Page 19 of Claiming His Highland Bride (A Highland Feuding #4)

S orcha grew restless. With a thick, woollen blanket wrapped around her shoulders to keep out the chill of the night air, she wandered around the perimeter of the chamber. Every sound outside the cottage seemed to startle her, but then she was waiting and listening for his approach.

She’d agreed to remain here until Alan returned and to speak to him at Arabella’s behest and against her own judgement. After leaving Clara’s, she’d been brought here to this cottage on the far side of the village, near the drovers’ road. Away from everyone, it gave her the chance to calm her thoughts and prepare for the journey and life ahead.

Though her first stay would be in a village much further north, in the heart of the lands controlled by the Chattan Confederation outside the royal burgh of Inbhir Nis, she hoped that Alan would not follow her once they’d had a chance to speak. If he relented, then she could travel to Skye as she’d planned much sooner than the time needed to wait him out. Sorcha needed to convince him, if her dishonesty had not already, that there was no way they could be together.

The cleaner and sooner she broke from this life and moved on, the better she would feel. This way, agreeing to meet with him, was certain to lead to more tears and heartache but she owed him that much.

How could she bear the look of disappointment when he looked at her knowing how deceitful she’d been? When he discovered how she’d lied and run away rather than facing her duty as the daughter of a nobleman. When he’d professed his love and she’d let him, nay pushed him to, walk away.

It was for the best, but what man wanted to hear that from a woman? Especially from a woman who’d lied with every breath she took and word she spoke? He’d always seemed reasonable, slow to anger yet capable of fighting his own battles. She prayed the reasonable man was the one who came to her door.

With little to do while waiting, she’d spent her time walking in the area around the cottage and reading the books that Arabella had allowed her to borrow. It was a joy to meet a woman so well educated and well read as Lady Mackintosh. And, though the lady was quite strong-minded, she did not overstep, even when Sorcha made a decision different from the one Arabella wished her to make.

Two days she’d waited for him. Two days was the length of time she’d told the laird and lady she’d wait before setting off north. Now, as night had fallen and she’d prepared for bed, Sorcha found herself unable to sleep. Why had he not come? Brodie was quite exact in his estimate of Alan’s return, as though this was something he had experienced many times.

Then, a noise caught her attention and she turned to find Alan there before her. So lost in her thoughts had she been that she had not heard him enter.

He looked exhausted and haunted. He looked angry and determined. He looked...wonderful to her. His boots and breeches were muddied from travelling and his long hair was pulled back away from his face, exposing the masculine lines and angles. A short growth of beard covered his jaw and gave him a dangerous appeal. She began to reach out to stroke his cheek, but stopped herself. Surely he would not welcome her touch until he’d said what he came here to say.

‘Sorcha,’ he whispered into the space between them. Hearing her own name spoken by his deep voice sent chills through her. ‘Sorcha MacMillan.’

A strange tension grew within her, making her skin prickle and her heart race. Part of her wanted to deny it, to say he was wrong, but the dark expression in his eyes told her he kenned the whole truth of her and denying it would do her no good. Part of her wanted to finally embrace her identity to someone, to him.

‘Aye.’

That one word freed her. Freed her from the guilt of needing to lie to him. Freed her to be herself. He took three long strides and stood before her, staring at her mouth, her eyes and her hair.

‘I never noticed the similarities in your eyes and his,’ he said. ‘Oh, not the colour exactly, but the shape of them. Or your height. He’d even pointed out that you were only this tall...’ Alan pointed to the place on his chest where her head reached when she stood close to him. ‘I just never put it together, thinking you, Sorcha, were dead.’

It was he who reached out and touched her then, sliding his hand along her cheek and then into her hair that lay unbound around her shoulders. He lifted several strands and let them curl around his fingers.

‘Anna said your colouring is your mother’s mark.’

‘You spoke to Anna?’ she asked, her spirits rose. ‘Is she well?’

‘Once she recovered from fainting at the news, aye, she is well.’

She took a deep breath and met his gaze then. Now, instead of the anger and exhaustion, she felt only desire and a need she could not identify there.

‘Alan,’ she whispered. ‘I lied about so many things to you.’

‘Did you lie when you told me you wanted me?’ He lifted her chin up and kissed her lips quickly. ‘Did you lie about that, Sorcha MacMillan?’ She could feel the heat of his breath on her face and his fingers tangled more in her hair, holding her close.

‘Nay, Alan Cameron. I spoke the truth about wanting you.’ She could not move or breathe then. Her body ached and felt as though she would die if he did not touch her soon.

‘And I spoke the truth about loving you, Sorcha.’

Tears gathered at his declaration. It made her leaving so much harder, but his words could not make her stay. They changed nothing for them, but it made one thing very clear to her.

‘I must leave in the morn, but I want to spend this night in your arms, Alan. Give me this night, I pray you.’

He stilled and searched her face, a glimmer of hope in his gaze then. She did not tell him otherwise, for she wanted this night with him so she had it to remember for ever. Alan looked as though he would argue for a moment before nodding his answer.

‘Aye, Sorcha. I want this night,’ he whispered against her mouth before he took it.

In spite of the calm and quiet manner in which he’d entered the cottage, all of that disappeared as he tasted her then. His tongue sought entrance and she opened to him. His hands slid up behind her head and he held her tightly to him, slanting his face and kissing her over and over again. She grabbed on to his arms to keep herself standing and felt the blanket slip off her shoulders.

The bedgown she wore was thin and provided little cover. The chill air made her shiver. Or mayhap it was his kisses that did that? Soon his hands released her hair and moved down over her shoulders, along her back until he cupped her bottom and pulled her up and to him. Sorcha gasped as their bodies touched, her soft curves against his hard, muscled thighs and chest.

With little effort, he carried her so across the cottage to the pallet in the corner. Kneeling, he let her down on to the bed and followed her, pushing himself into the cradle of her thighs, against the place that ached the most for his touch. She watched as he leaned back, releasing his hold on her and tugging the belt that held his plaid in place free, then tossing it away. His plaid and then his shirt were next and she watched as every inch of his sculpted chest was exposed to her.

Her body heated and, without hesitation this time, she reached up and outlined the edges of those muscles. He shivered then and she felt powerful when she realised she’d caused that reaction in him. She flattened her palms against his hot skin and caressed him, from his chest down towards his waist, watching his eyes close and hearing the shallow breaths he exhaled. She hadn’t known she’d laughed aloud until he opened his eyes and spoke.

‘Enjoy your power now, for you will soon be under my touch.’

The passionate words promised something that she did not fear. Indeed she wanted to feel the rush of desire and wanting race through her as it had before at his intimate touch. But, she took his words as an invitation to do as she would. And she did.

Sitting up, she reached out and loosened the laces at his waist. He inhaled sharply and held his breath as she slipped her hands inside the border of his breeches and tugged them down. Every inch of his body was more beautiful than the last. Her fingers touched the curly hair below his waist, but that did not stop her.

Bolder now and ready to claim what she wanted, Sorcha moved her hand deeper until she felt his hard flesh against her palm. Encircling the thick rod of him with her fingers, she watched as he gasped at every movement of her fingers over him. He aided her access by shoving his breeches down further and she watched as his erect flesh sprang free of the clothing.

Sorcha stopped then and stared at it, at him. This part of him would be inside of her soon, deep in a private place and changing her for ever. How it would happen, she could only guess.

‘Do not lose courage now, lass,’ he whispered. ‘Learn me.’ He leaned closer and kissed her, plunging his tongue inside her mouth. As he would his flesh into hers soon. ‘Touch me, Sorcha. Touch me.’

He knelt there before her, exposed, rampant, wanting her to touch him. So she did. Without his breeches to block her, she used both hands to explore him. She’d seen a man’s privy parts before, but did not expect them to feel as they did under her hands. Hard. Hot. Smooth. Throbbing in her grasp.

Every touch, every sensation of her fingers on him echoed in her own body and she found herself panting as he did as she cupped her hands and held him in her palms. He moaned as she stroked up and around the length and width of him. Her breasts grew tight and her own flesh throbbed as she learned him. When a small bead of moisture gathered at the opening at the top of his flesh, she leaned over to look more closely at it. She was wet between her legs and this seemed his body’s reaction.

Another moan echoed in the silence around them as he guided her hands to capture him and to stroke up and down in quicker movements. He thrust then, his hips pushing forward and bringing him even closer to her face. What would it be like to kiss him there?

‘Nay, lass,’ he whispered in a ragged voice. ‘Have some pity on me.’

Sorcha did not ken exactly what he meant by that, but she drew back and instead slid her hands down over his strong thighs, enjoying the way he tensed under her palms. The differences between their bodies fascinated her and she moved her hands around until she could touch his buttocks. Again his hips thrust forward as she massaged and stroked his firm muscles there. Was there no part of him that was not hard and muscular?

He’d held himself in check, barely, but now he needed to touch her and explore her body as thoroughly as she did his. Alan eased back out of her grasp and leaned back on his heels.

‘Take off your gown and lie back, love,’ he urged.

Alan saw the momentary hesitation as she heard his words. He wanted to see every inch of her. He wanted to touch and taste every part of her body before he finally let himself find satisfaction. He saw the tiniest glimmer of fear in her gaze when she saw and felt his size, knowing he would join with her by putting that part into her body. Now, he wanted to show her such pleasure that it would wipe out any fear between them.

She gathered the length of the bedgown in her hands and tugged it up over her head. The movement brought her breasts, her lovely, pink-tipped breasts, up and out, begging to be touched. Whether she’d pulled her legs closed on purpose or not, she presented him with the most perfect pose as she tossed her gown off the pallet.

Her hair flowed around her, cascading down and swirling over her breasts and her hips. As she moved, the lengthy curls did, too, teasing him and gifting him with enticing peeks at her creamy flesh. If she thought it gave her some measure of protection from his gaze, she was wrong. He reached out and caressed her ankles, easing them apart so he could crawl up between her legs. As he did that, she leaned back until she lay spread before him like a virgin sacrifice to the ancient gods.

But she was his virgin. His to take. His to love.

His cock grew even harder as he watched her slide her hips down on the pallet. His fingers itched to touch the soft curls now before him. Alan reached out and stroked the inside of her legs, watching as she trembled with each inch he moved closer to those curls. He caressed gently, up and up and up, stopping just before he touched them. Her body arched each time as though trying to make him finally reach his goal. Now, she pulled her knees up and her legs fell wide enough that he could see the glistening flesh there, plump and wet and aroused for him.

But he wanted her ready for him when he would enter her, to ease whatever pain there might be in their joining. The last time he had rushed his caresses to the most sensitive flesh but now, knowing she was untouched but for him, he would take his time and pleasure her before that last intimacy.

‘Sorcha,’ he said, sliding back so he could lean down between her legs. ‘Look at me.’ She lifted her head and stared at him with glazed eyes. ‘Do not look away.’

She nodded and he dipped his mouth to kiss the inside of her thigh. Sorcha gasped and her legs fell open more. Alan followed with more kisses, open-mouthed, suckling kisses that moved ever closer to his goal. He never took his gaze from hers as he reached the curls there and placed his mouth right on the plump and heated flesh. She moaned and began to close her eyes.

‘Watch me, Sorcha,’ he said. When her gaze was back on his, he slid his hands under and around her thighs, pulling her against his mouth and spreading her even wider. ‘Feel this. Feel me tasting you.’

He licked in long strokes, parting the folds with the tip of his tongue. Her body blossomed beneath his mouth, swelling and growing wet until he lapped at her essence. He felt the moment when she lost herself to the pleasure, falling back and gasping over and over, no longer able to keep her focus on him.

Alan laughed and felt it reverberate through her as he relentlessly pushed her on to more pleasure. Her body arched against his mouth, accepting his tongue as it dived inside her woman’s channel. Tight. She was so very tight and he kenned he was the first to touch her here. He reached his hands over her legs and stroked her there, teasing her with lips and tongue and teeth as he touched her and found her own little, hard bit of flesh waiting for him. She grabbed his hair then and her body bucked against him.

‘Easy now, love,’ he urged. ‘Can you feel it?’ He licked in a long stroke from her core to that bud. ‘Something inside you is pulling tight.’ Another finger plunged in to join the first one deep inside her flesh. ‘Let me show you where it is.’ He rubbed against the sensitive place within her core and was rewarded by a keening sound she moaned out. ‘Do you feel it there, Sorcha?’ He moved his hand, adding a third finger, and she screamed out. ‘Rub against me now, love. Feel me inside you...here...and here.’

Alan moved then, his hand pressing deep within her, until he could kiss her breasts. Now she was completely enthralled, matching the rhythm he’d set with his fingers with her hips, arching and relaxing, faster and faster until he felt everything within her release. The tips of her breasts tightened against his mouth even as her flesh within her throbbed, spasms tightening her inner channel around his fingers.

He could not help but smile as he watched her reach her peak. For several minutes, her body responded and shuddered against his hand, pouring the moisture that would ease his way on to his fingers. Then he knew the moment when she went limp, when her satisfaction filled her and her body relented. As he eased his hold on her and eased back on to his heels again, he nearly came at the sight of her then.

Like the famed goddess of love, she lay open and glistening before him, her body relaxed in that way that complete satisfaction causes. Her hair lay around her, pooled in places that made him ache to touch and outlining her curves in a silken cloud. Her quick and shallow breathing slowed and became even. Alan waited for her to open her eyes, confident that he had brought her to pleasure for the first time in her life.

‘Alan?’ she whispered as she met his gaze. Her hips shook then as another pulse of pleasure raced through her, an aftershock of sorts to what she’d already felt. ‘What happened?’

‘That was pleasure, my love,’ he said, easing to her side and gathering her close.

‘Are we done then? she asked. ‘I thought you had to...’ She glanced at his still-rampant flesh before she looked back at him.

‘Nay, we can have pleasure without joining.’

‘Oh,’ she said, her well-kissed lips forming the perfect shape that would haunt his dreams for ever. He pictured those luscious lips around the head of his cock and his hips flexed against her, letting her know he was not done yet. ‘Oh,’ she repeated.

‘Not done at all.’

‘When will we...?’

Taking her question as an invitation, he began to show her how pleasure could be shared again and again. And that there was so much more to show her.