Twenty-two

“In here. Quickly!” Callum grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled her into an alcove on the ground floor with a thick, velvet drape drawn across the opening. They just made it inside, trying to quiet their breathing in the dark, when some of their clan—men and women—ran past looking for them, laughing excitedly and more than a bit drunk. They had the addlepated notion their laird would allow them to undress the bride and groom for the marital bedding, but if any man or woman attempted to undo Maggie’s dress, they would find themselves at the sharp end of both their daggers.

Maggie leaned her body into his and pressed her mouth to his throat, her tongue exploring his skin. Her teeth biting down, like a lioness teasing her prey. Callum groaned and rested against the stone wall in the dark, his arms around her, his knees weak as desire pounded through him. The dark added its own element of seduction as every touch and sound was enhanced and unexpected.

“Are you planning to eat me or kiss me?” he asked.

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On how hungry I am.”

She’d also had a little too much to drink, and when her hands and body had begun to press into Callum’s earlier, he’d known he had to get her out of the courtyard and up to their bedchamber. He hadn’t thought his wife could be contained for much longer.

Seeing as he’d given her his promise to listen to her, who was he to say she wasn’t ready? Besides, she’d been dancing all night. She was obviously on the mend.

“Callum,” she said in the dark, kissing up his throat to nibble on his chin.

“Aye, Maggie.” He wished he could see her beautiful face—her eyes hooded and a bit feral, skin flushed, lips plump and rosy.

And he was missing it here in the dark.

He twitched the curtain to the side so he could see if the passageway was clear enough for them to make a run for their bedchamber, and Maggie slipped her hand under his plaid and dragged it up his leg to palm his cock. It was the first time she’d touched him there, and he dropped his hand to tangle it in her hair, letting go the drape and plunging them into darkness again. He growled deep in his chest, his eyes closing, his head falling against the stone wall.

“Do you like it when I do this, Husband?” she asked, closing her fist around him and squeezing before dragging her hand up and down. He thrust his hips to sheathe himself in her hold again.

He could barely get the words out. “Aye, Maggie. I do.”

“And I’m doing it right?” she asked, sounding a bit uncertain.

He half laughed, half moaned. “Maggie, you have your hand on my cock. There is no doing it wrong.”

She rose on her tiptoes to press her mouth to his. “Aye, there is. I’ve heard others talk—men and women. Some things feel better than others. Do you like it when I do this?” She rubbed her thumb over the slit at the tip, found his drop of seed and smeared it in small circles around the opening.

He couldn’t do more than grunt, feeling like his eyes had rolled back in their sockets. Cupping the back of her head, he held her tight and lifted her mouth to his. He wasn’t gentle; he couldn’t be gentle while she touched him like that. He could only devour her. And she liked it, opening her mouth beneath his, sucking on his tongue—just as wild and needy as he was. She pressed her body closer, turning her hand around so her palm slid against his shaft, hitting that spot right beneath the tip as her nails scraped over his sac, moving faster in her excitement. Harder.

He wrenched his head away, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Hers too. Heat flared out from his loins, sending licks of flames down his thighs and up into his belly. His stones tightened, feeling as rock hard as the mountain they’d just climbed over.

“Aye. I like that. You can do that anytime.”

“Are you sure you want to grant me that freedom, Husband?” Her voice sounded sly. “Your plaid isna long. ’Twould be easy to catch you unawares.”

The air huffed from his lungs—amusement, aye, but mostly just the inability to salvage any kind of physical control over himself as she touched him.

He tried to focus, to think about what he wanted for her—a soft bed, warm quilts, the fire burning low in the background, gentle kisses—but then she pulled up her skirts with her free hand, raised onto her tiptoes, and pressed her warm skin down below to his. When she lifted her leg and wrapped it around his thigh, her slick heat scorched him, and he lost the ability to think.

“Are you sure, Maggie? Here?”

But he’d already dropped his hands, one arm wrapping beneath her bare bottom and lifting her, the other pulling her skirts and his plaid completely out of the way.

“Aye, Callum. Inside me now,” she moaned, her arms circling his neck as her legs anchored around his arse. She pushed her hips against him, rubbing her mound along his hard length, driving both of them to the edge in a whirlwind of need.

He turned and pressed her against the stone wall, then tilted her hips to the angle they needed and drove through silky folds.

“God in heaven! Aye, right there,” she moaned.

“’Tis heaven here with you. You take me there with every touch, lass.”

He tried to go slow, to piston inside her tenderly, but she jerked down on him at the same time as he thrust up and sheathed him deeply within her body.

Her soft, wet heat tightened around him, and he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, his face contorted as he held them still for a moment. He needed some control, or it would be all over before she was ready, and he wanted her to reach the pinnacle with him—always.

But she was out of control, too, and pressed frantic kisses and tiny bites across his jaw to his earlobe, nipping it before taking it into her mouth and sucking on it.

The air whooshed from his lungs in a long shudder, and he thrust inside her again. “Ah, Maggie…what you do to me.”

“What you do to me!”

He lowered his hand, wedged it between their bodies, and circled her nub with his thumb.

With a groan, she rolled her hips upward just as he withdrew, and they found a pounding rhythm. Pulling his head roughly to her, she took his mouth, biting his bottom lip just hard enough for him to growl before she laved it with her tongue.

She squeezed him tightly with her legs and arms. Down below, her muscles rippled and pulsed along the length of him. He was consumed by their kiss, not knowing where she ended and he began.

It was the most arousing, exciting experience he’d ever had. His mind, heart, and body unified—completely centered and focused on Maggie. On his wife.

Heat gathered at the base of his spine, in his heavy, hard stones, and his rhythm fractured. She tore her mouth from his, leaned her head against the stone wall and arched her back, screaming her release in short, keening bursts. He recaptured her mouth and tried to swallow her cries—but he shot over the edge too, and his body shattered like glass as he pumped into her, his cries loud and guttural.

Her fingers covered his mouth, and he pressed his hand over them, holding them tight as he muffled his yells into her palm.

On his last thrust, his legs buckled, his strength draining from him along with his seed. He slumped against her, grateful for the wall that held them up as they gasped for breath. But still he stumbled and dropped to his knees. She let out a surprised shriek before she started to laugh.

“God’s blood, woman,” he said. “You’ve turned me into a lad. I canna even hold you up!”

Which only made her laugh harder. “You promised me a bed, Callum MacLean, and so far, you’ve tupped me in a tree, a pool, on the rocks, and against a stone wall. Is this what I have to look forward to for the next forty years?”

“I didn’t tup you in the tree. But I could have, aye?” He sounded smug, and she laughed again.

“Aye, probably. But I would have regretted it afterward and maybe let you walk into one of my traps around my grandmother’s cottage. And I certainly wouldnae have stayed with you after that. ’Twas good you showed some restraint, even if I wasn’t able to.”

“And me not having been with anyone for five years because I wanted to wait for you. Only you.”

He couldn’t see her expression in the dark, but he guessed from her tone of voice she’d raised one brow. “You told me ’twas four years.”

He grunted. “Well, it felt like five years, especially after having been in the tree with you. Verily, I should be nominated for sainthood.”

“If ’tis what you truly want, I doona feel right to stand in your way.”

He grunted again before he kissed her, happy to feel the smile on her lips. “Doona listen to me. We’ve already established that I’m addled.” Then he withdrew from her body, making them both shudder and gasp. He turned so he leaned against the wall and she sat sideways in his lap, his arms around her.

“Next time, I promise you a bed,” he said.

“I’m quite comfortable. ’Twas exciting knowing we could be discovered at any minute.”

“Well, doona expect me to leave our chamber door open in the future.”

She huffed out a laugh as she traced her fingers along his arm, her head tucked beneath his chin. He played with the strands of her hair.

“Are you happy, Maggie?” he asked after a moment. “Have you forgiven me for leaving you in such danger for so long?”

“Aye, Callum. I am happy, and I have forgiven you even though I ne’er thought I would. I understand now the pressure you were under. You didn’t want to bring me here, knowing I might be hurt.”

He pulled her closer. “I still don’t, sometimes. It worries me no end that you might be attacked and…”

“And?”

“And killed, love. The one thing that provides me some relief is knowing you’re a fighter. You are unafraid to act, and you know how to use your weapons.”

She pulled away from him, and her hands framed his face. “Truly?” she asked. “You doona want me to change?” She sounded a bit teary, and he kissed her forehead.

“Nay. I’m going to train you, however. Even harder than you trained yourself. Fill in the gaps that were missed so you doona hesitate again, and you know your strengths and weaknesses and can use them to your advantage. You’re physically strong, but I’ll teach you how to use your body to kill an assailant, not just your bows and daggers.”

“Callum,” she said, laughing. “Such sweet words. You truly know how to woo a lass.”

“I’ve already wooed you, Maggie. Now I’m going to teach you how to protect yourself and our bairns when they come. I willna have you defenseless. Ever. Even if we find the enemies in our ranks, I doona think it will end there. Your spying on Irvin provided us with much insight into our enemy. Your bravery will be what saves us, Maggie.”

She sighed and lay back down on his chest. “Thank you. But you forgot one thing.”

“What’s that, sweetling?”

“I’ll protect you as well as myself and our bairns.”

“Aye.”

A whistle sounded outside the curtain, and Callum stiffened, then stood up, putting Maggie on her feet and pressing his hands to her ears before returning the whistle.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he tweaked the curtain to give them some light. He made sure her clothes covered her before he opened the drape and stepped through, knowing Maggie would follow him.

“That’s Gregor. Something’s happened.” He took her hand and hurried around the corner. As he suspected, his foster brothers and his foster father stood there waiting for them. Maggie’s hand tightened on his.

“Tell me,” he said.

Gregor passed him an unopened letter addressed to Laird MacLean, secured with the MacDonnell seal. Maggie’s mouth pressed into a tight, worried line. He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her. Her body trembled against his as Callum opened the letter.

It wasn’t a surprise, but sadness still filled every corner of his heart, along with an even greater sadness for Maggie. He wrapped both arms around her and squeezed her tight. “Ah, sweetling. I’m so sorry, but according to this, Ross is dead.”

Maggie cried out and buried her face in Callum’s chest.

“How?” Gregor asked.

“It doesn’t say, but I doona think this is from Irvin Sinclair. The writing is different from the last letter I had from him.” He continued reading and stiffened. Maggie looked up at him, her face wet with tears.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The letter is signed by John…and he’s demanding your return. He says he’s coming to take you back.”

She reached for the parchment, and Callum handed it over. “Is it from him, Maggie? Can you tell?”

She pressed her fingers against her mouth and nodded her head. “’Tis his writing, and it…sounds like him.” She half laughed, half cried. “He was always short-tempered and ne’er thought anything through before he acted. Does this mean he’s taken back our land and castle?”

Callum reacquired the letter and passed it to Gregor, who read it and then passed it around to the others.

“I doona know what it means,” Callum continued, “other than ’tis certain that Ross is dead and John is back…and I willna be returning you.”

Maggie’s face crumpled, and Callum pulled her into his arms. “I need to see him,” she said, her words muffled by his shirt. “Both of them.”

“Aye. We’ll send men out. Our best. They’ll try to speak to John directly before he gets here.”

One by one, his foster brothers and Gregor came forward to give her a gentle, consoling hug and offer their condolences. She nodded at their words and gave thanks, but Callum could see in the quiver of her lip and the sorrow in those beautiful hazel eyes that she needed the freedom to release her emotions.

“Do you want to go to our room, love?” he asked.

“Aye,” she replied, barely above a whisper.

“Doona worry about John right now,” Gavin said to him. “Be with Maggie. I’ll send a man to see if he’s at his castle after all. We’ll begin there.”

“Let me know when you have news. I need to speak to him directly, welcome him as my brother as well as my friend, offer my help and condolences. And make sure he understands the marriage contract between our clans is fulfilled—his sister willna be going anywhere.”