Page 27 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
“Dae ye nae have some duties to perform?”
“Me duty is to ye, M’Laird.”
“Well, then, be about it somewhere else.”
Callum walked past him to leave the castle, but as he reached the top step, he realized Alexander was following him.
He spun round. “Dinnae make me give ye another scar to match the first.”
His man-at-arms stopped, but his expression showed no fear.
He looked at Callum wearily, as if he were a child in need of placating. Stepping back, he held an arm out in defeat.
“Ye continue alone, then, M’Laird. But have ye seen the weather?”
Callum turned to the doors of the castle. They were closed, and he could not see out into the night. Stepping forward, he heaved at the heavy weight of them, pulling them aside, his muscles straining with the effort.
After a relatively sunny day, the heavens had opened, and the ground was saturated with the rain that was still falling heavily all about them.
Callum strode out into the downpour without hesitation, listening to his man-at-arms call out in dismay, followed only by a heavy sigh. The rain felt good as the cold drops drenched his léine, stinging his skin.
He strode out across the grounds with renewed determination.
It had been many years since he had walked these paths, but even in the darkness and the rain, he would be able to do so blindfolded.
But as he stalked across the courtyard, cobblestone shimmering in the light of the torches on the walls, he slowed to a stop.
Growling at the back of his throat, he willed his body to keep moving, but it would not. Something held him there, like an invisible wall he could not break through.
Turning slowly, he looked up at the castle behind him, the lighted windows at intervals along its length showing him the girls’ room and that of Duncan and Isla in the west wing.
But now there was a new light.
Beside his own chambers, a candle glowed in the window. Callum swallowed as the rain beat down still heavier on his shoulders.
Damn that woman.
He pursed his lips, spinning on his heel as he continued on his way toward the lake.
There were many things he didn’t miss from his grandparents’ castle—not least the crumbling walls and the damp. But ithadbeen near the coast, and he missed the sea.
There was nothing like an early morning dip in the waves to shake off melancholy, or so he had believed.
Still, there was a lake on his lands, and he made for it, hoping that the rain would help his heart to settle and his body to calm.
He could still feel the persistent ache between his legs, straining against his kilt, and he wished that he could banish it with a mere thought.
The memory of that scent, her pale skin, the soft sighs that fell from her lips as he took her.
He had expected her to push him off in disgust, march from the room, saying she had no interest in the touch of a monster.
But instead, she hadmeltedagainst him. Her whole body became pliant and soft, as if she would do anything he told her. And those eyes, bright and sharp as clover, made his entire body tremble with need.
Callum reached the lakeside a few minutes later, the black surface of the water rippling beneath the rain as he stripped off his léine and kilt, leaving only his underclothes.
Hissing at the cold, he stepped in, diving beneath the black depths almost immediately, and allowing the chill of the water to soothe his aching bones.
The swift pace of his swim was a balm for his soul, each muscle coming alive as he propelled himself forward, enjoying the contrast of the warm rain on his back and the cold pull of the water on either side of him.
