid said it all.

A wicked smile curved the corners of his mouth. “And now see who is the one blushing.”

Rollo let his eyes rove her openly now. His stolen glimpses had only whet his appetite, and he let himself linger on those breasts, those hips.

“Trees,” he growled, mimicking her earlier words. “Now.”

This is the moment, she thought, her heart racing. She’d been harboring this wet ache for this man for so long now, and finally, finally, she’d find release.

She didn’t know how they made it from the garden, to the edge of the trees, to this small clearing. It might’ve taken them five minutes or fifty, she had no idea.

All she knew was she was about to be with Will. To see him, to feel him. He’d fill her. Fill this terrible, aching lack that had throbbed inside her for weeks. Her body trembled from the thought.

The woods were cool. An idyll, where green leaves glowed yellow from dappled sunlight, and dewy grass glittered, tranquil in the shadows.

The woods were cool, and still, her blood ran hot.

He stopped short. She sensed his cane clatter to the dirt, but didn’t give it a thought. Her only thoughts, for him, standing before her, so intense. She stared into those hazel eyes, wondering what he might be thinking. She knew he wanted her. But would he be feeling this other thing too, this stabbing in her heart she felt when she looked at him? ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">