Highlander's Challenge (30 page)

"Okay, now you try it," she said, motioning for Michael to give her a good toss.

He took his stance and cleanly put her on her back.

"Good job," she said, lying there looking up at him.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?" Colin's face appeared over her, blocking out the sun.

"Enjoying the view. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm working."

She moved to rise, but found herself swept up into his arms. "Hey! What's the big idea?" She squiggled to get free, but couldn't move pinned against his chest.

"You daft female! You're not well enough tae be wrestling."

"I'm fine," she snarled, hating the feel of his arms around her, the beat of his heart against her side, the nearness of those lips. If only he hadn't kissed her. "Put me down, Sasquatch."

He ignored her as chuckles rippled through the courtyard. 289

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She shot the lot of them a glare over his shoulder. "You guys just wait. You're going to be sore in places you never dreamed of," she called.

She jerked her gaze back to Colin's scowl as he marched into the keep. "And you, just wait until I get loose."

"Your threats mean little tae me, woman." He kicked open her chamber door then tossed her on the bed. "I'll say this but once. No traipsing through the wood, no sneaking off in the dead of night, and you are tae stay ... in ... bed." He turned to the door, and she jumped up. "I'm not tired." She was one step behind him to the door when he slammed it shut and spun around.

"You're not leaving this room." He gripped her arm firmly. Shifting her weight, she twisted to the side and tossed him onto the bed, but with his hand still clasped around her arm, he pulled her down on top of him. She stilled at the feel of his massive form, solid and strong, stretched out beneath her. She swallowed hard. "You see? I'm fine. I put you on your back without any trouble. Now, I've got men to train." She pushed against his chest, lifting herself up. He gripped her shoulders, halting her escape. His lion eyes peered into hers. "How do you know, 'tis not where I wished tae be?"

She shivered with need at the deep sensual tone of his voice. He pulled her down closer and closer until his lips were but a breath away from hers.

"I want you, Amelia, but I'll not beg, nor will I take what isna freely given."

"Y-you want me?" She was stunned, thrilled—terrified. 290

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Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek, his callused fingers brushing against her skin. "Aye. Verra much." He trailed his thumb across her bottom lip, his gaze following the slow, achingly sensuous movement. She closed her eyes on a rough moan then his lips met hers. The gentleness of his kiss, a total contradiction to the others he'd given her, stole her breath. As sweet as it was, she wanted more, she wanted the fire he'd let loose inside her before. Tentatively, she touched his lips with the tip of her tongue, not sure how to tell him, but it was enough. With a deep guttural groan, he flipped her to her back and devoured her. She'd never wanted anything, anyone the way she wanted him. Her hands roamed over his broad shoulders and down his back, feverishly exploring. She ached for the feel of his bare skin, all of him touching her both inside and out.

"Hurry," she panted, as they tugged at their clothes. They were bare from the waist up in seconds. Tingles shot through her from the rasp of his chest hair across her nipples. He pressed delicious kisses across her shoulder, up her neck to her mouth. With a moan, she fisted her hands in his hair and reveled in every heated swipe of his tongue. He blindly fumbled with the zipper on her pants. "How do you open the bleedin' things?" he growled against her mouth. Smiling beneath his determined scowl, she shoved his hand aside and quickly unfastened her jeans. With a devilish grin, he nipped and nibbled his way down across her belly and along her thighs as he slid her pants off. 291

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He paused with a curse at her boots and nearly took off her feet as he yanked them free.

In moments he was hovering over her, bare and beautiful. His long hair teased her ribs as he laved his tongue across her breast and pulled the pebbled peak into his mouth. Her body came to life. She writhed beneath him, wanting more, demanding everything.

"Colin," she gasped.

"Soon, lass."

She growled a response, going mad as his tongue and teeth tormented her. His hand drifted over the curve of her hip, then dropped between her thighs. She nearly screamed at the onslaught of pleasure from his fingers caressing her tender flesh.

Cradling his head firmly in her hands, she pulled him up to her face. "Now," she demanded.

"Aye, now," he said raggedly, then ravaged her mouth with his as he thrust inside her.

A pathetic squeak sounded in the back of her throat, and she fell still.

He snapped up his head, a grimace on his face. "By the saints, you should've told me you were a virgin." She let out a slow breath as the pain eased. "What difference would it have made?" She knew it would smart, but she hadn't expected it to hurt quite that much.

"I wouldna have been so rough, blast you."

"If you're trying to tell me that it's over, I just might have to kill you." It couldn't be over. There was one hellacious orgasm out there with her name on it, and she knew, deep 292

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down inside, that the only man who could give it to her was Colin MacLean.

He chuckled as he nipped at her chin and lips. "Nay, lass. The pain part is done, but not the pleasurin'." She toyed with his hair, relishing the feel of it sliding between her fingers. "Then I think you've got some work to do."

"Aye. That I do, but 'twill have tae wait a bit until you're ready." He pressed kisses across her mouth and cheeks as he spoke, moving down her throat to her breasts.

"How long is a bit?" she asked breathlessly.

"A moment or two," he murmured against the tip of her breast, nipping and suckling.

"Mmm, then I think we're way past a bit." He kissed her then slowly lifted his hips. She sucked in a breath at the feel of him sliding in and out, rebuilding her hunger with every stroke. Her inner muscles tightened around him, welcoming him. He groaned in her ear, sending tendrils of ecstasy spiraling through her.

"Colin," she gasped. She wriggled beneath him, eager to reach that elusive crest as her skin tingled, her heart raced, and her mind spun.

With a rash of fevered kisses, he made his way back to her mouth while cradling her bottom in his hand, angling her hips, allowing his thrusts to go deeper. Pure male heat engulfed her.

"Amelia," he murmured on a throaty moan, and drove into her one last time.

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Her back arched, embracing his power, his passion, and she detonated on the spot. His muscles quivered as he poured himself inside her, adding to the impact of her release. On and on it went, until her mind reconnected with her body and she relaxed in his arms.

Lifting his head, he rolled to the side, pulling her with him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, but said nothing. Content, she lay with her cheek against his chest for some time before speaking. "They're probably wondering what happened to us."

"Aye." He chuckled. "I'm surprised they've not come tae see if we've killed each other yet." She laughed and propped her chin in her hand. "We nearly did, but not in the way they might think." Laughing, he kissed her long and hard then rolled her to her back. His gaze traveled the discolored skin across her shoulder followed by the tips of his fingers.

"Tell me of this mark," he said. "'Tis unusual." She ran a finger along the edge of his cheek, marveling at how striking he was. "It's from a bullet. I got it on my last tour of duty."

His brow furrowed as he examined it more closely.

"I havenae seen the damage a firearm can make, but I have heard tell they make a verra large hole in a mon."

"There are more kinds of guns than I can name, in my time. But no matter the weapon it still hurts like hell." He nodded, a solemn frown on his lips then lowered his gaze to her breast and hip. "And these?" he asked, his fingers gliding over her scars.

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She clenched her jaw against the wave of memories, her hand instinctively covering the slash across her breast. "I had an accident when I was a kid," she said stiffly. Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes, deeper than anyone had ever gone.

She looked away, uncomfortable with his close scrutiny.

"Your father did this." It was a statement not a question.

"How—" she choked off the question and nodded.

"You spoke of things in your sleep when you were ill." He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. "If he were here, I would teach him what 'tis like tae know real pain." She blinked, trying to hold in her tears. Clasping her fingers, he lifted her hand from her breast.

"These marks are not something tae be ashamed of, mavourneen. They pain me tae see, but they dinnae take away from your beauty."

She shook her head with a watery chuckle. "I'm not beautiful."

"But you are." He splayed his fingers into her hair. "I'm not good with words like Ian, I've no practice at such things. But you are beautiful, Amelia."

His gaze roamed over her features. "The green of your eyes is like summer in the glen. The way the firelight catches in your hair 'tis like the most glorious sunset. And your skin," he said, running his fingers across her shoulders and down her arm, "creamy and fern-tickled, drove me near tae madness the first time I laid my eyes upon you."

"I think those words are perfect," she said roughly, and threw her arms around his neck, holding on with everything 295

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she had, wanting him, loving him with her whole heart, and praying he wouldn't break it.

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Colin could barely take his eyes off her. She'd decided to wear a dress for his father and Elspeth's wedding, and was by far the most beautiful lass in the hall.

She took her place beside Fiona at the table and turned. Her gaze met his and he was struck with the urge to hoist her up and carry her back to her chamber and love her with all that he was.

"There's nothing worse than a lovesick Highlander," Ian grumbled.

Colin blinked, then turned a scowl to his friend before shoving a knife full of food into his mouth. A faint snicker or two reached his ears, and he turned to see the entire room smiling stupidly at him. With a snarl, he looked back to his meal. The whole cursed keep knew what had transpired between them the day before. The woman was barely out of her sick bed. How could he have made love to her that way?

Because it was either that or explode with need.
Shoving aside his plate, he sat back, his gaze finding her once again. His fingers slowly stroked the smooth armrest of his chair, remembering the feel of her skin, the texture of her rampant curls. He wanted her again and again, but had no right to seek her bed without the words. Words he was too much a coward to say.

Tuck found it difficult to concentrate on a single word being said by an over-exuberant Fiona. All she could see was Colin sitting at his father's right hand looking wonderful in his formal attire. His kilt, wrapped around him, his stark white 297

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shirt, his ebony hair pulled back at the nape and tied, she could barely breathe, he was so striking. The image of his face contorted in ecstasy as they made love flashed through her mind. She never dreamed she could bring a man pleasure like that, or that one could take her so fully and forcefully and she not feel the least bit subjugated. If anything she wanted him to love her again and again. She wanted to feel the weight of him pressing her into the feather bed, his arms wrapped around her, his powerful thighs spread over hers, trapping her in the sweetest embrace. Her gaze lowered to the table. Would she ever get the chance to feel that way again? He'd slipped from her chamber after she'd fallen asleep and hadn't returned later that night as she'd hoped. There was more to what had happened between them than a mere lust filled afternoon. Wasn't there?

But what if that was all it had been? What if he didn't want her now that he'd had her? Her throat tightened, threatening to block off her air.

"Tuck?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm sure your wedding will be just as nice, Fiona. If you'll excuse me." She hurried for the battlements, for the wind against her cheeks and face, where she felt the most at home. There she could shove the pain down to the deepest darkest crevices in her heart.

Too many times since coming to Scotland, she'd let Jenny's fairytales seep into her dreams. She'd been alone for so long, felt empty inside for too many years, how could she bear to have these new feelings ripped away? How would she 298

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get through life here in the sixteenth century now that he'd changed her?

"He cares," she mumbled. She knew that much, but how much and for how long?

A horrendous shriek flew to her ears on the wind. Before she could bring her head up and turn, she was knocked to the floor, the back of her head striking the stone as someone pounced on top of her.

"He is mine," a shrill voice cried. Shaking her head, Tuck tried to clear the haze blinding her. She could barely make out Maighread hovering over her, one hand pressing down on her chest, the other raised in the air.

Tuck reached up to block the blow. Quivering against the woman's surprising strength, she could make out a dirk hovering scant inches from her heart.

"You canna have him! He is mine."

"I don't think so," Tuck hissed. Shoving with all her strength, she tossed the witch off and rolled unsteadily to her feet. A wave of dizziness engulfed her. She swayed, struggling to prepare for another attack, but her vision was taking too long to clear after whacking her head against the stone.