Page 407 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Quickening his caresses, he was soon rewarded with the brush of her breath on his neck as she clung to him in her release. With a yank of his kilt, Iain rose over her. He placed his palms on the bed, lifted himself up, and drove into her. Her grip on his shoulders turned fierce. Bracing himself on one elbow, Iain caressed her body until her muffled gasp told him she neared a second release. He quickened his thrusts until, at last, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and brought the full measure of his weight down on her, thrusting deep and hard.

“Bring me the magic that belongs only to you,” he coaxed into her ear.

Her arms wound around his neck while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Another thrust, and she arched into him, her second climax closing around him. His strength ebbed and he shuddered before exploding in pleasure. He thrust again, held steady as the pleasure pumped his seed into her, then thrust one last time before collapsing on top of her.

Iain rolled from Victoria and she curled up next to him. Fingers tightened on his shirt and he stroked her face until her even breathing indicated she had found escape in the freedom of sleep. He tied the laces of her dress in quick, deft moves, pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, then rose and hurried to the door. Iain listened, but detected no sound. Was it possible they had been left unguarded? He crossed to the window, braced himself, and pushed on the topmost board. It bent, then snapped, the sound coming in unison with the approach of heavy footsteps.

“Christ.” He barely reached the wall next to the door before the door swung open.

Moonlight silhouetted the warrior who stepped into the doorway, sword drawn. Iain leapt forward, delivering a blow to his opponent’s jaw. The man fell back and Iain kicked as a heavy object struck his neck. A flash of light lit the back of his brain. He crashed to his knees and, with a hard shake of his head, fought the darkness that blanketed his mind.

“A thick head that father of yours left you.” Iain recognized David Robertson’s voice. “But not so hard as the brunt of my sword.”

Another sharp pain to the head felled Iain, but not before he reached toward Victoria.

* * *

Iain didn’t know what time or day it was when he woke, or if it was still the same night he’d been knocked unconscious. The ringing in his ears made it impossible to distinguish sounds in the darkness. The only thing he felt safe in assuming was that if the noise in his head indicated he was dead, heaven wasn’t his final resting place.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke past the dull roar in his head. He rose on shaky legs, grasping at air for anything to steady himself as he swayed in response to the nausea that swept over him. The door burst open to reveal a large man outlined against moonlight. Iain lunged forward. He slammed against the unsuspecting figure, smashing them both against the wall a few feet from the door. Iain clamped his hands together and brought his fists down onto the man’s shoulder. Satisfaction shot through him when his opponent grunted and fell in a heap to the dirt floor.

“Cease!”

Iain froze. Hockley.

He swung around. The earl stood inside the shadow of the doorway. Iain started forward, but halted mid-stride when a man moved in beside the earl, sword before him. The man circled wide around Iain to his back.

“I should have known you would be involved in this trickery,” Iain ground out.

“Save your breath, MacPherson. It was not I who brought you here.”

“Nay?” Iain snarled.

“Look outside.” Hockley stepped aside.

Iain sucked in a breath at sight of Victoria astride a horse.

He tore his eyes from her and focused on the earl. “You think to claim my wife?” He crossed his arms over his chest and called forth every ounce of energy he possessed to keep from giving into the sway of the spinning room. “You have what you want, why bother with me? Unless, you want to be sure I am unable to come for you, as you know I will.”

“I would gladly abandon you to your fate,” Hockley replied.

Iain gave a loud snort, but received only a hard jab to his back from the English warrior who shoved him forward.

* * *

Dawn’s rays filtered through clouds, illuminating Victoria’s hunched form atop her horse. Iain stumbled on a branch in his path and grabbed at the leather bonds that tethered him to an English mount.

“Fall, and I will drag your Scottish arse all the way back to England,” said the Englishman who held the other end of the tether. He tightened the leather in an obvious attempt to carry out his threat. Iain yanked hard, toppling the man from his horse.

Iain was upon his opponent and rammed his fist into the man’s jaw before he had fully risen. The man fell back and Iain lunged for his sword. Steel leaving scabbards rang in unison with Iain yanking the sword from its sheath.

“Iain!” Victoria called.

He looked up, stunned at the unexpected rush of emotion his name elicited.

Edwin stepped up beside him. “Here is where we part company.”

Iain looked at him, his mind barely focusing on the figure before him.