Page 50 of Her Highlander’s Darkest Temptation (Highlanders of Cadney #14)
Ranald Keep, One week later…
“Has word come yet?” Donall looked up from his desk as the door opened to reveal his betrothed, and suppressed a grin. After the recent events of a seven-day or so ago, Lydia had become almost as impatient as he.
“Ye ken it hasnae, or Alex would have returned as well.” Donall rose from his seat and strode around the desk to take her into his arms and plant a teasing kiss on her brow.
Alex had arrived at Ranald Keep as soon as he had received news of the battle.
He had been highly chagrined to learn that he had missed the battle entirely, and that Rory Cameron had been killed.
He’d demanded a blow-by-blow account of the fight, which Donall had given him over several glasses of the best whisky he had.
In return, Alex had taken charge of the prisoner, Lord Wycliffe, and several letters, which he promised to see to their destination since he had business there to attend to anyway.
Three of them were to Donall’s kin-by-marriage, informing them of the recent events: the death of Rory Cameron, and Donall’s own intention to take a bride, Lydia Wycliffe, formerly of England.
Another letter had been a full accounting of the affair between Donall, Laird Cameron, and Lord Wycliffe.
Donall had left nothing out, even having Lydia scribe down her own part of the story separately.
He had included proof, found in Lord Wycliffe’s belongings, of the hired mercenaries, and the alliance between Wycliffe and Cameron - an alliance he suspected the crown had not sanctioned, given the secrecy of Rory Cameron’s initial attempts to take Lydia back.
The letter concluded with a request for justice to be meted against Clan Cameron and against Lord Wycliffe for their unlawful and unprovoked attack on his people.
The final letter explained his offer of sanctuary to Lydia, and how it had evolved into a courtship, and concluded with a request for the king’s permission to wed.
In it, Donall agreed to take up stewardship of the Wycliffe lands, if the king so demanded it, and to ensure that one of his sons, or one of the sons of his kin-by-marriage - his sister’s if possible - would grow to take the title of Lord Wycliffe, even if it meant the boy must be brought to England and educated in English customs and manners.
Alex had taken all of the letters and set out for the royal court the next day, his prisoner in tow. Since then, both Donall and Lydia had been waiting with bated breath for the answer.
Donall had expected to be the one chafing for the reply, but to his surprise, Lydia was nearly as impatient as he.
“How long do you think it will take?”
“Another seven-day, if matters are resolved quickly. Might be a fortnight or more.” Donall kissed her brow again. “There’s nay rushing a king, Lydia love.”
“I know. Even so…” Lydia pouted.
Donall smirked, then bent to capture her lip gently in his teeth, nipping slightly before he sealed his mouth over hers and kissed her deeply. Lydia melted into his arms, her body pliant against his and her hips flush against his growing erection.
“Och, ye’re enough tae drive a man mad…” Donall felt his gut clench. “The door…”
“I do not care.” Lydia moved closer against him, her blue eyes shining as she pressed her full breasts against his chest. “If I cannot have an answer to our letters yet, I do want you.”
Donall bit back a groan as she pressed close against him. “Vixen…”
“ Yer vixen, me laird .” The words were all but purred into his ear, and Donall felt his stiffening cock twitch at the sudden shift into Highlander brogue.
He knew Lydia had been trying to learn the Highlander way of speaking from Maisie and Evelyn, but to actually hear her speaking it was another matter altogether.
There was the desk, but there were papers there, papers he and Lydia worked hard on. Besides, the edges were hard, and he’d no wish to leave Lydia with bruises marring her fair skin.
Donall pulled her close, then gripped her buttocks and lifted her into his arms, before turning and settling into one of the settles by the fire. “Straddle me, lass.”
Lydia did so, eyes sparkling and her clever fingers undoing the belt of his kilt to loosen the pressure against his growing arousal.
Donall bent his head and caught the string that laced her bodice tight with his teeth, then undid the bow-knot with one swift jerk of his head.
His hands on her arms drew the garment down, then did the same to her chemise, baring the soft mounds of her breasts to his hungry gaze.
Donall bent his head and took the right one into his mouth, suckling lightly and teasing the nipple into a taut peak as Lydia gasped and clung to him, her body arching against his.
Donall shifted his attention to the left breast, his hand sliding down her thigh to tug her skirt up, until he could push his hand underneath it, stroking up the soft skin of her leg until he reached her hips.
With both hands, he gripped her buttocks, then used one to hold her in place while his other hand skimmed the top of her thigh to the thatch of soft curls that adorned her sex.
The soft fine hairs were already damp, and Donall made a throat noise of appreciation. “Ye’re already so willin’ an’ waitin’ fer me…”
He pressed his palm lightly against her mound, teasing his fingers through the fine hairs before stroking the seam of her entrance. Lydia gasped and pushed into his hand, and Donall chuckled. “Eager little vixen… an’ what is ye want?”
“Your touch… you…” Lydia’s breathless reply was enough to make him harden even further beneath his kilt. He felt her hands trying to move the fabric out of the way, and shifted his body to stop her.
“Nae just yet.” With careful fingers, he spread the lips of her sex wide, then pressed a finger into her, stroking across the folds until he found her pleasure center and caressed it. Lydia gasped and shivered, her whole body quivering in response.
The sight of her, so desperate for him, made Donall’s mouth go dry and his heart pound. Fire seemed to dance through his body, his groin tight and his manhood aching for her.
He caressed her again, then again, until she was writhing around his hand, then slid a finger into her hot, velvety channel.
Lydia shivered again, hips shifting and clenching, trying to take him in deeper.
Donall pressed in as far as he could go, then withdrew and added a second finger, stretching her entrance.
Lydia whimpered and rocked her hips into his hand in helpless response.
He was going to explode. His whole body was burning, aching for her. The sight of her, so lost in the pleasure of his touch, was a heady sight, stirring his arousal to painful stiffness. The soft skin of his shaft was so sensitive the fabric of his kilt felt like it was burlap rather than cotton.
With a rough exhalation, Donall yanked up both skirt and kilt, both of them trembling at the cool air on their heated flesh. “Scoot closer an’ rise on yer knees fer me.”
Donall helped Lydia position herself, then used the fingers of one hand to part the lips of her sex, while the other guided her down to sit on his erect shaft.
Lydia gasped as he entered her, hips rocking against him and dragging a guttural moan from him at the feel of her gliding across the tip of his shaft, teasing without taking him in any further.
Then she sank lower, settling herself over him, taking his manhood into her feminine sheath until he was fully seated inside her, their hips pressed together.
Both of them were panting. Lydia’s face was shining with perspiration, the heat in her eyes a match to his own. After a moment, Donall touched her hips. “Move fer me. Fer us.”
Lydia rose up, then down, then began to undulate against him, setting up a sensuous rhythm that made Donall groan and clutch at her, his own hips rising and falling in involuntary response as she rode him. “Och, Lydia… Lydia…”
“Donall,” The words made him hiss, somehow heightening his pleasure just by the sound of her voice alone.
He could feel his bollocks tightening, the pressure rising in his groin that told him he wouldn’t last much longer.
Donall bent his head to suckle on Lydia’s breast again, teasing her with his teeth and tongue as his hand slipped under their garments, then between them to stroke her pleasure center once again.
Lydia cried out and fell flush against him, back arching into his supporting arm, her hot, tight inner walls convulsing around him as her release overcame her.
The pressure on his member was too much, and Donall grunted, hips pistoning upward to bury himself as deeply as possible inside her as he climaxed as well.
The feel of his seed spilling inside Lydia left him breathless, and barely sensible enough to guide Lydia’s body to sprawl against his as the force of their lovemaking and her climax left her spent.
For several moments, the only sound in the room was the panting of their breath as they recovered from their exertions. Then Lydia laughed softly. “I suppose there is no point in being impatient about the letters… so long as I have you.”
Donall joined her in laughter, then lifted his hand to stroke her hair back and tip her chin so their gazes met, hers luminous with the afterglow of lovemaking and with joy. “Ye have me, Lydia. Fer as long as we both live, ye have me, fer I love ye true an’ I have nay intention o’ lettin’ ye go.”
“Then it is just as well that I do not wish to go, for I love you too, and whatever the future may hold, I am glad the past brought me to your side.”
“Aye.” Donall bent to kiss her, softly, tenderly. “The past, the present… everythin’ that brought us taegether… I am glad it did. An’ gladder still that I rescued a maid on the road one day, fer ye have brought me joy such as I never hoped tae feel again.”
“I feel the same.” Lydia smiled, languor making her eyes droop, and Donall tucked her close with a smile.
Whatever happens, whatever the future may hold… so long as it hold ye… then I am truly blessed.
But there’s more…
The fight is behind them—but the future is just beginning. With royal letters delivered, long-lost kin reunited and Ranald keep preparing for a celebration, Donall and Lydia face a moment they never thought they’d reach.
Curious to know what happens? This extended epilogue is just for you!