Page 56 of Claimed Highland Brides

11

CONSUMMATION

A ileen sat up, staring at Barclay as he worshipped her flesh as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her heart still pounded with fear, but she did not want to stop him. Every touch was a spark that ignited into a hot and burning flame, consuming her with need and lust.

She teetered between total surrender and the need to hold something of herself back to protect herself. He spread her legs, his head descending slowly towards her wet and pulsing center.

“Wha’ are ye doing?”

He merely smirked before burying his head between her legs, his tongue flicking out to lick and suck, tantalize and distress her. She squirmed, torn between the urge to run and the need to smash herself into his face and beg for more.

Need won over fear, and she was arching into him, moaning and pleading for more, harder, deeper. Even as her cheeks were hot, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth, her hands were seeking his soft blond locks, pulling at them, urging him closer.

She truly had not been expecting this.

You were wrong, Fiona. Some men do have the patience .

Her body began to undulate as she was ignited with little fires everywhere. Her skin felt too small for her spirit, which wanted to soar into the air and expand into some infinite thing, connected to every other thing in the world.

Suddenly he stopped his ministrations, and she couldn’t help but whimper in protest.

“Patience mo chridhe ,” he murmured as he pushed off his trews. Curiosity had her sitting up on her elbows to stare at his manhood, looking so large and long, standing to attention.

“Oh,” she whispered in awe, eyes widening as her center pulsed in anticipation. He smirked, watching her, and then took hold of her legs, placing them on his shoulders. “What are ye…” Her words trailed off as she felt his hardness rubbing against her entrance.

She closed her eyes, not sure if she wanted to see this. She expected pain; there was no way a member that large would be able to breach her without it. As a result, it came as a surprise when her body opened up to him with no resistance, so wet and ready to be filled. He pushed into her slowly; she could feel her insides expanding to accommodate him as he split her open like a peach.

“Oh…” Her tone was one of mixed relief and awe. He bent down, covering her with his body, her own practically bent in two. It was all so immediate—the feel of him, the musky scent of his skin, a combination of sweat, the whiskey he’d been drinking, and beneath that, something unique to him overwhelmed her. She did not think she had ever been this close to another person in her life.

There were a sting and a pinch, and she jerked in surprise, eyes widening. He froze, watching her with concern. “Are ye alrigh’?”

Slowly, she nodded as the pain subsided.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, pushing deeper into her, his face a mask of concentration. She watched him, alight with curiosity, so intent on his face she almost forgot that he was breaching her. Suddenly she felt his skin upon hers, the curve of his balls flattened against the cheeks of her bottom.

He stopped moving, watching her eyes for she knew not what.

“Have we done it? Is it finished?” she whispered.

He laughed. “Oh no, my dear. We are yet to start.”

She frowned, wondering what else there could be. Then he pulled back and drove into her again.

“Ah!” The exclamation was mostly surprise, both at his movement and the jolt of reaction it had elicited from her flesh. He pulled out again and pressed into her, and she moaned, her legs crossing over his neck as he pounded slowly over and over into her, each thrust eliciting a jolt that reverberated through her flesh until she could feel his thrust on the tips of her fingers.

This is fantastic!

She began to help him. As he pushed into her, she arched into him, ensuring he reached deeper, jolted her harder. Her hands went to her shins, holding them steady and trying to give herself some leverage.

“Oh!” She wanted to scream as a bubble began to grow, stemming from the very core of her being and growing steadily in heat and light, engulfing her entire being as it popped into a thousand nerve endings sparking and exploding within her. Her entire body shaking with reaction, she held on for dear life, hearing him grunt, the pace of his thrust increasing exponentially as her body locked around him.

“Aye, oh, just like that,” he moaned as his body began to shake too.

Wetness flooded her insides as he convulsed above her, veins standing out in his temples, his face red and strained. She reached out to touch him, afraid that perhaps she was hurting him.

“Are ye alrigh’?” she whispered.

He further alarmed her by collapsing on top of her, breathing hard. Tentatively, she closed her arms around his neck, allowing her legs to fall straight as her thighs trembled and sweated.

They lay together, just breathing.

A rumble of laughter emanating from his chest made her shake beneath him, and she strained to see his face in curiosity. “Am I alrigh’, she asks!” he said, still laughing.

She pouted a bit, pushing at him so that he could get off her. He was rather heavy. He moved to the side with a murmured apology even as he continued laughing. “I take it I was being ridiculous.”

His eyes met hers, warm as a winter sky with the sun peeking from behind the clouds. “Aye. Perhaps a little.”

Then he reached for her, gathering her close to him, holding her tight. She could not muster enough emotion to be annoyed.

* * *

The carriage ride to the chieftain’s townhouse was mostly achieved in silence. Everyone harbored their own share of nerves. Being in proximity to his grandfather after all these years made Barclay feel like a child again. It brought the loss of his parents closer and the rejection by the rest of his family.

Aileen watched him protectively, her eyes dark with worry. She sat close to him. Both of his cousins had their eyes on him, vigilant, as if ready to catch him should he collapse. Only Euan had a modicum of calm about him, but no doubt as a lawyer, he had cultivated that trait.

“We should have a plan.”

“We cannot really do that. We are simply presenting the chieftain with a fait accompli, and all we can do is wait and see what he chooses to do about it,” Euan said.

Barclay nodded, his mouth too dry for words. Aileen’s hand crept into his, and he folded his own on top of it. “We shall play it by ear,” he declared.

A butler stood waiting for them as they arrived, and he led them to a richly appointed parlor, where the chieftain sat, smoking on a cheroot.

“Grandson. Welcome to my home. Be seated.”

Barclay took Aileen’s hand and seated her on the bench before sitting by her side. Diego and Antonio stood behind their bench while Euan took a chair by the window.

“We have come here to entreat ye once again, Grandfaither, to help me get my sire’s land back. It is my right, and I demand recognition.”

“Only after ye’ve fulfilled the terms of the will.”

“I have.” Barclay took Aileen’s hand. “Miss Douglass is not Mistress MacFarland. We were handfasted this morning.”

Ewen cocked an eyebrow. “Handfast, ye say? That isnae the same as marrit.”

Barclay squeezed Aileen’s hand. “We have consummated the union.”

Aileen blushed bright red as the chieftain contemplated. Finally, he put his cheroot out in a tray, straightened up, and faced Barclay.

“Ye’ve made yer home in Barcelona these nigh on ten years?—”

“Eleven,” Barclay interrupted.

Ewen waved his hand, “Aye, so…instead of evicting yer uncle Gilroy who is well established where he is, instead, I propose ye sell the land t’me.”

Barclay lifted an eyebrow. “I beg yer pardon?”

“Sell me the land. Ye can return to Barcelona wi’ a clear conscience.”

Barclay blinked at him, disbelief rising within him. “No!” he snapped.

“Why not? Ye have no real connection, no family left here. At least in Spain, ye do.”

Despite everything, the chieftain’s words hurt, as they were meant to. He shook his head. “I’m no’ selling.”

“Perhaps ye should think it over before making such a definitive answer.”

Barclay got to his feet. “I dinnae need to think it over. My answer is final.”

He reached out for Aileen’s hand, and she took it, getting to her feet as well. “Thank ‘e for yer time.” She curtsied before putting her hand in Barclay’s.

He bowed to his grandfather. “We’ll be leaving the noo.”

“Vera weel, but remember that I offered ye fair compensation.”

Barclay tucked Aileen’s hand in his and walked out of the room without another word, flanked by his cousins. Euan stayed behind briefly, and they could hear him murmur.

They stopped outside, awaiting the arrival of their carriage, as well as for the solicitor to join them.

“What do you suppose he is saying to the chieftain?” Diego asked.

“Knowing Euan, he is ascertaining the buying price. He is not one to be encumbered by sentiment. If he feels the price is right, he will try to persuade me.”

“And will you take his advice?”

Barclay laughed. “No. There is no price that could ever be right. But the fact that he offered is good. It acknowledges that I am the rightful owner of the land. Perhaps that is why Euan stayed behind.”

Antonio nodded. “Yes, that is a good thought.”

“We mun’ go to the source. We mun’ negotiate wi’ Gilroy,” Aileen said.

“Aye,” Barclay said, “but he wilnae listen to reason.”

“We will go prepared for war.”

Barclay sighed. “I cannae ask ye?—”

“Ye havenae asked. I have offered.”

“Ye cannae do tha’. Ye’re no’ the laird of Braenaird.”

“Well then, let us go back there, and talk to the laird.”

Barclay considered it. “Are ye sure?”

“My father took ye in when ye were a wee bairn. He protected ye. We cannae do less.”

“‘Tis no’ yer problem.”

“I’m yer wife.”

The arrival of the carriage interrupted their conversation. Euan came walking down the stairs, his face thoughtful. Barclay waited until they were all in the carriage to ask what transpired.

“Yer grandsire has asked me to convince ye to take his money. He told me that Gilroy has taken possession of Inchcree and considers it to be his. His mother supports him in that endeavor. As ye ken, yer faither didnae get along wi’ his stepmother or her children.”

“He is destroying it. Gilroy is running Inchcree to the ground,” Barclay growled.

Euan sighed. “I am yer solicitor. I will carry oot yer wishes, whatever they may be.”

Barclay narrowed his eyes at the lawyer. “But ye would advise me to take the offer?”

“Nay, I wouldnae advise it. I do think ye should get an offer in writing.”

Barclay blinked at him. “And did ye do tha’?”

Euan dug into his pocket and removed a folded script. “I did indeed.”

Barclay smiled. “And so we have an acknowledgment that my claim is legitimate.”

“Aye.”

Aileen laughed, clapping her hands in delight. “I cannae believe he agreed to do tha’.”

“I expect he did not realize the implications right awa’. So eager was he to acquire the land.”

“His mind was elsewhere,” Barclay said thoughtfully, his brow furrowing worriedly. “Perhaps we should be worried aboot tha’. It isnae usual for him to be so remiss.”

“Ye dinnae ken tha’. Ye havenae seen him for eleven years.”

“Ye’re right. I havenae.”