Page 12 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

12

H er husband’s voice was menacing and fueled with more rage than she had ever heard. A second later, his powerful hand gripped her upper arm and spun her around to face him.

“I said, ye ken why he waged war against ye,” Alison hissed, stepping toward him. “Would ye nae, if ye thought someone had killed yer kin?”

“I didnae kill his sister,” Duncan roared. “And I didnae kill me wife!”

Alison studied his face, trying to glimpse the truth in it.

In all the years that she had resided in the castle, she had never worked up the courage to ask what had happened on that fateful night.

Originally, she had hoped that luck would find her and she would catch the servants speaking about it in hushed tones, but they seemed reluctant to discuss it even amongst themselves.

The rumors that surrounded her husband had taken on a life of their own, turning him into a monster inside her head.

He did go through all that trouble to rescue ye.

And that was the point, wasn’t it? Even if he was a monster, he had dropped everything and ridden to save her when she had been kidnapped. And while he had been gruff with her while they had traveled, he also seemed to respect the trauma she had suffered during her abduction.

The truth was that Alison no longer knew what she believed.

“Aye,” she said, her eyes glinting. “But she still found herself stabbed in yer bed. So much for protectin’ her .”

“Careful,” Duncan warned, taking a step closer to her. “I dinnae want to keep tellin’ ye, but I dinnae like to be challenged, wife.”

She stared up at him, their bodies now merely inches apart. Her eyes roved over his face, narrowing on his plump, soft lips. Immediately, images of their earlier kiss flashed through her mind.

“And what if I’m nae careful?”

When Alison met her husband’s eyes once more, she found that they had become very dark. The knot that had coiled in her belly gave a swift and painful tug.

She knew she was dancing on a double-edged sword of anger and desire, thinking about how he had left her all those years ago.

Five years of abandonment also meant five years of an empty bed. Five years of a wife without a true husband. Five years of nothing but her fantasies to keep her company. Fantasies of things she had overheard young maids talk about. Kisses, touches…Everything her husband took with him when he left her.

But now, her handsome, desirable, enigmatic husband was finally home. He stood before her in all his rage and glory, utterly available, exclusively hers in the solitude of the sitting room.

“I’ll have to punish ye,” Duncan rasped, his voice thick with a desire that matched her own. “Someone will have to teach ye some manners.”

Her heart thundered in her chest, and she blushed furiously. Her skin tingled with need, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him.

“I’ve never been good with rules or manners…,” she purred, her mind suddenly filled with possibilities.

“Let’s see about that.”

Duncan acted quickly, his powerful arms wrapping around her back and pulling her against him.

Alison’s legs became weak as his mouth captured hers. She had believed that their next kiss would feel like it had that morning, but she was so very wrong. That morning, they had both still been filled with the haziness of sleep and an eagerness to get home. But here, in the comfort of the castle that they both called home, he unleashed the full force of his passion.

He was not gentle as he gripped her hair and yanked back her head. His plump lips left her mouth and dropped kisses along her jaw before landing on her exposed neck. Pinpricks of desire danced along her arms, back, and legs as his breath fanned her sensitive skin. An intense and insistent need grew in her loins as she moaned and begged him for more.

“None of that,” he murmured, his lips still pressed against her flesh. “Ladies dinnae moan.”

“I told ye,” she breathed, “I’m nae good with manners.”

“Hmm, I see that, wife.”

A yip of surprise escaped her as Duncan reached down, cupped her buttocks, and lifted her off her feet. He did not struggle in the slightest as he held her up, her feet dangling above the ground, and carried her to the writing desk at the far end of the room.

He lowered her onto it and immediately parted her knees so that he could stand between them. Alison clenched her thighs around him, trying to bring his body closer to hers.

She needed to feel him. In fact, she was sure that she had never needed anything more. Her skin ached with the incessant desire to be touched, and when his mouth came down on hers again, she was ablaze from the inside out.

Their lips moved together, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. She was unable to stop the moan that tore from the back of her throat. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands fiercely gripping the fabric of his shirt, where she could feel the rippling muscles of his back beneath her palms.

Christ, he’s carved from stone.

A fresh wave of desire shot through her as his muscles rippled and bunched beneath her hands. As she was about to lift the hem of his shirt and touch his bare skin, he suddenly broke their kiss.

A cry of protest left her lips, and she clawed at the back of his shirt to pull him closer.

“Along with manners,” he purred darkly, his eyes glinting as he stared down at her, “I’ll be teachin’ ye how to apologize.”

Alison panted with anticipation as Duncan bent his head, but he did not bring his mouth to hers. Instead, he rested his lips on her jaw and began kissing along the column of her throat. She leaned back, placing her hands behind her on the desk so that she could arch into him.

The scruff on his jaw scraped against her flesh, contrasting with the heady softness of his lips. His hand came up to cup her breasts, and she threw her head back, groaning loudly.

Suddenly, he was gone. All his heat left her in an instant, causing her eyes to fly open in alarmed dismay.

Her husband stood before her, his blue eyes molten with desire. Her gaze dropped lower, and she saw that he was stiff, hard, and bulging beneath his kilt. She swallowed at the impressive protuberance, her thighs clenching as she prepared herself to receive it.

Duncan followed her gaze and chuckled again.

“Ye’ll nae be gettin’ that, wife,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “I told ye, first I’ll be teachin’ ye some manners.”

She was unable to speak as she watched her husband sink to his knees before her. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him as he placed himself between her legs once more.

Alison felt the fabric of her skirts glide up her legs, dancing tantalizingly over her skin. Duncan then peeled her sark away from her skin until she was fully exposed. A hiss of desire left his lips, but she had no time to luxuriate in it before he lowered his head and pressed kisses to her thighs.

She squirmed under his touch, shifting back and forth as her body wound itself more tightly and searched for a means of release. Her anxious hand darted out, tangling in his hair.

“Impatient and improper,” he murmured, sending lightning skittering across her flesh with his eager tongue.

“Then teach me those manners ye promised,” Alison bargained in a plaintive, breathy voice.

Duncan said nothing more as he obliged, his head moving as he found his way to her moist, warm sex.

There had been many nights when Alison had fantasized about what it would be like to move her hand between her thighs. But she now knew that all her wildest fantasies did not hold so much as a candle to reality—the intensity and force of the primal hunger that now overwhelmed her.

The moment Duncan pressed his mouth to her most intimate place, his lips began moving. His tongue darted out, lapping at her folds and flicking her swollen pearl. Alison threw her head back, her eyes closed as she gave in to the pleasure.

Immediately, she felt her body preparing to soar to her release.

Suddenly, he stopped. Her eyes flew open, and she looked down to see him still on his knees, smirking up at her.

Her mouth dropped open. “What… Why…” she stammered, unable to form words.

“Apologize,” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder as if what he was doing to her was not some form of torture.

She shook her head, a spark of defiance rising within her despite her frazzled condition. “Nay, I’ll nae apologize for nothing.”

Duncan shrugged again as though it did not faze him in the slightest and brought his mouth back to her mound. Immediately, he began to work her again. Only this time, he allowed his hand to come up and knead her breast as he did so.

“Duncan, please,” she moaned.

Alison was still wound so tightly that it did not take her long before she was climaxed once again. She opened her eyes to stare down at her husband.

His eyes were open, fixed on her as his mouth moved against her slick, wet folds. He found her center and gave one hard, luxurious suck that threatened to send her spiraling.

Just when she thought she would reach her climax, he pulled away again.

Her mouth fell open on a petulant cry, her release slipping from her grasp. She glared at him as he kissed the inside of her thigh teasingly.

“Apologize,” he murmured again. “That’s all it takes, and I’ll give ye exactly what ye want.”

Her body still burning with unquenched need, Alison hastily conceded her defeat.

“I’m sorry.” The words rushed out of her, each one tumbling over the next. “I’m sorry that I brought up yer first wife. I’m sorry that I seemed ungrateful. I’m sorry?—”

She gasped as Duncan bent his head again and latched back on to her.

It was then that Alison realized he had only been toying with her before that moment. Now that she had apologized and given him what he wanted, he became ravenous. His mouth and tongue moved against her furiously, nipping, licking, and sucking with an urgency that drove her toward her final release.

She prepared herself for him to pull away again as her body and mind spiraled with pleasure. But when she crested, he did not pull away. He continued to work her, burying his mouth into her sex like a man possessed.

She glanced down and saw that he was still watching her, his bright blue eyes burning into hers. Holding his gaze, she climaxed.

Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, making her buck, writhe, and cry out as her orgasm consumed her. She gripped his hair harder, and still, he did not stop.

Over and over again, she spasmed until she became delirious from the gratification and could stand it no more.

She tugged on his hair, guiding his mouth away from her sex. Duncan grinned up at her as she gasped and tried to slow her heartbeat.

She watched as he swiped a hand over his mouth and stood up. Her skirts remained bunched around her waist, her undergarments cast aside and her glistening sex fully exposed.

Heat suffused her cheeks as she took in his satisfied smirk. As he moved toward her, an idea came to her mind.

As she rearranged her skirts, a smirk of her own formed on her lips. She threw them back over her legs and slid off the desk.

“Well, that was lovely,” she said in a bright, airy voice. “Thank ye, but I really should be gettin’ to bed.”

Alison was rewarded when her husband’s lips pressed into a dissatisfied, thin line. She glanced down and noticed that he was still hard beneath his kilt. She knew that if she stayed in that room for a moment longer, she would give in to him entirely.

She did not give him a chance to respond as she strode past him and walked out of the sitting room. She had not taken more than a few steps before she ran into one of the servants, and her cheeks flushed with shame.

What if they overheard us? I was cryin’ out like a banshee, to be sure.

Logically, Alison knew that she had nothing to be ashamed of. They were man and wife, after all.

She dropped her head, murmuring good night to the staff as she passed. It was not until she was in her chambers, with the door firmly shut behind her, that her thoughts began to take shape.

What happens when he leaves me again?

It was that thought, more than anything, that made her stop and consider everything that had occurred, because what would become of her if he left again?

Duncan claimed that he was there to stay, but how could that be true? He had recited his marriage vows before God five years ago but had kept none of them. How could she trust that he would do what he now promised?

Irrespective of how wonderful their tryst had been, it could not happen again because the reality was that, despite Duncan’s assurances, she could not trust him to keep his word.

Alison knew that if she gave herself to him in any real way, in any way that mattered, it would break her when he left. She had survived the last time only because she had not known him. She had been young and had used the time alone to create a life for herself, a life that she loved.

She would not allow her husband to destroy the peaceful life that she had built.