Highland Thunder (Isle of Mull Series) Page 15

  Jamie stood up, shaking strands of red hair from his plaid. “I fear she has gone mad.” Duncan only laughed harder in response. With a curse, Jamie scooped up the blue scarf and marched out the door.

  Duncan looked over at Nellore who had somehow remained fast asleep. “Well, wee lass, now I am going to have to marry your mother. After Jamie enlightens the clan to what went on here tonight, no one will have her.”

  Turning to leave, he hesitated. His fingers grazed the thick, silken strands covering the table. He brought a handful to his nose and inhaled her now familiar scent of lavender and honey. Then he allowed the pieces to caress his skin. He saw her then, standing before them as she had only moments ago—heated eyes, heaving breaths, her now uneven hair in disarray. His own pulse quickened in response. He headed outside to make sure the grounds were secure, deciding it was best to give them both time to cool down before he set out to find her.

  Chapter 20

  Brenna sat at her table staring into the flickering light of a single candle. Darkness enclosed around her. She shut her eyes and listened to Nellore’s steady breathing. If only she could remain like that forever. The world stripped away—just her and Nellore. Isn’t that what she was trying to create on her patch of earth near the river? A haven from death and war and from whatever evil haunted the night. A place for a special child to grow, shielded from the hardness of life.

  Innocent of her struggles for now, Nellore would come to know one day how hard her life was in the beginning. Brenna wanted to protect her from greater harm, but she did not want to take a husband to do so, which was certainly Jamie’s hope. Neither did she wish for a new mate because it was expected by Margaret or others in the clan. Everyone spoke of marriage as though it were a casual undertaking—no different than picking a good cut of fish. To invite another man into Nellore’s life who would have the power to command her own daughter was not something Brenna was willing to agree to lightly.

  She stared at the mess of hair on the table while she fingered her shoulder-length strands. Cringing, she lay her head in her arms. What had come over her? She had so much within her ready to burst into flames at the slightest provocation, and tonight she had no storm to blame and no rain to douse the flames.

  Where had it come from, all this feeling? Could she ever get back to that place of constancy and composure? Did she even want to? Frustrated tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to squelch the need to scream.

  A whispered caress fluttered down her back. She froze but did not move. She knew who stood behind her. Her head continued to rest on her arms as she felt her hair pull away from her wet cheeks. His warm hand stroked her hair into place behind her ear and wiped away her tears. Her body tensed in response, but she held still and did not resist his touch. Holding her breath, she longed for more. He hovered above her with one arm supporting his weight on the table and the other touching her back with long, soothing strokes. Then his fingers wove through her hair as he gently rubbed her scalp and then whispered down her neck.

  Her heart lodged in her throat as she melted beneath his touch. With every caress, heat expanded, threatening to engulf her, but she was tired of fighting her emotions. His fingers smoothed her hair down her back. Then he reached over her, pausing to graze a kiss on her cheek as he took hold of the sheers. Slowly, he cut through the long strands that still hung from her head in uneven disarray. He was straightening the mess she made, but despite how he straightened her on the outside, her insides still raged on.

  When he finished, she reached toward him weaving her fingers with his, but just as they touched what felt like a jolt of lightning struck her heart. She jumped and released his hand as she backed away.

  “’Tis you,” she said.

  “Who did you think it was, lass?” He said as his lips curved in a slow smile that made her knees weak. She retreated further away from him. He made to follow, but she threw her hands up in front of her.

  “Nay. ‘Tis you. You are responsible for this,” she said as she clenched her hands into tight fists. Then she grabbed a handful of her scattered hair, “and this.”

  His eyes widened in shock. “I did not cut your hair.”

  “Rot my hair. I am unraveling,” she cried.

  He closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his hands. “You listen well, Brenna MacKinnon. I marvel each day at your strength. I’ve never met a woman in less danger of unraveling.”

  “You do not ken,” she whispered. “When you were gone, I was myself again, but now the feelings have returned; this feeling inside me like I am spinning out of control. I do not trust myself.” She tried to catch her breath, but he drew closer. The heat of his body fueled the flames that devoured all reason, leaving her with only feeling and desperate longing. “’Tis you.”

  He groaned as she pressed her body against his.

  “What have I done?” he asked.

  “My body, my heart, everything is telling me to let go.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I know not whether you despise me.” She shut her eyes. She needed to be true to herself, and if she was fury and fire then all else could be damned. She opened her eyes, ready to say what was in her soul.

  Chapter 21

  He felt her body pressed against his, and her eyes, liquid blue waves as tumultuous as storm-battered seas, met his gaze, pushing beyond his defenses straight into his soul.

  “You make me feel like thunder,” she whispered against his mouth.

  “Brenna,” he breathed as he gripped her face in his hands.

  His lips came down upon her mouth with possessive fury, creating an upsurge of need that spread sweet anguish throughout her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her body melded to his. He pulled her to the far side of the room as he continued his unrelenting assault on her lips.

  Her hands moved with reckless abandon over his body. The carved muscles of his arms and shoulders shifted beneath her fingers. Her touch explored his stomach, cut with ridged strength, and then her fingertips continued down, playfully running along the waist of his plaid.

  He wrest his lips away from hers, but her fingers dug into the hair at his neck and pulled him back. With a groan, he crushed her against him again and kissed her with a force that stole her breath. She clung to him, desperate to devour the strength of his kiss. Then before she knew what was happening, he tore from her grasp and set her away from him.

  “Wait,” he growled, his eyes gleaming like black fire.

  Her heart lurched, and she felt a rush of tears fill her throat. She closed her eyes against the evisceration of her passion as struggled to ravel it all back inside of her, but it was too late; she was emotionally laid bare. She had opened herself to him, and he rejected her.

  Just as the first tear fell, she felt the heavy weight of wool wrap around her shoulders.

  “What’s this?” Duncan whispered as his thumb brushed her sorrow away. She opened her eyes as his arms encircled her once more.

  “I thought you left me,” she said.

  With a slow smile, he took the blanket from her shoulders and spread the woolen warmth over the hard ground. Then he lifted her into his arms and gently kissed her lips.

  “You are mine now,” he said as he laid her down. He came to her then without hesitation, drawing her body into his arms. She clung to him, fighting to be closer but hindered by clothing.

  She seized his plaid in her hand, pulling with frustration. “I want to feel you,” she cried.

  He hastened to unbuckle his belt. Then he pulled his plaid from his hips and threw it aside. He inhaled sharply as he absorbed the heat from her gaze. Her eyes traveled the length of his body, boldly devouring every inch of his frame. Her fingers reached out, stroking the muscles lining his arms, and then spread wide against his chest, and caressed down to his stomach. He groaned as he watched her lips upturn with wicked desire.

  She was thunder.

  She pulled him against her as she seized his lips, stealing his breath and digging
her nails into his back. His hands ran over her body, but rough wool stood between him and his prize. He grabbed the end of her tunic, pulling it above her thighs, and as she lifted her hips to aid his efforts, he shimmied it up and over her head. Her thin shift, soft and sheer, tempted and teased. He trailed hot kisses down her throat, sweeping across her breasts.

  Yearning beyond anything he ever imagined filled him when he felt her racing heart, knowing that it raced for him. With ravenous abandon, his tongue breached the fabric over her taut nipples, his hands clutching her bare thighs. She gave a frustrated cry as she tugged at her shift. Then she cupped his face and pulled him close.

  “I want to feel your mouth on my skin,” she said.

  A slow smile curved his lips as his hands gripped the fabric at her neck.

  “Aye, rip it,” she cried.

  He rent the thin fabric down the middle. He kept ripping until he reached the bottom. Then with shaky hands, he folded back the sides of her shift, opening her world to his eyes. With reverent rapture, he reached a tentative hand across her supple thigh. He was suddenly afraid he was lost in a dream, and he would wake to darkness.

  “I will not break,” she said as she stared at him curiously.

  He lifted his head. “I do not trust you are real, that you are here with me,” he whispered.

  She reached out with beckoning arms, which he slid into, covering her body with his. His lips took hold of hers, and he kissed her with all the love that had ached and pounded in his heart for so many years. He felt like a starved man with a bounty great enough to replete his soul. Her lips, her embrace, the feel of her body pressed and eager to meet his. His adoration poured from his being as he gave to her everything he was and everything he wished to be.

  Brenna’s world grew and gave way in Duncan’s arms. Never had she felt so alive as her body burned and everything within her battled for release. A force inside her fed her movements, guiding her hands over his slick back as she tore at his skin, wanting to be ever closer. She writhed and arched her back beneath the touch of his hands and his tongue while he stirred her body into a frenzy of pain and delight.

  She needed him hard and deep inside of her. At last, she knew what she wanted, what she needed, and she was ready to take it.

  She wrapped her thighs around his waist as she pressed her hips into his, “I want you now, Duncan.”

  His lips claimed hers, hard and urgent as he shifted above her. Then slowly, so slowly he entered her. Tortured rushes of sensation surged, gathering in her core, and she reveled in the sweet ache. Then when she felt she would burst with need, he filled her, his body earnest and pleading for hers.

  They moved hard and strong. With every thrust of his body, she soared higher until she exploded around him, clinging to him, afraid to ever let go.

  Chapter 22

  An autumnal breeze lifted Brenna’s hair off her shoulders. The cool, caressing wind sent shivers down her spine as she stared into the depths of the rushing river. Underwater grasses still clung to slick rocks, a fierce display of constancy despite an ever-moving world. She closed her eyes, allowing the music of the water to course through her. Everything felt like a caress: the wind, the rushing current, the feel of shorn hair—light and buoyant in the breeze. She inhaled the changing world around her, inviting the crisp smell of the new season into her nostrils. The woody scent brought to mind the image of Duncan’s face a breath from her own, the curve of his lips tempting her with their lushness. He was everywhere and in all things, soaring through her on the wind and seeping up from the very land she loved.

  The morning sun warmed her shoulders and shimmered on the river’s surface, but it faded as a shadow signaled the end to her solitude. Duncan’s reflection rippled in the water, and strong arms enfolded her, pressing her against his hard warmth.

  “’Tis glad I am to see your smile,” he said as his hand moved aside her cloak, exposing her naked flesh to the sun’s caress. He moaned as he gripped her bare waist and then stroked possessively down her hip to the sensitive flesh of her thigh.

  “This is how I would have you dress every day.”

  She drew in a sharp breath as she whirled in his arms and stood on her toes. Cupping his face in her hands, she pressed a kiss to his mouth and all at once, the hunger within her grew.

  “Nellore still sleeps,” she crooned in his ear. “Make love to me here by the river.”

  A groan was her only answer as he plunged his hands into her hair and crushed her lips to his. He tore off his plaid and spread it over the chilled earth. Then he pulled her beneath him. His hands scorched her skin as he gripped her hips and sank deep inside of her. She drew a sharp breath as she arched her back, and lost herself to the storm.

  He felt her legs wrap around him, drawing him deeper inside of her. He buried his face in her hair. His hand molded over her breast and then raked down her sleek torso to her full thighs, which he squeezed as he thrust again and again into her welcoming body. Agony pushed through him as he felt her shudder, her cries of pleasure tearing through his heart. His body seized as the rush of her climax coaxed his own release.

  She could not catch her breath as she rested in his arms. If only that moment could stretch on for all eternity. She pressed her body closer to his as though she was trying to erase even the boundaries of flesh that separated their souls. She belonged in his arms; this much she knew.

  With a curse, he pulled her cloak over her naked body and pointed to the hill behind her.

  Brenna turned and watched as Bridget, Anna, and Ronan descended on horseback toward her hut. “For mercy’s sake,” she said as she jumped to her feet and rushed inside.

  He followed after. “Forgive me, Brenna. If you wished to keep our intimacy a secret, I believe ‘tis too late now.”

  Brenna threw off her cloak and reached for her tunic. “Trust me when I say there is no keeping secrets from either Anna or Bridget.”

  He quirked a questioning brow her way, but she shook her head. Duncan was her friend…and now her what? Her lover? She dismissed the confused thought, realizing then was not the hour to guess at the meaning of the passionate night they shared, or their glorious love-making just now by the river. Despite their new intimacy, she had no intention of telling him about the cursed place from which Nellore was plucked by Bridget who was actually Shoney, formerly the Witch of Dervaig.

  “I meant nothing,” she said quickly as she belted her waist and rushed out to greet her visitors.

  Anna hastened toward her. “Saints preserve us, Brenna, what have you done to your hair?”

  Brenna’s hands flew to her head. She had forgotten about her hair’s shocking new length. “I forgot my scarf. Forgive me,” she said, turning to the chieftain who was now flanked by Duncan. “Tis indecent,” she said.

  “On the contrary,” Ronan smiled. “’Tis very becoming.”

  “Indeed,” Bridget said as her hand reached out and brushed a curl from Brenna’s eyes. “It suits you, lass.” Then she quirked a brow at Duncan and said in a hushed voice for Brenna’s ears only. “It suits you very well.”

  Brenna lowered her head to conceal her blush, but her composure returned easily. She faced her friends with confidence.

  “Come,” she said, motioning toward the door. “Let us break our fast, and you can tell us why you’ve come.” But then she froze mid-step and turned, looking sharply at Bridget. “Have you any news? Do you yet ken who seeks Nellore?”

  Bridget shook her head. “Nay, Brenna. We are here by Duncan’s request.”

  Brenna looked at Duncan with surprise. “You said nothing.”

  “I sent Liam to the keep yesterday with a message for the laird and his lady to join us this morning.” His eyes grew darker as he stepped closer. She could feel his heat and smell his musky scent. “Somehow, I forgot the invitation until I saw them descending the hill just now.”

  She returned his smile before she cleared her throat and motioned to the table in the center of the room. “Plea
se sit and be at rest. Anna, would you assist me with the morning meal.”

  “It would be my pleasure”, Anna said. “I’ve missed our days together.”

  ***

  Duncan’s eyes followed Brenna to her cooking table. The sway of her hips consumed his attention as he forgot everything except the feel of her silken skin and the free deliverance of her body and soul into his hands. His heart warmed with gratitude and disbelief.

  Ronan cleared his throat, forcing Duncan back into the moment. The gravity of the current situation was not lost on him. Brenna and Nellore were not only his responsibility, they had become his life, and something or someone threatened that life. Once again, he looked at Brenna and then at Nellore who now sat cradled in Bridget’s arms—exquisite vulnerability that was his to protect.

  “I must act, Ronan. I cannot wait idly by while a threat exists, a threat with unimaginable possibilities.”

  “Aye,” Ronan agreed. “Regrettably, we ken so little.”

  “Which is why we need to find this creature, this woman, before she does more harm than she already has.”

  “We cannot call upon anyone else for aid. The scrutiny Nellore would be exposed to might be a danger almost as great as the threat itself,” Ronan said.

  Duncan nodded. “Aye, which is why I’m grateful for your help, Ronan.”

  Ronan tilted his head, motioning to Bridget. Her long, silver blonde hair and wide grey eyes laughed with delight as Nellore wrapped her little arms around Bridget’s neck. “Nellore is dear to my lady,” Ronan said, and Duncan knew what was dear to Bridget was dear to Ronan.

  Duncan smiled with gratitude at Bridget. “Besides her mother, Nellore favors you above all others.”

  Bridget’s smile grew so that her whole face was alight with joy. Duncan once again marveled at his lady’s strange beauty, which age had done little to diminish.