MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel (17 page)

Maggie drew back to find Colin looking at her with a shuttered expression.

“Ye do no’ know anything,” he said.

She knew one thing. She knew several things, actually. She knew that the kiss had affected him more than he admitted because his gaze kept flickering to her lips, and she knew that deep down in a place he didn’t shed light upon, he cared more for her than he would admit even to himself.

But she had no idea how to pull those feelings out of him. Telling him wouldn’t do.

Seduction? She was willing to try but had no idea how to go about seducing her husband and feared looking like a fool.

She moved her stiff legs and winced.

“Lie down,” Colin said.

“I’m trying to stand up, but my legs will no’ work. Oooooh.” She fell back down and tears sprang to her eyes, partly from frustration but mostly because she hurt so badly.

Colin stood and Maggie found herself in his arms, being lifted and then laid gently back down on her stomach in the nest of blankets. Tears of pain ran down her cheeks when her legs were stretched out. It was going to take her body a long, long time to heal.

She pillowed her head on her folded arms. She couldn’t seduce her husband if she couldn’t move.

“Ye need to work the stiffness out,” Colin said.

“How is that possible when I can barely move?”

She felt him straddle her and lower himself onto his haunches. He wasn’t sitting on her; he wasn’t touching her at all, but he had a foot on either side of her legs and was hovering above her. She twisted her head around. “What are ye doing?”

“Hush. Lay yer head down and close yer eyes.” She watched him warily for another moment, until he raised a brow and cocked his head.”This is the ‘obey’ part that ye told the priest ye would do.”

“I did?”

His lips quirked and her heart flipped. He was powerfully handsome when he almost smiled like that. She wished she had the knowledge and the power to rise up and kiss that half-smile, but she’d only ever kissed a man ficve times. And all her kisses had been for Colin. Even if she wanted to rise up and kiss him, she couldn’t move.

The small smile turned to a frown, and he glowered at her, but there was no real heat behind it.

“Obey me, woman.”

She didn’t like him telling her what to do, but in the end it was easier not to fight him, feeling as she did.

He leaned over her and pressed the pads of his hands into her shoulders.

“Damn, that hurts!”

“Relax, lass. It hurts now, but I promise it will feel better.”

He pressed and kneaded, concentrating on a spot between her shoulder blades. It hurt like the devil, but it also felt wonderful. His fingers manipulated her muscles, squeezing and pushing and applying so much pressure that she felt certain she would be flat as a bannock when he was finished.

She couldn’t help but groan. It hurt, but when he was finished with her shoulders and moved on, she felt such overwhelming relief.

He lifted each arm, rolling it between his palms as he applied pressure. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut to hold off the tears of pain.

She couldn’t help but be very aware that he was kneeling over her, the shadow of his large body silhouetted against the wall of the hut.

He didn’t speak, but she could hear his breath hitch and deepen. Soon his kneading became more like caresses that made her shiver, and yet still he was working the stiffness and soreness out of her body.

Gently, he nudged her legs apart, and she was so relaxed that she let him. Strong fingers dug into the backs of her legs. She hissed in a breath of pain, for it was her legs that hurt the worst.

“Relax,
a leanbh
.”

“Where did ye learn…such torture? From the damn…English?”

He chuckled, but she was too busy trying to breathe through the pain. “An old healer taught me this.”

“It’s…awful…”

“Ye’re lying.”

“I know.”

He laughed outright, and for a moment she forgot her pain and just listened to him laugh. It was a wonderfully warm sound that made her insides quiver just a wee bit. It was almost magical, this run-down hut that wasn’t run down at all, with the fire burning merrily in the grate and Colin laughing as if they were great friends.

For a small moment all was perfect, and then he hit a particularly sore spot and she cried out. She hadn’t meant to, but the pain was too much. She discovered that instead of pulling away, Colin worked harder on that spot.

“Ye are a torturer,” she breathed. “What have I…” She hissed in pain. “Ever done to ye…” She grunted when he worked on a tight knot of muscle. “To deserve this?”

“Ye’ll be thanking me tomorrow, when ye can ride better and without all the stiffness.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

He became quiet, working on that bloody knot until she thought for sure she would come off the floor and draw her dagger on him.

And then he reached her feet. Gently, he pulled off her boots and tossed them onto the floor beside her. He pushed his thumbs into the arch of her foot and she groaned again, but not from pain. She’d never known that rubbing feet could feel so wonderful. “That feels delightful,” she murmured.

There was one time at the castle after a long day of training when she and some of the newer lads training to be warriors had been sitting around long after dark, after the older warriors had wandered off to their beds, and Maggie started drinking and bragging.

It was the most Maggie had ever drunk. She’d felt light-headed, like she was floating a few inches above the floor, and everything had a hazy quality.

She was feeling similar to that now. Half drunk and completely relaxed.

Colin sat up. “Finished.”

She rolled over, surprised by how easily she could move. She was still stiff and definitely still sore, but her body felt much improved.

He was sitting on his haunches, his hands resting on his thighs. He’d married her in his kilt and crossed the river in his kilt, but along the way he had changed into worn breeches and a comfortable-looking saffron shirt. His shoulders were wide, his black hair falling over his brow and curling at the ears. His eyes were serious, but his lips quirked at one corner as if he wanted to smile and wouldn’t let himself.

He was her husband, this man she didn’t really know but who intrigued her enough that she wanted to get to know him.

She took his shirt in two fists. He was taken off guard enough that she was able to easily pull him down and kiss him.

His surprise didn’t last long. He cupped her face and kissed her back. She was a bit stunned to discover that his manhood was very hard, pressing against her thigh. Could a man get aroused that quickly, or had he been aroused while he’d been massaging her?

“I do believe yer massage worked. I’m feeling very limber,” she said.

He smiled against her lips. “Are ye, now?” He placed his hands on the floor on either side of her and raised himself to look down on her. “Are ye certain about this, lass?”

Was
she certain about this? “I do no’ know. But I do know that we are husband and wife and we’ve yet to complete the process. I want to become your wife, Colin, not just in name but in body.”

The air lay heavy and thick between them. The fire crackled in the grate and Maggie started to become uncomfortable when Colin continued to look down on her, thinking only God knew what. Was he debating? Did he not want to consummate their marriage?

“Are ye that upset being wed to me that ye canno’ do it?” she asked.

His eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

“I said, are ye—”

He put a finger to her lips and pressed his hardened manhood against her leg. “Does that feel like I can no’ ‘complete the process,’ as ye call it?”

She shook her head. It definitely did not feel like he was incapable of anything.

“I’ll thank ye no’ to question my manliness in the future,” he said with a smile.

She nodded.

“Are ye too sore, lass?”

She waited until he pulled his finger away before she spoke. “Ye worked yer miracle on my sore muscles. I think I can do it.”

“Do ye now?” His smile blossomed and about near took her breath away.

“I do.”

His smile slowly slipped away, and he lowered his head to gently kiss her lips. The soft, barely there kiss set her nerves on fire and offered a promise of what was to come.

“Tell me if I hurt ye,” he said as he moved down to kiss her chin, then the spot between her jaw and her neck. Before her brother had interrupted them on their wedding night, Colin had kissed her this way, and she’d never felt so boneless.

At the moment her aches and pains were a distant concern as he continued down her body, kissing her neck, her ear, her shoulder. He moved her shirt away, and she felt a shiver of apprehension. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would have to get naked in front of him.

For a panicked moment, she thought there was too much firelight and he would see everything wrong with her. She had never thought overly much about her body other than to curse her breasts because she had to bind them when she fought. And the horrible monthly flow that inhibited her training and was a terrible nuisance.

But now she was thinking of other things. Her breasts weren’t as big as other women’s. She was shorter than most, and from her years of fighting in the lists, her skin was darker. She had scars. There was the—

“Stop thinking so hard, lass. Ye’re stiffening up.”

“I am?” Her voice was a little higher than usual.

He smoothed her hair away from her face. “Ye are. If it’s too much—”

“Nae!” She clutched at him, afraid he would stop and they would never consummate their marriage.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Nae?”

“I—I want to. But I’ve never done this before.”

“Good God, woman, I should hope no’.” He burst out laughing, much to her chagrin.

“Do ye find it humorous that I’ve never been with a man?”

He stopped laughing abruptly. “Believe me, if I discovered ye had been with another man before me, I would be far from humored. Ah, lass.” He hung his head and drew in a deep breath. “Ye really are untouched, aren’ ye?”

“I just told ye I was.”

He raised his head to look at her. “This is a first for both of us, then.”

Her eyes widened. “Ye’ve never, either?”

“No, lass. I have, but we will no’ be discussing that. I’ve never had a woman who hasn’t…” He trailed off, letting her come to her own conclusions.

“Ah,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “This other woman—”

He put his finger to her lips. “We will not discuss that.”

“That does no’ seem quite fair. I mean, ye know my…history.”

He kissed her, strangling her words in her throat, and after a moment she completely forgot what she’d been about to say. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her.

She barely felt his weight, but she did feel his erection and his lips and his hands roaming from her shoulders to her hips and back up. Slowly, he lifted her shirt, his calloused hands lightly scraping her skin, making her shiver. She rose up and whipped her shirt over her head.

Her breasts weren’t bound, and she wasn’t wearing a stay. Stays and men’s shirts didn’t go well together. She was completely naked, and she held her breath while his gaze raked over her.

“My God, lass.” He gingerly touched her side where a bruise bigger than his hand spanned her waist, winding around to disappear behind her back.

“It does no’ hurt,” she said. “At least not overly much.”

He sucked in a breath and touched another bruise on her belly. “Ye could have been killed,” he whispered.

“But I was no’. I wrestled the river and I won.”

His gaze caught hers. “It could have easily turned out differently.”

“But it did no’.” She took his face between her palms. “I’m here, Colin. I’m here with you in this hut. Alive.”

Colin closed his eyes as a tremor ran through him. He’d massaged every tight muscle on her body, seen and touched almost every scrape and bruise. But the bruise on her waist was his undoing. The thought of her body being tossed and turned in that raging river, of her being washed away, made him want to shudder in fear.

“Colin.”

He opened his eyes to look at her. This was his wife. He had no idea what to do with a wife, and he had no place in his life for one, but here she was. Alive, as she said.

“Make love to me,” she said softly.

And how was he to deny such a request?

He was hard and ready. The emotions from the last several days rushed through him, as rough-and-tumble as the river that had almost taken her from him.

He suckled a pert breast. She was smaller than any woman he’d had before, but he found he liked that. Her breasts stood firm, the nipples begging for his attention.

Maggie cried out and arched her back, her fingers digging into his scalp. While he licked and tugged on one breast, he fondled her other nipple with his free hand.

She moaned beneath him as he fumbled with her breeches, trying to tug them down her legs, ever mindful of the bruises. But Maggie had no such worries. She pulled away long enough to yank her breeches off and toss them to the side.

“Ye have too many clothes on,” she said as she pushed at his shirt.

He whisked it over his head and tossed it on top of her breeches. Immediately, her hands were all over him, smoothing across his skin, flicking his nipples, and causing him to hiss in a breath.

Her hands paused over old scars but never stopped their frantic traveling until she was impeded by his breeches. She dipped her fingers beneath the waistband to brush against the tip of his manhood.

Colin groaned and Maggie paused, considered, and brushed again, making his penis jump at the feather-light touch. Realizing her power, she explored more, molding her fingers around the width of him, running her palm along the length. Brushing against him lightly, then pressing more firmly until his vision blurred and all he could think about was her hands and the near-prayer that she not stop.

She was a fast learner, discovering what made his breath hitch and what made him groan out loud, what made his hips thrust and what made him pump into her hand. He was alternately panting and moaning, so close to completion that he knew she had to stop but almost too far gone to make her.

Her fingers were curled around his girth and he began pumping into her hand, his tip rubbing against her palm. He was going to explode in her hand, and maybe that was for the best. She was his wife, and his job was to get her with child so he could carry on the MacLean lineage, but he was barely prepared for a wife and completely unprepared for a bairn. Hell, he didn’t even know if he had a home and a clan to return to.

All of these thoughts were secondary to the primary concern of spilling his seed.

He cried out, one final thrust needed to finish all of it, but his hand shot down and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away.

Her gaze flew to his. Her eyes were huge, her face flushed, her chest rising and falling.

“Do ye want it to end before it begins?” he ground out.

Her mouth formed an O, and she looked at the tip of his penis peeking out from the waistband of his breeches.

He rose up on his knees, unbuttoned his breeches, and slipped them off. His penis bobbed between them and Maggie’s gaze locked on it. Apprehension and a touch of fear crossed her face. Reality was beginning to intrude, and he couldn’t decide if he should put a stop to all of this or continue on before she could change her mind.

They were frozen in time, the heavily laden seconds ticking away until her gaze traveled up to him and she cocked an eyebrow. “Are ye having second thoughts?”

“Oh, ye’re cheeky,” he said in a rough voice.

She smiled and the decision was taken away from him. She was his wife and she would be his wife completely or not at all.

He lowered himself, nudging her legs apart with his knees. Her cheeky expression vanished as apprehension rushed back in.

“It will hurt,” he said softly. “Tell me if ye want me to stop.”

“I’m stronger than ye think.”

“I do no’ doubt that, lass.”

He slid his finger across the nub hidden between her folds. She gasped, her hips rising, pressing against his finger.

“Do it again,” he said.

Slowly, experimentally, she pressed against him. Then she raised and lowered her hips. Her eyes glazed and her breathing deepened. She was far inside herself, concentrating on her hips and the rhythm. Colin watched her closely, enthralled with the emotions crossing her face, taking careful note of when she was close to her climax.

He pressed down with his fingers at the exact moment she cried out, moving faster. He inserted a finger and she gasped.

Leaning forward, he whispered, “Let it go.”

“Let…what go?”

“Just let it happen,
mo chridhe
.”

Her breath came faster. Her hips pumped faster and she cried out, her back arching, her legs stiffening. Her passageway closed around his fingers and then released him.

Before she was finished, he removed his fingers and entered her, thrusting all the way in. She cried out in pain this time, but she was still in the throes of her completion, and the pulsing of her muscles milked him to his own completion without him even needing to thrust.

He groaned as he spilled his seed inside her and buried his head in the crook of her shoulder. The hut fell silent as their breathing slowly evened out. Colin pulled out of her and rolled onto his back beside her, turning his head so he could see her face. She was staring up at the ceiling, her breasts rising and falling with each labored breath.

“I did no’ think it would be like that,” she said.

He laughed, unsure whether to be offended. “How did ye think it would be?”

“I do no’ know. Just no’ like that.”

“Is that good or bad?”

She rolled her head to look at him, and she smiled. “Definitely good.”

The tension in his shoulders eased. He hadn’t expected to be so concerned with her reaction, although he was always mindful of a partner’s satisfaction.

She rolled toward him and touched his face. “Thank ye,” she whispered.

Something strong and powerful squeezed his heart. “Roll over,” he said, pushing at her shoulder so she rolled toward the fire. He pulled her to him, nestling her hips into his groin. Her head fit perfectly under his chin, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as he pulled a blanket over them.

She settled comfortably into him and her body relaxed. He had no idea what he was going to do with her, this wife of his. Hell, half the time he didn’t know what he was going to do with himself. And now that they’d consummated their marriage, there was no turning back, especially since she could be with child.

The thought had his blood turning cold, and he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come.

It did, but far after it came for Maggie. He tried not to think the thoughts that were keeping him awake, but it was difficult. He either thought dire, depressing thoughts or he fantasized about the naked woman in his arms whom he wouldn’t mind making love to again. Neither was acceptable.

Eventually, he drifted off into fitful sleep, but it seemed like only minutes later that the door to the hut burst open. Colin was on his feet in an instant, his broadsword, which had been close at hand, at the ready.

Maggie jumped up just as fast. Colin roughly pushed her behind him. Her hand snaked down and snagged the blanket.

Brice Sutherland stepped in, took one look at the scene, and covered his eyes. “Oh, good Lord.”

Colin’s sword dipped until the tip touched the ground. “Damn it, Brice. What the hell are ye doing here?”

Sutherland turned so his back was facing them and he looked at the wall of the hut. “Looking for ye, ye ungrateful
bampot
.”

Colin grabbed his breeches and stepped into them before grabbing Sutherland’s arm and hustling him out of the hut. “Get dressed,” he said to Maggie over his shoulder.

It was beginning to rain again, a soft but steady patter against the leaves of the trees and the roof of the hut. Brice and Colin stopped under a large tree. Colin looked around, expecting to see a retinue of Brice’s men, but there were none. “Why are ye looking for me?” he asked.

“Campbell said he helped ye escape weeks ago. When ye did no’ show, I became worried. I thought maybe the English had found ye, although Campbell said they hadn’ or he would have heard. I figured ye would hide out in one of the safe houses, so I’ve been looking.”

Colin eyed his longtime friend, grateful that Brice had been searching for him, chagrined that he hadn’t sent word that he was safe. “Ye seem awfully close to Campbell.”

Brice merely shrugged. “So who’s yer companion?”

Colin shuffled his feet and looked out into the rain. “That’s my wife,” he muttered.

A heavy pause followed.

“Pardon me?” Sutherland said in a choked voice.

“Ye heard me.”

“I do no’ believe I did. She’s yer what?”

Colin glared at his friend. “She’s my wife.”

Sutherland laughed. “So are ye going to tell me the story of how ye got yerself a wife?”

“No.”

“Ye owe me that, at least.”

“I owe ye much but no’ that.” Thinking they’d given Maggie enough time to get dressed, he stomped to the hut and walked in, Sutherland on his heels. Maggie was standing in the middle of the hut, fully dressed.

Sutherland came to a stop and sucked in a breath. “My God.” Suddenly, Colin was grabbed from behind and swung around. “Ye bastard,” Sutherland hissed, and cocked his fist back.

Before Colin could react, Maggie insinuated herself between them and stilled Sutherland by placing the tip of her dagger under his chin. “Step back,” she said in a low voice.

Sutherland released Colin, raised his hands, and took a step back.

“Put yer dagger away, Maggie,” Colin said.

She didn’t move, her body poised, tight with tension, her expression fierce and her dark eyes flashing. If Colin weren’t so embarrassed that his wife had just come to his rescue, he would have been impressed.

Sutherland took another half-step back, keeping his eye on Maggie.

“What the hell was that about?” Colin grumbled.

Sutherland tipped his chin toward Maggie. “Her face.”

“Ah.” Sutherland had gotten a glimpse of the bruises and thought Colin had beaten her. He should beat
Sutherland
for even thinking that he’d do such a thing to a woman.

“I was swept away by the river,” she said, sheathing her dagger but keeping a wary eye on Sutherland.

Sutherland cocked a brow.

“Sutherland, Maggie. Maggie, Sutherland,” Colin said curtly.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “The friend ye mentioned.”

“Aye.”

Sutherland’s humor returned. “Ye spoke of me?”

“Only the most disagreeable parts.”

Outside, the rain was falling heavier, and Colin realized that the three of them were stuck in this hut together for the rest of the night. “Where are yer men?” he asked.

“I’m alone. As I said, I was worried when ye did no’ show and have been looking for ye.”

“Ye came to find him in the hut?” Maggie asked.

Sutherland shot her an approving look. “Nae. I came to the hut to get out of the rain.”

“Interesting that this hut is such a popular place to be,” she said, acting innocent but not fooling Colin for a moment.

Colin shook his head, silently telling his friend that Maggie was unaware of the reason for the hut being there.

Maggie strolled around the small space before leaning against a wall. “What’s even more interesting,” she said, “is that MacLean and I shared a cave that had similar amenities.” Both men remained tight-lipped while Maggie looked from one to the other. “Fine,” she said. “Do no’ tell me, but at least do no’ pretend that this is no’ unusual.”

“Maggie,” Colin warned.

She held up her hand to indicate that she was finished.

“Where are ye headed from here?” Sutherland asked.

“Dornach. The soldiers are after us. Me. They’re after me. It’s no’ safe to return to the MacLean holding.”

“Of course.”

“And Eleanor?” Colin asked. “Is she still there?”

“We’re wed.” Sutherland’s smile, obviously proud, was also a bit foolish.

Colin rolled his eyes and looked away while Maggie watched the interaction closely. He looked at the rumpled blankets on the floor in front of the fireplace and yearned for the return of their privacy so he could hold her and feel her naked bum against his groin. The arrival of Sutherland signaled change. From now on Colin would have to decide how serious the English were about hunting him, and then he would have to make a decision—return home and try to make a go of organizing his clan, or continue running.

Running would mean leaving everything behind—possibly Scotland—and he wasn’t quite ready to think about that yet.