Page 14 of The Highlander’s Virgin Nun (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“A ll right, that’s enough for now.” Caelan exhaled, pushing himself up with his hands on his thighs.

He walked back towards his pack, where it lay next to Miller. He dug his arm deep inside and felt his hand land on a medium-sized glass bottle.

“Shall we? I’m afraid I have nay goblets, so straight from the bottle will have to do.” He offered the bottle of mead to Rosaline and watched her face finally break into a smile after such a somber evening. “It’ll warm ye right up.”

“I’m nae much of a drinker,” she replied, and Caelan thought he should have known. “Unless there’s a game involved.”

“Oh.” He laughed, coming back to sit beside her. “Is that so? What kind of game did ye have in mind, lass?”

“How are ye with riddles?” She had a glint in her eyes and a bit of cheek in her smile.

He adored seeing her like this, as if he was seeing the real Rosaline, the person she might have been with her friends.

“Terrible,” he replied honestly, “but if a drink is me forfeit, then I’m thirsty.”

“All right then, I’ll start.”

Caelan rested the bottle of mead on the log in between them like a spinning arrow ready to pick its victim. He gazed at her with excitement in his eyes as she relaxed and finally allowed her personality to shine through.

“A swig for every wrong guess,” she warned him, and he agreed.

She turned on her best Highland accent for the ancient rhymes.

“An’ it’s neither Peg, Meg, nor Magrit,

Me mammy’s name;

An’ it’s neither Peg, Meg, nor Magrit,

An’ yet thrice I’ve told her name.”

Caelan laughed, stumped as usual by wordplay. He recalled his father telling riddles to him and Alexandra as children. His sister had been so fast to solve them that he had never even had a chance to think up an answer, and so the skill had gone unlearned.

His mind went blank, as if waiting for Alexandra to jump in.

Rosaline watched him, her head tilted as if listening for his thoughts, a patient, gleeful look on her face. She looked as though opening her mouth for a single breath would let forth a wave of laughter.

“Ye’ve said the name three times?” he asked, still enamored with the wordplay.

“Aye, indeed.”

He pondered it a while longer, repeating her words over and over in his mind, searching for a solution. As he did so, he looked at Rosaline, trying to pull the answer from her mind. She watched him back, mischief flickering in her eyes and across her lips. Caelan got lost in her dark features, reflecting silver in the moonlight.

“Peg,” he guessed, taking a swig of the mead as she shook her head.

“Meg.” Another swig.

“Margaret.” And another.

Her head fell back and she started laughing. “All right, ye’re just tryin’ to get drunk. Come on, use yer mind.”

“I’ve got nothin’,” he said, throwing his hands up in defeat. He felt the drink warm his insides and dance in his tummy.

“Ye give up?”

“I give up. Tell me.”

“Her name is Anne.”

Caelan threw his head back and laughed, playfully slapping her knee, gentle but excited. Anything to touch her.

“Ye’re a jester,” he teased. “Too clever for me.”

“Ye’re only clever if ye ken the answer. Ye give me one.”

“All right then.”

Caelan traced his memories back to the campfire with his father and sister. He could remember all the riddles but very few of the answers. Finally, he recalled one.

“What is neither in the house, nor out of the house, but is still all around the house?”

“Hmm,” Rosaline mused, narrowing her eyes and gazing up at the sky as if to find the answer there.

He watched her concentrate, forget herself, and let the fur slip from her shoulders as her mind weaved in and out of the words.

Her dress slid down her shoulder, gradually revealing her collarbone. It glimmered in the light, still slightly wet from the river. She turned her head to the side, deep in thought, and he followed the line from her chest, up her neck, and behind her ear with his eyes, longing to trace it with his lips instead. Desire stirred inside him as he watched her, oblivious, until her head snapped back to him, and he pulled his eyes back up to hers quickly.

“Love.”

“Drink.” He smirked. “Brilliant guess, though.”

She rolled her eyes and let out a cheeky sigh, lifting the bottle to her lips and tipping it back slowly to her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut as the liquid burned down her throat. She coughed and covered her mouth, shaking her head in disgust. They laughed together.

“All right, all right, let me try again.”

She thought a few moments longer, still not noticing that her decolletage was bare, and Caelan savored the view meanwhile.

“Windows?” she guessed, hope in her eyes.

“Spot on,” he said.

He watched her clap her hands once, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled widely. Perhaps the warmth of the mead was getting to her, too. Caelan knew he wouldn’t get another riddle, but he wanted to keep seeing her enjoyment.

“All right, try me once more.”

He caught the excitement in her tiny movements at his request.

“All right, but ye’ll be drunk by the end of this one at this rate.”

“I can handle me mead. Dinnae worry, lass.”

“What goes out black and comes back white?”

“All right, all right, surely I can get this one,” Caelan encouraged himself, to her amusement. “Coals!” he cried, sure he had it this time.

“A good answer, but nae the one I’m lookin’ for.”

He took a swig of mead and went back to thinking, trying not to let her beauty distract his thoughts this time. He rested his forehead in his hand, hiding her stunning looks from his eyes. When she giggled, he almost had to look up, to catch the beauty of it, but he resisted.

“An oil lamp!”

Rosaline howled with laughter, and he was on the edge of his seat, hoping for a win.

“Another great guess, but still nae the right one, Laird Sinclair.”

“Oh, I give up, me mind’s got nay more guesses.”

“Take yer drink as punishment, and I’ll tell ye the answer.”

“Aye, Me Lady.”

He took a sip and moved a little closer, pretending to be excited to hear the right answer, leaning in, in case he missed the whisper.

“A cow on a snowy winter mornin’.”

They laughed together, thoroughly relaxed now by the mead, allowing small touches to land on one another’s arms and legs, letting this new closeness between them simmer.

“All right, Lady Rosaline—for ye willnae be Lady Rosaline much longer,” Caelan declared, swallowing a burp as it threatened to burst from his lips. “I may nae be good at riddles, but me talents lie in other areas.”

He closed the distance between them, inching forward until his knees brushed her thigh. Rosaline dipped her chin and gave a soft smile. He rested his hand right next to her buttocks, supporting his weight as he leaned in.

“Apart from slayin’ assassins and outridin’ huntsmen?” she asked playfully.

“Those are two of me best, but me real skill lies in a third area.”

“And what might that be, Laird Sinclair?”

Caelan leaned in further, closing the final few inches between them. He observed Rosaline’s stance, too, not leaning in but not leaning back either. She was egging him on, telling him to get closer, but not meeting him halfway.

She was teasing him.

“Why do I nae show ye, instead of tellin’ ye?”

Rosaline’s skin was alight. She could feel every thin hair on her arms and neck stand to attention as Caelan got closer and closer. Every part of her was bracing for the feel of his touch.

She could hardly believe herself. Once, she had been so unsure of this man, of everyone and everything, and now she was so sure of what she wanted. She felt powerfully in control.

His hand rose from his leg and made its way swiftly but gently to her neck. He slid his fingers through her hair at the back of her neck, his thumb resting just below her jawline. He pulled her even closer towards him, pressing their bodies up against each other until their lips touched once again.

But this kiss was unlike the first one. That had been purposeful, drawn by energy, soft but sparkling. This kiss was sheer passion.

All of Caelan’s movements had intent behind them, applying the slightest pressure just to show her how much he desired her while remaining gentle with her small frame. She felt the tension in his fingers on her neck, which was mirrored by her muscles as she felt her desire grow and grow. His lips were soft on hers but moved with rhythm and purpose. His tongue began exploring hers, licking and lapping.

Finally, the hand that had supported his body on the log slid up the small of her back, underneath the fur wrapped around her body. His fingers ran over the lace of her dress and pulled her in even closer, ensuring there was no breath between them. But Rosaline had no intentions of going anywhere, even as they broke apart for air.

“I hope ye’ve warmed up, because I’m goin’ to have to get rid of this for the show,” Caelan purred, pulling the fur from her shoulders and laying it out on the ground. He did the same with his own.

“Maybe I’ll need yer body for warmth,” Rosaline murmured.

Her response drove him wild.

“Now, that is a riddle I can solve.” Caelan winked.

He lifted her from the log with ease and laid her down on the furs. He planted his knees on either side of her and lowered his left arm beside her head. His right hand slid back through her hair, this time from her temple, gathering her locks in his fingers and tugging them. He kissed her again with the same passion, exploring more and more of her with more and more of him.

Rosaline’s heart raced, and she felt her body coming alive. There was a hot throbbing between her legs, begging for relief, and her knees began to bend and straighten as sudden energy flowed through them.

Eventually, Caelan’s lips left hers and began to trail down the side of her neck. He found tendons and veins with his lips, applying light pressure to either side, making her muscles contract and relax. His breath was warm against the cool night air, and she felt his lips drawing a fiery line, as if it would be visible on her skin. He lingered at her collarbone for a moment, planting open-mouthed kisses on the crevices, making her head loll back as she arched into his touch.

When he felt her lower back lift, he quickly slid his hand underneath it, keeping it and her chest elevated. He moved down her body, this time coming to the square neckline of her dress. With his teeth, he pulled her sleeve down her arm till the swell of her breasts peeked out. He began to untie the laces at the back of her dress as he kissed her breasts.

Rosaline barely held back a moan. She had never been touched in this way, had only been able to imagine it as she stroked her skin. And it was more sensational and arousing than she could have ever dreamed of. Her body was thrumming with desire, and every touch felt magical.

Soon, Caelan had unfastened her dress. He lifted it over her head and tossed it aside. Only her light slip remained, which struggled to contain her hard nipples. He closed his lips over the tip and sucked. Her body melted in his skill, as he traversed areas of her body she had never felt before.

“I told ye I was good,” he whispered, lifting his head for just a moment before returning to worship her breasts.

Rosaline tried to reply, but she could only breathe and writhe and indulge in the experience.

Caelan’s hand slid down her waist, over her hips and thighs, and found the hem of her slip. He pushed it up and bared her sex to the night air. He used his legs to part hers and began to kiss and gently nip her inner thighs. She gripped onto his biceps to steady herself, for she was writhing uncontrollably in pleasure. When he moved his finger ever so lightly between her legs, she had to dig her nails into his arms to keep herself still.

He stroked his finger up and down, slowly massaging her, and her body grew wet for his touch, lubricating his movements. She felt a sensation she had never felt before, as if light flowed through her body, a fire threatening to consume her. And she craved to feel more.

When Caelan moved lower and traced the path of his finger with his tongue, her back arched, and her head pressed back into the furs underneath her. As he moved his tongue rhythmically back and forth, increasing and decreasing the pressure to keep her guessing, her thighs tensed and her toes curled.

“Now, for the finale,” he muttered, blowing cold air on her wet folds.

In the split second that he was not pleasuring her, she desperately ached for his touch again.

This time, as his tongue returned to her sex, his right hand slid from her thigh and disappeared for a short moment. Just as she began to miss its feel on her, a finger entered her, and her back bowed off the furs. The sensation, shockingly new at first, soon became even more pleasurable than the rest. Caelan slid his finger in and out of her, his tongue still massaging that bundle of nerves above, and her body gave in to the pleasure.

Her fingers gripped his arms harder, and her feet pushed into the ground as a wave of delight washed over her.

Rosaline felt herself almost leave her body, rise above it, and then return after a few seconds as an entirely new woman. Her skin tingled all over, and her muscles finally relaxed after so long of tensing and contracting. Her vision slowly cleared, and her breathing slowed.

“All right,” she sighed, now finally able to talk again. “I can certainly see where yer talents lie.”

Caelan rose slowly from between her legs and came to lie beside her, pulling the furs over them both. He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear and made sure that she was covered and warm, nestling close.

“I’m glad the audience is pleased.” He smiled. “But that was only the first act.”