Page 19 of Kidnapped by her Highland Enemy

D awn had yet to break, but Lucas was awake, staring at the lass in his arms. Last night—or earlier that morning— had changed him, it had shifted something in his soul that he could not rightfully explain. The smoldering light from the fire spilled over Maisie’s slender body and fair skin.

The sprite had met his need with her own and he had seen the passion he’d once suspected she had, come out. And God help him if he wanted to see it again. Smoothing his hand over her hip, he held her even closer and buried his nose in her hair.

His arm, tucked beneath her breasts, secured her to him while her head rested on his bicep, the only sound in the softly glowing room were the crackling of the smoldering wood in the hearth and their breath.

While she slumbered, Lucas had one certainty, he was never letting Maisie go.

His need for her went beyond lustful, it rested in his soul.

Kissing her cheek, he smiled when Maisie’s lashes fluttered open and her plump lips parted, “It wasnae a dream then?”

Laughing, Lucas shook his head. “And this willnae be either.”

Shifting her on her back, he stayed and her side and trailed his tongue down the slender column of her neck, pausing only to lick at her fluttering before dipping lower.

He cupped a pert breast while sucking the other into his mouth and feasted on them.

Lapping at the thin, sensitive skin beneath her rosy buds, he laved attention on them.

Maisie’s hands dug into his scalp, gripping his hair as little insistent mewls left her lips. Pulling from her, he flicked the tip with his tongue, drew back and breathed a cool breath on it. Goose pimples erupted over her whole body and she gave a little whimper.

Grinning, he traveled down her body, kissing along the way until he got to his prize. Her scent was too tantalizing for him not to taste and slipping a hand between her legs, he dipped in to coat his finger with her moisture, his teeth gently dragging along her lower belly.

“Lucas!” She gasped his name.

It would be easy to fit his body to hers again and make them both soar to the land of Elysium, but he craved something more—he had to taste her first and he would not deny himself that pleasure. His right hand came up to splay across her chest and hold her down.

“Lie still, lass,” he commanded, then shifted to his knees between her thighs.

“What are ye—?” Her words were cut off when he lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders and he growled appreciatively at the sight of her. Slick, glistening, pink folds nestled in a bed of silky ebony curls.

His reply was to lick a broad stripe up her petals and Maisie launched off the bed with a cry, “Lucas I—I…oh God !”

The first taste of her nectar tantalized him and the second drugged him into bliss. Maisie’s fingers dug into his hair and she writhed under him. Lucas held her fast while he explored her softness and pliant flesh that yielded to his lips and pulsed against his tongue

While she gasped out her pleasure, he explored her mercilessly, enjoying her cries, quivers and the tremble of her thighs around her head.

His mouth was relentless, tracing her inner petals with his tongue, flicking at them playfully and lapping with the flat of his tongue.

He avoided the tight bud that was the center of her sensations just to tease her past the pint of reason.

Her moans, cries and pleas were the sweetest music he had ever heard, and his pride soared knowing that he was rendering Maisie to her base senses. He dipped lower, probing at her core with his tongue and a rush of her desire met his tongue.

“Lucas… please . I need— I need—”

She was a trembling ball of need, and her raw moan was enough to get him to comply. He fixed his mouth on her bud and latched onto her, putting his mouth to work while his fingers gently eased into her as he knew she was still tender.

Her skin shimmered with sweat and her legs trembled as she neared her release. Her back bowed over the bed and she screamed. Lucas did not give her any quarter and kept his mouth on her, determined not to leave her until he had wrung every last quiver of pleasure from her.

Her hands did not seem to know where to hand, they were skimming up his arms, into his hair, her nails biting into his skin. God, he loved this, seeing the pure rapture on her face, the tremble in her body, the plush part of her lips. Maisie’s beauty awed and stimulated him.

When she collapsed on the bed, little quakes of aftermath quivered across her belly, she released her grip on him and let out a long and shaky breath.

Lucas kissed her inner thigh and let her legs down, only to go to her side and claim a kiss. She peeled her eyes open, “That was the wickedest kiss ye’ve ever given me.”

He smirked, “I ken.”

“Is that—” She bit her lip. “—something that is done? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s done, aye, but its nay speakin’ about much,” Lucas smiled. “It’s scandalous, aye, but its pleasure’s of the highest sort.”

“Meaning, I can do the same to ye?”

“In time,” he kissed her cheek.

She rested her head on his chest, while trailing her fingers over his arm. “What about ye, Lucas? Ye must be aroused as well?”

“I can wait,” he brushed his cheek over her hair. “I just wanted to show ye another way ye can feel bliss.”

“It’s still a while until dawn,” she observed while looking to the window. “Can we stay here for a while more?”

“I wish we could but nay,” he said. “We’ll have to get to the King.”

“About that,” Maisie shifted her head on his chest. “I did some reasoning about what ye said, how our families will start a war regardless, and I ken I found a way to stop them for a while, until we find who is behind this sabotage. Let’s send a letter to yer faither and mine telling them that we are going to the King about the letters and I bet ye, they will come to us instead of going to war.

We’ll be on neutral ground where we can find out if the King is behind it and where ye can tell him about us, if ye’d like. ”

He sat up and looked at her, her advice turning over in his head. She was right—the two men, her father and Lucas’s, would not give them the chance to embarrass both clan before the crown and would drop any plans of war to chase after them.

“Aye,” he nodded. “It might get us some time to stay the bloodshed.”

“And find out if the King truly behind this,” she added, then her face fell. “If he is nay, then we’ll have to look to our enemies and that frightens me because that will take time and who kens what our faithers will do in the meantime.”

“Me faither will nay go to war on his own accord,” Lucas said. “I am the laird, nae him.”

“But mine is set on trying to win against yers,” she drew her legs up. “He doesnae listen to me and he will launch an attack if he wants.”

Shaking his head, Lucas said, “T’will nay do ye right to borrow trouble yet, lass.

Now, we need to focus on the first thing, getting to Cadross and getting an audience with our esteemed monarch.

” The disdain Lucas had for the king was dripping in his voice but he didn’t temper it, he had little respect for the man.

“Let see to that first,” he twisted to look at Maisie. “I’ll call for yer bath and breakfast and then we’ll be on the road again.”

She sat up, taking the sheet with her and leaned in to pin him with her eyes, “Lucas McCormack, promise me here and now that even if we cannae be together, or if we daenae find who is making us want to kill each other, ye will do anything in yer power to stop this feud.”

The suggestion—as realistic as it was—that he would never see Maisie or hold her again, soured his stomach. Reaching out, he held her face, “I give ye me word.”

And I hope that I can do much better than a promise. Yer in me life now and I want ye to stay there.

When Lucas left the room, Maisie pressed a hand to her chest, took in a slow breath and exhaled. She was unable to name the emotions surging through her heart; it was not one, there were many twisted and twined together, having no end.

She felt shock, need, desire, and uncertainty, all clamoring for attention inside her desire-muddled brain. But that was not all, when she had looked at Lucas before he’d left, his eyes had been raw with unchecked emotion; affection, lust, trust, care, possessiveness… love.

At first, she shied away from the mere suggestion— it was too early for love, and she had not done anything to cause that emotion from him.

Less than a month of knowing each other, and half of that she had been antagonistic to him.

But somewhere along the way, they had found common ground and as he had come to understood her, she had done the same with him.

If it were love, it would be in its fledgling state but still pure and pulsing between them. Maisie was humbled by the gentle, unstoppable force of it.

A knock came at her door, much different from Lucas’, and jolted her from her thoughts. “One moment.”

Scrambling for her shift, she put it on and wrapped a small throw around her shoulders then went to answer the door, thinking it was a servant girl ready to show her to the bath—when it was the proprietress herself.

“Missus Andrews ,” Sandra said calmly, “May I come in?”

Unable to refuse her, Maisie nodded, and stepped aside for her to enter. The lady took a seat and smiled, “I’ve come to see if ye were all right.”

“Why? Are ye suspecting Hector of harming me?” Maisie asked.

“Nay, nay me dear,” Sandra said. “I never kent that. I had a husband meself so I ken how a man looks at a lady his heart is set upon. Do ye ken the reason I gave ye this room?”

“I do.”

“Good,” Sandra fixed her skirts. “It is nae that a young lass came to me with a man who adores her, it was that a lass came to me dressed in trousers and a tunic that piqued me attention. What are ye running from?”