Page 90 of Taming the Highland Misfits
Freya was the one who would like to have gone much further, but to her chagrin Alex was always more cautious, often leaving her frustrated and furious. Now she was even more impatient than usual. “We are going to be married!” she protested. “What difference does it make whether we make love now or after we say our vows?”
“Our wedding is still two weeks away,” Alex pointed out patiently. “What if anything happens to me between now and then? Freya, you have no idea how hard it is for me to say no to you, but I must. It’s for the best, and only for what–fourteen more days? Please be patient.”
Freya had brought a blanket and a bottle of wine, and after yet another toast, she admitted that she was beginning to feel a little tipsy, and now she was definitely not in the mood to take no for an answer. Her blood was up, her inhibitions had all but disappeared, and at that moment she wanted Alex more desperately than she ever had before. Every time she touched his firmly muscled body and felt his surging reaction to her nearness, her own body pulsed and moistened in response; waiting was almost unbearable. The next fourteen days might as well have been a hundred years, and she was determined not to waste any more time.
“No, Alex,” she replied firmly. “I cannot be patient any longer. I want you, I love you too much and I know you love me too.” They were lying close together on the grass and Freya rolled over, half-pinning Alex down. She kissed him passionately before he could stop her, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, not caressing his lips gently but firmly and possessively.
He responded by cupping her breast in his hand and kneading it gently, making her sensitive nipples harden and flooding her with moisture in her secret place. She thrust her hips against him, and felt pleased and proud of herself when she felt his hardness under her belly. These moments alone with him were glorious.
When she heard him groan with desire, Freya put her hand down between their bodies and began to stroke him. She felt his breathing quicken and his arms tighten around her; she was his prisoner, unable to escape even if she had wanted to, which she very definitely did not.
Despite himself, Alex was enjoying the kiss too much to push her away. He was not sure he had the strength and willpower to wait another two weeks, but for both their sakes he had to try. He had promised the Laird that he would.
Just before they left, and before Freya had snatched him away, he had pulled him aside for a few words.
I remember what it is like to be a young man in love, Alex,he had said, with a small smile. But try to wait till you are married, for the sake of Freya’s honour.
Now, for the sake of both of them, he was endeavouring to keep his promise, but as usual, Freya was determined to have her way. He did not want to use his strength to push her away, but eventually he had to.
Freya sat up, then so did Alex, and she gazed at him, her expression hurt.
“I am sorry, Freya,” he said gently. “I promised your father we would wait.”
Freya nodded slowly, then she sighed and smiled at him. “You are right, of course,” she agreed, “but I wish the time would pass more quickly.”
“So do I, my love, but now there is something I must tell you,” he said, looking at her fondly. “Tomorrow, the Laird has given me permission to go and see my family to tell them our news and invite them to our wedding. I have no doubt that my uncle will jump at the chance, and I can think of at least half-a-dozen young ladies who will be very pleased to see my cousins and my brothers.”
Freya clapped her hands and looked up at the sky, which was blue and cloudless, a rare event indeed for the Highlands, but one which perfectly suited her mood. “Then there will be no turning back, Alex. Once your family knows we wish to be married, we will not be able to call the wedding off.”
“No,” he agreed, smiling as he caressed her cheek. “I wish you could come with me, but there is a dress to make and all sorts of other things to be done, I expect. I have heard that a bride organising her wedding is akin to a general organising a military campaign!”
Freya laughed. “It certainly feels that way,” she agreed. “But I have many loyal troops to help me! Thank goodness for Mhairi and Caitrin–Caitrin especially, because she is the one who will be holding me back from charging down to the altar! I want the ceremony to be as short as possible, Alex, so that we can be alone. Just think, it will not be long till we are husband and wife, and then all this will have been worth it.”
“We have just been alone,” he reminded her, laughing.
“Reallyalone,” she said suggestively, batting her eyelids at him.
“You are wicked,” he growled, pulling her towards him for another smouldering kiss. Despite his best efforts, he had not been able to resist her, and as he trailed tiny kisses down her throat, he felt his manhood stiffen until it was almost painful. How was he possibly going to control himself until the wedding?
When they drew apart, they were both breathing hard, and Freya’s silver-grey eyes were dark with passion. “Are you sure— ” She stopped as soon as Alex, his eyes twinkling, clamped a hand over her mouth.
He took hold of her right hand and placed it on his erection. “You see what you have done to me, you wicked woman?”
“Let us not waste it,” she said archly, reaching for him again.
However, at that moment, a group of local villagers approached with buckets of washing, ready to do their laundry in the loch. They were only a hundred yards away and Alex sent up a silent prayer to the gods to thank them for saving him, for his stores of willpower were nearly exhausted.
He got to his feet and pulled Freya with him, then he took her hand and they began to walk back to the castle. The washerwomen looked up and waved to them, then began to gossip amongst themselves, but they were all smiling.
Alex and Freya smiled and waved back, both feeling as though they were walking on air. All was right with their world.
12
When he saw the turrets of Cairnheugh Castle, home of his Uncle Lachlan MacNeill and his cousins and brothers, Alex felt a surge of joy, and he urged his horse on faster so that he could reach it all the sooner. Cairnheugh was his second home. After his parents had died one after the other when he was ten years old, his kind uncle had taken him and his twin brothers, Callum and Duncan, into his home and his heart. His brothers were both three years younger than Alex, and although they were not identical, they looked enough alike that they were difficult to tell apart sometimes.
It was a very masculine household, since Laird MacNeill’s family consisted of his older cousins, Jamie and Scott, both of whom were the same kind of tall strapping specimens as Alex himself. His Aunt Flora was a quiet, almost reclusive woman, who kept to herself most of the time, and Alex looked forward to a riotous time amongst his boisterous male relatives.
It was true that he was not exactly starved of male company due to the nature of his profession, but being with his family allowed him the freedom to be himself. As well as that, he did not have to bear the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, at least for a while. At Kilkenrigg, he always had to set an example, and be his best possible self so that others might emulate him. At Cairnheugh, nobody cared very much what he did, said or wore; it was very liberating.
