To Wed A Highlander Page 12

  Hearing enough, Dunlop interjected, “We stand behind our new laird. Don’t we, men?” Sounds from falling chairs and benches erupted and filled the hall as every Dunstan soldier present jumped to his feet. A deafening “Aye” was shouted from the crowd as each man leveled his attention upon the Lowlander who dared to insult their chief.

  Makenna stood speechless, frozen as MacCuaig dissolved under their stares. Spinning around, he faced Colin and whispered something she could not hear. When done he headed toward the door, but stopped when he got to her side. His eyes slid down her thin frame. Then, loud enough for the room to hear, he said, “Take care, Makenna. The MacCuaigs will not help your clan in their hour of need.” He pointed across the room, but his eyes never left her. “Crawford, Moncreiffe, Boyd, and the others may back your husband, but their support is many days’ ride away. Only I will be able to save you.”

  Colin saw red as sheer fury poured through him. “Leave now, MacCuaig, while you still can. One more word and I will consider it a challenge to be met here and now.”

  For the first time since his arrival, MacCuaig felt satisfaction. Nothing had worked. He had challenged McTiernay’s honor, his clan, his Highlands. Makenna was his weakness. Ah, the joy he would get when he stripped her from Colin’s grasp and made Makenna his own.

  Unfortunately, now was not the time. The Highlander was more skilled than most with a sword and currently surrounded by his newly established allies. Leon needed an edge, one that he didn’t have now. Soon, though, he would have everything owed to him. He just needed to be patient.

  Makenna stared in shocked silence as MacCuaig bowed his head toward her and then to his table of potential comrades. She held her breath as he stormed out of the hall and ordered his men to prepare for immediate departure.

  Exhaling, she felt relieved, but the sensation only lasted for a moment. Her eyes searched for Colin and widened the moment they locked with his. His gaze was blazing with fury and anger, and it was aimed not at the departed Leon MacCuaig, but at her.

  Makenna had thought she had witnessed Colin’s anger many times since his arrival at Lochlen. She had been wrong. Never had she seen Colin truly mad.

  Immediately following MacCuaig’s departure, Colin had ordered Brodie and Gorten to escort her to the Black Tower and wait for him in his chambers. Makenna had presumed Colin intended to make her stew for hours, but no more than ten minutes had passed when he charged through the door.

  Makenna usually could disregard Colin’s imposing stature, but the raw fury roaring through him made her wish she were anything but its target.

  She felt herself swallow heavily and shrink in fear. But just as she was about to retreat a few steps away from the path of his furious pacing, her inner voice called her a coward. “I have no reason to cower to you, Colin McTiernay. I have done nothing wrong,” she said to herself, this time making sure her mouth was closed.

  Donning a mask of calm indifference, Makenna sauntered over to the basin and splashed some water on her face. The action was a deliberate show of ease, that she was not one of the Lowland lairds easily intimidated by his commanding presence. She patted her face dry and then faced him, arching a single brow.

  Colin watched with incredulity as Makenna straightened her back, briefly assessed him, and then marched to the table acting as if he were not even there, let alone furious. He had no doubt that she was fully aware he was seething. Still, she offered no apologies, no requests for leniency, and no entreaties for forgiveness. The woman practically challenged his right to be angry.

  “When were you going to tell me?” he roared.

  “Colin, stop yelling at me.”

  “I am not yelling. Whenever I do yell, there will be no mistaking it.” He had lowered his voice by several decibels, but it was definitely still loud.

  Makenna watched as Colin resumed his pacing in front of the cold hearth. She had been about to light a fire when she had heard him order Brodie and Gorten and everyone else out of the tower just before he had stormed through the door.

  Over the past few years, she had witnessed him in several moods, but never one like this. And all because of MacCuaig’s distorted sense of their relationship. Makenna decided to treat this argument with the level of intensity it deserved. None.

  She leaned casually against the table and gripped the sides loosely. “Fine, then stop growling. It is most upsetting.”

  Her relaxed demeanor both floored and inflamed him. “Your indifference to my anger shows that you have no regard to how I felt when MacCuaig told me of your trysts in the woods. Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “So that’s what he whispered to you,” Makenna mused aloud. Hearing Colin grunt, she crossed her arms and shrugged nonchalantly. “Honestly? I don’t think I ever was going to mention it. It meant nothing. Those meetings, if you can even call them that, occurred long ago, well before you came to Lochlen. Leon didn’t care that I wasn’t like all the other girls. Every once in a while, he would be in the woods at the same time as I and join me in my hunts. He would praise my skills. It was very flattering, but I never thought his proposal of marriage was serious. Then or now. I remember him laughing when I turned him down.”

  Colin stopped his pacing and stood between two of the hearth chairs. He clenched the back of each chair and leaned forward. “Trust me, Makenna. Leon MacCuaig was not laughing. Then or now.”

  Makenna quashed a shiver caused by the dangerous softness in his voice. Rallying, she replied, “See, I knew you would not understand. It was just a few innocent kisses. Flirtations to pass the time.”

  “That man was at our wedding!”

  Colin could still remember seeing the tense look in MacCuaig’s eyes when Makenna entered the chapel. At the time, he had dismissed it, deciding instead to focus on the vision coming to accept his hand. He should have confronted MacCuaig that very night, at the celebration when the man openly displayed his jealousy and lust. Instead, he had fought his instincts to call the man out, thinking that he was being irrational, seeing something where there was nothing.

  But his instincts had been completely accurate. Makenna and MacCuaig did have a past, and it was enough of one to make Leon believe that she somehow belonged to him. The idea of Makenna with another man shot through Colin’s mind, and he felt a new bout of possessive fury building within him.

  Makenna furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if Colin’s anger stemmed from a type of jealousy. She dismissed the idea. Jealousy would imply a level of emotional attachment, and Makenna knew she was too vulnerable to hope Colin was developing a tenderness for her. It was best to remain indifferent. “So he was at our wedding. I promise you Leon MacCuaig has no interest in me, why would he? The only reason he said any of those things tonight was to goad you into a response. He tried all other tactics. He was just grasping at anything to get you to react to his taunts. What I find hard to believe is that you allowed him to do so.”

  Colin looked at her with appalled silence. Was the woman completely unaware of her own allure? Could she truly be that naïve of how powerful her unconventional beauty was? The question suddenly brought back the conversation he’d had with Dunlop less than a week ago. He had failed to see Makenna as a beautiful, desirable woman. Could she also be incapable of seeing herself as others did?

  “The man wants you, but you belong to me, Makenna,” Colin muttered darkly, walking toward her.

  She raised her chin, her green eyes glittering with pride. “Belong to you? I belong to no one, Colin McTiernay.”

  He reached out and pulled her fiercely against him. “Wrong, Makenna, you belong to me.”

  Makenna felt her temper start to flare and wrenched free from his grasp, moving backward until she bumped into the stone barrier. “Deirdre might have belonged to you, but I never will.”

  Colin placed his two hands on either side of her head and pinned her between his body and the wall. “That is where you are wrong again. Deirdre never belonged to me the way you do.”

  Colin’s mouth came down with a fierce possessiveness, cutting off any attempt at a rejoinder. His lips moved against hers hard and deliberately, letting her feel the frustration and temper she had aroused in him. “Ah, Makenna, what you do to me,” he murmured against her lips before plunging inside her mouth once more, tasting, teasing, voraciously consuming her very essence.

  Stunned by the near violence of his embrace, Makenna instinctively stiffened only to find herself weaken and melt moments later. Desperately she tried to find some scrap of will to push him away and argue that she was not his, that she was her own person whom no one laid claim to.

  The sensation of being so powerless to anyone, especially Colin, frightened her. But even more frightening was her unfailing reaction to his touch. Even when angry, the man created an instantaneous effect on her senses.

  Makenna relaxed, and Colin’s body came ablaze with desire. No matter how much she challenged him or angered him, she still came alive with passion when she was in his arms. Her fingers dove into his hair, pulling him tighter, pleading with him to deepen the embrace. His heart jolted and a sense of urgency drove him to comply with her wishes. The world was closing in, and he realized he needed to breathe. Inhaling, her elusive, womanly scent aroused him even further.

  Not daring to raise his mouth completely from hers for fear that he might somehow lose her, he quickly removed her bliaut and then her chemise. Not until he heard the sound of his own leine ripping did he realize she, too, was undressing him. The feel of her naked flesh pressing against his, the sensation of her light and numerous kisses all over his chest, the knowledge that she truly wanted him after all that had happened, caused his blood to boil, driving him beyond the edge of his control. In one motion, he swept
her into his arms and then down on his bed.

  Gone was the gentle man of her wedding night. Colin’s mouth was everywhere, hot, and sensual—branding him on her skin. Never would she be able to look at a man without thinking of Colin. Makenna needed him to feel the same about her.

  Sliding her palm down his chest, past his abdomen, she closed her fingers around his masculine appendage. Feeling him large and hard in her hands, she wondered how her body could accommodate, let alone enjoy, their lovemaking. Slowly she rubbed the loose flesh up and down while using her thumb to massage the moistened tip.

  “God, Makenna…” he moaned and arched his back away from the sensitive contact.

  Emboldened by his reaction, Makenna pulled him back down with her free hand and captured his earlobe lightly between her teeth. “Aye, Colin. Do you wish me to stop? Or perhaps I should leave?” she teased, knowing that regardless of his answer she would do neither.

  “You’re killing me, but never has death looked sweeter,” came a breathy, tight reply.

  Makenna smiled and then heard herself gasp as he gently caught one hard nipple between his lips, laving it with his tongue. Makenna shuddered and squeezed the flesh in her grasp.

  “Easy, I still need that,” Colin murmured, gently removing her hand. But, instead of moving it to his chest as he expected, Makenna moved her palm even lower.

  Her fingertips found his warm sacks and began to knead them in a blissful and torturous way. All he could do was bury his face in her throat and fight for breath. As he’d never desired to bed loose women, only in his dreams had a woman touched him thus. Her fingers were creating a magical sensation he knew he could not endure for any length of time.

  On the verge of losing his seed before ever entering her, Colin seized her torturous hand in his own. “Now it is my turn. I shall drive you mad with desire. I want to feel you writhing in my arms, needing me as much as I need you.”

  Makenna was about to say that she was already insane with want of him, that she did need him—more than she thought humanly possible—but she didn’t have the chance. He cut off her words with another seductive, mind-numbing kiss.

  Collecting both her hands in his left, he stretched them above her head. He wanted all her attention on his every touch, every caress. His right hand then started along the side of her thigh, gliding lightly over her silken skin. Just before he reached the heart of her own fire, he moved down the inside of her thigh. Bringing his hand up her leg again, he paused until he was inches from the hot, damp core of her. Lightly he moved his fingers through her already moist hair, refraining from actually touching her.

  Makenna felt herself arch in search of his fingers. Colin used his lower body to keep hers still as he tormented her senses with his caresses. At the same time, he continued his exploration of her mouth with his tongue. No mortal being could withstand the whirlwind of sensations he was creating.

  Finally, his mouth broke free of hers to nibble at her earlobe and then neck. She cried out, “Colin!”

  “Aye, wife?” he replied, kissing the quick pulse at the base of her throat.

  “Please, I can take no more.”

  “Please what?” he asked, knowing exactly what she craved.

  “Please touch me. Please,” she pleaded.

  “I am,” he assured her as he lowered his mouth to her breast.

  A powerful shudder reverberated through her. He wanted to drive her mad, and he was succeeding. “Colin, I need you to be inside me.”

  Colin knew she was on the brink, but she had driven him even closer. He stopped his onslaught, balanced himself on his elbows, and peered into emerald pools swirling with passion. “Say it.”

  Makenna licked her lips. The sudden cessation of his caress was almost as torturous as his touch. “Say what?”

  He moved his lips right next to her ear. “Say it,” he whispered.

  “You’re arrogant, overbearing, and a bully.”

  He just stared at her with a small knowing grin. It mattered not that he was in agony with pent-up sexual tension. Colin would stay there forever waiting for her to admit that she was his. He knew it, and she knew it.

  “I belong to you, Colin,” she said softly, knowing that despite everything, it was the truth.

  Her avowal was like balm to his soul. Not until the words washed over him did he understand exactly how much he needed her to say them aloud. No amount of sexual torment could have forced her to make such a declaration if she did not believe it.

  “Aye, Makenna, you do. And while I may be arrogant, overbearing, and a bully, I am also selfish. I will never share you with another soul. You are mine.”

  Then he kissed her, this time slowly, taking his time, letting her feel the endless need for her he had inside him. Without removing his lips, he moved so that he lay on his side, giving his fingers access to the dark red curls that concealed her most intimate of secrets.

  Makenna closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. His hand seemed to take an eternity. When she felt Colin enter her softness, she felt the world begin to spin. Slowly he began to stroke her, parting her with his fingers, opening her to his caress. She heard someone cry out.

  Feeling her writhe with need for even more, Colin began to draw a pattern along the sensitive flesh just below her soft, wet channel. The delicate design nearly drove Makenna over the edge. He edged two fingers deeper, exploring her with a deliberate possessiveness that caused Makenna to shriek in surprise as throes of climax consumed her.

  Colin felt her honeyed flood dampen his hand and moved to straddle her hips. He stared down at her body. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Settling himself between her legs, he hesitated. “Makenna, you feel so good. I…I am afraid I might lose control and hurt you,” he warned, his voice thick and unsteady.

  “You won’t, Colin. Let go. Let go and join me. I need you as I need air, and I want it all. Even the parts of you that you fear. I need them. Please.” Then she lifted herself against him.

  No longer in charge of his baser instincts, Colin plunged, driving deep, seeking his own release. Instantly he was transported to another plane of existence. No experience in the past or in the future could match the exquisite feeling of being inside her.

  He eased himself partway out of her channel and then entered her again with a long, sure movement. Makenna felt herself stretch to encompass him as new, even stronger sensations swept through her body. She rocked against him, taking him deeper inside her with each thrust.

  Just as she felt the heavens open up, Colin cried out as he surged forward into her one last time. Buried deep within her, he felt shudders overtaking his body as he burst into a million pieces. For several minutes, his body pulsated with erotic release.

  Thinking he might be crushing her, Colin mustered just enough energy to shift off her and gather her in his arms. For a long time, they lay clinging to each other.

  Makenna had never been with another man, and this was only the second night she had lain with Colin. Yet she knew without a doubt that what they shared was powerful and unique. They were forever bonded together.

  Raising herself on an elbow, she looked down at him, her eyes serious. “Colin…you belong to me.” It wasn’t a challenge, or an ultimatum. Just a simple statement of fact.

  Colin reached out and twirled his fingers through her hair. “Aye, that I do, Makenna. I will never want another.”

  She let him pull her cheek down so that it rested on his chest. He did not offer words of love, but what he did give, Makenna treasured. He wanted her, cared for her. Not the way he adored Deirdre, but it was enough.

  Colin lay awake stroking Makenna’s hair, listening to her deep repetitive breaths proving she was asleep. Her body molded perfectly to his as if God made her only for him. She would never know how much he relished the simple act of holding her while she slept. It was a gesture of trust, and it made him realize just how lonely his life had been.

  His sexual desire for her was still present, but it no longer consumed him. Yet he still wanted…no, needed her by his side.

  With the exception of his eldest brother, only Makenna seemed uniquely immune to his temper. He had been furious earlier and had done nothing to conceal the level of his anger. Yet never once did Makenna cower and retreat. Instead, she told him to stop yelling and was shockingly honest. And though he had loved Deirdre, their relationship had lacked something vital. They never learned how to be completely themselves around each other. Consequently, they never shared the true passion he was finding with Makenna. She was completely different from his soft-spoken, gentle, fragile Deirdre. Makenna was wild, and impetuous and aggravating.