A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book) (38 page)

Basket in hand, he paced in the great hall, awaiting Lady Meg to appear from the stairwell. When lightly tapping feet echoed from above, he knew it was she, merely by his thundering heartbeat. She wore a blue gown, the neckline scooped low from shoulder to shoulder, low enough he could see the dark shadow of her cleavage. He almost moaned with his need to touch her silken flesh. Her hair had been combed back and braided around her crown, and, to Duncan’s delight, was devoid of a veil.

He held his hands out to her. “You look lovely.” He allowed himself a brief dip of his eyes to drink in the lusciousness of her breasts.

A blush spread across her cheeks. “Thank you. Your mother lent me the gown . . . like all the others.”

He offered his elbow. “At least you’re putting them to good use.”

She looped her dainty hand through it. “Once you’ve received word from Arthur, I shall send for my things. Then I will not be such a burden to everyone.”

“You could never be an encumbrance.” He gestured ahead and led her to the gate. “The skiff is awaiting our departure.”

She glanced up at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Excellent, and who will be our chaperone today?”

He glanced over his shoulder for any eavesdropping family members then lowered his voice. “It shall be only the two of us.”

She grinned like a lass who’d just found a gold sovereign. “How did you manage that?”

“Mother may think she’s lord of this castle, but I assure you, she is quite mistaken.”

Meg skipped beside him. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Pardon?” He chuckled with an exasperated expression while they walked around the corner of the castle and down to the private dock. “Cook prepared a basket with tasty morsels for us.”

“A picnic away from the castle grounds?”

He placed one foot in the boat to steady it, and then offered Meg his hand. “Aye, in a place where we can be sure to avoid prying ears and eyes.”

She put her claw in his palm, something she’d never done before, and then lifted her skirts with the other hand. “’Tis a perfect day for a boating adventure.”

Once she was settled, he climbed in, sat facing her and picked up the oars. “I believe spring is finally upon us.”

Meg folded her hands in her lap and drew in a deep breath. “’Tis so peaceful out here. At Tantallon we’re on the edge of the Firth of Forth with forceful waves crashing against the rocks endlessly.”

“Aye, but that’s a different sort of beauty.”

“I suppose it is.” She cast her gaze to the far shore and pointed. “Look at the mule deer.”

Duncan followed her finger. Sure enough, a small herd of does grazed with fawns beside them—a sure sign that spring had arrived at last.

Meg laughed and covered her mouth with her hand while Duncan continued to pull the oars. The water shimmered in the sun behind her and made her hair look alive like a flame.

Her smile caused his heartbeat to stutter. “How long do you think it will take before we receive a reply from Arthur?” she asked.

His shoulder ticked up. “A fortnight, mayhap two.”

“That long?”

Duncan chuckled. “’Tis not really all that far off. Are you anxious, lass?”

“Aye.” She sighed. “I dearly love Gyllis, but I feel as if I am imposing, sleeping in her chamber every night. I honestly do not understand it, especially since Kilchurn is so well appointed with bedchambers.”

He regarded her lovely blue eyes, focused upon him as if the thought of another month with his sister would drive her to insanity. “And here you thought you wanted to take up the veil.”

She rolled her eyes and looked to the cloudless sky. “Alas, this is somewhat different than taking an oath of chastity and staying in a dormitory of nuns.”

“I could appoint you to a chamber and station the guard outside.” He pulled harder on the oars to speed their pace. “Mother would most likely not balk too much.”

“And hurt Gyllis’s feelings?” Meg shook her head. “I think not.”

Duncan puzzled. “Very well, then—shall we leave things as they are?”

“I suppose we must, at least until we hear from Arthur.”

As Kilchurn Castle grew smaller in the distance, Duncan rowed the skiff to an island in the center of Loch Awe.

“Look at this place,” Meg said. “’Tis lovely. What do you call it?”

“Innis Chonain. When we were boys, John and I used to paddle out here and play King of the Island.”

Meg got a faraway look in her eyes. “Do you miss him?”

Duncan rowed until the boat stopped on a sand bank. “Aye, the milksop.” He hopped into the knee-deep water then tugged the skiff onto the beach so that Meg could stay dry. He offered his hand. “M’lady.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the basket and allowed him to assist her. “Kilchurn looks so far away.”

“Aye, ’tis why I brought you here.” He pulled her into his embrace. Her scent flooded his senses and he closed his eyes, nuzzling into her hair. “I wanted you all to myself.”

She lifted her chin and he kissed her. Pulling away, she chuckled. “I imagine Lady Margaret is upon the battlements with a spyglass.”

He took the basket and led her into the wood. “I thought of that, too. There’s a clearing ahead with a wee pond.”

Meg gasped when the trail opened to a spectacular oasis. True to Duncan’s word, a small pond sat in the center of a clearing, the ground covered by moss. Ferns sprouted everywhere, dotted by yellow primrose, and from the trees hung drapes of green moss—the trees themselves showing a hint of budding leaves. On one side was an outcropping of rocks so picturesque, Meg imagined mermaids sunning themselves beside the dark blue water. Hand in hand, they stood. The only sound was the call of a warbler overhead. “’Tis so peaceful.”

Duncan set the basket on the ground. “Are you hungry, lass?”

She was about to say yes when she looked into his eyes. He stared at her with a hunger that had nothing to do with the need for food. She’d seen that look countless times, but now knew him well enough to know what he desired. Every fiber of her body had been craving for his touch, craving intimacy. She waggled her shoulders. “Hungry for you.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his throat and his eyes turned dark as obsidian. “Come here.” He drew her into his powerful arms. Before she could blink, his mouth covered hers with an unexpected wildness to his fervor. He all but consumed her in a rush of frantic kisses.

Hard and long, Duncan molded his body to hers. Meg matched his passion, allowing her own suppressed yearnings to boil to the surface. Afire, she ground her hips to his while his hands slid down her back and grasped her buttocks.

His lips trailed down her neck and atop the breasts that peeked above her scooped neckline. “Thank God you wore a gown with easy access.” With a flick of his finger, he loosed her laces and exposed her nipple. Licking, he swirled his tongue in an erotic dance.

Meg’s breasts swelled and her thighs quavered. Duncan tugged her laces more. With trembling fingers, she helped him loosen them, then shrugged out of her gown. “I’ve lain awake each night with wanting for you.”

“You too?” He pulled the plaid from the basket, spread it beside the pool, and then turned to her. “I have but one request.”

“Aye?”

He faced her, eyes still dark. “To gaze upon you completely naked.”

She crossed her arms and brushed her hands along her shoulders. “’Tis not too cold?’

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her as if he could swallow her whole. “I shall keep you warm.”

She inhaled his scent laced with cloves. Her insides turned molten. “Only if you strip bare as well.”

Chuckling, he unbuckled his belt and let his weapons fall. “I’m only too happy to oblige, m’lady.” He pulled the plaid from his waist and dropped it. Wearing his shirt, hose, and boots, he stepped forward. “Now you.”

Meg uncrossed her arms and held them above her head. Duncan tugged her shift up and cast it aside. A cool breeze made the gooseflesh stand proud upon her skin. She felt chilled, yet afire while he slid his warm fingers down her sides and then slipped a hand between her legs. She parted slightly, and he teased her with his finger before he knelt to untie her garters. His nose only an inch from her sex, he closed his eyes and inhaled. “Merely the scent of you can bring me to my knees.”

Meg shuddered. She knew exactly what he meant.

After he’d removed her hose and slippers, Meg grasped his shoulders and pulled him up. His manhood strained against his shirt. Aye, he wanted her as much as she did him. Duncan didn’t wait. He yanked off his shirt and boots, but Meg held up her palm. “I shall remove your hose.” She knelt and untied the flashes, slowly smoothing his stockings down his muscular calves.

As soon as his feet were free, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth over hers. His body warmed her, his manhood brushed her abdomen, but she desperately needed him lower. Meg wrapped her leg around his and ground her mons into him.

Duncan groaned. “I can hold back no longer.”

“Me also.” Meg’s breathless words came whispered and fast.

Taking her hand, Duncan led her to the plaid. He sat and looked up at her with a gleam in his eye. “Straddle me.”

“We can do that?”

His eyes grew wide. Then he looked left then right. “Who will stop us?”

She complied, and his sex sat between the apex of her legs as if it were meant to be there. Kissing him, she rocked her hips so he slid up and down the place that craved him most.

Duncan drew in a stuttered breath. “My God, my seed is about to erupt.”

She placed her lips against his ear. “Take me, Duncan.”

“I want you to ride me.” He lay back and grasped her hips. No words needed. He lifted her up. Taking his manhood in her hand, she guided it into her core. With a moan, Duncan’s eyes rolled back, and then he stared at her as if she were the only woman in the world.

With his urging hands, Meg moved along his shaft until his manhood brushed a place that begged for more. If she stopped, she’d die. Faster and faster, Meg rocked her hips, craving friction, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her body. A shrill cry caught in the back of her throat, and the heavens opened with blessed, shattering release.

Duncan roared and drove his hips faster, plunging into her as his eyes lost their focus. “God’s teeth, woman. You will send me mad before we are married.”

Meg collapsed atop his body. “’Tis exactly why I want word from Arthur so quickly. Nights without you in my arms are torture.”

He smoothed his hands up her breasts and kneaded her, the friction building again. How could he turn her into such a wanton with his mere touch? “I want you in my bed forever.”

Drawing in a ragged breath, Meg covered him with her body and captured his mouth with a kiss. She then tasted his skin—the saltiness of his powerful neck, his smooth jaw, his eyes, his brow. Never in her life would she gain her fill of Duncan Campbell.

“You are so fine to me, Lady Meg.” He rolled her to her side. Drawing the plaid across their bodies, he faced her. “So what do you think of my Highlands?”

She grinned with a low chuckle. “All this fresh Highland air grows fine-looking men, I’ll say.”

“Aye, but the Lowland lassies are not to be rivaled.”

“I do not know. Your sisters are beautiful.”

Duncan smiled and reclined on his back. “They are lovely. And now that Da is gone, ’tis up to me to find them husbands.”

Oh how wonderful it was when a window opened. Meg rose up on her elbow. “You know, Gyllis quite fancies Sir Sean.”

“Sir Sean?” Duncan blinked twice and grimaced. “That flea-bitten son of a dog?”

Meg rested her head on his chest and smoothed her hand through his downy-soft hair. “Pardon? He will be the next MacDougall chieftain—”

“Do you not think I ken? None of my men will
ever
marry one of my sisters. ’Tis . . . ’tis . . .”

Meg gazed at his face. “What?”

The corners of his mouth drew downward as if he were entirely baffled. “They’re practically as close as siblings. Besides, Sir Sean did not earn the moniker ‘Lusty Laddie’ for naught.” Duncan eyed her with an air of distaste. “He has an affinity for the lassies.”

A laugh spewed from her lips, and she clapped her fingers over her mouth to stanch it. She wanted this to be a serious conversation. “And you were a monk before you met me?”

“That is entirely different.”

Gyllis was right. Duncan could be bullheaded when it came to his sisters. “Hmm.” Meg trailed her fingers down his well-muscled abdomen, not quite ready to change the subject. “Pity. Gyllis is the only lass I’ve seen him eyeing since I’ve been here. A match between them would solve one of your problems.”

“He’d better keep his lusty eyes from my sister.” Duncan sat up. “Enough. There is no way would I allow Sean MacDougall to court Gyllis. We shan’t speak of it again.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Now where’s that damned basket? I’m famished.”

Meg swallowed her urge to giggle. Perhaps Duncan needed a little time to consider her suggestion. Thank heavens she’d mentioned it away from the keep and Gyllis. “I do hope you’ve brought some watered wine. I’m ever so thirsty.”

Duncan set two tankards on the plaid, held up a flagon, swirled it and sniffed. “Me thinks ’tis ale.”