Highland Burn (10 page)

“Of course, ye shall.” Curious to what he had to say, she leaned in closer.

“My cousin is a fool for allowing his bonny wife to dance with another man. If ye were my wife I’d never allow it.”

The intensity of his statement left Abigale uneasy. Certainly, she had enjoyed dancing with Marcus and adored his company, but she hoped that she didn’t give him the wrong impression. “I must go. Thank ye for the dance.” Without causing a scene, she quickly excused herself.

~~~~~

Long, sharp talons protruded from James’s fingertips and scored the wooden table top. The more he watched Marcus twirl Abigale around as they danced, the deeper his daggers plunged into the wood. Marcus was mocking him, wasn’t he? Pulling her body close, feeling her soft curves. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. James growled profoundly.

This foreign sensation of uncontrolled jealousy surged through him. It cranked his dragon senses to hyper-sensitive. Never had he felt this way before and quite frankly he didn’t like it.

James raked his claws down the table leaving a trail of splintered wood behind as he saw Marcus whisper into Abigale’s ear. His focus stayed on Abigale the whole time. God’s bones! The urge to jump over the table and rip Marcus's head from his body was consuming every fiber in his body. His dragon vibrated and rumbled inside of him and itched to be released.

The sound of wood cracking caught Conall’s attention. A sharp pain blasted across James’s shin as Conall kicked him. Snapping his head up, he shot his best friend a lethal look.

Wide-eyed, Conall tipped his chin to James’s claws.

As James looked down, shiny black talons stared back at him. Instantly he retracted them.

Shite, what the hell was wrong with him? Never had he lost control like that, not in public. This was not the place nor time to be testing his dragon’s appetite for blood. Rubbing the back of his neck, he blew out a heavy sigh. He grabbed his tankard and drained it dry.

“Are ye alright?” Conall asked.

“Aye.” James took out his frustrations on his tankard as he slammed it down onto the table. “Need more mead.”

~~~~~

As Abigale weaved through the crowded great hall, she was stopped a few times to be introduced to clan members. Names and faces started to blur, for she had met so many people in such a short amount of time, it made her head hurt. Furthermore, her feet were killing her. All she wanted to do was to slip into bed and drift off to sleep.

As she reached the stairs leading to her bedchamber, she paused. The hairs on the nape of her neck started to stand and her body warmed as amber eyes penetrated her skin. Her cheeks blushed pink as a wave of nervousness ran through her, making her palms sweat. No need to confirm; James was watching her, watching her every move.

Abigale was relieved when she finally reached her bedchamber. She hurried out of her dress, changed into a clean shift, and now stood by a window that looked out over the rolling moonlit hills. Beyond the hills lay a grey shadow of a mountain range that disappeared into the night sky. Soon their peaks would be powdered with snow. Combing through a wave of auburn hair, she thought that would be a wonderful place to take Fergus for a ride.

The wooden door to her bedchamber slammed open. Two huge dogs barreled through and leapt onto the bed, making themselves right at home. Startled, Abigale raced to the bed. “Ye smelly mongrels, get down… shoo!” A wet tongue lapped at her face while the other dog made himself comfortable at the end of the bed.

“Sorry lass, Lennox and Mahboon stay.” James filled the door frame as he staggered pulling his boots off.

“What are ye doing here?” This was her bedchamber, so she thought. It was the same room she had been in last night.

“This is my bedchamber, Abigale. I should be asking ye the same question.” James pulled his tunic up over his head and started to fumble with his kilt.

Holy Mary, Mother of God.
He was undressing right before her eyes. She had never seen a man naked before. Well, that was not completely true. Did her patients in the infirmary count? Nay, no one came close to the man standing before her. Her first response was to close her eyes and look away, but female instincts told her to gaze upon every corded muscle the man was offering. Her eyes gazed upon his tanned, muscled chest to the ripples of his abdomen to the line of fine dark hair that disappeared below his plaid.

“This is what ye want… no?” James asked.

Abigale snapped her head up to find James in pursuit, stalking her like she was his prey. For every dominating step forward he took, she took two steps back in retreat until the coldness of the stone wall bit into her back and she was trapped, pinned to the wall by his body. He pressed against her. Instantly she felt his heat radiate through the light material of her shift. Her heart quickened in anticipation. Fluttering tingles filled her core and her breasts ached for his touch. God help her, she wanted this man.

Abigale felt his arm move and prayed he was going to touch her, but instead he rested his forearm on the stone wall above her head. He brushed his lips down to her lower neck. With one long flick of his tongue he licked her all the way up to the soft spot just below her ear as if he was tasting her. “Ye have my attention, lass. Now what are ye going to do with it?"

The slick softness of his tongue sent tingles throughout her body and her legs threatened to buckle. Breathing became difficult as her chest worked hard to pump air through her lungs.
Well Abigale, what are ye going to do?
A gorgeously naked man stood before her. A man who claimed he did not want her, yet here he was encaging her with his massive frame. Was this his way of intimidating her, to scare her, and make her leave the bedchamber? Intimidation did not set well with her; in fact it brought out her feisty side. No more would she allow threats to rule her life like they had back at the nunnery. Should she dare call his bluff and make the first move? Mayhap he wasn’t bluffing at all, she thought. Instincts told her to tread cautiously, but her body craved his touch. Something about the way he made her feel brought out her bravery and she was going to claim her first kiss.

Never having been kissed before, she didn’t know where to start. Should she place her hands on his shoulders or should she wrap her arms around his waist? Should she close her eyes or leave them open? Awkward didn’t begin to describe how she was feeling right now. Wasn't the man supposed to make the first move?
Not if they are all as stubborn as James Douglas,
she thought.

She placed her hands on his chest. Aye, this felt right. Astonished by the sinew of his muscles, her fingers explored his smooth chest. All the while James nibbled up and down her neck. Her thumb grazed over his nipple causing him to growl deeply. So, she did have an effect on him after all. She smiled to herself.

Abigale snaked her arms around his neck and pulled his head closer to hers. The ampleness of his lips enticed her, she needed to taste him. Without hesitation she licked his bottom lip and drew its fullness into her mouth. To her surprise, he opened his mouth, inviting her in, and allowing her to take control. As she guided her tongue into his mouth, she felt its warmness and could smell the mead on his breath. Passion drove her forward and she deepened the kiss until she felt weightless.

The kiss ended too quickly as James pulled away. “Och, if I’m not to yer liking I can go find Marcus.”

“Marcus?” In one moment she had been consumed by this magical kiss, and all the while James had been concerned about Marcus. Did he really think that she wanted to bed another man? It was just a dance, nothing more.

James’s eyes pinned her deep blues, “Ye didnae seem to mind his company earlier.”

“I only danced with him because he’s yer cousin.” Abigale tried to reassure him, but it seemed he didn’t believe her.

“I have an idea… I’ll go fetch Marcus and he can join us. What say ye?” James started to pull up her shift.

“Enough, ye’re drunk.” Abigale swatted at his chest. “There's no need to be jealous. It was just a dance.”

“Jealous?” James released his grip on her shift. “Nay, I care not.” He walked away from her and made his way to the bed. His massive naked body sprawled out over black furs while Lennox and Mahboon took up residence at the foot of the bed. James folded his hands behind his head nonchalantly. “Last offer, lass. Aye or nay.”

Most definitely nay, he was drunk and wanted to claim her out of pure jealousy. Damn him and his stubborn egotistical ways. Abigale stormed over to the bed and grabbed a fur. “I’d rather sleep in a byre.”

“Suit yerself, but if ye change yer mind-”

“Ye’re a barbaric arse.” And with that said, Abigale quit the bedchamber.

Chapter 8

Confessed faults are half-mended. ~ Scottish Proverb

James woke to a wet kiss on his cheek and heavy panting in his ear. He swatted at the annoying noise and moaned in protest. Another kiss and James cracked open an eye and there in his peripheral vision sat Lennox, his prized hunting dog, staring at him and panting. “Enough, lassie.” James wiped the slobber from his cheek and sat up. His stomach lurched, the room spun, and he grabbed his head as if it would help stop it from spinning out of control. Dazed amber eyes searched the bedchamber for any sign of life, but no one was there except his dogs. Closing his eyes he sent a grateful plea to the Gods that be that he was alone. God’s teeth, mead was going to be the death of him.

As James lay back down, he was surprised he had fallen asleep. Nightmares of death usually haunted his dreams; therefore peaceful slumber eluded him most of the time. Unless the amber liquid went down smooth, then it never failed, he would drink until the mead took over. Normally a lass would be lurking around willing and ready to please. It helped pass the time until dawn.

A vision of Abigale dancing with Marcus invaded his thoughts as he recalled the way her dress flowed to the music. Her body twirled and swayed with grace and beauty like nothing he had ever seen before. For a moment he was content just watching her from across the great hall. Her face softened with a smile and the sound of her laughter soothed his soul.

That was until he had noticed the way Marcus had set his wandering eyes on her. Just like a snake in the Garden of Eden, Marcus was testing his limits, waiting to strike, and make his move. Aye, he did not trust him for one moment, and that’s when the drinking began.
James Douglas, if ye were half the man ye thought ye were, ye would have claimed that dance last night instead of letting another man invade yer claim.
Aye, if only he was just a man, mayhap he could be the one for Abigale.

James licked his lips and swallowed hard, still tasting Abigale’s kiss that lingered on the tip of his tongue like it had just happened.
Shite.
He had been such an arse to her. He had tried to walk past her bedchamber last eve, but his body betrayed him. After seeing another man up close and personal with Abigale it took all his strength not to throw her on the bed and take her… brand her… sear her body with his, so every Dragonkine or man would know she belonged to him. But he could not do it, so he took the coward's way out by intimidating her. His eyes flew open.
Abigale?
She was here. He leaned over and felt the sheets next to him; they were cold.

James sat up, pulled his hands through his hair, and Lennox hopped off the bed. “Och lassie, ‘tis time to lick my wounds and go find Lady Abigale.” Lennox ran to the door, Mahboon right behind her, they both scratched at it. Donning his kilt and tunic, he quit the bedchamber.

The last place James looked for Abigale was in the horse stable, knowing all along she would be here, yet he didn’t want to face the consequences of last night’s blunder. The sweet smell of fresh cut hay filled the stone framed room. Chargers of white, black, and chestnut were lined up on one side of the wall standing side by side only separated by wooden walls. They paid James no mind as he walked down the main aisle. As he approached the next stall a black mare nickered. James patted her on her hindquarters. ”Settle lass, ‘tis me,” he whispered.

Passing an empty stall he thought mayhap Abigale wasn’t here. He began to turn around and leave until he heard a soft sigh and the crunch of hay.
Abigale?

Curled up in a fur on a hay pallet next to Fergus, Abigale slept. A soft gray muzzle was buried in her auburn hair next to her flawless face as if the steed was protecting a prized possession. Long, black eyelashes rested on her cheeks that were pink from the cold night air. Her lips quivered. God’s blood, he was an arse.

As James got closer, Fergus stirred and pinned his ears back, telling James to proceed with caution. “Easy lad.” James’s voice was a mere whisper. "I will no hurt her.” He held out his hand and Fergus nipped at it. Retracting his hand quickly, James took a step back.
Easy, two steps forward one step back
. Fergus stood as to not wake Abigale and pinned his ears again. James held his hands up in surrender. “I know… I know… I messed up. Let me take her inside to get warm.” This was a first, he thought, negotiating with a horse.

Fergus raised his head to intimidate James, then neighed a deep confident nicker. James reached, down never losing eye contact with the stallion and grabbed a hand full of hay. He offered it to Fergus. “See lad, I’m not so bad, am I?" The protective warhorse paused. Slowly with caution he lowered his head and blew out a puff of hot air from his nostrils like he was calming his nerves. With his neck stretched out he investigated the peace offering by moving the hay around with his nose. James took his other hand and stroked Fergus’s pure white forehead. "Peace?”