Page 16 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #5)

CHAPTER 16

Ava remained standing before Brodrick, shuffling her feet and feeling his intense gaze piercing through her. His eyes were so clear she could practically see the golden flecks in them and the reflection of the nearby candlelight. She could see the outline of his hard body through his white shirt, and she instantly hated the fact that she was staring in the first place.

She wanted to look anywhere. Anywhere but his face and the way it seemed even more alluring in the candlelight. Anywhere but his chest and the way the gentle draft moved his shirt against it.

“Ava?” Brodrick called again. “Have ye lost the ability to speak?”

Ava could sense the excitement in his voice.

“Do not flatter yourself, My Laird,” she huffed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Och. A man can only hope,” Brodrick drawled.

“If you must know…” Ava trailed off, waiting for the excuse to descend on her like the wave of heat that spread across her cheeks. “I was—” she started, her voice breaking halfway. “I was writing a letter.”

Brodrick frowned. “A letter?”

“Yes,” Ava responded thickly.

This was it. This was what she was going to go with. Writing a letter.

“Yes. I intend to send word to my friends back in the orphanage that I am doing well at the castle. I also intend to send word from Margaret.”

Brodrick narrowed his eyes at her. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not, but she was either doing a good job of this, or the flush that crept up her cheeks as he moved closer to her had disoriented her so much.

“I wanted to talk to Margaret. Ask what she would like me to say to them as well.”

Brodrick tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Ava said too quickly.

There was a tense pause, and at that moment, Ava could see the contemplation in his eyes.

“Ach. If ye’re here, ye might as well see the portraits.”

Ava nodded as Brodrick turned around.

Margaret threw Ava a small smile. One that made Ava realize the child was not exactly having the worst time touring the castle with her father.

Her eyes flicked to the portrait attached to the wall right in front of them. The woman in it looked young and utterly breathtaking. Her dark curls hung gently around her face, and Ava could see flashes of Margaret in her bright smile. Ava’s eyes darted to the bottom of the portrait, where she could see the name of the woman clear as day.

Davina Culloch, Lady of Clan MacDunn.

Suddenly, everything Brodrick had been saying to Margaret about her mother clicked into place. Yes, that was her mother through and through.

“And this…” Brodrick’s voice jarred her out of the reverie she had been lost in. “This is ye, Margaret.”

Ava looked at the painting he was pointing at. In it was the most beautiful baby girl she had ever seen. She didn’t look older than two or three months old. Her dark hair, just like her mother’s, hung around her face, and she had the most beautiful hazel eyes. Her cheeks were pink with joy, and her toothless grin accentuated the gleam in her eyes.

Ava looked at the bottom of the portrait, and for the first time, she saw it. Right there, emboldened by the glistening candlelight and scrawled across the painting, was the girl’s real name.

Fiona Culloch.

Margaret seemed to notice it at the same time because she gestured to the name beneath the portrait and looked up at Brodrick.

“Well, that was yer initial name, ye see. It was the name ye were given before…” he trailed off.

Ava wondered if it was because he couldn’t bring himself to relive the tragedy one more time.

She watched Margaret reach for Brodrick’s hands and squeeze them ever so gently. Brodrick stared at her, puzzlement and excitement warring in his eyes. Margaret looked back at the portrait, touched her name, and whispered only one word.

“Margaret.”

Brodrick exchanged a look with Ava, his eyes widening in shock.

Ava shook her head. He mustn’t show his surprise. She mouthed, “Hide it,” so he didn’t terrify Margaret into complete silence again.

Brodrick looked back at his daughter and laughed. “I prefer Margaret, too.”

Ava smiled, almost heaving a sigh of relief. Now she felt guilty for interrupting what was supposed to be a nice father-and-daughter moment. Every moment from there on continued to make her feel like she was intruding one way or the other. She decided to do something about it.

“I shall go write the letter,” she suddenly announced.

She was surprised at how loud her voice was, but she didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

“So, Margaret, is there anything you would like me to tell Sarah and Elizabeth?”

Margaret looked up at Ava, a slight smile on her face. “Ye can tell them that I’m home.”

The words floated ever so gently out of her mouth.

Ava swallowed, doing all she possibly could to mask her excitement as well. She noticed that Brodrick also did better at hiding the surprise on his face.

Then, she nodded, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“I shall do just that,” she whispered, before turning around.

Margaret was speaking more frequently than before. This was an interesting development. This meant her work here wouldn’t take as long as she had initially thought.

As she hurried towards her room, something about that thought did not sit well with her.

Later that night, after the usual chatter and buzz around the castle had completely settled, Ava rose from her bed, her chest heavy with boredom. She couldn’t sleep. She had tried tossing and turning in her bed, changing positions over and over, but nothing seemed to work.

Should she go to Irene and ask for a sleeping draught, perhaps?

She slipped into one of her night silk gowns and grabbed the candelabra by her bed. Irene might already be asleep, and the last thing she wanted was to disturb the woman.

She looked over at the letter she had finished writing earlier that day and read it over and over. She had decided she was going to send it the next morning, and part of her hoped that Sarah and Elizabeth were just as excited to hear from her as she had been excited to send the letter to them.

She hurried across the castle, one hand gripping the candelabra as tight as possible and the other hand gently lifting the hem of her dress. She stepped outside, and the cold night air instantly snuffed out the candle.

Of course, why did she think that was not going to happen?

The moonlight cast a silvery glow across the courtyard, and she decided that she did not need the candle anyway. She placed the candelabra gently near the door and walked out, her feet pressing softly into the grass.

She walked to one of the large chairs by the fence behind some of the larger trees in the courtyard. She was well hidden from the windows and didn’t have to worry about anyone looking at her and wondering why she was out at this time of night.

She gingerly lowered herself onto the chair, rubbing her forehead frantically. Then, she leaned back and looked up at the sky—at the scattered stars that decorated the dark expanse, at the bright moon that seemed to only be facing her for some reason.

A gust of cold air suddenly hit her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, wondering if she should have worn something thicker.

“Ava?” the voice, so deeply ingrained in her mind that she could probably recognize it in her sleep, called behind her.

She almost jumped before turning around.

* * *

Brodrick stood right behind the chair, a puzzled expression on his face.

Ava studied him carefully. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I just got here.”

“What? Are you following me around now?”

Brodrick scoffed. “Ye flatter yerself, ye ken?”

He moved closer to the chair and looked into her eyes as if requesting permission. Ava nodded gently, and he sank into the chair beside her, before leaning back.

“Ye’re cold,” he suddenly said, his voice still managing to startle her.

“No.”

“I am watchin’ ye shiver, Ava.”

“It’s not from the cold.”

An amused expression crept onto his face. “Really?”

“Yes, really. And stop staring at me. You’re scaring me with that look.”

Enjoying how uncomfortable he seemed to make her, he leaned closer, his eyes locked onto hers. “How about now?”

Ava chuckled. “Is that all you can manage to do, My Laird?”

“Ye would be surprised.”

Ava arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

They fell into brief silence for a few more minutes, only listening to the crickets chirp around them and the cold night breeze pick up.

“Davina,” Ava uttered suddenly, as if she had been rolling the name around in her mouth for a while. “You’ve never mentioned her.”

Brodrick sank deeper into the chair, memories of his dead wife flashing through his mind. “There was nothing to say.”

“Pardon me if I find that extremely hard to believe.”

“’Tis the truth.”

“No, it is not. You have not one single thing to say about your wife? Not even the number of teeth in her mouth?”

Brodrick turned to her, mild shock crossing his face. “What?”

“I’m just saying you should have something to say about the mother of your child?—”

“Like the number of teeth she had?”

“No, that is not what I?—”

“That was quite literally what ye just said.”

“No, I?—”

“I am merely quotin’ yer words verbatim.”

“My Laird?—”

“What else would ye like to ken? The color of her tongue? The size of her nostrils when they flared?”

“Good God, you are as insufferable as they come, aren’t you?” Ava exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in utter exasperation.

She regretted it almost immediately and hoped she didn’t wake anyone in the castle with how loud she had been.

Brodrick sighed. “And ye are quite relentless, do ye ken that?”

“Tell me something I don’t know, My Laird.”

Brodrick shifted slightly. “Davina was as lovely as they come. If I had been in love with her, this would’ve been a completely different story.”

Ava sighed. “You weren’t in love with her?”

Brodrick shook his head. “Nay. My marriage to Davina was purely out of duty. Of course, I cared for her and respected her. Her faither was a warrior, and at some point, she kenned how to hold her own in a sword fight. Lord kens she was better than half the men I train in the courtyard.”

Ava laughed. For some reason, something about that warmed her heart and made her feel some kind of empathy for Davina.

“She sounds like a great woman.”

But Brodrick had fallen silent. Ava could sense his grief.

“You miss her, do you not?” she asked.

“I dinnae miss livin’ with her. Sometimes, a part of me is happy she wasnae here to witness what happened to our daughter. I fear she may nae have been able to bear it. Maybe that would have killed her anyway.

The racing thoughts, the unending anticipation. But at times like this, especially ever since we got back from the orphanage, I wish there was a way she could see her daughter now and ken that she is safe. And that she is with her faither.”

Ava nodded in sympathy. “I am certain she knows.”

Brodrick sighed. “I believe so, as well. And I ken she’d be forever grateful to ye. Just like I am.”

Before Ava could reply, he continued, “Now, this may sound hilarious to ye, but back in the gallery…” He paused, weighing his words. “I could have sworn I saw Davina’s portrait smile when Margaret touched it.”

Ava swallowed. “Oh.”

“I did say this might sound hilarious to ye.”

“Hilarious?” Ava echoed, feeling a flush crawl up her cheeks. “No. No. Why would it be?”

Brodrick narrowed his eyes at her. “Ye look like ye’re on the verge of laughter.”

Ava stifled a snicker. “What?”

“Just because it is dark out, doesnae mean I cannae see yer face, lass.”

Ava clamped her hand over her mouth. “I am not laughing.”

“Ava.”

As if the sound of her name had broken a dam, Ava doubled over and started to laugh.

Brodrick watched her, a slight smirk on his face. Her quiet laughter was like music to his ears, and the way her face reddened when she looked back up at him endeared him to her even more.

“By any chance, My Laird, did you have anything to drink before taking Margaret to the gallery?” Ava finally asked once her laughter died down.

“Nay.”

“Oh. And nothing from Irene’s apothecary?”

“What are ye implyin’?”

“What am I implying? You’re the one who said a portrait smiled at you.”

“I said it looked like it smiled. And nae at me but at Margaret.”

“I am most definitely certain that a portrait cannot do that. Perhaps it is a Scottish thing that I am not accustomed to yet.”

“There are several Scottish things ye arenae accustomed to; it is quite obvious,” Brodrick drawled.

“And I am certain you plan to teach me some of these?”

“As yer Laird, it is me duty to instill some of those manners in ye.”

Brodrick felt it almost as soon as the words tumbled from his mouth—the complete shift in conversation. The tension in the air.

He could see it in Ava’s eyes as well, the allure, the seductive tilt to her smile.

“And what, pray tell, are these manners?”

“Well,” he murmured, leaning closer to her.

Without letting himself overthink it, he placed his index finger on her thigh. Then, slowly, he trailed that finger down to the hem of her dress.

“I could teach ye the proper way to speak to a laird. I am certain nay one’s ever had to do that before.”

He heard her suck in a sharp breath. His fingers now traced the hem of her dress, moving the fabric until they landed on her stockinged shins.

“I would teach ye,” he continued, leaning in further, his lips barely grazing her clavicle, “that a laird should be treated with respect.”

Ava’s legs quivered ever so slightly as his hand inched closer to her inner thigh. His lips found the base of her throat, and he began to kiss it softly at first. His lips matched the rhythm of his hand still trailing up her thigh, the heat of his fingers incredibly titillating.

“Brodrick…” Ava gasped.

“Ye have been incredibly disobedient, Ava,” Brodrick purred, his lips finding her breastbone as his free hand slowly unlaced her corset.

Her dress loosened around her chest, and he wasted no time swooping down and wrapping his lips around her nipple. The feel of his tongue on her flesh set her entire body on fire.

“And ye,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “deserve to be punished.”

Ava’s heart skipped a beat, as if she had just been told the secret of the world. As if her body had just absorbed pleasure in its purest form.

Stopping right at the hem of her undergarments, his finger grazed her folds, and she arched into it. She wanted more than just his fingers caressing her body. She wanted more than just his lips kissing her breasts and his tongue lapping at her nipples. She wanted more, and he knew that. He was probably going to make her ask for it. Make her beg for it.

That was going to be her punishment.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, My Laird.” She finally found her voice, making it sound like she was holding her own, even though her body continued to quiver beneath his touch, beneath his hot breath.

“Really?”

Without warning, Brodrick lifted her off the chair and pulled her on his lap, his hands guiding her hips in a steady, grinding motion. Ava let out a loud gasp as her hands reached for his neck. His lips worked their way up her chest, then her neck, then her chin, before eventually crashing onto hers.

His kiss mimicked the grinding motion he was guiding her into. She could feel the bulge in his dark trousers right underneath her. She could feel him press against her, hard and throbbing.

“I intend to punish ye tonight, Ava,” he whispered.

The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine, causing her to arch into him further.

He rocked her back and forth, his hands steady on her hips, the movement quickening as the minutes ticked by.

Soon, Ava was lost in a haze, picturing water flowing right at the edge of a mountain. The slightest air, the slightest tug, and even the slightest push would push the water completely against the mountain and make it flow down the cliff furiously. She had drawn to the very edge, and she wanted to fall off.

Brodrick seemed to notice because he stopped.

Ava gasped, her eyes widening.

He stopped?

“Did you just?—”

“Nae so fast, Ava.”

Before she could understand what was happening, he rose from the chair, his grip still tight on her. Then, he placed her on the chair, her back pressing against the hardwood. She was spread out now like a queen waiting to be worshipped, and her heart rate quickened as Brodrick took a step back to fully examine her. To see exactly what he was about to worship to completion.

He went down on his knees, pulled her hips to the edge of the chair, and dove in. Ava felt his stubble first, then his lips, then his hot wet tongue and the way it seemed to cover her and keep her exposed almost at the same time. Her hands reached for the edges of the chair, and she gripped them as tightly as she could.

His tongue flicked, licked, and stabbed into her, every feeling, every sensation coaxing moans out of her. Her vision narrowed on the moon above, as if a wave of understanding had passed between them. As if the moon knew her and, for some reason, smiled at her.

Brodrick sucked on her harder, his lips tightening around her like he was squeezing the juice from an orange. Then, she felt it.

One finger.

Her breath hitched.

Two fingers.

She couldn’t stifle her moans any longer. Brodrick reached out and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“I didnae tell ye to make any sound now, did I?”

Ava wanted to protest, but her soul almost left her body when she felt three fingers inside her.

Brodrick stared at her, his gaze dark as his fingers slid in and out of her. At first, they were slow and through, like a snake looking into a tight cave, then tight and constant, his other hand still covering her mouth.

“Ye’re receivin’ yer punishment, remember?”

Her eyes found the moon again, and she could almost swear the smile on its face grew wider.

Faster.

Her grip tightened on the edges of the chair, as if the slightest falter would make her fall.

Faster.

She could see water in a mountain again. This time, it teetered dangerously on the edge of a cliff. Ava was certain that even with the slightest gust of wind, it would flow.

Faster.

She felt her brain turn into mush. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Then, she felt the water crash against the mountain. It almost felt like the edge of the cliff wasn’t enough. The water spilled down every side of the mountain, falling in a torrent, almost viciously.

She tensed beneath him when she grew sensitive. But for a second, he didn’t stop. He continued pumping his fingers into her. Ava’s hands flew from the edges of the chair and held on tight to his shoulders, the look in her eyes begging him to stop.

She panted hard as the wind blew gently against her. Brodrick rose from the ground and lowered her gown, watching her pull up her undergarments.

“How do ye feel?”

Ava stared at him, unable to muster words.