Page 13 of The Highlander’s Fallen Angel (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #2)

“When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward.For there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”

Leonardo da Vinci – Italian artist and scientist, 1452–1519

“Are you shot?” Tierney asked, panic taking her already coursing blood and channeling it into her muscles, preparing her to fight, even as her body begged for completion. But there’d been no blast .

“I’ve been hit with a rock.” Kenan stared out at the shadows.

“By who?” she asked, tugging up her bodice and turning in a circle.

“And if ye don’t step away from her, ye’ll feel the sting of another.” The threat came from just inside the forest, where she spied a thin man and a white wolf. No. A dog.

“Gabriel?” Tierney said and heard Sneachda growl. How did they get around them without her noticing? That’s right. She’d been rather distracted. Holy Joan, what had her brother seen? The fire in her cooled quickly.

Gabriel released the dog. Kenan stepped before Tierney again despite being the beast’s target.

“Sneachda,” she called, slapping her leg to get the dog to leave him alone and come to her. “All is well.”

“Except that a rock hit me,” Kenan said.

Tierney saw him reach down his wrap to adjust what must have been a very hard and aching jack. She ached so badly herself that she wanted to scream at Gabriel.

“He was attacking ye,” Gabriel said, holding his arm up with another projectile. She could just make out a shape on his tunic that looked like his newt. “I heard you groan in pain.”

Thank the Lord it was dark, because Tierney’s face flamed. Her brother was young and did not know passion. What Kenan had been doing to her had been a type of pain, one of longing and need.

Kenan held a rag from his belt to his head. “I would never attack yer sister, lad, not in a bad way.”

“We were kissing.” Tierney tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. But if that was just kissing, then the biblical apocalypse was simply a bad day. No. She and Kenan were tupping upright, kissing with their whole bodies. But she wasn’t about to explain that to her brother.

“His mouth wasn’t even on yers,” Gabriel said, but his arm lowered. “’Twas like he was chomping on yer neck.”

“Let’s go back to the village,” Tierney said, even though she’d much rather continue her plan of finding some soft moss in the forest. But she’d been given the large bedchamber in the tower with soft ticks and luxurious blankets. Much better than moss.

“If he wasn’t biting ye, what was he doing?” Gabriel gave Kenan a wide berth, and Sneachda trotted beside the boy.

“What are you doing up here?” She trudged toward the dot of fire marking the edge of the village.

“I believe yer brother saw me carry ye off in an ungentlemanly manner and came to make certain ye weren’t being harmed,” Kenan said.

Gabriel walked right next to Tierney. “Over yer shoulder.” He looked at Kenan. “Ye don’t know my sister well, Chief Macdonald, but she won’t put up with being tossed around like that. Ye’ll end up with poison in yer stew.”

“Or a tart,” Kenan said, his voice cool.

“That wasn’t poison,” she said, feeling the guilt flood her again. “Just something for a nice, long sleep.”

“Which ye won’t ever do to me again,” Kenan said and leaned into her ear. “Else I tie ye up.” The way he said the words made a shiver of carnal anticipation run through her, pulsing down to the crux of her legs that had just minutes ago been rubbing rhythmically against his raging jack.

Gabriel’s head swiveled around to them, his eyes wide in the dark. “If ye’re planning to tickle her, ye’ll be in for some bruises, Macdonald. She’s terribly ticklish and kicks and punches and might even bite ye like a poked wildcat.”

Kenan said nothing for a moment, and then a rumble of laughter came from him. “Ticklish?”

“Gabriel,” Tierney said, his name heavy with a sigh, “you’ve now given Kenan a weapon to use against me.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” her brother said. “Sneachda,” he called and trotted faster to catch up with the white dog who’d broken ahead of them like a scout.

The wildflowers and tall grass hit against her petticoat as they strode along in the darkness, her on his arm as if they were truly handfasted. Handfasted and allowed to do whatever they wanted to do to one another. The thought blew across the coals inside her.

“Are you ticklish?” she asked.

“Nay.”

“Maybe you’re lying. Maybe I need to tie you to the bed and tickle you to see.”

“Do ye keep ropes and chains in yer bedchamber?” he asked, a huskiness to his voice that hinted at a dark passion.

“No, but I know where I can find some.”

“I think ’tis yer turn to get tied up.” He leaned closer to her ear. “But I’ll make sure ye like it.”

If it was a threat, her body didn’t care, because it continued to sizzle.

In the village, people stared as they walked by. Cora ran up, her eyes wide, and took her other arm as if to pull her away, but Tierney held fast to Kenan. Cora leaned to her ear. “Did he hit you?”

“No.”

Cora released a breath. “But you look,” she studied Tierney, “flushed.” In the middle of the path, she yanked Tierney before her even though Kenan still held her arm. For a moment, Tierney felt tugged in two. Cora caught her head with both her hands and pulled Tierney’s face to her and pressed her lips to Tierney’s forehead like their mothers would do to test for fever.

Her gaze rolled upward to her friend as Cora pressed her lips against her skin. “I’m not feverish, Cora.” Well, she was, but not with sickness.

Cora released her and nodded. “Thank the heavens.”

“I’m a bit tired is all.”

“Tired?” Cora asked. “The celebration has barely started.”

Tierney feigned a yawn. “You’ll stay with Maggie tonight?”

Cora blinked, and in the light of the torches, her cheeks grew flushed. She glanced at Kenan where he stood silently next to them, his gaze roaming the shadows. “Yes, of course.”

“Many thanks,” Tierney said. “Tell her I’ll pop in later to kiss her while she’s asleep.”

Cora hurried off, and Tierney tugged the slightest amount to get them striding toward the tower. No one stopped them, and Kenan followed without hesitation. Tongues would wag, but the only tongue she was thinking about was that of her mock-handfasted partner who’d detected her haste.

They pushed inside the double front doors into the silent entry that was lit with only one torch. Silence. Only Tierney’s wildly beating heart sounded in her ears. Was everyone still out at the celebration? The sun had gone down, so it was late enough for Cora to bring Maggie in, but it seemed everyone was taking the opportunity to celebrate something good.

All she could do was think about what Gabriel had interrupted, how her blood had felt like it was racing through her, making her skin feel extra sensitive to Kenan’s touch. Was he thinking the same thing? He was right. Being a widow gave her certain freedoms. She had no maidenhead to protect.

They’d paused in the entryway, and Tierney turned to him. Before she could even worry about his ardor cooling, he backed her against the stone wall, kissing her as if they hadn’t been interrupted out on the moor.

“Is your forehead still bleeding?” she asked against his lips as she kissed back and wrapped her hands over his shoulders to steady herself.

“I don’t care.”

“You will if you grow faint.”

A low growl in the back of his throat preceded him lifting her. She was jostled up against his hard chest, his arm under her knees. “Do I feel weakened by blood loss?”

Absolutely not, but she had no air to tell him that because he was kissing her again, striding into the keep, and crossing it to the stairs. He set her down two steps higher than him, so they were face to face.

“Do ye want me to stop?” he asked, and she noticed that his breath was as ragged as hers.

“No.” She gave a quick shake of her head, amazed that heat coursed through her when she’d been told once she was made of ice. “Don’t stop.”

His warm palms caught her face, and he tipped it slightly to the side as he descended for a wild kiss. Despite his strength, he allowed her to press him backward against the side of the plastered stone wall that made up the spiral staircase.

She gasped in the air as he left her lips, kissing a path to her neck and then to her ear where his deep voice vibrated. “I think ’tis time to move on to plan number three.” His words sent a sizzle shooting down her body.

Before she could answer, he lifted her up a step and turned her so that she stood pressed against the wall, his large, hard body before her as he rose.

In answer, her hand slid down between them until it cupped his erection so evident through his plaid wrap. He was no doubt as hot and achy as she.

With a groan, he grabbed her hand from his jack and led her up the steps behind him. “Where do I take ye?”

Right here on the steps perched on her tongue. But the thought of Cora and Maggie coming up changed her reply. “My parents’ bedchamber is being refurbished for me, for us, to use. Third landing and to the left.”

Her heart thumped from the climb, the sensations still spinning through her body. On the third landing, Kenan turned to her. “Left?”

Or here on the floor . “Yes,” she said, and they hurried together down the dim corridor to the room that Henry had led her to earlier that day, saying it was to be hers and Kenan’s as Lord and Lady of Scorrybreac Tower.

Kenan threw the door open, and a musty smell hung in the air from disuse. But it was private and had a large bed. Then he kissed her, and she didn’t care where they were because he was warm, and sensations thrummed through her pulling her mind from the mundane to the need that took her over. They moved together, knocking into something that clattered on the floor. He broke the kiss. “Are there traps set about?”

“Just a snare to keep you here,” she said.

“It sounds like ye’re asking me to tie ye up.”

Lord, help her. His words, said in his deep, teasing tone, made the fire in her burn brighter.

He led her toward the large, four-poster bed that she knew was swathed in heavy fabric drapes. They would be the first to go. Their heaviness felt like a cage. But the only light in the room came from the two glass-paned windows allowing in scant moonlight, enough to see the hulking forms of the bed, armoire, and privacy screen, but nothing else.

Yanking aside one drape, Kenan pressed her back on the lofty mattress that was dressed in quilts. The maids would have cleaned the bedding and room as soon as her parents left on their ill-fated voyage to mainland Scotland. It just needed to be dusted.

The sound of his boots being kicked off preceded his quick pull of each of her own boots. “I can’t see you,” she said, her heart flickering with panic as she saw the whiteness of his tunic pull off and fade into the darkness. For a split second she imagined Wallace, his whisky-soaked body coming at her.

Another thump on the floor may have been his heavy wool wrap and belt. “But can ye feel me?” The rumble of Kenan’s deep voice soothed her. This wasn’t the harsh man who’d wooed her with a handsome smile only to demand complete obedience once she was trapped in a marriage. There was nothing to trap her into being with Kenan, not even a pledge of handfasting. He wasn’t conquering her body; he was freeing it to soar with every touch.

Kenan slid his hands up each of her stockings that encased her calves, slowly, stopping to massage the muscle there.

Holy Joan, his fingers pressed in all her tight spots. She groaned as he worked the soreness out of her legs. No one had ever rubbed her legs before. “Oh yesssss,” she said and realized the pleasure in the words sounded like he was touching more intimate places.

He chuckled in the darkness. “Ye like to be rubbed.”

Rubbed and kissed and touched and whatever else he wished to do that caused this pleasurable tightening within her. The darkness seemed to heighten her other senses. He tugged the ribbons at the top of each stocking, and his fingertips tickled her as he rolled the thin wool down her legs, leaving her long limbs bare. His fingers stroked up her legs, rucking up the petticoat, and she began to shift on the bed, anticipating his touch higher. Her legs moved apart on their own as her crux throbbed, waiting.

Kenan’s hulking form was caught in shadow, poised over her. For a moment, he looked like Wallace, who would grab at her and shove himself between her legs, hissing in her ear that it was his right. The thought sent a wash of cold wind through her as if it had funneled up from Wallace’s grave.

Kenan had reached above her knees but stopped. “Tierney? We can stop this right now if ye wish.”

Had she tensed with the memory of torture?

She shook her head but knew he couldn’t see her, and reached down to his hand, squeezing it where it lay on her bare thigh. “I need this,” she whispered. She wanted Kenan to wash her skin free of the nightmarish memories. “Touch me and see if I feel like I want you to stop.” The ache between her legs pulsed with her wicked words.

Kenan slid up the bed, pulling her with him against his body. His tunic was gone, and so was his wrap below. He was completely naked. Warm skin with a sprinkling of hair over solid muscle.

He wrapped his arms around her, rolling the two of them across the bed as his mouth found hers again. She held onto his neck, kissing him back until the wildness of passion took her captive in a way she welcomed. Tierney was lost in sensation, Kenan’s hot, hard body against her. His scent was made of fresh air, leather, and a spice all his own.

She tugged at the front ties of her bodice until they loosened, her breasts craving the feel of his touch. Moving against one another in total darkness, Tierney listened to the brush of her skirt as he lifted it. She sighed against his mouth when her bodice loosened enough to allow her breasts to perch out the top. Her stays were next to loosen and open. Shifting down from the top and up from the bottom, she laughed softly. “I’m tangled in clothes.”

“When ye should be out of them,” he murmured, his head bowing to her breast.

She sucked in a gasp as his mouth pulled one hard, sensitive nipple in between his lips. The warmth of his mouth burrowed into her, rushing down to her pelvis. Her fingers raked softly through his thick hair, holding him to her, and she felt the tickle up her leg as his fingers continued their journey.

The soft bristle of Kenan’s clipped beard brushed her chin as he kissed her, their tongues touching, bringing a guttural groan from him. Her legs slid farther apart, and when he touched, she pressed her mound into his hand, begging him for more.

“Ye are ready, more than ready,” he said, as his fingers rubbed and teased. She began a grinding rhythm into his hand as he played her expertly. His hard, long jack moved against her thigh.

Tierney whispered, “Ask me to take you inside. Beg me.”

She’d never been asked. He had all the power, the strength, the jack to plunge into her. Control was something she’d never had in bed, and it was something she craved. She sought freedom from her past, and Kenan loving her was a path to liberation.

He kissed her neck, nibbling the skin there as he continued to stroke her, making her breath ragged. “Aye, lass. Can I plunge inside ye?” he asked. “Please.” He held the head of his jack right at her entrance.

“Yessss,” she said and gasped as his huge length thrust into her wet, open body.

Kenan groaned, his body taking over, bracing his forearms on either side of her face as he pumped into her. When she tipped her pelvis forward, he groaned again. He withdrew and thrust, starting a frantic rhythm that her body matched. Her legs rose to wrap around his back, her heels resting on his muscled arse.

“Oh God, lass,” he said on a lusty exhale as they rode the pleasure together. “I want to see ye.”

Without breaking his stride, he yanked on the curtains around the bed. Once. Twice. She imagined his biceps bunching with the power. He yanked a third time. Crack! The sound of wood cracking preceded the heavy drapes falling on two sides. She barely noticed the destruction as moonlight filtered in through the window. He looked nothing like Wallace.

Kenan’s features were strained as they moved together, a rhythm of madness and lust. His eyes centered on her face, his lips parted like hers, and his nostrils flared like a galloping stallion. She felt like they were beasts mating with wild abandon, and the thought made her press hard, meeting his thrusts.

Shifting up higher on her body, his pelvis brushed her most sensitive nub, and she gasped. Each rub of friction shot more heat through her like the teasing tickle of lightning until she teetered on the edge of… What? She wasn’t sure, but it felt urgent.

“Yes,” she breathed. “More.”

They moved faster, her whole body open to him, until all the sensation exploded within her. Tierney moaned a high pitch like keening. As if to answer her, Kenan released a deep, long growl. Heat flooded Tierney, and she held on tight around Kenan as they continued to ride the waves of pleasure together. In a sea of erotic oblivion, Tierney knew only one thing.

She didn’t want to let go.