Page 24 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

T he rain only grew worse as the night stretched on, and Olivia found herself tossing and turning terribly.

Night terrors plagued the corners of her mind–of her mother abandoning her, of her brother and father dying in front of her eyes, of Arthur coldly staring over a mountain of corpses, eyes as dead as his victims. She let out a frustrated groan and sat upright, a flash of lightning briefly blinding her from her window as rumbling thunder followed suit.

“Bloody eejit,” she grumbled under her breath, wrapping a robe around her still-trembling body.

“Daft, doaty gowk of–of an ugsome troll!” Her foot struck out against the bed’s wooden stand, more curses streaming out at the throbbing ache.

Olivia hobbled to one of the armchairs, collapsing into it with a hiss.

“Now me foot’s hurt, and it’s–it’s all his fault! ”

It was not, of course, and Olivia knew that. But blaming him was better than having her heart ache because of him, so she continued to tarnish his name under her breath. At least, until someone knocked lightly on her door.

Getting herself together, Olivia stepped lightly across her room, opening the door and injecting as much polite sweetness as she could.

Though, that immediately soured to venom as she stared at Arthur on the other side.

She didn’t even give him the chance to speak, closing the door respectfully in his face.

“Olivia?”

“It’s late, m’laird,” Olivia called out.

“I’m very tired and daenae wish to entertain anyone.

” Clarity grasped her for a brief moment, leading her to realize she’d just closed the door on the laird who was–very generously–allowing her to stay in his keep.

A laird known for killing sprawls of folks for lesser infractions against him.

A laird who had, on numerous occasions, completely decimated clans from the highland’s history books.

Spinning on her heel with a swear, Olivia moved to open the door once more, but stopped as Arthur spoke up,

“Ye daenae have to entertain me, Olivia.” A pause, a breath, then, “But, I’d appreciate it if ye hear me out.”

Olivia weighed her options carefully. On the one hand, she really didn’t feel like speaking to Arthur any further tonight.

On the other hand, he currently wasn’t dragging her forcefully out of her room by the hair, which he had every right to do after the disrespect she’d just shown him.

She sat her back against the door, legs tucked against her chest as she hugged her arms around them.

“That’s…fine, I suppose.”

She waited for what felt like a good, long while, hearing the laird breath through the door and pace about.

He seemed to be just as unsure as she was–something rare, for such a dangerous man–and finally, Arthur’s monologue began.

“Ye asked me earlier why I cannae make the betrothal official. And, truthfully…” a beat of silence.

“Truthfully…you were nae the first I was set to marry.”

Olivia’s brow rose slightly, a new rush of questions bubbling up her throat. She opted to stay quiet for now, waiting to see how deeply Arthur would willingly go to dig his own grave.

“Her name was Sasha,” Arthur went on. “Sasha MacKay; her clan was one under a few o’me braither-maithers.

Uncles me maither hadnae spoken to in years.

Conquerors, like meself nowaday, but when they realized ‘twas their own nephew’s clan they had their eyes set on, a deal was struck.

A marriage of convenience; an alliance betrothal with me own cousin. ”

Arthur grew silent, and Olivia couldn’t help but feel a pang of dread forming in her stomach. “Did…something happen to her?”

“Nae her, specifically,” Arthur explained. “One thing led to another, and I ended up in a brawl wit the eldest o’me Mam’s braithers. He had his own, twisted way o’lookin’ at th’world,” Arthur sighed heavily. “And I wasnae willing to compromise me own ideals.”

“Is…that how ye lost yer…?”

Another beat of silence.

“Oh, Arthur…”

He cleared his throat loudly and went on.

“Sasha thought me impairment was the best way to call off the wedding and avoid war between our clans. Proclaimed ‘twas unfair to be promised off to damaged goods, and both sides had suffered enough at each other’s hand. Smart as a whip, that one, though her acting was a bit too realistic at times.” The door thumped loudly, Arthur seemingly pressing his back against it.

“I always hoped she found a good lad. Not her fault me uncles were a rotten bunch.”

Olivia sat with the information for a long moment, mind spinning at such a jarring revelation.

“I dinnae tell ye all this fer ye to feel bad for me,” Arthur clarified. “I did it to honor yer own bravery tonight. All those things ye said to yer maither…they meant a great deal to me. Ye bared yer soul, and I felt like it needed to be repaid.”

Olivia shifted uncomfortably, a dry humor coating her voice as she spoke next. “Suppose ‘tis nice to know me fake betrothed was betrothed before.”

“Ye ken any word outside o’betrothed, selkie?”

That got a little laughter out of Olivia, and the pair shared a briefly light moment together. But it died away soon enough, and another heavy sigh escaped from Arthur.

“Sasha…made me consider so much about me life after that. How close I was to losing it, what I’d leave behind in its wake.

I swore to firmly uphold me faither’s views on lairdship–to dedicate my life to protecting my clan without compromising me own ideals.

I wouldnae cower beneath the easy and safe ways o’arranged marriages; I and me strength alone would be all me people needed. ”

Olivia's heart fluttered, and she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the laird. “I…cannae imagine I’d react any other way.”

“So, ye have to understand, Olivia,” Arthur said. “We cannae make this betrothel real. Not ‘cause I daenae want to, but because if I did…”

Olivia’s curiosity was piqued. “If ye did, m’laird…?”

Arthur seemed to genuinely struggle with what he wanted to admit. “If I did…I wouldnae be able to abide by me ideals. Nor would I be able to abide by yer one an’ only rule.”

Olivia blinked, somewhat taken aback. “M-My rule?”

“Ye drive me crazy, selkie. Just like the stories, ye washed upon me beach a beauty beneath the sun and stole away me common sense.”

He pulled her out of a frozen tarn at midnight, but Olivia kept that remark to herself.

“Ye’ve bewitched me completely, and I’ve wanted nothing more than to keep ye by my side.

Steal yer pelt so ye never leave this lonely keep o’mine.

” Another loud exhale. A gentle thump against the door; Olivia could only imagine Arthur’s forehead pressing against it, desperate to close the distance between them.

The once-present chill in the air slowly receded, a warm flush spreading across her face and down the length of her body before pooling in her middle.

“I couldnae sleep, kenning ye were upset with me,” Arthur admitted.

“I didnae say anything I wanted to, and…and I daenae think I’ve even said it all just yet.

But I need ye to ken, here and now, how ye’ve taken me, selkie.

How I long to touch more than just yer hair, to completely take in the ocean’s scent off ye body.

Ye’ve only been here a handful of days, and yet, ye seem as if ye’ve lived here forever. ”

Olivia’s grasp around her legs weakened, her hand brushing against the braids he’d worked so hard on.

“And if ye ken how badly I wanted to kiss ye this evening. Take ye in my arms and…and…”

Olivia swallowed heavily, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as heat pricked beneath it. “And…what, m’laird?”

A heavy silence sat between them, and Olivia could feel her legs begin to tingle, her heart thump loudly against her chest. That warmth in her center had begun to inch out across her body, with Arthur’s words acting as motivation for it to spread further.

She needed to hear his words–Olivia desperately needed him to continue.

Finally, spoke once more, a note of mischief in his tone. “Well…I cannae show ye meself. But, if ye would let me words guide yer actions…?”

“P-please,” Olivia’s voice trembled terribly. “Tell me what ye’d do.”

The smirk in his voice settled into something more sensual. Something that danced across Olivia’s skin and pulled a shudder from deep within. “I’d kiss ye. On yer cheek; to make sure ye wanted what I was offering.”

A flush of warmth covered Olivia’s face, her hand gently pressing against her cheek. “And then?”

“If ye liked that…I would slip my hands around yer waist, lass.”

Olivia obeyed, her hands following the curves of her body, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded.

“And if ye were fine with that, I’d take it a step further.”

Further?

“I’d kiss ye again, and bring a hand over yer bosom. But, as me hand cannae go through doors…?”

One of Olivia’s hands cusped around her breast, finger tracing the bump beneath the thin material of her night gown. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her other hand instinctively moving to her opposite breast.

“Aye, that’s it, selkie,” Arthur encouraged. “But daenae be too rough with yerself. I’m nae a rake, after all.”

She obeyed, gently massaging each breast while her thumbs traced the width of her rise. She could t help but moan a bit louder, acutely aware how dramatic a difference this was to simply placing a hand limply over it.

“I’d cradle them so tenderly…trace every rise that poked through yer gown. And then, if ye asked me to…”

“I-I’m asking ye to,” Olivia insisted breathlessly.

Arthur’s smile was completely audible. “I’d slip a hand beneath yer collar. Touch the breasts themselves; give ye an experience ye cannae feel with clothes acting as a barrier.”

Olivia moved to slip the nightgown over her head, leaving only her robe to partially cover her body.

She cupped her exposed breasts curiously, a cold shiver running through her at the physical contact.

Her fingers traced her nib once more, and she couldn’t help but gasp a bit louder this time, surprised at how much more she could feel.

How sensitive one’s skin could truly be.

“Aye, that’s it. And then, I’d slide one hand down the side o’yer leg,”

She did so eagerly, giving herself a chance to truly explore the curve of her waist, the slight gap between her legs.

Her other hand remained against her breast, thumb tracing her stiffening nipple, and she massaged the gap between her legs.

The actions together created a pleasant shudder that rolled down the length of her spine, gathering into her core as a tingling ache began to throb deep inside her.

“And then…”

And then?

“Once ye grew used to me presence, were familiar with the weight o’me hands on yer body…

” Arthur exhaled sharply, and Olivia wondered if he was having as much trouble breathing as she was right now.

She moved instinctively, gently exploring the folds of her womanhood before easing her fingers within.

Another sharp gasp, another shudder at such a dramatically new sensation.

“I would leave no stone unturned, no part o’ye untouched, selkie.”

She would not either, pushing and probing as a new jolt, a new gasp, a new, tingling warmth overtook her the further she went. Massaging herself made the feeling last longer, and Olivia slowly fell into a rhythm, completely entranced by the laird’s word as she did so.

“Ooh, and I’d tell ye so many sweet things, me goddess of the sea. How lovely ye smelled with our scents intertwined, how beautiful ye were as ye trembled in me arms.”

God, yes. His strong embrace would be preferred over the rigid stiffness of the doorframe she arched her back against.

“And I’d kiss ye again,”

Her core burned terribly.

“And again,”

The pressure was immense.

“And again ,”

Olivia let a much louder moan slip as her body practically lifted into the air, spreading from a building tension that was just on the cusp of release.

“Until yer skin was as red as yer hair, me wee selkie.”

Everything erupted at once as Olivia cried out longingly, the build in her body springing forth like the crashing end of a waterfall. Every flickering candle was like the sun, the cool air sharp and biting as her skin trembled and tingled.

Her eyes rolled back, unable to fully grasp the experience all at once.

And then, just as quickly as it came, it left at a trickling pace.

The water flowed downstream, calmed its temperament, and eventually joined with the endless sea.

And Olivia drifted amongst it, back pressed against the door, allowing the ebb and flow of the various sensations to settle.

“And then…”

There was more?

Arthur’s hand gently tapped against the door, and Olivia willed herself to turn and press her palm against it. “I would say ye were wonderful. And there wasnae a moment I saw ye look more beautiful than ye did right now.”

Breathing came a bit easier, now. Her head wasn’t swimming, and Olivia properly felt the grains of wood against the door.

Another breath, and the warmth in her core soon returned to its origin, leaving her shivering at the slight, oceanic chill.

She reached for her gown and covered her slightly numbed legs, face pressing against the door in a desperate attempt to hear Arthur’s own breath.

“And, when I kenned ye were alright…” His tone sounded so somber all of a sudden, as if he were making an impossible choice. “I would kiss ye gently on the forehead, and bid ye goodnight.”

Olivia felt something inside her ache. She wished desperately he would break down the door, take her into his arms, and carry her back to his bed.

She wished they could curl up beneath the quilt together, that she could run a hand through his hair and trace the scars on his bare chest. She wish his warmth would remain beside him… but that simply wasn’t the case.

“Goodnight…Olivia.”

“Good…” Olivia swallowed, doing her best to find her voice after all of that. “Good night…Arthur.”

He lingered at the door for a moment longer. Then, his footsteps trailed faintly down the hall, and Olivia remained still, listening to his footsteps until they had long since vanished down the hall.