Page 52 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
She arched against his hand, as wave after wave of heady sensation rippled through her, and Lucas was no longer able to contain his own burning desire. The sight of her writhing wantonly on him was more than he could withstand. His hand encircled the narrow span of her waist and lifted her up, then eased her down on the pulsating shaft and their mouths barely parted as she rocked atop him.
She arched against him, lifting herself, riding him until her moans of pleasure lapsed into incoherence. She thrashed in delight, only aware only of the glorious building ache inside her as it spread, heating her flesh, until orgasm sliced through thehaze of sensation. It struck like lightning, fizzled through every nerve as her body claimed him.
Maisie cried out again as another wave of pleasure surged through her body, her slender hips moving instinctively against him as she reached out to pull him to her. At the height of her ecstasy Lucas brought his mouth down upon hers in a crushing kiss and plunged himself into her.
Pulling away, he nibbled at her jaw, “I love ye, Maisie and I cannae wait to have ye as mine.”
She shuddered and kissed his neck, “Me too.”
It was the night before the wedding and while the feast carried on below, Maisie sat in her chambers, staring down at her gown. The underskirt of dove gray silk clung to her slender curves, while over it an emerald tunic shimmered in the light of the lamps, its silken hues perfectly matching the color of Lucas’s tunic.
In less than ten hours, she would be wed to Lucas, and her hand trembled. Who would have thought this day would come? It still felt like a dream.
The door creaked and she looked up as Lucas came into the room, his gaze dropping to her form. “Lass, are ye all right?”
She looked up, “I—I still cannae believe where I am and that I am marrying ye.”
He sat aside her, and took her hand, “I understand, but ye are here with me, nay matter how unbelievable it seems.”
Holding his hand tightly, Maisie ran her thumb over his knuckles. “I feel stunned still.”
Twisting to cup her face, Lucas nodded, “I know it’s still strange, lass, but we’re heading into a better part of our lives, ye and I.” Leaning in, he kissed her cheek, “Now, please put yer doubts behind ye and come with me to the feast that is waiting for us.”
With a decisive nod, she stood and took his hand, descending the stairs and entering the great hall. Every table was packed with townspeople and the honored guests in bright tartans and elaborate dresses, while the music thrummed through the hall. Servant girls meandered the tables, pouring wine and drink aplenty and serving trenchers of food.
Lucas aided her to the high table and she took her seat near him, two spaces ahead of her father and one aside Laird McKenna who greeted her with a smile.
“Good to see ye, me lady,” he bowed his head.
“Ye, as well,” she replied.
An emotion crossed Lucas but it vanished before she could decipher it and she reached for her wine. Baskets filled with wheaten Bannocks, spiced breads, were on the table with crocks of butter cheese and honey. Smoked beef, and lamb, salted fish and roasted vegetables came out of the kitchen in an endless stream.
“Looking at this splendor, I can only wonder how great the wedding feast will be,” Laird McKenna said in her ear. “Ye’ll certainly nay want for naythin’ with this clan, me lady.”
His tone was light, but Maisie detected an envious tone, and looking around, she understood. Lucas’s family was prosperous, their rich rivers, gold mountains and iron stores had made them so, not to mention their flocks of sheep and herds of goats; even allies of such a clan would be envious.
“Aye,” she replied while breaking her bread. “I daenae doubt it. Yer clan has been allied with the Barclays for how long again?”
“Two decades and a half,” the man replied. “Matter-of-fact, I believe we formed the alliance when Laird Barclay was born. I was the Laird’s age back then, ah, how time slips by.”
Again, she heard gracious words, but she still heard the envy underneath. Laird McKenna caught her eyes and gave her a repentant smile. “I ken I sound like a friendly foe to ye, eh? I must admit, I would give me eyeteeth to have a fraction of this wealth, but me and me clan gets by, and we have Laird Barclay’s kind help when we need it.”
“That’s good,” Maisie replied, happy that he had admitted what she had begun to fear.
He lifted his goblet, “To firm friends, eh?”
“Aye,” she agreed, then turned to Lucas, only to startle. His gaze was narrowed and searching, pinned on Laird McKenna before it flickered to her and his expression lightened.
She leaned into his ear. “What’s the matter?”
“We’ll speak later on that,” Lucas said lowly, his tone broking no objections.
His tone was not hard, nor angry, and while she enjoyed the feast, a part of her kept wondering what he meant. The hours slipped away and after the feast ended, they cleared a part of the room and dancing begun.
Maisie looked apprehensively at the doors; if an enemy were to attack, it would be best to do so when everyone was otherwise occupied. Lucas leaned into her ear, “Will ye give me the honor of this dance, Lady Maisie?”
“I—” she looked around. “I would like to but…”
