Twenty-four

Callum slumped tiredly on the back of his horse and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Dawn was on the horizon, and he needed to return to his wife. He didn’t want her waking up alone. They’d thought they had John and his men an hour ago, before his crafty brother-in-law had slipped away. Once this was over, he’d sit down with John and learn whatever skill he had that allowed him and his men to avoid capture. Callum was sure he’d find it edifying.

But not right now.

“John!” he yelled suddenly, losing complete control of his temper and causing Aristotle to huff and toss his head. “Quit playing games, you wee ablach, and show yourself! She’ll be awake soon and grieving—alone! I swear I’m going to beat you bloody if you cause her any more anguish!”

Gregor put his hand on Callum’s arm and squeezed. “You should go to her, Son. We’ll find John for you. ’Twill be light soon. He willna be able to hide forever.”

Callum shoved his hand through his hair. Worry had twisted his guts, and his fear for Maggie had muddled his mind. He knew he wasn’t at his best. “Aye. At least if I’m with her, I’ll know she’s safe.”

He’d just turned his horse toward the castle when a rider galloped up to them.

“Laird MacLean! Our lady asked for you to return—and to hurry.”

Panic ripped through Callum, and he urged Aristotle into a gallop, the other man by his side. “What happened?” he yelled, trying to be heard over the horses’ hooves.

“I doona know. Drustan went into your bedchamber for a few minutes to talk to her. She left the door open, and we didn’t hear anything untoward, but right after he left, she told us to find you.”

“Was she all right?”

The other man hesitated. “She held her dagger in her hand.”

Callum leaned over Aristotle and pushed his horse to go faster in the dim light.

Why hadn’t he acted sooner? He’d known something was wrong with Drustan. He should have restrained him and brought Flora in to tend his ills. If something happened to Maggie, he’d never forgive himself.

“Where was she when you left?” he asked, praying his wife had stayed in their room.

“Not to worry, Laird. She locked herself in your bedchamber and barred the door.”

* * *

Maggie walked carefully through the dark tunnel, which was just high enough for her to stand upright, her crossbow raised in her arms. Her breath was fast yet even. Her awareness was heightened and her hands steady as she peered into the gloom.

Behind her, tall Aileen was forced to walk hunched over, carrying the candle, which threw a small pool of light around them. Her steps were erratic as she tried to keep up and occasionally broke into a sob.

“Remember,” Maggie said, “if you hear a noise behind us, drop down so I’ll have a clear shot.”

“But shouldnae I be in the front, then? You said we’re being followed. Doesn’t that mean they’ll come from the back?”

“Perhaps. But they may be in the tunnel ahead of us too.” Aileen let out another sob, and the pool of light in front of Maggie diminished. “Keep up, Sister. Think of Keith and of what the discovery of this tunnel might mean for the two of you.”

Aileen pressed up close behind her now, and Maggie was glad she’d had the sense to drag her hair forward over her shoulder so Aileen would not set the strands alight.

“I doona understand. What does the tunnel have to do with Keith?” Aileen asked, her voice sounding stronger already.

“If I’m not mistaken, this tunnel leads directly under the courtyard. Which means, if Glynis knows about it, she wouldnae have had to run all the way around that great courtyard and up the stairs in plain sight to cut the rope, as we all assumed. She could have gone through the tunnel and under the courtyard, which would have given her enough time to get there.”

“But how could she have known about the tunnel?”

“I doona know…but I have my suspicions.”

“What? Tell me,” Aileen demanded.

“Nay. I’ll discuss them with Callum first and let him ask the questions.” Maggie had wondered for a while if Callum’s da had been tupping Glynis.

The whole situation made Maggie’s stomach sour. She didn’t want to think badly of Callum’s da, especially as he’d been loving and kind to his children—but not every lass would feel they had the right to say no to a man as powerful as their laird.

All Maggie could hope for was that the old laird had been respectful to the women he’d approached and made it clear no harm would come to them or their families if they refused him.

A noise sounded behind them, and Maggie spun around. “Down!” she whispered, and Aileen dropped to her knees.

Maggie waited, straining to hear. Then in the distance, Drustan called, “Abi! Love, are you down here? Abigail?”

Her guts hollowed, and she turned around, quickening her pace. “Hurry, Aileen.”

“What’s wrong? That sounded like Drustan. He could help us.” Aileen scrambled to her feet and kept close.

“Nay. I think Drustan is the one who disposed of Hew and my other guard. Something’s terribly wrong with him.”

“And he’s following us? Maybe to kill us?”

“’Tis possible.” She didn’t want to scare the lass any more than she already was, but it was important Aileen understood that Drustan was not to be trusted. “When we get out of the tunnel, I want you to run as fast as you can and find Keith—or any of the other soldiers. Tell him to find your brother. And tell everyone you can about the tunnel. Callum needs to know.”

They hurried in silence for a moment before Aileen said, “That’s why you threw the stone into the passageway and broke it. To alert everyone the tunnel was here. In case…in case we ne’er made it out.” Instead of faltering, her voice had steadied.

“Callum needed to know where we’d gone.”

“Even though Drustan would know too?”

“Aye. A traitor is at work in the clan, Aileen, and I’m almost certain she…or he…has been using this tunnel.”

“Glynis,” Aileen breathed.

“Maybe. But until we catch her down here, we willna know for sure.”

Maggie slowed as they reached the bottom of a spiral staircase. She pointed her crossbow upward. “Stay as close to me as you can.” She felt the need for caution, but at the same time, Drustan was behind them, and she wanted to run.

They started up the stairs, and Maggie tried to keep count, to estimate how high up they were going. She peered into the thick blackness, watching for anyone ahead of them—or any weapons—while she also looked for doors or a loose stone that could be another exit. There had to be a way out, at the very least one on the highest level. She prayed they found it before Drustan found them.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, he called out again. “Abi! Abi, where are you?” He sounded closer this time, and she and Aileen crouched against the wall like mice trying to hide from a great, deranged cat. Maggie didn’t know where to point her crossbow, and after a second, she urged Aileen to keep going. They were on what she thought must be the last spiral of the stone staircase when she heard the scraping of stone, followed by the sight of a familiar shape racing around the corner.

“Glynis,” Aileen said, just as Maggie yelled, “Stop!” her finger on the trigger of her crossbow.

She didn’t want to kill Glynis; they needed information from her. At the same time, Drustan roared behind them. He sounded close, like he was at the bottom of the steps. If she shot Glynis, she wouldn’t have time to reload, which left her daggers, and she wasn’t confident using them in this tight space with Aileen so near.

Glynis must have seen her hesitate and darted up the stairs two at a time. Maggie cursed and grabbed Aileen’s arm. “Run!” she said. She reached the last turn and saw a door swinging shut. “Doona forget what I said, Aileen. Find Keith, Callum, anyone! Tell them what you saw! Do not wait to help me.”

She burst out through the door, crossbow raised, and moved forward cautiously, peering through the dim morning light. Ahead of her was the first of two scaffolds, and beside the second one, tied to the wall, was her net.

But she couldn’t see Glynis anywhere. Then something struck her hard from behind and pushed her to the edge of the balcony. Her crossbow flew from her hands, and she screamed.

* * *

Callum ran as fast as he’d ever run in his life, through the dimly lit great hall and up the stairs to the second level, praying that Hew and another guard would be standing outside his bedchamber door. But he knew in his gut something was wrong.

He let out an anguished roar when he reached the top step and saw his bedroom door ajar with no one in sight. “Search the castle,” he yelled to the man behind him. “Find Maggie, Drustan, and Glynis!”

He tore into his room, saw the rumpled quilts on the floor and the overturned mattress, and it felt as though a giant fist had punched him in the gut.

Was she forcibly taken?

He saw parchment, a quill, and ink on the desk and rushed toward them. The first one he picked up was an unsealed letter she’d written to John. His throat closed as he read her words—she loved Callum, she was happy, she would never leave him.

He closed his eyes for just a moment and held the message to his chest.

With a groan that turned into a growl, he tucked the letter into his plaid and ran for the door, filled with hope that he’d find her in time. He prayed that John had her, that he’d somehow sneaked past the guards and into the castle—and Maggie would be returned to Callum once she’d told John how she felt.

And then he could tell Maggie how he felt: I love you, you make me happy, I will never leave you.

He was at the top of the stairs when he heard a woman scream. Every hair on his body rose, and his heart began to pound.

“Maggie!”

* * *

Maggie slid toward the edge of the stone precipice. The wall up from the courtyard was still under repair, with no protective railing to stop her from going over. The scaffolding on this side had been dragged away from the wall and the structure weakened when the net of rocks had dropped and bashed into the framework, breaking some of the support beams.

She reached for anything to stop her forward momentum, but she couldn’t get purchase. As she started to fall over the edge, she pushed off with her feet and lunged for a rope that was suspended over the pulley beside the scaffold. The opposite end of the rope was weighed down by a few of the remaining rocks within the heavy netting on the courtyard floor. She swung out on the rope, her tender ribs wrenching, pain shooting through her hand, and she threw her legs over the edge of the scaffold on the side. She kept hold of her lifeline as she pulled herself up to stand on the top of the wooden platform, which rocked dangerously. Once she’d steadied herself, she drew her dagger.

Glynis stood panting at the edge of the precipice, a savage look on her face, holding a heavy piece of wood that she must have used to strike Maggie. Behind Glynis, Aileen appeared from the tunnel, her skin white and eyes wide. She quietly shut the door behind her and ran as silent as a mouse down the corridor.

Maggie tossed her dagger in the air to distract Glynis, who eyed the weapon warily. She didn’t want to kill Glynis. Nay, if Glynis was the traitor, she had information Callum needed. But she could scare her a little.

When the other woman lunged for Maggie’s crossbow, Maggie tossed her dagger so it narrowly missed the tip of Glynis’s finger, the crossbow sliding even farther away.

She pulled another dagger and said, “Try to run, Glynis, and I’ll throw my knife into your leg. I’ll sever the tendon so you canna walk properly again. Or maybe I’ll toss it in your knee, so you’ll limp for the rest of your life—if you’re lucky—and you’ll know exactly how Aileen felt when you taunted her about her scarred lip.”

Glynis faced her, chest heaving, eyes darting around, looking for a way out. Finally, she returned her gaze to Maggie. “I’d rather be dead than look like that misshapen monster. She’s a malformed demon of a lass.”

“She’s a sweet lass with a scar on her lip, like many people.”

“She’s tupping my husband.”

“You’re tupping Drustan. And the old laird before that. Am I right? That’s how you knew about the tunnel. He used it to sneak around to tup his lasses undetected. And once you were married to Keith, he used it to go behind Keith’s back.”

“Did Drustan tell you that? I’ve seen him watching you. What will happen if I tell Callum I saw you two together? I can be verra convincing.”

“He’ll do naught but hang you for a traitor. It’s done, Glynis. Whate’er influence you once had is lost.” Maggie had been watching the other woman’s eyes, hoping to make her insensible with rage so she attacked Maggie on the scaffold. She was getting close. “You canna run from this. You have nowhere to hide. Your only option is to throw yourself on Callum’s mercy and tell him what you know. Starting with how you murdered his father.”

Glynis’s eyes widened before she burst out laughing. “I wanted him dead, that’s for certain. Did you know he approached my father about courting me when I was just seventeen years old? Except he was married, of course, and courting only meant tupping. I must admit I was flattered by the attention of a laird, but in truth, I was in love with a farmer’s son who lived down the lane. I ne’er thought my father would say yes.”

Maggie’s stomach curdled. She wanted to condemn Glynis as nothing more than a blackhearted villain, but now that was impossible. “I’m sorry that happened to you. ’Twas a betrayal of the worst kind.”

Glynis shrugged as if she didn’t care, but Maggie saw her lips tighten. “He had seven daughters. I guess I didn’t matter. So I went to my farmer’s son, and he took care of me. He said nay to the laird, and we married. I had a bairn, a sweet, wee girl who died during birth. I barely survived, and the healer said I would ne’er have another.”

Maggie’s fingers twisted on the rope with dread, knowing the story could only get worse. “And Laird MacLean? When did you see him again?”

“A few months later. Once I was well enough to tup, my sweet farmer’s son of a grieving husband contacted him and asked if he still wanted me. In exchange for my time spent with your husband’s father, Ivor, my husband and I received the best prices for our crops and animals at market. I left him the following year and went to live in another village. Ivor found me there as well.”

Maggie’s throat had tightened, and she swallowed twice before she could speak. “’Tis a sad story, Glynis, and I am truly sorry for you. No lass should be treated that way. But it doesn’t absolve you of your crimes.”

“For killing the old laird, you mean?” Glynis jumped onto the scaffold, and Maggie took a quick step to the edge. The platform swayed under their combined weight, and she heard a support beam snap. The scaffold was coming apart.

“Nay, I didn’t kill Ivor,” Glynis continued. “Drustan did that of his own accord when I told him about Ivor and his wife, Abigail. Now that was a truly sad story—and one you ne’er suspected, am I right?”

She laughed again at the look on Maggie’s face. “I did pay to have my husband and father killed, however. By that time, I was living at the castle and betrothed to Keith. In exchange for spying on Ivor and committing acts of treason, I would be paid in gold. But I didn’t want gold. I wanted revenge.”

She darted at Maggie with a dagger in her hand, moving quicker than Maggie had expected. Maggie jumped off the scaffold just as Glynis’s knife scraped her skin, and she swung on the rope in a half circle back to the stone floor. Quickly looping the rope around the edge of the scaffold, Maggie then tipped it backward—slowly enough so that Glynis wouldn’t slide off before she grabbed an edge and held on.

Glynis’s eyes changed, transformed by fear—too afraid to move lest she fall. Maggie pierced her dagger through the rope and into the scaffold’s wooden frame to hold it precariously in place.

It was a victory by all accounts, but Maggie felt grim, too grim to smile at her win over a woman who had committed such vile acts as murder. Nay, she felt sick at the story Glynis had told. It was a terrible tale even if only parts of it were true.

Still, they needed information. Who had paid her? If Glynis refused to talk, Maggie was afraid the consequences would be dire.

A scuffing sound came from directly behind her. When Glynis smiled, Maggie knew she was too late. Turning her head, she saw Drustan reaching out for her. She did the only thing she could do. She jumped.

* * *

Callum burst out onto the chapel balcony where he’d married Maggie just hours ago and saw her leap onto a precariously balanced scaffold on the opposite side of the courtyard. Drustan stood behind her, looking ready to jump himself. Glynis was already hanging off the edge of the scaffold, and if she or Maggie fell, it would mean certain death. Maggie scrambled to stay upright, and Callum clapped his hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t yell out and distract her. When she leapt to the more stable platform several feet away and landed safely, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Grabbing the rope he’d slid down yesterday during their wedding ceremony, he jumped from the balcony and landed seconds later in the courtyard. “Maggie, stay there! I’m coming!” he shouted as he sprinted toward the scaffolding. He scanned the area, noting several ways up to her. Climbing the net that hung against the stone wall would be the safest way and put him closest to Maggie, but that might draw Drustan in her direction. The scaffolding looked too dangerous to mount—he’d be afraid of knocking it over. So that meant the rope hanging over the pulley that had held up the rocks earlier. It was taut and looked like it was secured at the top; otherwise, his weight would pull it down. Aye, he could climb that bloody rope to get to his wife—without fail, whether it was four stories or ten.

Maggie looked down at him. “Callum! Drustan is here. He’s mad.”

“Just stay there!” he repeated. He jumped up as high as he could and grabbed the end of the rope, then pulled himself up, hand over hand, ignoring the burn in his arms and shoulders. He had only one chance to save Maggie. She was vulnerable, and Drustan could get to her at any time.

“Help me, Drustan. Help me!” he heard Glynis yell.

“Callum,” Maggie screamed, sounding terrified, “he’s going to pull out the knife securing the rope to the scaffold—you’ll fall!”

He was passing the third floor and knew he had to jump. Then he heard Maggie say, “Drustan, look at me. It’s Abi, sweetling. Look at me now,” and his blood ran cold.

* * *

Maggie breathed deeply and tried to gentle her voice. Drustan had his hand on her dagger, and any moment now, he would pull it out and send the scaffold and Glynis crashing to the courtyard floor. She didn’t know what she wanted for Glynis, but it wasn’t to die that way.

“Drustan, look at me. It’s Abi, sweetling. Look at me now.”

Drustan looked at her—really looked at her. “Nay. You’re wee, wild Maggie MacDonnell. I knew your da.”

Relief rushed through her until he looked at Glynis, and a coldness entered his eyes. “You tried to kill Maggie. I saw you.”

“I’m right here, Drustan. I’m unharmed,” Maggie said at the same time Glynis said, “Please, Drustan. For all the time we spent together, loving each other. Please, have mercy.” It was the wrong thing to say.

“I ne’er loved you. You aren’t Abi. You could ne’er be Abi.” In one quick yank, Drustan pulled out the knife. The scaffold slowly tipped over backward as Glynis screamed. Maggie darted for the edge with an anguished cry and reached out for her, but the distance was too great. She reached farther, almost to the point of losing her balance, before an arm wrenched her back to safety. Maggie turned into a warm, hard chest. Behind her, she heard the scaffold crash to the ground.

“Doona look, Maggie,” Callum whispered to her. “Whate’er sympathy you had for her, remember she tried to kill you.”

“And you. I found a tunnel under the courtyard. She used it to race up to the rope that held the rocks and cut it.”

“A tunnel? Shown to her by my father?” When Maggie nodded, he squeezed her tight. “So she killed him after all.”

“Nay, Callum. At least she says she didn’t. But she did say she was the traitor. I tried to trap her on the—” Maggie’s voice broke.

He squeezed her even tighter. “It doesn’t matter now, lass. ’Tis almost over. My brothers are here.”

She looked over her shoulder to see Drustan kneeling at the edge of the precipice. Gavin and Kerr came up behind him from one side, while Gregor and Darach approached from the other. Lachlan climbed up the net.

“I killed your father,” Drustan said to him suddenly.

Callum tensed beneath her, and she hugged him closer.

“Why, Drustan?” he asked. “You were his best friend.”

“He wouldnae leave Abigail alone. He was always after her, cornering her, trying to get closer to her.” Drustan rubbed his hand over his nape. “She was running away from him in the stable. The horse kicked her in the head. Broke her neck.”

“How do you know?” he asked. “You couldnae have been there, or you would have killed him on the spot—as I would have done had it been Maggie.”

“Glynis told me. She said she heard him confess it to a priest. She has a way of listening through the walls.”

“The tunnel,” Maggie said.

Callum nodded, but she could still feel the resistance in his body. “She may have been lying. She’s a traitor to our clan.”

“I asked him,” Drustan said. “I caught him alone up on the wall after he was done tupping some lass. He cried and said it was true, and he was sorry. He was glad I finally knew. That it felt good to get it off his chest.”

He slumped forward, and Maggie caught her breath, fearing he would tumble over the precipice.

“I pushed him after that,” he said tonelessly. “Why couldn’t he have left her alone? She said nay, but he didn’t listen. He was laird, and he kept after her until she was dead.”

“Did you write the suicide note, then?” Callum asked, his voice ragged.

“Aye. I was going to jump, but I was so angry. I wanted you to know who your father really was. I went there to tell you everything. I thought you would kill me.”

“I still may, Drustan.”

Drustan nodded. He pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead, rubbing it, before he wrapped his palm around the nape of his neck. “When I got there, she was still on the ground, her neck twisted, her eyes open. My wife was dead.”

Gregor and Kerr had reached him and grasped under his arms to pull him away from the ledge. Drustan’s head dropped forward, and his body sagged.

Callum took Maggie’s hand and led her off the scaffold onto the stone floor. He stopped in front of the broken man and laid his hand on his head. “I’m sorry for your loss, Drustan. She should have been safe. My father should have kept her safe.”

He raised his eyes to Gregor. “Find our healer, Flora. See what can be done. And Father Lundie too.”

Gregor nodded, and Callum walked quietly with Maggie toward their bedchamber. About halfway there, he stopped and lifted her into his arms, then kept going. “I know you doona like me carrying you. Are you all out of daggers that you havenae pressed one to my jugular?”

“Nay. I have one left, but I plan to use it on—John!” she hollered when she saw her brother, bearded and dirty, standing in front of her and Callum’s bedchamber door. She struggled to free herself from Callum’s arms, and he lowered her slowly to the floor.

Maggie hurtled herself at her brother, barely recognizing him. His cheeks were wet, his eyes red, and he held one of Maggie’s letters in his hands. She didn’t care how dirty he was; he was here, and he was alive. She threw her arms around him, sobbing, and he squeezed her tight, lifting her up. “Ah, Maggie. My sweet Maggie. I missed you, love.”

“My sweet Maggie,” she heard Callum say grumpily. “And how did you all get into my castle?” She turned at his words and gasped to see four men, as dirty and bearded as John, surrounding her husband at the point of their swords and arrows.

“John,” she shrieked, reaching for her last dagger, but it was gone. She looked up and saw her brother had it in his hands. “Are those your men?”

“Aye.”

She marched toward them, hands balled into fists. “Och. Now you’re in trouble,” Callum said with a wicked grin.

John whistled, and the men backed off.

“What is it with all the whistling?” she asked. “You canna just say ‘retreat’ or ‘come’ or ‘get out of my bloody way’?”

“Nay,” both Callum and John said together, then scowled at each other.

Callum turned to the men behind him. “Just so you know, I’m going to smash his bloody face in. While I was outside looking for him”—he pointed to John—“his sister was in here fighting for her life.”

He marched toward her brother, his hands clenched just like Maggie’s had been, but now nobody was grinning. “Your wee show out there almost got her killed.”

Maggie darted between them, but they each used one hand to push her against the wall, glaring at each other.

“Verra well. One punch,” John said. “But I hit back after the second one.”

“What is going on here?” a booming voice asked.

She turned to see Gregor standing in the hallway, scowling at them. Callum’s foster brothers held the other men at the points of their swords.

Well, isn’t this confusing?

She looked at Callum and saw him flash a bright grin before his smile faded under Gregor’s wrath. And her brother looked cowed too. That was interesting.

“John MacDonnell. You’re laird now, and family to us through our sister and daughter, Maggie MacLean. Take your men and find some rooms. And for God’s sake, have a bath.”

John nodded, and Maggie almost laughed. She squeezed his hand as he walked by. “John?”

“Aye, love?”

“Did you see Ross before he…?”

He squeezed her hand back. “I got there just in time.”

She teared up again, and they embraced. “And Irvin?” she asked.

“He’s dead, Maggie, but not by my hand. I caught the weasel trying to run and put him in the dungeon. Somebody got to him in there.”

Gregor clapped John on the shoulder and nudged him down the hall toward the other men. Everyone had lowered their swords and were busy eyeing each other. “We’ll talk about that later. Give your sister and her husband some time alone.”

When the others disappeared down the stairs, Maggie wrapped her arm around Callum, and he pulled her into their bedchamber. After shutting and barring the door, he lifted her again in his arms.

He dropped his head in the crook of her neck and leaned against the door, just holding her. She felt him tremble and was awed by it.

“Callum,” she said, cupping his face and raising it until their eyes met. She smiled at him, feeling soft and dewy, despite what had happened to Glynis and Drustan. “I love you.”

He smiled, looking just as soft and dewy as she felt. “I love you too, Maggie. So much.”

She kissed him, then pointed to the bed. “Carry me there.”

He did as she asked, his smile turning a wee bit sinful as he laid her on the quilt and stretched out beside her. “Surely you doona want to have your way with me in a bed?” he asked.

She rolled on her side and wrapped her leg over his hip. He wedged his hand under her knee. “Nay,” she said, kissing up his neck. “I can think of several far more exciting places to tup, Husband.”

“Like where?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious and excited.

She groaned inside, regretting her daft pronouncement. She didn’t know enough about tupping yet to be able to list off different ways to engage in it. Although…

“Well, ’twas quite exciting sitting pressed up against you on your horse.”

His eyes widened, and he sat up suddenly, his cheeks tingeing pink as his arousal and other parts of him rose.

She checked her ring on her thumb to make sure it wouldn’t come off this time. He noticed, as he always did, and kissed it. “Too loose?” he asked.

“Aye,” she said, feeling guilty—which he didn’t seem to notice.

He quickly shed his plaid, shirt, and shoes before starting on hers. She laughed as her arms got caught in her sleeves, then stopped laughing and groaned when he took advantage and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

She gasped. “How exactly…is this…like…riding a horse?”

She could feel his smile on her skin before he rolled onto his back and dragged her on top of him. Her legs slid to either side of his hips. “Consider me your horse.”

She laughed, unable to stop herself, and dropped her head onto his chest. He rumbled with laughter too, and she suddenly understood the appeal of this position. Sitting up, she raised her hands to her hair and loosed it from her ribbon so it flowed around her shoulders.

She loved watching the way his eyes hooded, the feel of his hands tightening on her hips. “I think I could get used to this,” she said.

“Riding me?” he asked, bucking his hips for her so his shaft rubbed along her sensitive mound.

“Aye, that too.” She leaned down and kissed him. Slowly. “The bed. I think I’d like to try more tupping in our bed.”

He lifted her and slowly brought her down over him. They both sighed with satisfaction when he was rooted deep within.

He undid her leather sheaths from both arms and placed them and her weapons on the bedside table, almost knocking everything else off. “As long as you doona bring your weapons to bed with you, Wife.”

She unstrapped his leather sheath from his forearm and another from his calf. “As long as you doona bring yours to bed either, Husband.”

Then she rolled her hips and groaned. “Other than that one, of course.”

Check out book one in
The Sons of Gregor MacLeod series

Highland Promise

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