The Highlander's Time (8 page)

“You'll see.”

“Lass, donnae tempt me.”

“Why not? Don't they say temptation makes the heart grow fonder and the sex better?”

He caught enough of her broken Gaelic to get her meaning. Leaning forward when she raised the hem of his tunic, he peeked at the display of creamy skin exposed to his gaze while she divested him of his tunic. His fingers itched to grab hold of her, lay her down on the bed and kiss every inch of her smooth skin. She jerked away from his quick-shot grasp.
Beware the games you play, milady
.

With intense slowness, she folded his tunic and set it on the chest. She pulled free the laces of her gown and pushed the cloth from her shoulders. He caught himself before he growled. She took her sweet time hanging the gown on the peg pounded into the stone wall. The mundane tasks she performed sucked him into a web of desire. It wasn't so much what she did, but how she did it. Coy gazes sent his way and lazy stretches that pulled her chemise tight across her breasts made him ache to sink into her.

He stilled her when she went to remove his boots. “Nay.” Toeing off his boots, he took the opportunity to pull her into his lap. A groan rumbled in his chest as she playfully traced the ridge of his erection with her index finger. “God's bones.”

His gaze followed her hand tugging loose the ties of his chauces. Sucking in a sharp gasp, he leaned his head against the ornate carving embellishing the back of the chair. The feel of her slim curves sliding off his lap was followed by the tugging of her hands removing his leggings. Gritting his teeth, he peeked down to see Jenny take his shaft in her hand, her grip gentle but determined.

Reaching to stop her while she teased the head of his penis with her tongue, he felt helpless to cease her temptress's onslaught. The muscles of his stomach tightened at the first tentative touch of her lips on his hot skin. Slowly, she moved her mouth down his shaft, her tongue sliding across the sensitive underside. “By God,” he hissed. “You'd be the death of me, lass.”

Weaving his hand into her thick silky hair, he guided her mouth up and down his manhood until he was at the thread's end of his discipline. Lifting her, he kissed her, his tongue sliding between her lips. She gave no quarter. Her tongue mated with his.

His passion knew no bounds as she curled her fingers around his shaft, pumping his turgid flesh, naught save her and this moment mattered. “Nay,” he groaned into her mouth, his seed building to an explosion.

He spun her about so she faced the bed. Again, his talented wife took over. She didnae move to the covers. Nay. She relaxed herself down on his erection. Gripping her hips, Iaen set the pace.

'Twas a wild ride, with her grinding down on his scrotum. She whipped her hair around her shoulders, her own climax growing in the tightening of her feminine walls. Reaching down, easing her thigh over his, Iaen skimmed his hand up her skin to find his goal. He rubbed the sensitive nub fervently. Without words, he begged her to climax.

He'd not gain his own satisfaction before she did. His heart pounded so hard he could hear the thump in his ears. “Please, milady,” he hadn't realized he'd said his thought aloud.

The first tremors of her orgasm milked his manhood, pushing his seed higher.

On her scream of ecstasy, he bucked. The gush of his seed filled her.

Pulling her back so she reclined against him, he caressed her flat tummy. “Milady, you undo me,” he rasped out between haggard breaths.

“Thank you,” she said on a stuttering giggle.

Inhaling deeply, Iaen released the breath slowly.

“Please, don't be mad at me.”

“For?”

Chapter Six

Every dog has his day, but what about the other 364 days in the year?

“I asked Patricia to move into the Keep,” Jenny admitted. Her guilt for going over his head as fresh as the day he'd left. She'd been silly to think he wouldn't get angry, or that she hadn't asked him first. “She's got so many children....”

A deep rumbling jolted through her.
Was he growling like a bear that’d had his hibernation interrupted, or was he laughing?
Easing off him, she was taken by surprise when he rose to his omnipresent height. “I should have asked you first. Father Thomas told me she wouldn't agree, but I had to try.”

She bowed her head. The afterglow of the great sex they’d shared ripped away that quickly. “I just couldn't bear the thought of her having to deal with all those kids alone. And, Mary, she's become meaningful to me.” Blurting out the rote statements Father Thomas had taught her did nothing to assuage her guilty conscience. “She said she wanted to stay, so I didn't think you'd mind, but then I realized this is your home, and I couldn't undo what I already had done.”

Unable to deny her curiosity, she glanced at him. “Tell me you're not that mad. Please, I couldn't bear it if I destroyed our marriage before it even got started.” This was a learned trait and she knew it. After her mother's death, she'd done anything for a teeny tiny drop of her father's affection or even for his attention.

“Milady shouldnae beg,” Iaen told her plainly. He tilted her face up to his with the tips of his fingers. She stared into his eyes, darkened by the play of firelight across his strong features and hopefully still hazed from sex. “I owe you a deep debt of gratitude, milady. Forever has Patricia stubbornly refused to leave her cottage, even when I ordered her.”

“I don't understand. Why wouldn't she want to live here? It's not like she expects special treatment. In fact, she's been a great help with Lila. If everything goes as planned, Lila might even get to join the high table this week.” It was a lie, but she had to show him she'd made some progress during his absence.

The truth was that if Lila kept on as she was, she'd join them for a meal when hell froze over.

“Ah, lass, the clan can be very...” he gazed at her, a frown marring his brow. She suspected he was trying to find a word she'd understand. “...hard on women who live with a man not their husband.”

“You mean,” it was her turn to play hunt and seek for a common word, “they have gossiped about her.”

“Aye.”

“That's not very fair.” Insulted, she recalled the past ten days when she'd dodged rumors regarding Lila, doing minimal damage control and trying to right her boss's reputation, she sighed. Lila, like Charlzie and herself, had come to grips with what Father Thomas called 'The Veil'. They were stuck here, probably for the rest of their lives. “It's not fair at all.”

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. A long pause of silence stretched between them as he settled her in the middle then walked around to his side. Once he'd lain next to her, he brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “Life is rarely fair, Jenny.”

“True, but Patricia is mother to the orphans. How could they think ill of her? She works from sunup to sundown taking care of those kids.”

“Because they can.” He adjusted her in his arms so she lay curled against his side. “I wouldnae say I agree with them, but there is naught I can do to stop the whispers.”

“Can't you pass some sort of law, or something?”

“They wouldnae follow it even if I did.”

“Then how can a person ever feel like a member of the clan?”

An exasperated sigh raised his chest then deflated it. “Jenny, you have to stop the whispers when they first start.”

She rejected how his thick brogue turned her on. “You mean, prove them wrong from the get go and hope for the best.”

“Gaelic, lass.”

Realizing she'd done what she always did when she was stressed and sprinkled her statement with English; she traced her finger across an old scar on his chest. He covered her hand with his own to stop the movement. “Sorry.” She forced her brain to concentrate on the problem at hand. “How would you handle the gossip?”

“On the morrow, I'll show you.”

“Promise me you will.”

“Milady, you insult me.”

She peeked up to see him glaring at her with a hard glint. “I didn't mean to. I'm just trying to get some footing with this.”

“On the morrow, Jenny. For now, get some sleep. You look ready to drop, wife.”

Which was a big part of her problem. She stayed up most nights with Mary, her breath held as she waited for Lila's next stupid antic to come to light. So far, Lila had gone so far as to not only make a nuisance of herself, yet two days ago she’d clocked Malcolm over the head with a tin pitcher. He'd laughed off the incident, but Jenny couldn't.

Some how, some way, she had to get Lila to abide someone. Hell, she'd even make a deal with the Devil at this point to get an inch of headway against the stubborn diva. “How did you get this scar?” she asked suddenly. It was a convenient excuse to get her mind off her problems.

“When I was a young warrior, my sire taught me the necessity of keeping my eye on my opponent.”

“Your father did this to you?” She couldn't help sounding appalled. She was. How could his father inflict that much damage on him? Levering herself up on her elbow, she took in the scar. It went from his shoulder to his sternum. Even she could see the wound hadn't been deep. It was the principle of it all.

“Aye, 'twas either that or watch me die in battle.”

“Oh,” she said because she couldn't think of a response. “Was he a tough man?”

“Nay more than most other sires, I suspect. We live in a harsh land. 'Tis either die by the sword or die of old age.”

Picking up on how he said 'of old age', she honed in on how his tone changed. “Is there something wrong with passing away an old man?” Mentally kicking herself for not knowing how to pronounce half the words she spoke, she'd taken a shot at the pronunciation and come up flat.
Damn this language
. “You don't want to die of old age?”

“Nay.”

That was it—nay? The man was an idiot.
Great. I'm married to a man who would prefer to be run through by a sword than watch his children grow up
. The thought slapped her.
Children?
Shoving the stupid concern aside, she laid back down. “Why?”

“On the morrow, I'll show you.”

“In other words, shut up and go to sleep.”

“Aye.”

She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but for the life of her, she couldn't manage to get comfortable. Problem number one was easy to figure out; she wasn't used to sleeping on her side. Problem number two was just as simple, she was waiting for Lila's next attempt to escape her bedroom, and sneak downstairs for a drink. Problem number three, she'd become used to sleeping with Mary in the room. Problem number four, the despondent expression she got every time Charlzie was allowed to visit the Keep.

“What has you digging your nails into my flesh, lass?”

Lost in her concerns, she hadn't the foggiest what he was talking about until she lifted her head. Even beneath his massive hand covering hers she could see her fingers clenching his skin. She opened her mouth to convey her apology when he pulled her up so they were face to face.

He cupped her skull in his hand, his fingers tangling in her hair, when he kissed her.

She was happy for the new distraction. Her lips moved over his, reveling in the feel of his mouth. It was soft yet firm and undeniably sensual.

A crash from the balcony broke the spell. “Oh God, here we go again,” she muttered. Throwing back the covers, she glared at Iaen when he refused to release her. “I have to stop Lila.”

“Why?”

“Because I do.”

“Lass, let her be. You cannae change her.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “She needs to want to change.”

“I can't let her go get drunk.”

“Is that her decision?”

“Well, of course it is, but you don't know how she can be when she's drunk. She'll...she'll.”
Blast this damn language
. “She'll cause trouble.”

“A woman? You jest.”

“No, I don't jest, or joke, or make idle predictions. Lila can be a real troublemaker when she wants to be, and take that as
always
when she's sauced.” She purposefully enunciated the word 'always' to get him to follow her meaning.

A scream echoed through the room.

Before Jenny even made it to the edge of the mattress, Iaen was striding across the room. “What are you doing?” She wasn't really asking about the 'what' but about his bare ass standing before the door. He was crazy to go around with his butt and jewels on display. “Shouldn't you put some clothes on?”

He chuckled at her and opened the door just far enough to address Malcolm who was standing sentry. She listened to him say something to his subordinate. “I'm going to die of fright if you don't tell me what you said.”

“I said,” he began after the door shut and the bolt was slid home. “I ordered Malcolm to lock her in her room.”

“It won't stop her. She'll just make a bigger racket. Believe me, I've tried it already.”

“Fine, then she will drown out the sounds of me bringing you satisfaction.”

“What the hell are you doing? There are children trying to get some sleep in the far bedroom.” She backtracked her way across the bed when he stalked her with his hard on and his wolfish smile. “Iaen, it's not fair to the kids.”

“Is it fair to you?”

“Of course it isn't.”

“Will you cope?”

“Do I have a choice?” Jenny winced when Lila threw something against the adjoining wall. It was amazing how the acoustics of the Keep worked. There were at least eight inches of stone separating them and she could still hear the commotion. “You know I don't.”

“Neither do the children. On the morrow, she will be moved to a cottage in the village.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I am.”

“She'll wreak havoc on those poor innocent people. I know her, Iaen. She'll get so drunk,” her voice caught. “She'll kill herself with alcohol.” Memories of her father being rushed to the Emergency Room after a weekend long bender brought all the horror home. He'd had his stomach pumped so many times, promised her he'd go into rehab after each time he was released that she felt like she'd failed him.
She had failed him
. She couldn't infuse his life with her mother's steadying presence or get him to give up mourning the woman he'd loved to distraction. In her opinion, she'd practically-held-a-gun-to-his-head, killed him. “Don't do it.” Tears stung at her the corners of her eyes. “Don't make me go through that again.” The last time he'd gone into the hospital played through her mind like a super-high definition movie. He'd been throwing up blood but refused to tell her what was wrong. When he finally confessed he was sicker than he'd let on it was too late. His heart gave up just before his kidneys failed.