Page 40 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

“The snowfall grows worse. We may be—” his words ended abruptly after throwing his hood back and seeing the cottage was empty.

He cast a quick glance at the peg by the door to see her cloak was gone.

And he could not think of any sensible explanation for her to risk leaving the cottage.

Then he thought of one and grew furious, she didn’t wait for him to go with her.

She could easily get lost in the snowstorm, not find her way back.

Just then the door opened, and Esme entered, the bucket in her hand, and seeing Ryland sending there, fire in his eyes, she almost turned around and headed back into the fury of the snowstorm.

Instead, she reminded herself he was Ryland, not Torrance, who was upset, and she quickly offered an explanation. “I stepped around the side of the cottage. I thought for sure I would be back before you returned. I did not mean to upset you.”

Ryland had seen the panic in her eyes when she looked at him and he silently cursed himself, for he realized what she saw… Torrance.

“You could have gotten lost in the snowstorm,” he said more calmly than he felt.

“I made sure to keep my hand on the cottage wall and I truly needed to step outside for a moment,” she said, hoping he would understand.

“The next time wait for me. You frighten me when you disappear like that. Promise me you will not do it again.”

“I promise,” she said without hesitation, realizing how much it had upset him.

“Hurry and get the stew cooking,” he said, his anger slowly dissipating.

“Aye, it won’t take long,” she said, setting the bucket of snow near the hearth and after shedding her cloak, got busy chopping the root vegetables to add to the cauldron as soon as all the snow melted.

Ryland rid himself of his cloak and went and sat on the bed to watch her. She moved in a way that enticed, the gentle sway of her hips, the way her breasts bounced softly, the way her slender hands gathered the vegetables so tenderly in her hands, all had him eager to touch her and feel her touch.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Esme talked.

“My grandmother insisted I learn to cook a few things, though my mother argued with her, insisting it was senseless that I would have servants to do that. But my grandmother told me that fate could be a fickle thing, and one never knew what it might do to them. I guess she was right, but then she was right about most things. Thanks to her, we won’t starve. ”

“A wise woman,” Ryland said. “You take after her.”

She cast a glance at him, gone was his anger, though his eyes smoldered… with passion.

“Not yet, but I’m learning,” she said, and seeing how much he desired her spiked her own passion.

“Hurry, Esme, I cannot wait much longer. I want you badly,” he urged.

Her breath caught a moment, hearing a wicked passion in his voice, and she nodded, her desire for him soaring.

She no soon as dropped the last of the vegetables in the cauldron, then he summoned her with a firm command, “Come here.”

She could feel their passion crackle in the warm air, and she caught his manly scent as she got closer to him. It enticed and flared her own.

He spread his legs so she could step between them and his arms wrapped around her to draw her close. He pressed his face against her stomach as his hands slipped beneath her garments, stroking the back of her legs, then moving up over her soft backside and not able to resist squeezing it.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered, and she did, his hand slipping between them.

“I love the feel of you,” he said, his voice turning rough with passion.

She gasped and rested her hands on his shoulders as his fingers slipped into her to tease and excite. She was certain his touch held magic the way he enticed and drew repeated moans of pleasure from her.

She gasped again when he suddenly stopped, stood, scooped her up and dropped her on the bed, shoving her garments up. “I want you naked but there is no time for that, though there will be later.”

He tucked his garment out of the way, grabbed her legs, and pulled her to the end of the bed and gripped her backside, lifting it enough for him to slip into her with ease.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered with a rough breath, and she did, locking unto him.

He kept firm hold of her backside as he plunged in and out of her and she moaned enjoying every powerful thrust. She needed this, needed him, needed to know he desired her, took pleasure in her… loved her.

Passion surged and raged like the mighty snowstorm outside, building in intensity, demanding attention, seeking the satisfying calm after the storm.

But Esme wasn’t ready for the calm, she wanted to experience the very depths of it, feel it’s tremendous power, revel in it until… she cried out so near the edge but not wanting to fall off it just yet.

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” she pleaded, her sanity nearly gone devoured by the passion that surged uncontrollably through her body.

Ryland had no intention of stopping, he couldn’t if he wanted to, his need for her overpowering him. He feared he would never stop getting enough of her, never stop aching to slip inside her and never would he stop loving her.

He watched how she arched her body to meet his thrusts, saw the way they fit so perfectly, felt the immense pleasure surge through him and mount in leap and bounds.

His name tore from her lips. “RYLAND!”

It sent them both over the edge together, exploding as they tumbled in an endless abyss of pleasure.

It wasn’t until the last bit of satisfaction faded that Ryland dropped down on the bed beside her, both their legs hanging off the edge, both too spent to care.

He reached out to take hold of her hand and her slim fingers closed around his giving it a gentle squeeze, her strength waned from their lovemaking.

“I never thought I would be so pleased with a snowstorm,” he said, a chuckle in his voice.

She chuckled along with him. “I thought the same.”

“We share much alike, but then I knew we would when I first saw you. It was as though I knew in that instance we were made for each other.” He turned his head to her. “I just wish I had found a way to you sooner.”

Her brow narrowed.

Ryland was quick to ask, “What’s wrong?”

She felt the need to confess, for Ryland to know what she had done. “I fear I aided in Torrance’s death.”

His brow scrunched, confused. “You were not on the battlefield.”

“Nay, but my prayers held weight… I prayed daily that he would never return to me that the battle would claim him and I would be free.”

“It was a blade that took Torrance’s life, but more so it was his own evil. He tormented and hurt people more than anyone I know. Your prayers didn’t decide his fate… he made his own.”

She turned to roll against him and his arm went around her. “I will never understand how two brothers, twins, could be so different.”

“I had a far different father than Torrance. He didn’t lead his clan with fear like Torrance’s father did, nor did he tell me I was more important than others, wiser than others, a ruler who was to be obeyed.

Torrance’s father wanted influence and power.

Torrance wanted more. He wanted to rule the Highlands, and he didn’t care who he used or hurt to obtain his goal. ”

“And he feared you might stand in his way,” Esme said, “and now you may get what he wanted so badly, to rule Clan Glencairn.”

“If it proves true that I am Torrance’s twin brother.”

“The healer who delivered you and Torrance could confirm that and perhaps she will know why your mother separated you both.”

“Unless it wasn’t her choice.”

Esme frowned. “The secret deepens, but we won’t know unless we find the healer and hopefully Patrick can help us with that.”

Her stomach rumbled, and they both laughed.

“Your hunger is one problem we can solve now,” Ryland said.

They had barely gotten to their feet when the door burst open.

Ryland quickly shoved Esme behind him, but she didn’t stay there when she saw it was the Old Woman.

“Hurry, you must leave,” she said anxiously. “Mercenaries are headed this way, and they mean you both harm.”