To Conquer a Scot (A Time Traveler’s Highland Love) Read online

  “Well, if I remember correctly, ye haven’t exactly been doin’ what I asked ye to do. I’ve not had a report from ye in a week or more. And do ye not want to say something back to me?”

  “I must confess I’d pretty much forgotten to do it, but I’m not sad that I did. Not if it means you’re only looking at me.” And right now he was looking at her with so much affection that had she been standing, her legs would’ve given out. Her first impression of him had been so wrong. Aedan was as far from a Neanderthal as one could get. “I love you, too.” Emotion welled up inside and forgetting her headache, she clasped his stubbled jaw and pulled him down for a kiss.

  Their lips touched and the slow, intoxicating seduction soon blazed to a wildfire between them, their tongues sliding, tasting, teasing the other. He nipped her lip, and she gasped when he pulled her up to straddle his legs, her wet, needy core against his cock.

  He was long and hard, and Abby undulated against him. She needed release, to feel alive and joined with him, to remove the awful memory of what others had tried to do to her. It’d been too long since they’d been together this way.

  A light knock sounded at the door and neither of them were quick enough to pull away. Gwen walked in and stopped, her mouth agape with shock. Abby didn’t move from Aedan’s lap, and instead she smiled tentatively to hide her embarrassment. “Hi Gwen.” Heat rushed to her cheeks.

  “Good morn, yourself,” Gwen said, shutting the door quickly.

  Aedan sighed and placed her back on the bedding, pulling the blankets up to her waist, and quickly meeting her gaze. He looked pained, and no doubt frustrated as hell after what they’d not been able to finish. Her own body burned with unsated need, and she clasped his hand, squeezing it a little. He turned and faced his sister.

  “Are ye after something, Gwen?” he asked, his voice calm, a touch of boredom even.

  “Me?” his sister said, pointing to herself. “I’m not after anything, but I can see you are. I wanted to check on my friend, whom, by the way, ye seem to have forgotten, took a nasty hit to her head.”

  “I’ve not forgotten.” His voice rang out with disdain. Abby bit her lip to stop the silly, loved-up grin that threatened. He didn’t like his sister’s accusation that he didn’t care for her, and would take advantage of her in such a state.

  Abby sighed. He’d not taken advantage of her, he could have her anytime and anyplace. It was official; she had it bad for the Scot.

  “Perhaps you ought to tell your sister the news.”

  Aedan looked at her and frowned. “What news?”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “The news about us.” She rubbed her temple, shaking her head at his aloofness.

  “What news?” Gwen asked, looking back and forth at them.

  Aedan continued to stare at her, a small smile spreading across his lips. “So you’re agreeing to my question then, lass?”

  She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. “Aye, I am, lad.”

  “What is going on here?”

  Abby laughed at the annoyance in Gwen’s tone and took pity on the poor woman. “Aedan and I are going to be married. He’s asked for my hand, and I’ve said yes.”

  Gwen smiled, clapping her hands together in joy. “I’m so glad. This is the best of news.”

  “I think so, too,” Abby said, meaning every word. Living in this time would be hard, she had no illusions, and Aedan thinking of war against the O’Cains was certainly something to take into consideration, but maybe she could change his mind. And a life in the future without him seemed bleak and lonely. Only half complete, no matter how pampered people lived in her time, the technology, travel. It all paled when compared to him.

  She couldn’t go back. Aedan was her life now. The man she wanted to make a future with.

  “A servant will be bringing up some food to break Abigail’s fast.” Gwen walked over to the chair beside her bed and sat. “I suggest ye not be caught in such a predicament again, betrothed or not. As Abigail’s to be the laird’s wife, you need to think of her reputation, brother.”

  “It’ll not happen again.” A muscle worked in his jaw, pulling Abby’s gaze to his lips. As much as she loved Gwen, she really had chosen the worst time to come and see her. Just then, a woman Abigail had seen downstairs a few times walked into the room with a wooden tray, an assortment of food spread out for her to choose from.

  Abby thanked her, looking down at the stew-like soup and mead. If it wasn’t for her headache, she’d feel almost normal, but still her stomach rumbled, not in the least fazed by her head trauma.

  “How is Betsy? I hope she’s being cared for after what Rory Kirk did to her. The bastard.”

  Both Gwen and Aedan looked at each other and dread pooled in her gut. “Is Betsy okay?” She thought over what happened in her room, of how Betsy had been thrown to the floor. She hadn’t hit anything going down, but her memory was hazy at best… “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I was hiding in the secret passage, Abigail, and I saw everything that happened in the room with Rory. I remained quiet as I knew he’d try and flee with ye, and when he knocked you out, I checked on Betsy. She was dead. He’d broken her neck before throwing her to the floor. I’m so sorry.”

  Abby shut her eyes, the burn of tears making them sting. Betsy had been a sweet woman. A mother with little children. And now, because she’d traveled back in time and had reminded a crazed man of his missing betrothed, the woman was dead. “It’s my fault. I can’t believe he killed her. She didn’t do anything to him other than being my maid.”

  Aedan came and sat beside her, pulling her against him again. “Nay, lass. ’Tis not your fault. Rory Kirk was a bastard, has always been an uncharitable, cruel lord. Had it not been you, he would’ve chosen someone else to cause trouble for. It was his nature, as it’s in Scotland’s nature to be wild and untamed.”

  She sniffed against the crook of his neck, pulling him close. “She has little children, Aedan. We have to make sure they’re looked after. Never hungry or without clothes. Promise me this.”

  He nodded. “Aye. I promise. They’ll never be without.”

  She relaxed a little and weariness swamped her. “I think I’ll rest a little while,” she said, lying against the pillows. “Would that be okay? I’ll eat later. I don’t feel like anything now.”

  Gwen stood. “Of course, my dear. I’ll check in on you later.” She took the tray and set it on the bedside table, raised her brows at Aedan when he didn’t venture to leave. “Are ye coming, brother?”

  He kissed her quickly and strode from the room. Abby watched them go and sighed when the door shut. Rolling over, she hugged her bedding, the tears flowing freely for what had transpired in the last three days. An innocent, beautiful life lost for no reason. Life could be cruel. She knew that as well as anyone else, but it still didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  ...

  A few days later, Aedan strode across the courtyard and stopped when he saw Abigail talking to one of his clansmen. He started toward them and then stopped when she hugged the man before pulling away and heading for the castle.

  The clansman walked off to continue with his business, none the wiser that he was under the scrutiny of his laird.

  A cold knot of jealousy spiked in his soul, and he yelled out to Abigail to stop. “Replacing me already, lass?” He was sure what she’d done was wholly innocent, but he needed to hear it from her. He was merely curious, not a jealous, love-sick lout.

  “That’s Betsy’s husband. He came up to the castle to thank me for the food hamper and linen for new clothes for his children. I told him they’ll never be in need. I feel so bad, Aedan. It’s like her blood’s on my hands.”

  “Nay, lass. ’Tis not.” He wanted to hold her, give her comfort, no matter where they were, but Aline emerging from the castle halted his impulse.

  “Good morning, Aline. I hope you’re finding yer time here well worth the visit,” Aedan said.

  Aline looked at Abigail with dis
dain, and he frowned. The woman was as sharp as his dirk.

  “It is a beautiful day, is it not,” she said, not bothering to include Abigail in their conversation. “Would ye walk me down to the games, Aedan? I want to watch every event, being it is the last day.”

  Abigail smiled. “Yes, what a shame we’ll not have you here to grace our presence anymore, Aline. You’ve been such wonderful company to be around. You’ll be sorely missed.”

  Abigail leaned up and kissed Aedan’s cheek. “I’m going to lie down for a while. I’ll see you at lunch.” Aedan stared at Abigail’s retreating back, smiling at her candor. She was as refreshing as chilled water. Aline made a strangled sound that resembled a wild animal caught in a trap, and he fought to not laugh.

  “What vulgar friends your sister has. I’m sure you should never invite her again to yer home.”

  He shook his head, knowing how wrong the woman before him was. Abigail was the best of people. Granted, she came from the future, her life easier in many ways, and yet not. She had no parents, had been given to people as a child who really did not care to know her. Had lived through the death of her partner, and yet still had room for him in her heart.

  Aye, she was outspoken, fiery, too, but so was he. She was perfect for him in every way, unlike the woman standing before him. Aline was the veriest she-devil if ever there was one. “Abigail Cross will always be welcome in my home. We’re to announce our betrothal tonight.”

  A tinge of guilt stabbed his gut at the girl’s crestfallen visage, but at her next words his moment of weakness disappeared.

  “Ye cannot marry her. She’s not even Scottish, no matter what she says her ancestry is.”

  He shrugged, walking toward the games that were about to commence. “I care not.” He slowed his steps to allow the girl to keep up. “She could be a thatcher’s daughter and I’d still marry her. She’s the best woman I know.”

  Aline scoffed. “I must admit, since we’re speaking so candidly, that I’m shocked by this turn of events. Father will be disappointed to hear this.”

  Aedan stopped before the viewing platform the women and older clansmen were using to observe the games. “He may discuss the matter with me after dinner tonight, although I fail to see how this concerns him.”

  “I would think a man who’s about to do battle with Clan O’Cain would be securing as many alliances as he could.”

  “Are ye suggesting that because I haven’t asked for your hand in marriage I’ll lose the support of your father’s clan?” Aedan knew marrying Abigail could possibly sever the ties he’d formed over the years, but Scotland was full of clans, some helpful, some not. And he had many fighting men, more than enough to keep his home and people safe. Aline’s threat was weak and showed a spitefulness that he’d only had glimpses of until now.

  “Talk to Father yourself and see. And best wishes for your future, I fear ye may need as much luck as ye can get.”

  Aedan bowed. “Thank you. You’re acceptance and generosity in my future happiness shows how much breeding and ladylike temperament you possess.” His voice dripped sarcasm before he turned and headed for the weight-over-the-bar event, leaving Aline gaping after him.

  ...

  Later that night a servant ushered Aline’s father, the Laird of Grant, into his anteroom. He stood, beckoning him to sit, before he, too, took his seat.

  The large clansmen looked flushed in the face, his hair ruffled and sticking up. Aedan waited for him to speak, not the least interested in the forthcoming conversation. His mind was set, he would marry Abigail and be damned anyone who dared to step in his way.

  “After Aline told me of ye plans today I thought that you were bluffing, but after the meal tonight and your announcement, I see that you’re not.”

  Aedan smiled, remembering the roar from his clansmen at the announcement of his betrothal. That he had the support of his people was enough for him. His closest ally, Black Ben’s clan, when joined with his in battle, was a force to be reckoned with, and he certainly didn’t need the support of Clan Grant to secure his future.

  War with the O’Cains withstanding or not.

  “I’m deadly serious with my offer of marriage to Abigail Cross. I believe she’ll suit me well.” He kept the smile off his lips at the memory of her and their time together. Now that he’d announced his intention, he would ensure they had even more time alone…and undisturbed.

  “To say I’m not disappointed would be a lie. I had hopes you’d offer for Aline, but ’tis what it is.”

  Aedan poured the man a whisky, slid it across the desk, and leaned back in his chair. “I must admit to assuming a different reaction from you.”

  The older man chuckled, downing his whisky in one swallow. “Nay, as much as me daughter is disappointed, I’ll not stand in the way of yer happiness. I’m happy for you and the lass. And of course, I will still support ye should ye declare war on the O’Cains. The bastards are always stealing me cattle.”

  Aedan nodded, knowing only too well what the O’Cains were like. “Tomorrow the clans will be leaving MacLeod land, and then the celebrations for Lammas and my sister’s forthcoming handfasting will commence. Of course, you’ll be invited.”

  “Aye, two unions within months of each other. Yer father would be proud of ye, boy.”

  Aedan nodded, hoping this was true, and yet his father, a hard man, not one to show any emotion other than at the end of a sword, would probably disagree. “Are ye all set for your journey in the morn?”

  “Aye.” The older man rose, stretching. “We are. Just make sure ye send word when ye need our help, and we’ll be here as soon as we can.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate yer support. Likewise, send word if you’re ever in need.”

  Aedan watched the older man leave. Walking over to a window, he stared out at his lands. In the outer courtyard, lanterns burned and the muffled sounds of men could be heard. The meeting with Laird Grant had gone better than he’d hoped. Aline would be disappointed to hear it. He smiled and thought of Abigail, who at this very moment waited for him upstairs…

  It had been too many nights since he’d lain with her. He turned to go and stopped as the very woman haunting his every thought walked into the room, sliding the bolt across the door and locking them in.

  “Abigail,” he said, watching the sway of her hips as she made her way across the room.

  “Aedan,” she replied, running her hands up his chest as she came to stand before him. “I was lonely. I thought I might come and keep you company.”

  ...

  Aedan chuckled as she started to untie his sporran. “Ye can keep me company whenever ye like. You’ll never have an argument from me on that score.”

  “I’m glad.” She pulled him over to his desk, sliding up to sit before him. His hands moved up her legs, bringing her gown to pool about her waist. The pull for him to touch her, to make her come apart in his arms, made her wet between her legs. He cupped her sex and she moaned, biting her lip as he teased her flesh. His heavy lidded gaze pinned her in place as one finger slid between her folds.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his eyes cloudy with desire. “I’m in awe of you.”

  She smiled, pulling him down for a kiss. His lips took hers, his tongue stroking against hers in a tantalizing rhythm. Using her legs, she wrapped herself about his hips, pulling him where she craved him most.

  He growled, letting her go a moment as he fought with the belt on his kilt. It hit the floor with a swoosh. He stood before her, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, his chiselled body all for her and no one else. Desire ran hot in her blood and threatened to make her go up in flames.

  Each time they were together like this, it was like opening a naughty Christmas present. He was magnificent, and that his heart was true, beat only for her, made him impossible to deny. She was absolutely, without question, in love with him.

  His penis jutted against his stomach, and she clasped it, sliding her hand against its velvet
y smoothness, teasing him, stroking him, using the little droplet of come that pooled at the end to give her lubricant.

  Aedan looked up at the ceiling, his hands a vice-like grip against her thighs.

  “Would you like me to use my mouth on you?”

  He met her gaze, the wicked tilt to his lips telling her that he would.

  “I will not force myself on ye for such favors.”

  “You don’t need to force me. I want to do it.” Abby pushed him back and slid off the table, pulling him around to sit where she’d vacated. He lay down and placed his arms beneath his head, his attention wholly on her ministrations.

  He shivered beneath her at her first taste of him, and she revelled in his moan of pleasure. Heavy in her hand and as soft as silk, she touched him, falling into a rhythm as his cock strained rigid, his breathing hard and labored.

  Abby kissed along the toned muscles of his stomach, biting her way up his chest until she was laying over him, looking down into the greenest orbs she’d forever adore. She grabbed his hands, grinning. “I want you to place your hands above your head. Keep them there until I tell you to move.”

  He nodded, but didn’t reply, just wickedly grinned at her. Abby straddled him, rubbing her hands across his body, feeling the light sheen of sweat on his skin. The essence of him filled her senses, that of a man, lavender soap, and something that was wholly Aedan.

  She flicked her tongue across his nipple, savoring every groove and muscle indentation he had, before kissing his jaw, the lobe of his ear.

  “You’re killing me, lass.”

  He tried to kiss her but she sat up, wagging her finger at him. His penis jutted against her core and she slid over it, enjoying the friction it created against her aching flesh. Taking him in her hand, she guided him inside, sighing as he filled her.

  Aedan swore, the sheen of sweat across his brow growing with every moment she made him wait. Slowly, she rose, only to lower herself again in agonizing strokes. Abby braced her hands on his chest, her fingers playing with his nipples as she started to ride him in earnest.