Debbie Mazzuca Bundle, page 31
“Hey.” She twined her fingers in his chest hair and tugged lightly.
“Rough, too, but I like it.” Rory grinned. Reaching for her, he hauled her within easy reach of his nimble fingers and unclasped her necklace, tossing it on the bedside table. He worked at the hooks of her gown. Seconds later, he had her bared to the waist. “You must have had a lot of practice to be able to get me out…ah.” She moaned when he reached up to cup her breasts, sucking one nipple and then the other into his hot, wet mouth.
She let out a startled cry when he tossed her onto her back. He lifted his head and winced. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you, love?”
Ali slowly shook her head from side to side, as anxious for him to be rid of her clothes as he was. Rory tugged her gown over her hips, then froze. Searching her face, he shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Aileanna—the bairn, I forgot.”
He caressed her belly, then dipped his head to drop a soft kiss there. The muscles in her stomach contracted. Her core grew slick and hot with need. With one last gentle pat to her belly, he dropped onto his back, an arm over his eyes, his breathing ragged.
Ali struggled out of the rest of her clothes and came onto her knees beside him. She lifted his arm from his eyes. He cracked one eye open. “You can’t be serious?” she muttered.
“I doona’ want to hurt you or the bairn. We can’t…” He waved his hand at their naked bodies.
His eyes widened when Ali straddled him. She brought her face within inches of his. “Rory MacLeod, I am strong and healthy. So is our baby. Trust me—not making love to me at this moment is much more harmful to my health, and that is definitely not good for the baby.”
His eyes searched hers. A slow smile curved his full lips. “We canna’ have that, now can we?” He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her mouth to his. “Yer certain?”
“Positive,” she murmured before she nibbled the corner of his mouth, sweeping the tip of her tongue over his lips, tasting the smooth, rich flavor of whiskey. She delved inside the moist heat to thrust and parry with his tongue. With her kiss, she showed him how much she loved him, how much she needed him.
Rory groaned and wrapped her in his arms. “You canna’ ken how much I’ve missed you, missed this.”
Ali blinked back tears. She didn’t want to cry, not now. Raw emotions simmered too close to the surface, and she could only nod her agreement.
She eased out of his arms. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.” Her voice deepened with desire.
Rory’s eyes darkened. “Whatever you say, my love.”
His long, hard erection jerked against her. Ali leaned forward with her hands pressed to his broad chest and slid up and down his shaft.
“Ride me.” His thick brogue grew more pronounced.
Ali wrapped her hand around his pulsating shaft and guided it to where she was throbbing and needy. She lowered herself slowly. Taking him inside her, her sheath embraced him. He arched his hips, filling her to the hilt.
She rode him, panting, groaning when he kneaded her breasts with his big, rough hands. He pulled her down to him, drawing her nipple into his mouth. He suckled hard. She opened her eyes. He devoured her with his, her love and passion reflected back at her.
“Come fer me, Aileanna.” His voice was thick with desire.
She leaned back, her fingers digging into his strong, muscular thighs. He plunged in and out of her, stroking her nub with his talented fingers. He seared her with his touch, branding her as his. Ali felt the intensity building at the center of her core and shuddered as the sensations washed over her. She shattered at the same time as Rory let out a low, guttural groan and came inside her.
Later, lying spent in Rory’s arms, she brushed the pad of her thumb across the full bottom lip of a mouth that had brought her to unbelievable heights only moments before.
He smiled and dropped a kiss on her forehead. He tugged a silver band from his baby finger and brought her left hand to his mouth. Rory kissed the tip of each of her fingers before sliding the ring onto her fourth one.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, admiring the intricate markings on the thick silver band. “Was…was it Brianna’s?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She wished it didn’t matter to her, but it did. “What are you doing?” she protested when he slipped the ring from her finger.
“I had the ring made before I went to Lewis, Aileanna. Can you see the etchin’ on the inside of the band?” His voice was gruff. He held the ring so it gleamed in the moonlight, tilting the band so she could see the engraving.
She squinted. “I can’t read it.”
“It says, ‘you and no other’.” He slid the ring back on her finger. “There is no other fer me, Aileanna, but you. Yer sister and I married, as most do in my time, fer the betterment of the clan. I did love her. But no’ like I love you. At one time it scared me how strong my love fer you was, but no longer. I ken I’m no’ my father.”
“I’m sorry, Rory. I don’t mean to be jealous.” She brushed her lips along the underside of his jaw. “Maybe it’s time to let go of our ghosts and concentrate on our life together, our love for one another.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Aye, on us and the little one.”
She entwined her fingers with his. “Are you happy about the baby?”
He smiled. Leaning over her, he nuzzled her stomach before he lifted his eyes back to hers. “In truth, I’ve never been happier than I am now. You and the bairn will want fer nothin’.”
“If we have you, we won’t need anything else.”
“You have me, Aileanna, all of me—heart, body, and soul.”
Epilogue
Ali eased her son’s flailing arm through the sleeve of the long, white, lacy gown and kissed his little rosebud mouth before he let out a lusty wail.
She glanced over to Rory as he closed the door to their room. He released a long-suffering sigh, a tortured look on his gorgeous face. She bit back a grin.
“Doona’ you laugh, yer no’ the one who has to put up with him. Please tell me he’s leavin’ after the bairns’ christenin’.”
Ali heard the rustling in the cradle and said, “Bring me Jamie, Rory. Alex is ready.” She held the baby up for his father’s inspection.
“Aye, he looks charmin’ in his wee gown.” Rory shook his head while he fingered the lace. He pressed his lips to Alex’s inky black curls, then gave Ali a mind-numbing kiss until the baby squawked in protest. Rory grinned. “Ye have the look of me, laddie, but ye have the temper of the old goat down below, and yer mother.”
He gave Ali a playful slap on the behind as he walked over to the cradle and lifted Jamie into his arms. “And yer as bonny as yer mother with yer father’s easygoing temperament.” He kissed his son’s cheek and laid him on the bed beside his brother.
Ali rolled her eyes, then began to dress Jamie.
“Hurry up now. If we’re quick with the celebratin’ we’ll have them on their way while it’s still light,” Rory urged impatiently.
“That’s not very nice. He’s my father.”
“Aileanna, I’m no’ jokin’. The man will make me daft if he’s here much longer. And you ken I love yer aunt, but she’s always flittin’ aboot and I’m no’ gettin’ enough time alone with you.”
Ali arched a brow. “I seem to recall last night we had quite a bit of time alone.”
He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Aye.” His voice was deep and husky. “But I’m a verra greedy mon, with an insatiable appetite fer my bonny wife.”
“Just like your sons.” She hummed in pleasure when he nuzzled her neck.
“Please, mo chridhe, promise me you’ll send them home.” His heated breath caressed her ear.
“I’ll—” Ali didn’t get a chance to finish what she was about to say. Her father barged into the room followed by her aunt, Mrs. Mac, Fergus, and Iain.
“Can ye no’ leave my daughter alone long enough to get the bairns ready?”
“Aileanna,” Rory growled in her ear.
“The boys are ready. Look at them—aren’t they adorable?” Mrs. Mac and her aunt all but shoved her aside to get to the babies, oohing and aahing over them. Before Ali could get out another word, the two women made off with Alex and Jamie. The three men followed close behind and ordered the women to have a care, instructing them on how they should be holding the babies.
Ali turned in her husband’s arms. Threading her fingers through his thick, black hair, she tugged his mouth down to hers. “See, there are some benefits to keeping them around,” she said against his lips.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbie Mazzuca thinks she has the best job in the world.
She spends her days cavorting through the wilds of seventeenth-century Scotland with her sexy highland heroes and her equally fabulous heroines.
Back in the twenty-first century you can find her living in Ottawa, Ontario with her husband, two of their three children, and a yappy Yorkie. You can visit Debbie on the Web at www.debbiemazzuca.com.
WARRIOR’S KISS
“I do not go around kissing men, Lord MacLeod, if that’s what you are implying. I’m not that sort of woman,” she said tightly.
He brushed a soft curl from the curve of her heated cheek. “’Tis no’ what I meant. I ken what kind of woman ye are, lass.”
“What . . . what do you mean?” she stammered, raising amber eyes flecked with gold to his.
Cupping her chin in his hands, he rubbed his thumb over her full bottom lip. “I mean ye’re innocent. No man has ever kissed ye, have they?”
“No,” she whispered, her lips slightly parted.
“’Tis a shame that. Ye have a bonny mouth, ripe fer kissin’.” Desire overrode caution and he lowered his head to claim her. He only meant for it to be one brief kiss, but the moment he touched her soft, pliant lips, he was lost . . .
Books by Debbie Mazzuca
LORD OF THE ISLES
WARRIOR OF THE ISLES
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Warrior of the Isles
Debbie Mazzuca
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
About the Author
To my husband, Perry, my real-life hero.
I wouldn’t want to be on this journey
with anyone else but you.
I love you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my wonderful children, April, Jess, Nic, and Shariffe. Thank you for supporting me in doing what I love to do, even though it means I don’t cook and clean like I used to. I adore you guys.
Thanks to my amazingly supportive family—the LeClairs and the Mazzucas. I am truly blessed. I love you all!
To my book club gals, Carolyn, Joanne, Kathleen, Lynn, and Peggy. I wouldn’t miss our Thursday nights together. Thanks for your friendship and support.
Thanks to Ludvica, Lucy, Coreene, Vanessa, and Teresa for taking the time to read for me. I so appreciate your insights, support, and friendship!
To my wonderful editor, John Scognamiglio. Thanks for your support and for always being there to answer my questions.
Thanks to my fabulous agent, Pamela Harty, for continuing to encourage and believe in me. You’re the best!
To the readers who took the time to let me know how much they enjoyed Rory and Aileanna’s story. I loved hearing from you. Thank you!
Prologue
Isle of Lewis, 1592
Seated at a table in the back of the crowded alehouse, Aidan MacLeod attempted to slough off the burden of his responsibilities and enjoy the carefree companionship of his friends, and the voluptuous redhead in his lap.
“See what ye’ve been missin’, MacLeod?” Gavin grinned at him from across the table, hauling a buxom blonde into his arms.
Aidan shook his head with a laugh and returned his attention to the greedy wench, who attempted to smother him in her bountiful charms.
“Ah, MacLeod, we’ve got company.”
Aidan drew his mouth from the lass’s rosy-tipped breast. Ignoring her throaty groan of protest, he followed Gavin’s gaze to the front of the alehouse. Torquil, his father’s man-at-arms, stood in the entryway.
As he noted Torquil’s grim expression, Aidan’s lust was replaced with a heavy sense of foreboding. He eased the woman from his lap and came to his feet. Without taking his eyes from the silver-haired man-at-arms, he tossed her some coin and motioned for her to take her leave.
She sidled up to him, her heavy scent cloying. “I’ll take yer coin, laddie, but I’d much rather ye give me this.” To the amusement of his companions, she groped the front of his trews.
He shot her an impatient look and brushed her hand aside. “My father’s back?” he asked the thickset man, who now stood before him.
“Aye, I had no chance to warn ye, lad. We left—”
Before Torquil could finish his explanation, Aidan grabbed his woolen cloak off the bench and headed for the door. His companion’s entreaty to remain fell on deaf ears. His wee brother was alone and unprotected.
Thunder rumbled overhead as Aidan strode across the rainsoaked yard to the stables. Cursing every moment of delay, he kicked off the mud that caked his boots against the edge of the door. The stable hand, who had been lolling against a bale of hay, leapt to his feet.
“Bring me my mount, and his,” Aidan added, sensing Torquil’s presence behind him.
“Dougal will keep the lad out of the laird’s way. He’ll come to no harm,” Torquil said as he attempted to reassure him.
Aidan swept droplets of rain from his face and focused on the man-at-arms. “Are ye tellin’ me my da is no’ drunk, then?” If that were the case, it would do much to allay the fear icing Aidan’s veins.
Sober, his father would do nothing more to his young brother than ignore him, and although hurtful to the bairn, it would do little more than wound his heart. But if his father was in his cups, that was another matter entirely.
His question was met with tight-lipped silence and Aidan cursed. He accepted Fin’s reins with a muttered thanks and leapt onto the stallion’s back, turning him toward home.
Moments later, Torquil’s big bay caught up to him. Despite the fading light, Aidan could see the man was holding something back. “What havena ye told me?”
Torquil raised his voice to be heard above the thunder of the horses’ hooves. “’Tis the day of the lad’s birth is all, and ye ken how yer father—”
Aidan’s disgusted bellow was lost in the wind. Of all the days to leave his brother alone, he’d chosen this one. With his father away at court, he’d taken the opportunity to join his friends in the hunt and a night of pleasure. At eighteen, he was more of a father to Lachlan than a brother, and lately he’d chafed at the responsibility. But never had he expected his actions would put his brother in danger.
The memory of Lachlan’s birth eight years past escaped from where he’d locked it away. He tried to shove it back, but the words the old crone had uttered reverberated in his head, words that damned both his mother and his brother.
He has the mark of the Fae.
His mother’s anguished cry of denial echoed in his head alongside his father’s bellow of rage. Aidan squeezed his eyes closed to shut out the image of the bloody white linens shrouding his mother, the sound of his bare feet slapping against the cold stone as he ran from the room.
He wrapped his cloak tighter to ward off the bitter winds and memories. Bent low over Fin, he tore across the narrow wooden bridge, leaving Torquil far behind. Lights flickered in the distance as the tower came into view through a misty curtain of rain. Aidan’s heart raced as he closed in on his home. His chest was so tight he could barely shout out his brother’s name when Dougal met him in the deserted courtyard.
The old man’s gnarled fingers clutched at Aidan’s trews. “I canna find the lad or the laird.” He jerked his whiskered chin toward the keep. “All within are searchin’ now, but—”
Aidan met Dougal’s worried gaze. No words needed to be exchanged. They both knew what had happened. His father had taken his brother to the cliffs. He’d uttered the threat often enough, only Aidan had never believed the man he once loved and admired would attempt such a heinous act. Even now, with every pained breath he took, he prayed he was wrong.
“Be careful, lad, I fear he’s gone mad. I doona ken what set him off. Mayhap ’twas somethin’ yer uncle said, but ’tis worse than before.”
Aidan gave a tight nod, blinking hard to keep his tears at bay. He was a man, and this was no time for a woman’s emotion. With a sharp tug on Fin’s reins, he brought the horse around and headed back into the night.
