Highlander's Prize (20 page)

“Aye, ye heard me. Broen is me natural child, even if there are few who know it left alive these days.”

“But why—” She struggled to find the words that weren’t insulting.

Edme interrupted her. “Because it was what I wanted. The chance to belong to no one but myself was offered, and I took it. Remaining the laird’s leman gave me position and kept me from having to return to me family, who would have begun shifting through the offers for me to find the most advantageous one for their interests. Many consider me a poor daughter for no’ doing me duty, but staying offered me the choice to decide what I wanted from me life.” Disgust edged her words, and Clarrisa discovered herself agreeing with the woman wholeheartedly. Edme offered her a satisfied look.

“I gave him a son, and fate was kind enough to make it so his legitimate wife never conceived even a daughter. Only the church is displeased with me, but I am content.” Her expression became serious once more. “Much more so now that I know me son treated ye well. I needed to know.”

The older woman’s eyes sparkled with happiness and satisfaction. Clarrisa discovered herself envious of Broen for having a parent who was so interested in his morality. Edme had no interest in securing a royal-blooded child for Broen to use for the clan’s advantage, and she had issued no warning for Clarrisa to stay away from her son’s bed to prevent any threats.

“Mind ye, if ye let me son catch ye so simply, I’ll be a bit disappointed.”

“He has not caught me,” Clarrisa insisted. “I thought I heard Argyll in my chamber, and it frightened me, but I’m not sure if there was anything there except my numbed wits, and well… well…”

“Nature got the best of ye. It happens, lass.”

“It will not happen again,” Clarrisa insisted. Edme eyed her before waving her toward the door. Clarrisa began to follow, her mind more focused on how to make good on her promise. She would. Somehow.

Liar.

“I’m impressed.”

Clarrisa jumped, and the comb fell from her fingers. She turned to glare at Broen.

“Since you have told me this is my chamber, you should knock before entering,” she scolded, too kindly.

His lips curved arrogantly while he took another couple of steps into the chamber. The damned man was so large, his stride far too close for her comfort.

“Argyll was my grandfather. It seems I have inherited his lack of respect for announcing his intention to enter yer chamber.”

Clarrisa jerked her attention to the mirror, something she’d done often since returning to the chamber. The only man watching her from the polished surface was Broen. His doublet was missing and the collar of his shirt open, as seemed to be his habit.

“Argyll will not unnerve me again. If it was even him I saw.” A soft tingle went down her spine, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her brush with a ghost or the fact that Broen had come looking for her. “Edme’s elixir was laced with whisky.”

“He was chasing his mistress down the hallway and forgot the floor wasn’t finished, when he fell to his death,” Broen revealed. “The servants have sworn he haunts this tower ever since, but I have never seen him.”

Heat blossomed in her cheeks as she fought to not look at the bare skin beckoning her. “What is it with the men in your family and their mistresses?”

One fair eyebrow rose. “We’re lusty.”

“You sound very proud… of that sin.”

He shrugged and moved closer. She felt his approach; it rippled across her skin as surely as any wind would have. Remaining on the chair became a battle, but she resisted the urge to panic.

“There are worse things my life requires me to do that I have a skill at.” There was a gleam in his eyes which tempted her to join him in his teasing.

She offered him a shake of her head. “I believe I should be the judge of your skill.”

She was trying to best him at his teasing game, but challenge glittered in his eyes and he walked behind her. A chill crossed her nape, and she did give in to the urge to stand—having him behind her was too much to endure. But he caught her about the waist and pulled her back against his body. “Well now, lass, ye have an excellent point.” His breath brushed her ear as his voice became husky. “But I can be the judge of yer skill, Clarrisa. I’ll say plainly yer touch is like fire, and I enjoyed it full well.”

“Oh stop, Broen.” She sent her elbow back into his ribs and gained her freedom, but he stood chuckling and looking none the worse for wear. “Do you have no shame?”

“None,” he insisted. “Only a burning need to know why ye slipped out of me bed before I woke.”

His tone hardened, and she realized he’d been cleverly disguising his true mood. Suspicion glittered in his eyes now, and it irritated her.

It also hurt. She lowered her eyelids to protect her fragile emotions.

“I thought you’d be happy not to have me about once you’d had what you wanted.” She placed a few feet between them, fighting to maintain her composure. “I do hope Shaw wasn’t too disappointed to hear I didn’t make demands of you.”

“Why did nae ye?” It was a hard question, spoken with enough heat to curl her hair. The fragile trust she’d discovered growing inside her since she spoke with Edme withered in the face of his accusation.

“Oh, I see. You agree with Shaw that I have motives for everything I do.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do nae sound so wounded. Everyone has motives. It’s part of our instinct to survive.”

“Get out,” she snarled and pointed at the door. “Go on with you, Broen MacNicols. I want nothing from you. I pray you find the knowledge satisfying.”

He frowned, furrowing his brow. “I do nae, woman. Ye’ll answer me—”

“I already have,” she insisted. “I want nothing from you. Naught at all, so get you gone from my sight.”

“The blush on yer cheeks makes ye a liar.”

“Allowing you near me now, with your suspicious questions, would only prove you right.”

She drew in a stiff breath, her temper flaring bright enough to burn away her desire. “So go on with you before I tempt you.”

He captured her hand and twisted it behind her back to press her against his body. “And I’m a liar for saying I came in here to discover why ye left me bed.”

His kiss drowned out her response. For one moment, her temper had her struggling, but he held her still, pushing her lips apart to accept a deeper kiss. All the anger transformed into passion. It happened as fast as summer straw burned. One moment she was trying to yell at him, and the next she heard his shirt rip because she was pulling on it so hard.

“That’s right, lass. Take what ye want.” He cradled her head, holding her in place with a grip that pulled some of her hair too tight. Tiny points of pain dug into her scalp, but they intensified the need boiling inside her. “Rip it if ye want to feel me skin.”

She laughed like a lunatic, enjoying the idea of doing wrong, because she was insane. The shirt split easily, the fabric tearing with a loud sound. She pushed her hands inside the opening and shoved the ruined garment over his shoulders. He had to release her, and his arms became pinned.

“There are some of your orders I do like following after all, Broen.” Her voice was deep and husky, astounding her with how sultry it sounded. She buried her face against his chest, working her hands up the ridges of muscle until she found his nipples. She continued up, pressing kisses against his flesh until she found his jaw.

“Ye’re in need of chastisement, woman.” His voice lacked any true warning, but there was a promise lurking in his eyes when he stepped away from her. A quick pull on the wide leather belt that held his kilt in place and the plaid began to slide down his body. He caught it with a practiced motion and flung it onto the chair where she’d been sitting. The ruined shirt fluttered to the floor before he tossed his bonnet onto the chair as well.

Somehow he was more powerful nude. Clothing was made to impress, but the way Broen stood so confidently in nothing but his skin sent a shiver through her. The man feared no one, not even the harsh environment he’d been born into.

Highlander
—it was a title a man earned.

“You’re my lover, Broen MacNicols, not my husband, so do not think to chastise me.” She felt wonderfully free in that moment. “I’ll do what I please, and only what pleases me.”

He growled softly, “Nay, lass, I assure ye the pleasure is going to be all mine.”

He was smug and arrogant, but excitement went flooding into her belly. Her lips curled back from her teeth slightly, the pure magnetism of him threatening to make her wild. But she would hold her ground. She stepped back toward him, watching enjoyment take command of his expression.

“There can be rewards for the man who waits on his lady’s whim.” She met his eyes, staring at the flames of hunger. “Rewards you will never sample if you continue to act like such a brute.” She rolled the word and watched his eyes narrow.

“Ye should nae be able to make that word sound enticing, but ye do.”

She tapped the center of his chest with her fingertips. “And you shouldn’t be about to growl while giving me a compliment.”

“Me tone is part of the praise.” He tugged the belt of her dressing robe free. “It is nae often I find me control tested.”

He pushed the edges of the dressing robe open, and the heavy garment fell to the floor with a soft sound.

“Can you never admit you’re wrong?”

His teeth flashed at her before he answered, “No.” He tugged her chemise over her head. The night air felt good against her skin, the excitement brewing inside her making her warm. She only had a moment to notice they stood together nude before he scooped her off her feet and carried her to the bed.

“Let’s give Argyll something to watch, should he decide to come calling.”

She aimed a slap at his shoulder and rolled over, refusing to be pinned. “Little wonder your tower is haunted when you talk in such a way about the dead.” She ended up on her knees facing Broen. He climbed onto the bed, looking as though he was stalking her. She knew the bed was smaller than his, but it seemed to sink as he moved all the way onto it. That, or he grew until she was battling the urge to flee. But it wasn’t the sort of fear she knew—this was an insane sort of need to run simply because she hoped he’d chase her.

And catch her.

She suddenly giggled, unable to resist the urge to be insane again. A look of surprise appeared on Broen’s face before she smashed one of the pillows into it. He yanked it from her grasp and offered her a growl.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she groused. “You’re a Highlander. I’ve been raised with tales of how barbaric you are, and that measly growl is all I receive for my impertinence?”

“I would nae dream of disappointing ye. ’Course, it will likely bring the boys running again…”

She launched herself toward him, slapping her hand over his mouth. Satisfaction lit his eyes as he cupped the sides of her hips and held her firmly.

“Oh fie.”

He forced her back, placing her beneath him without any further effort. He nuzzled her neck, numbing her wits again as passion began to intoxicate her. She was suddenly awash in sensation—every inch of her in contact with him. It was overwhelming, but exciting beyond even her memory of last night. Her body didn’t wait to be coaxed into arousal. Passion swept across her like fire in summer.

“Are ye truly dismayed to be beneath me, lass?” He found her neck with his lips. He lingered over the delicate skin, teasing it with tiny kisses that set her clitoris to throbbing. “Admit ye crave me.”

“I do, but I want more than to lie beneath you.”

He raised his head, the unmistakable look of anticipation illuminating his eyes. “Ye were virgin last night, Clarrisa.”

“Virginity doesn’t interfere with hearing, Broen, and I’ve heard as many heated tales as the next girl.”

He stroked her cheek, tenderly smoothing over her lower lip before leaning down to kiss her. “Do nae be gullible, lass. Listening does nae grant ye any skill.”

She reached down and grasped his cock. His expression hardened. She could see him battling to recall what they were talking about, and it filled her with confidence. She wanted to send his wits scattering just as he so often did hers.

“If I wanted to lie beneath a man, I’d have done my duty to my family and let your king have his way. Tonight I’ll ride you.”

He shuddered. She felt the ripple move down his length, and his cock hardened even more. It was now as hard as iron, and she shivered at the idea of being the one to set their pace.

“Ye bait yer hook well, lass. I’m eager to jump at it.”

He rolled over, shaking the bed as he settled onto his back. The night air was cold after having his warmth covering her, but she sat up, the freedom to command him filling her with a confidence she’d never felt before. Once more all the rules vanished, and she was able to follow her feelings, her cravings, wherever they took her.

“I don’t want to be your possession.” And she refused to be intimidated. She rose onto her knees and heard him groan.

“There are advantages to having ye on top, lass. More are being revealed to me as we speak.” His gaze was on her breasts. He cupped her hips and helped lift her into position. He held her above him, and her knees sank into the soft bedding on either side of his hips. “Aye, this position has merit.”