CHAPTER FIVE
When the other highlanders heard there was a wolf in the woods, of course they all had to go hunt it.
Men.
But it left Maggie and Dominic alone in the camp, which she appreciated greatly. They walked back to his tent and she collapsed into a chair.
A wolf. A freaking wolf.
She’d never been so frightened, watching it inch closer and closer to Dominic’s handsome face. She’d never been so afraid. Or so angry. Or so aroused. Adrenaline still surged through her veins. She’d heard the term blood lust before, but she’d never actually experienced it before.
She really wanted to go pummel something right now…
“Here.” Dominic thrust something beneath her nose. A tumbler of amber liquid.
“What is it?”
“Whisky.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t drink.”
“Drink it. You’ve had a shock.”
“So I should do shots?”
His brow rumpled. He dropped into the chair next to her and shook his head. “I doona understand most of the things you say, Maggie Spencer.”
She shrugged and took the drink. “That’s okay. It’s mostly sarcasm.”
He nodded. “Like that. There. No idea what it means.”
“Trust me. It’s pithy and clever.”
“You are clever.” His gaze was far too warm. “You saved us both today.”
“You saved us,” she said, patting his hand, because a man liked to feel manly. And he had fought well. It was cute how he flushed.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?”
She took a sip of the drink and liked the warm burn in her throat, so she took another. “Gym class.”
He nodded, though it was clear, once again, that he didn’t understand. But then, how could he? They were worlds apart.
“What did you mean when you said wolves have been extinct in Scotland?”
She choked on her drink. It took a moment to wheeze it out. He waited. “I…you… You misheard me.” Lame. So lame.
“I dinna. And we both know it. Why do you no’ want to tell me what you meant?”
Well hell. Maybe it was the wounded expression on his face, or the whisky or the aftereffects of their encounter with the gaping maw of death, but she just lost all her reserve. It whistled out of her like a deflating balloon. “I don’t want to tell you, because if I do, you won’t believe me.”
“Why do you think I willna believe you?”
“Because it’s a crazy story. And you already don’t trust me. Besides, I don’t quite believe it myself.”
“But…”
She set her fingers on his lips. “Please, Dominic. Don’t ask.”
He stared at her, his gaze intent. The muscle in his cheek worked. And then he nodded. “All right.” He spoke against her fingers, practically a kiss. “I willna ask. But one day you’ll tell me, Maggie.” She tried not to grin at the intimation there might be a one day.
And then she did grin, because he leaned in and kissed her.
And her wrists were not tied.
And there was no one to interrupt them.
And her passion was high.
And so, apparently, was his.
* * *
He couldn’t resist, even if he’d wanted to.
She was far too alluring. Beautiful, brave, smart and fierce. And he’d been aching for her since last night. Since he’d tasted her. He deepened the kiss and a flicker of excitement whipped through his gut when she responded in kind. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and was not afraid to take it. He liked that about her. Liked it very much. Especially when she threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged, just a little. The gesture made clear her hunger was as raw as his, as undeniable. As feral.
When her tongue dabbed at his lips, pressed in, his head went light. His blood surged. His cock swelled. He launched to his feet, pulling her with him. He intended it to be a gentle move, but it was not. It was harsh and hungry, but she didn’t seem to mind. She murmured something against his lips, something that might have been Yes.
He whipped her into his arms and carried her over to the pallet on the floor. He was certain she could have walked the short distance, but he was far too anxious. He didn’t stop kissing her as he laid her down, but then, she didn’t let him. Her hands were busy, tugging at his tunic, as he worked the infernal buttons of hers.
In the end, they got in each other’s way and had to undress themselves.
With quick, short, desperate moves, he yanked off his tunic and breeks. It took her a bit longer to divest herself of her clothing, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the show.
When the band encasing her breasts dropped away, he stilled. The breath locked in his lungs. Lord above, she was beautiful. Her scent—an undeniable arousal, tangled with something earthy and sweet—rose to meet him.
She opened her arms to him and he came to her. No force on earth could have stopped him.
He settled over her—glorying in the sleekness of her skin, of the sensation of her soft body pressing up into his hardness—and cupped her breasts, molded them, tasted them. He couldn’t resist the coral target that possessed his attention. As his lips closed on her thrusting nipple, she moaned, wriggled. She was delicious. Delight danced through him.
As he sank into his explorations, her hands roved as well, over his chest, his belly. The noises she made incited him to madness—moans and sighs and wordless grunted commands. She wrapped herself around him, pulling him deeper into the kiss and raking his back with her nails.
Oh, Lord. Give me strength.
He had intended to prepare her, to launch a slow, sweet seduction. But such restraint was beyond him. Something about her incited a need that bordered on feral. A need to claim her, have her.
He did, however, take a moment to test her, to stroke her cleft. He loved that she spread her legs for him, without a word of request. He loved that her breath came in pants, that her eyes were wild, and her body quivered with need. She shuddered as his fingers scraped over the thick bundle of nerves nested at her core. To his utter gratification, it was slick. He ventured deeper, slipped down and in and— Holy heaven.
She was ready. So ready.
And tight.
Every muscle clenched. His gaze snapped to hers. Burned into hers. “Maggie…” A harsh growl. A snarl.
“Yes.” She wrapped his hair in her fist and yanked; his hunger spiraled out of control. “Yes.”
He fisted his cock and nudged her entrance. Her thighs widened. She stared at him, eyes wide, nostrils flared. Lips moving in a chant. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He thrust, hard and deep.
She wailed her pleasure and arched her hips up, inviting him deeper still.
She was delicious. Delightful. Perfect. She held him hard and fast with the muscles of her sheath, clinging to him with a damp heat. His mind whirled, his chest locked. It was beyond perfect. It was heaven.
But need clawed. He pulled out—though it was torturous to do so—he pulled out and then lunged again.
And again.
And again.
She went wild beneath him, a she-wolf, snarling and raging and nipping at this skin in her frenzy. “Yes, Deeper. Harder.”
He could not deny her. Indeed, he did not want to.
He cupped her ass in his palms and lifted her and, using her body as leverage, launched into a barrage of manic thrusts. From this direction and that, exploring her, invading her, possessing her completely.
Her head whipped from side to side. She writhed beneath him, closed her thighs on his hips. Her body tightened.
A quiver began deep in her core. It walked through his cock, through his body as well to settle in the base of his solar plexus. Rivulets of delight trickled through him, pooled, swelled.
He felt her tension mount and it enflamed his. His vision, his consciousness, his world closed in on one thing. The place where they joined, the heavenly connection where they were one.
His plunges became short and hard, desperate and crazed. He knew she was close but he could not, would not release until she’d found her bliss. He would hold back until that moment. He would wait for her. But it cost him. Sweat beaded on his brow. His heart hammered. His breath locked.
Please. Please. Please…
She released. It was not a peaceful surrender. She was passionate and powerful in her crisis. Her hold on him was fierce, her mouth hot as she roved over his shoulders, licking, nibbling and nipping with a mindless zeal.
And her hold on him… That tight grip on his wet and weeping cock. It made his vision blur, made his mind lock. Made his body fold in on itself.
In an agonizing, blinding rush of ecstasy, he erupted, flooding her with his seed, soaking her with his essence.
Though he was utterly drained, he continued to move, prolonging the pleasure for them both, though his thrusts were slow, easy, soothing.
All the while, he held her gaze, studying her, soaking her in. He loved that her lips quirked up, that she rose up to press her open mouth against his.
He eased her down into the furs and kissed her deeply. Her palms scudded over his back, exploring the gouges she had no doubt left there. “Mmm.”
A murmur. His or hers. He wasn’t sure.
He shifted to the side, though he hated withdrawing from her, and pulled her into his arms.
“I am verra sorry,” he said, although it was probably a lie.
She stared up at him. Tucked his hair behind his ear. “Sorry? For what?”
“I dinna mean to ravage you.”
Her laugh was something of a snort. “Was that what that was?”
“Aye.” He’d been no better than a beast. Or at least, as good as one.
She put out a lip. “And here I thought I was ravaging you.”
With no warning, a laugh rose up within him and he barked it out.
“Do you not feel ravaged?” This she said with a score of nails along his chest that sent a shiver of fresh arousal through him.
He grabbed her wrist in a tight cuff. Not that he didn’t enjoy the sensation of being raked by her, but because he was certain he could not perform for her again…at least not for a long while. She’d devastated him. “A man ravages a woman. Not the other way around.”
“Well, where I come from, men and women are equal. They can ravage each other.”
He liked the idea. Liked it a lot. But he had to ask, “Did I hurt you?”
Her grin was wicked. “Did I hurt you?”
He turned to the side to show her his back. “I doona know. Am I bleeding?”
She kissed him there. Stroked him. “Only a little.” He heard the smile in her voice. “You’ll live.”
He rolled back over and captured her in his arms and kissed her again with ferocity that matched his mood. “You were amazing.” It needed to be said.
“So were you.”
Their gazes locked and something deep inside him shifted. Solidified.
He didn’t know who she really was, or where she came from or why she was here, but one thing was certain. He wasn’t letting her go.
“You’re mine now, Maggie.” He said in a growl. No other man would have her. Not while he was alive.
* * *
You’re mine now, Maggie.
The words resonated through her. Never before had she felt so complete, so wanted, so utterly…taken. He made love like a beast in heat and he spurred the same madness in her. Her body still hummed with pleasure, her mind still reeled.
She tucked herself into his embrace and gloried in the way he closed his hold on her. Their skin was sealed from groin to chest. Their heat mingled. Breath tangled.
His scent, his presence, sank into her, infusing her with an unutterable peace.
Perhaps she was being foolish to feel as though she had been brought here for this. As though the attraction, the draw between them had been strong enough to whisk her through time and space to his side, but the certainty roiling within her could not be denied.
“Promise me you willna leave,” he murmured against her hair. “Promise you will never leave.”
How could she promise? She had no idea how she’d come to be here. She had no idea how long she would stay.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I will never leave you,” she whispered. But she had to add, to herself Not of my own accord.
It had to be enough. It was all she had.
It seemed to please him. His taut expression softened and he smiled—a brilliant explosion of joy and relief—and then he kissed her again.
The kiss threatened to swell into something more. His cock stirred against her thigh. He made a sound, a bestial rumble and shifted over her again. Her excitement flared.
Yes, he’d just brought her to the most mind-boggling fulfilment, but she was more than ready for another go—
“Oh hell.” A harsh voice shattered their cocoon.
Maggie glanced over Dominic’s shoulder and winced.
Honestly. Declan had the worst timing.
He stood in the door of the tent, holding the flap open. Behind him, all the others peered in, taking in the intimate scene.
Thank God her nakedness was shielded behind Dominic’s big body—all his men could really see was his bare ass and her heated cheeks. He muttered something and tugged one of the furs around her and then he rolled off.
“Get out,” he boomed.
Declan let the flap drop, but he remained inside the tent. He fixed a glower on his brother. “Tell me you dinna fook her.”
Dominic snorted and stood, snatching up his breeks and tugging them on. He didn’t bother with his tunic, for which Maggie was thankful. Because he truly was magnificent to look at. The sight nearly made her forget her own mortification.
“It’s none of your business who I fook.”
“Isn’t it?” Declan glared at her. “She’s a Cameron.”
“Is she? She swears she is not and I believe her.”
“Holy Christ, Dominic. How can you be so blind?”
“How can you?”
“She’s using you. She’s a siren, calling you to crash on the rocks with an enchanting song.”
“Actually I’m tone deaf.”
They both whipped around to stare at her and she rearranged her coverings and sat. She swiped her hair from her face.
“I can’t sing at all. Seriously. Dogs howl.”
Declan’s fingers closed into fists. He appeared to be grinding his teeth. “It was a metaphor.”
She shot him a sweet smile. “I know what it was.”
“You are a vexing witch.”
She didn’t mean to wince at his words, but she did. Because that was the core of her fears. That they might think her a witch.
“She’s no’ a witch.” Her heart thudded at Dominic’s fierce defense of her.
“Has she no’ bewitched you?”
“Nae. She hasna.”
“Look at you. First chance you have and you’re mounting her.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “Hardly the first chance.”
“That’s true. He hardly touched me at all last night.”
Declan gaped at her, sputtering his consternation. He whirled on his brother. “I ask you, nae, I beg you. Show some restraint. Until we discover who and what she really is, you must assume she is our enemy.”
“She is no’ our enemy. I know it. In my heart.” He thumped his chest.
Declan reared back and stared at his brother, taking in the tautness of his features, the bunch of his muscles, his conviction. “And if she is? If she betrays us?”
Maggie didn’t realize she was holding her breath, awaiting Dominic’s response until her lungs started to ache. But still, she could not move, could not relax. Not until he glanced at her, his eyes glimmering. He held out his hand and took hers in it. Squeezed.
“She willna betray us, will you Maggie-mine?”
Maggie-mine. God. Her heart flipped over several times at those words, at his deep, steady tone.
She stared back at him, her soul in her eyes. “Nae,” she said, unconsciously mirroring his brogue. “I willna. I will never betray you.”
With a growl, Declan spun on his heel and ducked out of the tent, but he poked his head back in and snapped, “Oh, and in case you were wondering why I invaded your little love nest to begin with, Liam has arrived. There is news from Dar.”
She had no idea why this announcement made Dominic snap to attention, why it made his expression darken. He merely nodded to his brother, who, with one more disdainful glance at her, quit the shelter.
Dominic blew out a breath and scrubbed his face. Then he bent and collected her clothing. “You should get dressed,” he said. “If Liam has come all the way from Dar, the news must be important.”
Apparently their tryst was over.
But then, Declan had completely spoiled the mood.
Maggie dressed quickly and then took Dominic’s extended hand; he lifted her easily to her feet. He met her gaze and then pulled her into his arms again for another kiss. Though it was quick and far too brief, it was intense.
“You did promise no’ to leave,” he said.
She quirked a brow, unsure of his meaning. “I did.”
“Good.” Another kiss. “I really doona want to have to tie you up.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” she quipped. “Because I really don’t want to be tied up.”
With a grin he took her arm and led her out of the tent to the fire where the other men were waiting.
A tall, sandy haired stranger stood among them. A strange shiver shot through her as she studied him. She’d certainly never met him before, but there was a familiarity about him she could not deny. He turned to her and their gazes clashed and the certainty grew.
“Liam,” Dominic called, and greeted his vassal with a manly hug.
“My laird.” He nodded to Maggie. “And who is this bonny lass?”
“Maggie Spencer, of Seattle. A visitor from our clansmen to the west. Maggie, this is my cousin Liam MacBain.”
And suddenly, it hit her. Why he seemed so familiar. He looked much like the portrait of her grandfather’s grandfather hanging in the library of their home. Same hair, same eyes, same hard sculpted chin. He was Liam MacBain Macintosh.
Her ancestor.
The man from whom her entire family had sprung.