Page 14 of A Sinful Night with a Scot (Bound by a Highland Curse: The Morgan’s Clan Stories #8)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A spine-chilling roar snapped Elsie awake, her heart thumping in her breast at the suddenness of the sound. Sitting upright, panting for breath, the roar came again, and immediately, she knew the sound was coming from Keane’s room.

Jumping out of bed, she ran to the adjoining door, praying it would be unlocked. Bursting through it, not knowing what she would find, she was astonished to see Keane thrashing in his bed. But as she hurried to him, his eyes remained closed as more deep moans escaped from his throat.

He’s having a nightmare!

Without hesitation, even though his arms flung about him, Elsie ran to the bed, and dodging a flying fist, she grabbed his shoulder.

“Keane! Keane!” she cried.

Still, he thrashed, another mighty roar leaving his lips, the depth of which sent a shudder through her body and caused tears to spring to her eyes.

“Keane,” she shrieked, pushing at his shoulder with all her might.

With a sudden intake of breath, Keane’s eyes flew wide, his hands clenched in tight fists, swinging towards her. Swiftly, Elsie jumped back out of his reach, and for the longest second, he simply stared at her, as though he had been frozen in time.

“Elsie,” he breathed, his face wracked with panic. “Oh, God, Elsie. Did I hurt ye?”

“Nay,” she panted, shaking her head. “I’m fine.” With her brows knotted together, her eyes never left his. “Are ye all right?”

Clearly, he was not all right. His chest heaved, and a sheen of sweat covered his brow. Whatever he had been dreaming about was clearly dreadful, for his howls had reached the very pit of her soul.

“I’m…” He hesitated and shook his head. Dropping back onto the pillow, he took in a deep breath.

Elsie crept a little closer, watching his pained face, for he was clearly reliving whatever had haunted his sleep.

“Whatever it was, it was bad,” she said, edging a little closer.

His jaw pulsed while he continued to stare up at the ceiling, trying desperately to calm the panting breath that seemed in no hurry to settle. Never before had she seen him look so undone. The whole time they had spent together, Keane Mackay had always been in control. Whether that had been the direction they took on their return home, or his growling commands toward her, or, like last night, when he stood protectively by her side, showing her by his actions, how deeply he valued her.

With that final thought, Elsie made a decision, and, stepping across the room, she confidently climbed into the bed beside him, wrapped his arm around her neck, and rested her head on his heart, where the rapid thumping still drummed against his ribs.

Keane gasped, but he did not speak. Perhaps, had it been any other time, he would have growled some sarcasm or order. But not now. In this moment, the man who had relentlessly challenged her, the man who seemed almost delighted when she rose to such challenges, seemed incapacitated, paralyzed even, by what he had experienced.

Elsie lay, her arm draped across his stomach, offering as much wordless comfort as she could, making every effort to push her feelings of calm and serenity into him. While this version of him was certainly vulnerable, she also felt unsettled by him.

Last night, he had been so very confident, even while respecting her wishes, for he had not made any attempt to convince her to join him in his bed. Later, when Elsie had been tucked beneath her own coverlets, his lack of effort had bothered her instead of making her happy. But it was no mystery. Her heart was becoming entangled, and though her mind reasoned with logical arguments against it, she could not seem to stop it.

“Thank ye,” Keane murmured sometime later, his voice vibrating against her ear.

“Ye’re welcome,” Elsie said, continuing to lie against him.

“Did I wake ye?”

She frowned, and then realized she lay beside him in her nightgown. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

Elsie lifted her head and, turning to face him, she rested her chin on his chest. Keane had his free hand tucked behind his head. It highlighted the huge bulge of his bicep. But as mesmerizing as that might be under any other circumstances, she was far too interested in examining his face. Not that she hadn’t seen it plenty of times before in the last few days. But this time was different. He was different.

“Are ye alright?” she asked gently.

Keane lifted his hand and softly stroked her flowing hair. He smiled down at her, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

“Aye. I’m fine.”

Elsie shook her head. “Nay. Ye’re nae.”

He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Nay. I’m nae. But I will be. Dinnae worry about me, little one.”

His tender words wrapped themselves around her heart like a warm blanket, and Elsie wondered if it were not herself who might be dreaming. Who was this man, and what had he done with the real Keane Mackay?

This is the real Keane Mackay. Ye saw it yersel’ yesterday in the village.

Yes, she had. And for this fleeting moment, she was being given a glimpse into the man Alisdair had described the day they had been standing in the chapel.

“I wish ye’d have kent the man I grew up with. The man who I’ve been friends with fer years.”

By his tone that day, Elsie had known that the man she had been about to marry was a far cry from the man Alisdair had grown up with. The same man she now lay upon at that very moment.

Keane watched her, his fingers still threading through her hair, his smile softening further and eventually reaching his eyes.

“Dae ye want tae tell me?” she said gently.

But Keane shook his head. “Nae this time. In fact, I need something tae forget about it. Maybe ye can help me with that.” His eyebrows hitched, and he flashed her a mischievous grin.

Elsie smiled bashfully, her heart thumping in her chest, while feeling heat rush up her neck and into her cheeks. Slowly, she pushed herself up his solid body until her face was level with his, and then gazed at him. Only then, did she notice a tiny scar just above his top lip. She brushed her finger over it, feeling the slightly depressed white line sink under her touch.

“Courtesy o’ an English soldier,” he breathed. “Thank the gods, I moved faster than he, or I might have an extra hole tae breathe out o’.”

“How can ye mak’ light o’ such a thing?” Elsie reprimanded.

“Me body is full o’ scars, little one,” he murmured. “If I remembered each one with a heavy heart, I’d be the most miserable laird in Scotland.”

She lifted an eyebrow and held back a knowing smile.

“Ye think I am miserable?” he blurted.

Elsie giggled then, but shook her head. “Demanding, maybe. But nae miserable.”

“Demanding, am I?” The corner of his mouth lifted.

She shrugged lightly and tilted her head, telling him her answer without words.

“Then I suppose I must live up tae the title ye have so honorably endowed me with.” He pinned her with his gaze. “So, kiss me.”

She gasped a little, her stomach lurching with nerves, and then, closing her eyes, she brought her lips down on his. His arms snaked around her back, pulling her into him. In another second, and taking her by complete surprise, Keane effortlessly flipped her onto her back, now lying by her side, propping himself up on one elbow while towering above her.

“I like tae be in control,” he growled.

But Elsie had no time to think about what his words meant as his tongue pried past her lips and plunged into her mouth, roving and thrashing against her teeth, twisting around her tongue, as his lips moved against hers. Her whole body reacted, for never before had she been kissed so voraciously.

It felt like her heart might burst, her blood pumping through her veins faster than ever before. Intimate parts of her awakened, like blossoming flowers opening to the morning sunlight. The apex of her thighs felt like it was on fire, but at the same time, came a sensation of warm slickness.

Bringing her hand to his face, she began threading her fingers through his hair, only to discover the laird’s hand snaking around her wrist. Lifting it above her head, he pinned it there, leaving her feeling completely vulnerable.

“Ye have nae idea how hard I have tried tae resist ye, Elsie,” he growled against her cheek.

Feathered kisses then danced down her throat and her whole body shuddered. An agonizing ache pained her as she felt her nipples peak, and arching her back, she pushed her chest out.

“Is that what ye want?” he growled, though Elsie was certain she had not asked anything from him.

But then, she suddenly gasped as his palm brushed over the puckered nipple through her nightgown, and an involuntary moan left her lips.

Keane growled at her reaction. “Me God, Elsie, ye’re exquisite,” he whispered into her hair.

His hand continued to move over her pert nipple, while she, panting and jerking under his touch, ached for him to continue. But then, disappointment washed over her as he stopped, only for her to feel her nightgown scraping against her thighs as he tugged it further and further up.

“I want tae see ye,” he said.

Elsie kept her eyes closed, for she could not bear the thought of seeing him gaze down at her nakedness. At the same time, she battled with herself.

I cannae let him… I cannae let him…

“Ye must tell me if ye want me tae stop, Elsie,” Keane growled, his fingertips dancing across her stomach. “Dae ye want me tae stop?”

She shook her head. “Nay. Please.”

And that is where the conflict remained locked in battle. Part of her now desperate to explore past the door of excitement and pleasure he had opened, and part of her wanting to slam it shut.

A little more. Just a little more.

Keane’s fingers trailed down the flatness of her stomach, a low growl rumbling from his throat as they travelled further down her body. Hardly thinking about it, she parted her thighs, desperate for him to satisfy the throbbing ache that tortured her.

And then, his fingers slipped over her apex, down to her most sacred parts.

“Oh, God,” she cried, feeling her slickness coating his fingers when they brushed against the part of her that ached the most.

“Och, little one,” Keane nearly choked, his voice so thick, the words hardly passed his throat. “Ye feel so soft, and warm, and wet. Ye have been aching fer me, have ye nae?”

“Aye,” Elsie breathed, her hips moving in time with his fingers, her body taking over, naturally knowing what it ought to do without any thought from her.

“I’m going tae take ye tae a place ye have never been afore. Ye will climb, ye will soar, and ye will reach a place of such exquisite delight. And ye will dae it all fer me, dae ye hear me, Elsie?”

“Aye,” she panted, already feeling the sensations he had described, her head pressing into the pillow beneath her, her body tensing, and her hand gripping his other wrist with a strength she did not know she possessed. “Tak’ me there, Keane. Please. Please.”

His fingers moved a little faster now, and Elsie writhed, moaned and panted, climbing while the tension continued building in every part of her being.

“That’s it. Come fer me. Come fer me, Elsie.”

His words only aroused her more, and holding her breath, the most blissful feeling crashed all around her. A long cry of delight trickled over her lips, and she felt herself coming completely undone, her body spasming and jerking, until it finally came to rest.

Her heart thumped, and she, still breathless, sighed the deepest sigh, the air leaving her lungs in one long breath. Keane wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, her head coming to rest against his muscular chest.

“Och, Elsie,” he growled.

A feeling of utter serenity washed over her, and as her pulse slowly settled, her whole body sunk into his. His steady heart beat thumped beneath her ear, like a constant beat of a drum, dragging her into an even more relaxed state. She felt the coverlets being pulled up and around her shoulders, and then, now half asleep, Keane’s lips pressed against her head.

The last thing she heard before she slipped into slumber was Keane’s soft words breathed from his throat. “Sleep now, little one.”

When Elsie woke again, the first thing she noticed was the absence of the warm body she had lain on when she had slipped into slumber. Even before she opened her eyes, her hand reached around her, searching for him, but Keane was no longer beside her.

A quick scan of the room told her she was entirely alone, and, dropping her head back onto the pillow, a sigh left her body. In the silence, the experience replayed in her mind; his tender touch, his voracious kiss, his growling voice that had only excited her more. A smile danced on her lips and her stomach fluttered. He had kept to his words, and taken her to a place she had never before experienced.

A place of wonder, a place of utter bliss, a place she could hardly describe with words, for there were no words to describe it.

But after a little while, the smile left her. One memory faded, as another crashed into her thoughts and took its place. In fact, one after the other, for she thought about all the things that had occurred since the laird had snatched her from the chapel. Light turned to dark in her mind, and she remembered she was a prisoner.

I am still here against me will.

Ye werenae saying that earlier.

No. Indeed, she wasn’t. Nor could she say she had not submitted to him willingly. But therein lay her struggle. Two sides of her were battling, reasoning crashing into growing feelings, and the fight was becoming ever fiercer. Her mind was telling her she did not belong there, while her heart was slowly beginning to believe that her future might not be as bad as she, at first, had imagined.

Eventually, trying to shake the conflict from her mind, she slipped from the laird’s bed and made her way back to her own bedchamber. Surely, it must be time for her to get up, and besides, she did not want Anna to discover her in Keane’s bed.