Terri Brisbin - Possessed by the Highlander

“You have but to speak her name and it will be so.”

“Speak her name….”

“Her name…”

Duncan stood then, fighting the words, fighting the heat, fighting the urges that grew and filled him and threatened to explode. His stomach tumbled inside and he felt the need to empty it…and soon. Searching for the door that would lead him out of the hall and the keep, Duncan found, not Hamish, but Iain at his side.

“Come, friend. You look to need some air,” he said, while guiding his steps down from the dais, through the celebrating crowds, along the corridor and out through the door.

The cool night breezes gave him some ease, but did not clear his head as he’d hoped. And the growing desire to touch Mara did not lessen, either. He cared not where their path led, so he allowed Iain to guide his steps away from the keep and into the quiet of the village. In a moment or some while later, they stopped.

“She did not come tonight,” Iain said.

Duncan looked up and realized they stood before Mara’s cottage. No light shone in the window and no sounds could be heard.

“She knew you favored her, yet she did not come as commanded,” the laird said. “She was told you wished for her presence at the feast, but she spurned you.”

Something was not right here. Part of him, the logical, calm part he relied on, was being pushed back and held at bay by some wild madness within him. His chest hurt and his breathing labored, his muscles trembled and his desire raged stronger by the moment. And the object of that desire lay just behind the door of this cottage.

“Mara is her name, Duncan. Say her name.”

Duncan took a step toward the cottage and felt her name on his lips. He just wanted to see her, to hear his name on her lips, to understand the strange and powerful feelings surging through him about her. Looking around, he found himself alone, standing just yards now from her door. The moonlight poured through the trees, dappling the ground at his feet and even the patterns seemed to urge his feet forward. The wind moved through the leaves and once more the voice whispered.

“Just say her name….”

Unable to resist it any longer, her name poured out of him into the dark of the night.

Marian sat up at the sound. More like an animal bellowing in pain than a man speaking, she drew the blankets up around and over Ciara before climbing from the pallet and going to the door. Checking the bar, she knew the door was secure against most dangers, but what lurked outside this night? Grabbing her cloak from a hook, she wrapped it around her shoulders and peered into the darkness through the small, high window.

The light of the nearly full moon made much in the area around her cottage visible to her, but she did not need light to recognize his voice when he spoke. The MacLerie’s man.

“Mara!” he called again, leaning over with his hands on his knees.

Sweet Jesus! He would wake not only Ciara but the entire village if he continued bellowing like a wounded bear. Deciding to take a chance that she could quiet him better face-to-face, she slid the bar up and set it aside. Lifting the latch, she opened the door a bit so she could speak to him.

“Sir Duncan,” she whispered. “My daughter sleeps within.” Marian stepped out and tugged the door closed behind her. “As does the rest of the village. Can we not speak of what concerns you in the morn?”

He stood up then, rising to his full height that made him tower over her and he strode directly to her. More than anything, she wanted to scamper back in the cottage, close the door, drop the bar and gain any protection that the croft could offer, and she did try. But, he moved too quickly. He blocked the door with his foot, making it impossible for her to close it. His hand slid up the edge of the door, making any thought of keeping him out a hopeless one.

“Please, my daughter…” she began in a whisper. Glancing at the pallet and seeing no movement there, she stepped forward to block his view into her home.

“I need to see you, Mara,” he said in a low, gruff voice. “Come out, so I can see you.”

He stuttered his words and Marian suspected he was in his cups, but that did not make him less dangerous. But, her choice was clear—her safety or her daughter’s—so she released her hold on the door and stepped away. His gaze was hot as it passed over her, from her head to the toes that peeked out from beneath the bottom of her chemise. She tugged her cloak closer around her and walked outside.

Marian could see him out of the corner of her eye and she watched as his hands curled and relaxed, curled and relaxed and then again. He allowed her to walk past him and then he followed where she led—away from where her daughter could see or hear them. She suspected how this would end and she did not want Ciara to witness it. When she reached a small clearing in the trees next to the path, she stopped and turned to face him.

His eyes were wild, but there was a sadness and longing deep inside them that made her heart hurt. Her chest tightened and she found it difficult to take in a breath as she waited for him to do something. When his touch came, the tenderness of it was the true surprise. With only the tip of his finger, he traced the edge of her chin and then her mouth. His hand shook as he did it and her body began to tremble beneath his touch.

“You did not come,” he said.

“I could not.”

“I wanted you there. I wanted to see you,” he whispered, closer now, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. Then he kissed her neck and the heat of his mouth sent chills through her. Still, she dared not move. “I wanted to taste you.”

He lifted her face to his and leaned down until his lips met hers. It was only a moment before the kiss changed from tender to possessive and she lost the ability to think or to move. Now, heat raced through her and centered itself in that place deep inside. He guided her face to one side and she felt his tongue pressing against her lips. Opening her mouth to him, Marian discovered that her limbs lost the ability to support her and she leaned toward him.

When he’d called out her name and told her to come out, she’d been completely prepared to fight or reason him away. Now, though, she was not so certain. He slid his arms around her, touching her stomach, her thighs and then her breasts as he did. Instead of giving her the strength to resist, the caresses excited her, making the place between her legs throb in some unrecognizable way.

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