The Highlander's Forbidden Bride Page 2

  “Where’s Lord McDougall?”

  The man smiles. “Ah, m’lord decided on a hunting excursion just now, and regrets to send word that he won’t be joining you for breakfast as he has these last few months.”

  I chew on my lip, my brow furrowed as I nod again, taking a seat at the breakfast table by the window. I smile when the man brings me steaming tea and a plate of food, but before I can even take a sip or a bite, a noise startles me. I look up quickly, just in time to see the western gates opening and a line of six horses and a handful of dogs go charging out into the countryside. And there, at the front, rising his midnight black destrier, is Lachlan.

  A wicked shiver trembles through me, and I swallow thickly as I watch them gallop away.

  “Lord McDougall will be returning this evening, for supper. Is there anything else you’ll be needing, m’lady?”

  I smile weakly at the man, shaking my head. “No, thank you.”

  I sit in silence, finishing my breakfast and my tea, before I go about my day. And quite honestly, these days, a lot do “my day” is, well, finding something to do. With Catriona married and off living with Callum, and with me staying here rather than returning to Paris, I’ve hit a bit of a lull. I read, a lot. Lachlan does keep a huge library full of books. I go for rides. I write letters to my friends. But a lot of the time, I’m mostly just wondering what comes next in my life.

  Today, I find myself in the library, pouring over tails of adventure and romance. Despite the chill in the Scottish air, the sun comes out towards the afternoon, so I take a walk outside. Mrs. Lorning, one of the castle gardeners, catches my eye, and I smile as I detour to sit with her. Eventually, I’m on my knees with my skirts pulled up, helping her pull carrots from the soil for dinner later tonight.

  But the whole time, there’s only one thing on my mind, and it’s not vegetables.

  It’s Lachlan, of course. Lachlan and wondering what his proposal—though there’s nothing “proposed” about it—means. But then, I know deep down that my own thoughts on it are just silliness. After all, Lachlan is just being a good ruler. He’s doing this because it’s what’s right for his lands, and his people. Not to appease some silly little fantasy of mine.

  At lunch, Mrs. Lorning laughs and tells me I’ve helped enough, shooing me inside and raising a brow at my muddy knees and cold fingers.

  “Go get washed up, or Lord McDougall will have my hide.”

  I roll my eyes. Despite being gruff, Lachlan is positively adored by the people who live on his lands and within his castle walls. Even more so after he kicked Darcy out. But still, I am chilled, and after grabbing a quick cup of tea, I head up the stairs towards the living quarters to wash up.

  But when I get to the split in the hall—the left taking me towards my quarters, and the right taking me up another flight of stairs to Lachlan’s, I pause. My own quarters obviously have its own bath and commode, but Lachlan’s…

  I grin, biting my lip.

  Well, Lachlan’s is positively decadent, so much so that Cat and I used to insist on bathing in his bathroom when we were young. And later, we’d just sneak in and use it anyways. I mean, I could quite readily have attendants bring warm water up for my own bath, but Lachlan’s is something else entirely. An engineering wonder.

  In Lachlan’s master bath, he’s had a pump, like you might find for a well, installed. And though creaky, pumping it draws water up from the cisterns beneath the castle, all the way up in metal piping that sits right against the chimney’s from the kitchen and his own hearth. Which means, though slow, you’re able to hand-pump steaming hot water right into the big hammered-metal tub.

  …You can see why Cat and I loved it so much.

  I haven’t used it in years, and certainly not since I arrived back at Castle McDougall. But with Lachlan gone until dinner time? I smile to myself.

  What’s the harm?

  I gasp quietly, groaning as I sink my body down into the steaming water in the tub. A low groan escapes my lips as I rest my butt on the bottom, the water coming up to just above my breasts as I lay back with my long blonde hair piled up on top of my head.

  Now this is heaven.

  My second-cousin Mary, who I was staying with in Paris when Darcy basically banished me there for the last few years, had a pretty nice tub. But this? This is something else entirely. I close my eyes, my thoughts drifting back to France. It was nice enough there, but while Mary was no Darcy, she wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy either. And in truth, I mostly just missed Scotland. Coming back here for Cat’s wedding made me realize it even more, and after that, even before the whole Darcy thing exploded, I knew I wouldn’t be going back.

  And now you’re marrying the man you grew up fantasizing about.

  I blush, sinking a little lower in the steamy water. My hands find my breasts, my fingers teasing over my skin as I close my eyes. My pulse quickens, and I know I should just take my illicit bath and go, but I can’t help it. Not when I’m here, in his bath. In his domain.

  My hands trace lower, teasing over my tummy and then my hips, my pulse beating faster and faster as my legs spread gently. My breath comes faster, my heart racing, and I’m just sinking back into the heat of the water to let myself go, when suddenly, the door slams open.

  I shriek, bolting up to a sitting position, slamming my legs together as my arms wrap around my bare breasts, and as my eyes swivel up to lock with Lachlan’s.

  Oh God.

  There’s a fierceness to his face, his eyes wild and his jaw clenched tight. He freezes in the doorframe, one hand gripping the latch with white knuckles as his gaze sweeps over me. The room is silent but for the tiny little drip of the water from the pump into the tub. My arms tighten, my body shivering heatedly as I cover myself. But even still, I’m naked in front of him. Totally bare, and totally at his mercy, and if I’m being honest, the thrill of being like this—so exposed and so… naked in front of Lachlan McDougall has my breath catching and my skin tingling like liquid fire.

  “I—” my croaked voice breaks the silence. “I didn’t… I thought you’d be out until supper.”

  Lachlan’s jaw twitches, his eyes positively burning a hole through me. He’s silent, just watching me.

  “What are you doing in here, Iona,” he finally growls, that baritone practically setting ripples across the surface of the still tub water.

  “I—the water is warm here,” I say softly, my eyes wide and staring back at him in shock and maybe a little fear. His eyes hold mine, before they slip lower, and I shiver as I feel his gaze tease over me before sliding back to my eyes. He nods at wall beside the tub, and at the large, thick bathrobe hanging by a hook.

  “Use that.”

  I blush, biting my lip as he turns. Turns, but doesn’t leave. I swallow, my heart racing as I slowly stand in the tub, water dripping over my body as I cover myself with my hands. I shy away from him, even if he’s still, and not turning towards me. And with one quick dart of my hand, I snatch the robe off the hook. I step quickly out of the tub and pull it on, wrapping it tight around my bare, warm body.

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  Lachlan clears his throat, still turned away from me.

  “I’m, uh… I’m decent.”

  I swear I hear a low growl as he turns, his eyes sweeping right over me, and his jaw tightening as if he sees right through the robe. I tremble quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat and the heat from my face as I take a shaky breath and face him.

  “When you’re Lady of this castle, I supposed you can use this tub,” he growls, a slight hint of a smile teasing his lips. “Or have your own pump installed to your own bath for when I need my own bath.”

  He smiles, and it’s a kindly, innocent smile. But there in his eyes, I can see the same spark of heat I saw last night, and again, just now when he barged in and saw me. Lachlan steps aside, nodding to the door, as if subtly asking me to leave his private chambers. I blush as I nod, hugging the robe tightly around myself while clutchi
ng my clothes as I scurry for the door.

  And I’m almost out—almost, before my big dumb mouth decides to open.

  “I suppose when I’m your wife, I won’t have to leave the tub when you want to use it.”

  Wait, what?

  My mouths snaps shut just about as fast as the heat flushes over my face, and I bolt out the door, but not fast enough. I gasp when I feel Lachlan’s strong hand dart out and grasp my wrist, tugging me back. My body shivers, my pulse racing as my heart jumps into my throat.

  Lachlan tugs me back, and suddenly, I gasp louder as he spins me, whirling me and moving against me. He backs me into the door, pinning me to it with one hand flat against it next to my head, the other still firmly gripping my wrist.

  “Iona…” he growls lowly, that spark in his eyes blazing like a roaring fire.

  “I—I—” I stammer. “I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” he says quietly, his voice low and his jaw clenched. Those blazing eyes of his drop down over me, making me shiver and God help me, making me bite back a small moan as I feel his heated gaze tease down over me, like he’s seeing all of me before he drags his eyes back to mine.

  And then, it’s silent—silent that is but for the pounding of my heart in my ears.

  “You should go,” he finally growls quietly, his eyes sparking with heat, his nostrils flaring and his jaw grinding.

  “I—I’m sorry I was using your tub,” I whisper almost breathlessly.

  “It’s fine.”

  He suddenly pulls away from me, his hands dropping from my wrist and from the door as he turns away, his eyes looking everywhere but me. He swallows thickly, his broad chest rising and falling with his breath.

  “Lachlan—”

  “Go, Iona,” he grunts, stepping back, still looking away from me as he gestures with one hand for the door. And out I go, my heart racing, my skin tingling, and the heat pulsing between my thighs.

  Chapter 4

  Lachlan

  There’s a ringing in my ears, and thunder barreling through my veins. And it’s been like that even before she left the room. It was there the second I stepped in here and laid eyes on her.

  On all of her.

  I groan, my jaw grinding and my hands clenching to fists at my sides as I stare at the door long after she’s gone. The ringing gets louder, the thunder booms harder, and the spark inside of me that I’ve done everything in my power to quell ignites into a roaring fire.

  This is not good.

  I want to tell myself again that this is all politics, but the lie is unraveling faster than I can even come up with excuses. And now? After this. The growl rumbles from my lips, my teeth bared and my body trembling with raw, untamed desire. The image of her laid back, bare, in that tub, has my blood sizzling like fire, and my cock thickening to steel beneath my kilt. It’s so wrong—so very, very wrong, for every conceivable reason. And yet, the more I tell myself to somehow forget the image that’s just been engraved on my very soul, the deeper it’s etched there.

  The shimmering water barely concealing the treasures beneath. The water droplets like dew on her supple skin, glistening in the low light of the bath. Her knees tucked under her and her arms covering her bare, full breasts.

  I want her.

  The desire hits me like a storm, smashing through the very last of my resolve and eviscerating the last shreds of my willpower. I’ve been a very long time without a woman at all, since long before even Darcy. But that’s not it. That’s not all of it, at least. I’m a Lord of these lands. In good health, good height, and good shape, with the strength of a man half my age. I’ve wealth, lands, and titles, and believe me, my not having felt a woman’s touch in these long years is not for lack of, shall we say, offers. But however poisonous a marriage it was, it was a marriage with Darcy, and I honored that, though I’m quite sure she didn’t. And after her?

  Well, after she left, perhaps another man in my place would have gone out and sewn his seed wildly, wantonly and heedlessly. But not me. No, not out of chivalry or some sense of properness. It’s because sitting right here in my castle was pure, unfiltered, unbridled temptation.

  Iona.

  I didn’t run out to bed whoever I wished because there was no one else I wished for, even if I never wanted to admit to myself that it was her I wanted. But it was, and that truth has completely broken free of the wall I’ve put it behind. And now it’s just sitting there, right in the front of my mind. She’s the forbidden fruit that I should do everything I can to keep away from, and instead?

  Instead I’ve gone and made plans to make her my bride.

  I growl, my blood boiling, my muscles clenched, and my cock throbbing hard as I whirl, disrobing as I march over to the still steaming hot tub. I grunt as I sink into the hot water, the heat soothing my sore muscles from the hunt. I lay back, my eyes closed as I try and clear my mind of the sinfully wicked thoughts of the girl less than half my age who’s just been sitting here bare, pert little ass in this very spot.

  Breathe, I command myself, sucking in air and trying to force a calm over myself before I storm down to her quarters, kick down the door, and tear her clothes from her sweet little body.

  Breathe, damnit.

  And I breathe, deep, long breaths, until slowly, the roaring fury inside begins to simmer down.

  …And then, I hear it.

  It.

  And like a candle thrown upon the pyre, suddenly, the flames roar back to life. Because “it” is a sound I’ve heard before—some time ago, when I most certainly should not have heard it. It’s something about the acoustics, or the way the castle was built, I suppose. Iona’s quarters are a floor below and to the side of my bath chambers. And this time, like that time before, I can hear it.

  I can hear her.

  Softly, faintly, but it’s there if I’m still. And I still myself as my ears strain for more and as my cock slowly begins to thicken and rise beneath the water. Because what I’m hearing are Iona’s moans.

  The gasps. The rhythmic whimpering going “pant pant pant,” and “yes.” I groan as I listen, my cock thickening to steel, swelling up until my swollen glans is poking up through the water. I groan again, clenching my teeth and trying to resist temptation, knowing how sinful and utterly wrong this is. But I can still hear it, the sound of her moaning so softy once more, and whatever calm I’ve brought on myself with the breathing is broken in two.

  The sounds I’m hearing are the sounds of my sweet, innocent little Iona pleasuring herself in her own quarters.

  I growl, imagining that tight, supple, perfect body undulating atop her bed, my bathrobe wide open and her delicate hands touching what I’ve quite literally dreamed about. I imagine her fingers stroking through her soft pink cunt, her skin still hot from my bath. And just like that, I give in.

  I grunt as I wrap a hand around my cock, and slowly, I begin to stroke. A groan of pleasure tumbles from my lips as I drop my head against the back of the tub. Iona just keeps whimpering, these soft staccato little cries of pleasure, and I move exactly to the sound of her, matching her cries stroke for stroke as I imagine pushing her creamy thighs wide apart and sliding my fat cock deep in her little cunt.

  She gets louder, and faster, her little truncated squeals of pleasure murmuring through the walls somehow into my bath chamber as I jerk and stroke my big cock over and over again. I wonder for a moment what it is she’s thinking about. The ego in me wants to say me, of course—that she’s touching herself after the scorching look between us when I walked in on her more unclothed and barer than I’ve ever seen her before. But I know that can’t be it. I growl, my teeth baring as the thought crosses my mind that it’s some other man on her mind. Perhaps one of those frilly little French boys she must have met in Paris.

  I snarl furiously, possessively, and I’m about to stop completely and storm away from the sounds of her, when I hear it.

  “Oh, Lachlan!”

  My mind goes blank, a white heat settling over
me as the fire burns through every muscle in my body. My hand moves faster, and faster, my cock bigger, and more swollen, and harder than it’s ever been before as I sink into a Zen state.

  “Lachlan!”

  My name tumbles from her lips again, and when it’s followed by a gasping cry, I know she’s come.

  She’s come for me.

  I grunt, my balls drawing up and my crown swelling thick and bulging before suddenly, I’m falling over that edge right after her. I groan, thick, white, hot jets of my cum spurting high in the air to come down splattering across the surface of the water and my hand. I roar, still stroking until the sounds of her own pleasure drift away to silence, leaving me sitting there panting, groaning, and wanting more.

  Needing more.

  Ready to take more.

  Chapter 5

  Lachlan

  I notice her absence at supper, and I know why. I eat quickly, scowling at the place across the table where she’s frequently sat while dining with me these last few months since she’s come back. And gods have I enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed her being here again, and not just because of the raw lust and forbidden desire that comes with her, but just her. Her warmth, her wit, her beauty. Her charm and her grace. Having her here is like breathing life back into this castle that’s been absent far too long.

  When I’m done, I pour myself another cup of ale, knowing it might be a mistake, considering where I’m going directly after. I should keep a clear head. I should keep my wits together and my passions guarded. But still, I drink it down quickly, the fire of it burning through me as I have the cook prepare me a plate of food.

  Ten minutes later, I’m at her door, knocking firmly.

  “Yes?”

  “May I come in?”

  There’s a moment of silence, and some rustling before the latch pulls and the door swings wide. And there, standing before me with a heat to her face and a fire in her eyes, is Iona.