Page 32 of Kidnapped by her Highland Enemy

Seven Days Later

T he marriage was finished that morning and the feasting began. In her wedding bliaut, a lovely tunic of green, blue and burgundy silk, she sat at the head table with Lucas to her left.

Barrels of ale, mead, and wine were opened, and the Barclay clan feasted on roast venison, beef, and boar stuffed with walnuts and apples, braised onions and carrots, sweet breads, huge wheels of goat’s and ewe’s cheese, roasted fowl, and pies came from the kitchen in never ending streams, not to mention wine and cider.

She and Lucas dined off the same trencher, feeding each other slivers of food and drinking wine from the same cup.

Music was in the air, while the guests, lairds and ladies from nearby clans and villagers from both clans, ate to their fill.

The marriage had officially put to bed the decades of feuding and this joyous night marked the beginning of a new life for them both.

Having not touched a morsel of food since the night before, Maisie ate slowly, savoring the smokey flavor of the roast venison.

The memory of the battle where she had nearly lost her life had kept replaying itself in her mind, even manifesting as night terrors while Lucas held her fast in his arms and calmed her.

She still could not believe a man who had sat and eaten with Lucas had done so much pain.

The sting of his betrayal had not lessened when Oliver and his men had captured McKenna’s wife and children either.

Even when the three had been exiled to the outer islands she still felt it but wanted no memory of it and hoped that it would dwindle with time.

Reaching for her goblet, Maisie met Lucas’s heated gaze and smiled—they had not coupled since the day they had come back from McKenna’s ambush, and she knew he wanted to touch her as she felt the same heat slithering under her skin when he so much as looked at her.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Ye need to stop lookin’ at me the way ye are doing right now.”

He smirked while spearing a sliver of beef, “And what would that be, lass?”

Her stomach fluttered and clenched at the smoldering look Lucas gave her when he broke a piece of oat-cakes, dripping in honey, and popped it into his mouth.

Maisie’s eyes followed it and he grinned, and broke off a piece, holding it to her lips. She closed her mouth around his fingers, pulling her lips away suggestively.

A few men hooted and whistled as Lucas leaned in. “If ye keep doing that we shall have to leave early.”

Dismissing caution, she caught his wrist and licked the honey from his fingers, and Lucas’s eyes darkened.

He grabbed her chin and kissed her, right in front of all those gathered, sweeping his tongue through her lips.

Then, before she could realize it, he rose to his feet, lifting her into his arms and headed out the doors.

The revelers roared their approval, their cheers shaking the hall to its ancient foundations.

She held unto him as he strode purposefully up the staircase and to their rooms. So enraptured with him, Maisie gazed at his strong features that could be hawkish when angry but at that moment were relaxed and handsome.

His eyes were the color of the deep loch behind the castle, blue, deep, and unfathomable as he carried her to his bed.

A yearning rose inside her, and there was only one thing that would fill the yawning emptiness, she needed him, all of him, to show her how much he loved her, to brand himself upon her soul.

He set Maisie down, and as she would have expected him to rip her clothes from her, he undid her clothes little by little, kissing every part of her skin when he uncovered it until every stitch pooled at their feet.

Lucas pulled Maisie hard against him, feeling the smooth heat of her skin against his.

He ran his hands down her back, exploring the firmness of her body, the softness of her curves.

Lucas rested her on the bed, making a line of fire down her body with his scorching kisses. Lucas stared down at her, his gaze devouring her full, pink-tipped breasts, the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips before his mouth came down to suck one turgid bud into his mouth.

The feel of his lips on the sensitive skin there caused Maisie to shiver with pleasure. She gave a soft moan and pressed herself back against him, her loins melting when she felt his manhood pressed hard against her.

She would never tire of this man, of the feel and taste of him. The sound of his voice—the low, powerful timbre of it—was like listening to music after their time apart.

“I love ye, Lucas,” she murmured, barely able to concentrate as his hand slid up and stroked her breasts.

He nibbed her skin then fixed his hands under her thighs.

She was already wet there, and he ran his tongue along her folds, then closed his mouth about her pleasure bud and sucked.

Maisie sunk a hand into his hair and arched from the bed while bliss sung right though her.

The moist pressure of his lips, the molten pleasure of his tongue, drove her to a state that she could not help but cry out and arch up to eagerly receive his wicked kiss.

Pulling away, he lifted her legs to wrap around his legs while he cupped her breast and kissed. Her body cradled his stiff member, and as he pressed herself forward, his length entering her in slow inches.

When he came to rest on the cradle of her hips, she met his gaze, her eyes glittering with passion. “I’m yers, Lucas, now and always.”

“Aye, ye are,” he growled back. Lucas began to move inside her in hard, possessive strokes—each thrust claiming her as while his fingers stroked her breasts, sucking at times. Maisie angled her hips off the furs to meet him, throwing her head back and crying his name as she did so.

Slowly, he took her, slow but deep, his mouth barely straying from hers as they sealed their union. His body surged, his length sparked tremors through her body, as he showed her his love with his body.

Holding her as close as possible, Lucas kissed her, his tongue matching the movement of his length deep within her. He thrust and pulled back on a tempered speed, until pleasure sunk her hold into Maisie and Lucas responded with increasing speed.

Her head tipped back while her fingers sunk into his skin, and Lucas’s muscles strained under her fingertips as he held himself above her. The feel of his mouth moving from her lips to her neck made her shiver and the fullness of him inside her made her body burn with need.

She pushed herself up, wanting to be closer still as nothing—nothing—existed except the man making love to her. She wanted so badly to feel his pleasure again.

“Please Lucas.” She knew he could make it happen. “Take me with ye.”

His tongue touched the sensitive flesh of her ear. “Anything, mo ghràdh.” His words penetrated her soul. My love, he had said—my love.

Her surrender tore through her as he thrust deep inside, coming out of her body in a pleasured scream. Some piece of her soul soared, shot like an arrow into the sun, transcending the worldly realm, to send her shuddering into elysium.

Eventually Maisie became aware of her surrounding, his back, slick with sweat, muscles dancing under her fingertips. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

He pulled from her, then laying her aside, wrapped her into his arms, kissing her temple before resting his hand on her lower belly. “What do ye think, love? Seven, eight months?”

She sighed, “Just about.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “And with his birth, another part of our lives begins, he’ll live in the peace we havnae kent but he’ll continue it.”

“And if it’s a lass?”

He laughed, “If she’s like ye, I ken we’ll be even better. Yer a force to be reckoned with.”

“I love ye,” she whispered.

“As do I,” he grinned then smoothed his hand down her arm. “In the meantime, we have a sennight worth of loving to make up for.”

The End?