Page 14 of Claimed By the Heartless Highlander
I wonder how much experience she truly has with some of the suggestions she made in her letters. She blushes like she’s a maiden, but her letters were far from innocent.
For a moment, he lost himself in a daydream of that soft, enthusiastic voice of hers crying out his name and begging for more of his touch, while he showed her exactly how well he could offer her pleasure. He was certain he could fulfill most of the fantasies she’d described.
He also had a fleeting thought that he’d not be averse to exploring new fantasies and ideas with her.
He could just imagine her, laid out on his bed, her voice high and whimpering his name while he showed her everything his hands and mouth were capable of…
He winced as the daydream made his manhood stiffen and strain against his kilt. He shifted discreetly, glad she was so lost in her talking that she hadn’t noticed his discomfort. He could hardly afford to let her realize he wasn’t as immune to her as he was trying to pretend.
She continued talking as they passed from woods to moorland meadows. He listened to her point at flowers, describing their properties and how, at home, she and her sisters would pick them for various uses, including using them to brighten the castle and sweeten the air.
Och, lass, if I had a choice, I’d lay ye out among those flowers, and coax yer petal-soft mouth open, along with yer womanhood. Ye’d be the most beautiful thing in the meadow, and I’d take me time in breakin’ yer maidenhead and coaxin’ ye to sing me name in yer pleasure.
He winced and pushed that thought away as well.
What the devil is the matter with me? I ken well enough I dinnae have time or interest in bein’ in a relationship with the lass. This is to be a marriage alliance. Nothin’ more!
In an effort to school his wayward thoughts, he focused on the conversation.
“Yer friend writes novels? About herself and her husband?”
“Aye. She’s written two. She changes the names, of course, or Caelan would never show his face in the Highland gatherings, but we all ken who she’s writin’ about when she describes her ‘dark, brooding hero with moods like a midwinter ice storm…’” She giggled.
Oh God.
“Ye’re nae of a mind to do the same, are ye?”
He didn’t think he’d be able to tolerate it if she started writing stories about him. Aside from despising the idea of his lost privacy, there were certain things he simply couldn’t let her talk about, let alone write about. Like Lily.
To his relief, she blushed and shook her head. “Och, nae. I’m nae so bold as Leona. I couldnae ever write somethin’ like that, much less share it. Even if only me friends saw it, I’d be too embarrassed to show me face for seasons!”
He relaxed at those words and leaned in enough to tease her. “I dinnae ken… those letters of yers…”
“Ye ken very well that nay one was supposed to be readin’ them!” She blushed hotly and looked away. “If I kenned they’d be found, I’d have never penned half those things.”
“Then I’m glad ye didnae ken I was readin’ them. I quite enjoyed everythin’ ye wrote.” He smirked, and her face reddened further.
She opened her mouth to retort, then snapped it shut, as if she’d realized he was teasing her. Then she shook her head and continued, “Well, that’s different. But in truth, ‘tis Maisie and Leona who are the bold ones in our group. Isobel and I love them dearly, but neither of us would dare do half the mischief they’ve gotten up to…”
They rode into another section of wooded area, and he found himself distracted by watching the way the sunlight and shadow dappled her hair, and contemplating how she’d look surrounded by starlight in his gardens or firelight on the thick rug of his study.
God above, I’m thinkin’ like a lad in his first blush of manhood, when he’s nae in control of himself. I’m old enough to ken better, and I should be more wary than most, given what happened to me kinfolk seven years ago.
He knew he was being a fool, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from intruding, or from making him very uncomfortable as the desire he’d thought long faded teased his mind and made his groin ache.
If they continued this game, he wasn’t going to be able to ride or dismount without being in real pain. To say nothing of his embarrassment at being caught in such a state. The girl might act flighty, but he doubted she’d fail to notice his interest. Nor was she likely to forget it.
He took the opportunity of a break in her talking to indicate they should pause. “Rest a moment.”
He managed to dismount his horse on the side facing away from her, which meant she couldn’t see the prominent bulge under his kilt. He was trying to decide if he was desperate enough to soak his head in the stream when he realized her flow of words hadn’t resumed. He looked over to see her staring off into the distance, her brow furrowed in confusion.
He frowned. “Somethin’ wrong?”
Her leaf-green gaze flicked to him. “Can ye nae hear that?” She cocked her head.
He strained his ears and heard a faint sound, like a newborn animal or a small child crying. His shoulders tensed. He knew very well that there were no villages nearby or crofter’s families with children.
“There’s a child. In the woods, that way.” She pointed.
