Page 18 of The Cruel Highlander’s Healer (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I might fall asleep standin’ up if I daenae get off me feet soon,” Eliza groaned as she stepped into the room she was sharing with Conall.

The barmaid had been able to give them the same room they’d had the night before, and Eliza felt herself relax as she walked into the now familiar space.

Conall was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his hands behind his head.

“What did yer maither say to us sharin’ a room?” he asked, and Eliza couldn’t help but huff a laugh at the memory.

“Oh, she was mad as a banshee,” she recounted. “But I explained to her that ye were doin’ it for protection. Apparently, there were some brutes around who were snatchin’ women out of their houses.”

She gave him a pointed look as she walked toward the bed and sank onto it, groaning with relief as she was off her feet for the first time that day.

When she’d been in the medical tent tending to the poison victims, a couple had approached her. They had a daughter with an ailment that they wanted her to look at.

Apparently, word had spread quickly that there was a pair of healers in town. Because, one by one, people had approached her and Marissa. It seemed that now that the poison victims had been taken care of and looked like they would fully recover, people were no longer shy to occupy their time.

Eliza felt dirty. She was in the same clothes she had been in when they’d left the castle two days prior. And, she wished more than anything that she had her night gown with her, at the very least for something clean to sleep in.

“If she asks in the mornin’ though,” she continued. “Tell her ye slept on the floor.”

Conall smirked but said nothing. Eliza glanced at him, surprised by his silence. The moment her eyes landed on him, he pointed toward the corner of the room.

She followed the direction of his finger with her eyes, and immediately her gaze landed on a folded stack of fabric.

Cocking her head to the side, she looked at Conall once more.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Ye should look at it,” he grumbled, shooting her a pointed look.

Eliza groaned. She didn’t want to put her weight back on her aching feet. But she was also too curious to stay put.

She pushed herself off of the bed, slowly making her way to what Conall had indicated. Reaching for the piece of fabric at the top of the pile, she tugged on it.

Holding it up, a form began to take shape, and it took a moment for her mind to catch up with what she was seeing. It was a nightgown.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice rising with excitement as she whirled to face him.

“I meant what I said to yer maither,” he said, voice solemn and filled with sincerity. “I appreciate ye helpin’ me. I appreciate ye healin’ the bairns, and helpin’ the people in this town. And, I figured the least I could do was get ye somethin’ clean to sleep in tonight.”

Eliza’s throat bobbed. “Thank ye.”

Conall nodded. “I’m goin’ to head downstairs to get us some food. I had the barmaid bring up fresh water earlier,” he pointed to the washbasin. “It’ll be a little cool. But it’ll do the job. I’ll be back in a bit. Make yerself comfortable.”

She was at a complete loss for words, and so she said nothing as the Laird pushed himself off of the bed and strode out the door. Standing in the middle of the room, she listened as his heavy footfalls grew more and more quiet as he descended the stairs.

In the room farthest away from the ground floor, the sound from the kitchens and the eating space was faint. The space around her filled with mostly silence.

For what felt like the first time in days, Eliza was well and truly alone.

She clutched the nightgown to her chest, hands bunching in the soft fabric. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, perhaps it was the fact that she was so incredibly excited to have new clothes to change into. Either way, Eliza felt overcome by emotion.

It’s truly a lovely nightgown.

With gentle hands, she laid it down on the bed, readying it for when she was done washing. She moved slowly to the washbasin.

Exactly as Conall had said, it had been filled with clean water. She undressed, her stiff tired fingers struggling to untie her gown.

When she had loosened it entirely, it pooled down around her feet as she tugged her underthings over her head.

She stood bare before the washbasin, preparing herself as she reached into the basin and grabbed the large sponge that was sitting in the middle of the water.

Just as she’d expected, the water was cool to the touch. The shock of it rocked through her, invigorating her and waking her up anew.

She hummed lightly to herself as she wrung it out, the water splashing gently as it dripped back into the bowl. Running the sponge over her skin, Eliza groaned.

It was nothing short of luxury to be scrubbing two days' worth of dirt and sweat from her skin.

She was so lost in her meticulous, luxurious scrubbing that she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps in the hall beyond the door. She did not notice that they were getting closer. She didn’t hear the small rap of knuckles against the door.

Eliza was still humming gently when the door opened and Conall stepped into the room, finding her standing naked before the mirror.

Her eyes shot up, widening with surprise as they met his in the reflective surface. Eliza froze, not knowing what to do as he surprised her.

Conall’s body had frozen as well, but his eyes had not. Eliza watched in the mirror as his gaze darkened, sweeping over her exposed backside with a hunger she had never experienced.

“I knocked,” he said, his voice thick with barely restrained desire. “Ye dinnae answer. I thought ye had fallen asleep.”

Eliza dropped the sponge and glanced toward the bed. She didn’t dare whirl, didn’t dare expose herself fully to the man standing behind her.

Her nightgown was on the other side of the room, waiting for her on the bed. It was of no use to her now.

The sound of the door clicking closed grabbed her attention again, and Eliza’s gaze darted back to the mirror. His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, his movements slow and measured as he set the tray of food down on the writing desk.

Heat pooled in Eliza’s belly, desire coursing through her. She pressed her thighs together, working to control herself as Conall turned his gaze back toward her.

She hadn’t turned to face him. She didn’t need to. Not as he kept his gaze fixed on her through the mirror.

“Eliza.”

The sound of her name on his lips was her undoing. Need coursed through her fast and hard, and her own gaze darkened as it held his.

“I cannae do this anymore,” he growled, stalking toward her with quick, powerful strides.

He crossed the room quickly and then was upon her. His hand fell on her naked shoulder, turning her so that she was facing him.

She didn’t have time to react before his mouth was crashing into hers. His fingers twined in her hair, tugging her head back to expose the hollow of her throat.

Conall trailed kisses along her jaw and then down her neck. Eliza’s breath became shallow, her hands coming up to rake scratches down his back.

The fabric of his tunic caught beneath her nails. It wasn’t enough, she needed to feel flesh.

She pawed at his shirt, her hands fisting as she tugged at the fabric trying to lift it. But Conall growled, fingers wrapping around her wrist as he wrenched them away from him.

He stepped back, brown eyes flashing before he claimed her mouth once more. Conall kept her hands bound, not allowing her to reach for him.

It drove her mad. She needed to touch him, needed to feel him. When his tongue darted out and parted her lips, she moaned low in the back of her throat. It swirled into her mouth, dancing with hers.

She arched her back, pressing her exposed breasts into his chest. Not breaking their kiss, Conall released her hands and reached below to cup her backside.

In one swift movement, he lifted her off the ground and wrapped her legs around him. The feeling of him between her thighs, the pressure of it, it was enough to drive Eliza mad.

She panted against his mouth as he walked forward, guiding her toward the bed.

He set her on the edge of the bed, breaking their kiss once more. With sure, practiced hands, he pushed her back.

The mattress crinkled below them as she sat back, allowing him to kiss along her cheek and down to her jaw.

Conall nipped and kissed along the hollow of her throat and then to her collarbone. His large hand came up and tugged gently at her nipple.

A moan wrenched itself from her lips as she arched her back, her hand fisted in the sheets as pleasure and need warred within her. He kept kissing, the scruff of his beard grating into her skin as he continued along his path.

Down her stomach, closer and closer to her center, before Conall finally and deliciously dropped to his knees. His brown eyes flicked up to her, a question written on his handsome, scarred face.

“Please,” she begged, knowing that if he did not touch her, did not claim her, she might burst.

With a feral growl, Conall bent forward. His mouth grazed over her sex, his tongue darting out to part her folds. His sweet breath danced along her skin, lighting her flesh on fire.

He kissed the mound at the apex of her thighs, his fingers parting her.

She looked down at him, his face framed between her breasts and thighs. The look on his face was nothing short of euphoric the moment before he dived for her.

His mouth latched onto her most sensitive part, that perfect nub at the apex of her thighs, sending immediate waves of pleasure wracking through her.

“Conall!” Eliza called, already overwhelmed with the feel of it.

His only response was to growl, the deep sound reverberating against her sex and wracking her with another jolt of pleasure. His tongue darted out, swirling along the most sensitive part of her, driving her mad.

Her hands clawed at the sheets, her hips bucking as he continued to devour her. Eliza had never been touched by a man. Not like this.

She had shared chaste kisses, had even shared the one heated kiss with Conall. But never had she exposed herself to a man. She had never even truly considered it.

Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that it could feel like this.

Conall continued to nip and suck and kiss, a pulsing, delicious heat beginning to build in her core. She swirled her hips, seeking friction, seeking release.

Something prodded at her center. A finger. A moment later there was a quick, sharp pain before a delicious, delirious euphoria washed over her.

He moved his finger inside of her, hooking it and stroking it in and out of her as he continued to taste her. Eliza felt out of her mind with pleasure.

The heat that had been coiling in her belly started to spiral again. Up and up and up it built, coiling itself tighter with each suck, with each thrust of that delicious, long finger that probed inside of her.

“Tell me ye like how I feel,” Conall growled, his mouth still moving against the mound of her sex.

“I love how ye feel,” Eliza panted, her words barely audible as she fought to fight back the wave that was threatening to overwhelm her.

The words, however, seemed to ignite something within Conall. She thought he had been devouring her before. But now, he feasted on her like a man starved.

His mouth moved fervently, sucking her between his lips and making her hips buck and her back arched. Higher and higher the pressure within her built.

She felt like she was balancing on the cliffs edge, and any moment now she would hurl herself off of it.

With one final hard suck accompanied by the curl of his finger, Eliza was falling. Wave after wave crashed over her, a pleasure like she had never known filling every ounce of her being.

Her body was wracked with spasms, shaking as she found her release. Eliza cried out Conall’s name, not caring that they were in an inn. Not caring that there were people around them that might hear.

Eliza cared about nothing at all other than the feeling that was coursing through her and the man that had caused it all.

Slowly, the waves of pleasure began to subside. Where they had been hot and violent before, they slowed to a dull, rolling shudder before finally stilling entirely.

She couldn’t breathe. Staring up at the ceiling, Eliza panted her breaths as her mind raced. Never in a million years had she imagined that such pleasure existed.

There was the sound of scuffling between her thighs, and she looked down to find Conall moving from kneeling before her.

His beard was wet and glistening, and her cheeks flushed with warmth as she realized it was a sign of her release. She propped herself up on her elbows as Conall wiped the back of his hand along his mouth, clearing all remnants of what they’d just done.

His eyes met hers, and Eliza’s eyes did not waver. Her heart, which had momentarily begun to slow down, sped up once more.

Is this it? Am I about to lie with this man?