Page 37 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
Katie rocked, her skin flushed, and nipples reddened by a great deal of suckling. Her jewelry had managed to survive the earlier romp and now the rays of the late afternoon sun hit the circlet about her neck and lit her face with the glow of a golden goddess. He loved the expressions she made as she rode him and had already learned that when she held her breath and bit her lower lip, she was struggling to hold herself back from the edge of delicious oblivion.
Ramsay pumped harder and slid his hand down to stroke her clit in time with every thrust.
The lass was panting hard and heavy now and had given up biting her lip.
“That’s it,” Ramsay crooned, pumping faster and massaging her clit harder. “Come for me, lass. Come for me now.”
Keening out a ball-tingling combination of an ecstasy-filled scream and a greedy growl, Katie slammed both hands against his chest, grinding into him hard and fast as she shuddered and came, treating his cock to hot wet squeezes that quickly convinced him to join her.
Bucking hard and fast, Ramsay grabbed her by the waist and jammed her down against him thrust for thrust, spilling himself inside her until he fell back against the ground—completely spent.
“Lore a’mighty, woman…lore a’mighty,” he panted when he was finally able to speak.
Katie gasped against his neck. “I have never…”
“Good,” Ramsay interrupted, still breathing hard. “Yer husband should be the only one t’give ye such pleasure.”
An earsplitting gong sounded somewhere above them. Then the sound of a horn from the direction of the front of the keep filled the air with a deep bone-shaking howl.
Katie rolled off him, grabbed her nearby pile of clothes, and clutched them to her chest. “What the hell was that?”
Ramsay scrubbed a hand across his face then rolled to a sitting position. “Another clan has arrived. We must go now. ’Tis no helpin’ it. The feast canna be delayed any longer.”
Scrambling to her feet, Katie hurriedly shook out her chemise then yanked it on over her head. “I hope there’s a back way up to our rooms.” She paused, nervously patting at her delightfully mussed hair. “Geez, what a freaking mess. I’ll have to sneak up there and rebraid this or everyone’s going to know how we spent our afternoon.”
Ramsay didna think it prudent t’mention that more than likely, everyone in the keep already knew damn good and well how their chieftain and his wife had spent their afternoon. Not only had he and Katie been quite loud, but Gordon, Flora, and Mistress Macklemurry all had appeared in the windows above t’see if they were finished so the festivities could proceed.
A satisfied grin tickled his mouth. Of course, unless the keep were under attack, everyone concerned would consider the seedin’ of the high chief’s bairn top priority and everything else could wait until such seedin’ was done.
Katie swatted his arm as she yanked her skirt up over her chemise then reached up under it and jerked the layers of linen down in place. “What are you smiling at?”
“Not a thing, m’lady,” he replied with a gallant bow as he scooped up his armor and threw it over one arm.
She backed up to him as she looped her arms through her bodice. “Tie me up and get it good and snug like Flora did so the front will look right.”
Ramsay gave her an affectionate swat and kissed the back of her neck. “Yer maid will help dress ye when we reach our rooms. Ye willna wear yer everyday dress.” He nudged her toward the entrance to the garden. “Yer covered enough t’walk through the keep. Come, I’ll show ye the way.”
As soon as they left the private maze leading to the garden and turned into the wider, more frequently used hallways, Gordon and Flora appeared.
Flora scurried in between Katie and Ramsay, then clucked and nudged Katie forward like a herd dog cutting the chosen sheep out of the flock. “Come, M’lady. We must make haste and get ye dressed for the feast.”
Katie glanced back at Ramsay and rolled her eyes as Flora hurried her down the hall. “I guess I’ll see you at the feast,” she called out as they disappeared into one of the three hallways splitting off from the main one.
Gordon demanded his attention with a single thump of his fist against the armor Ramsay held folded across his arm. “I thought it best t’tell ye that it’s Clan Ross that has arrived.” He scowled at Ramsay as though that information should have some significance.
Clan Ross. There were no Rosses in Brady.At least none that he could recall at the moment. “Clan Ross. What are ye no’ sayin’, Gordon?” Gordon MacTavish was a man of few words, and at times, infuriatingly so. Ramsay had already learned that much. “Speak, man. I dinna wish t’be blindsided at the feast.”
“Blind…sided,” Gordon carefully repeated, his unruly black brows knotting into an even deeper scowl as they walked faster down the hall. “What the hell isblindsided?”
“Surprised,” Ramsay explained as they followed the same route that Flora and Katie had taken earlier, then turned left and entered the chieftain’s private chambers. Ramsay fully intended t’cause quite the stir in the keep once the festivities were over by having the chieftain’s and his lady’s chambers combined. He’d be damned if he slept in a room separate from Katie.
Gordon shut the door behind them and took his post in front of it with his arms folded across his chest. “Clan Ross,” he repeated slowly as though Ramsay might no’ be the brightest bauble in the jewel box.
Ramsay tossed clothing and armor on the bed, then walked naked over to the metal basin and pitcher of water that he’d sent the servants into a panic over when he’d requested the articles always be kept at the ready in his room. The maids had looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. It shocked them no small amount that their new chieftain actually wished to bathe more than once a year. ’Twas no’ natural and quite unhealthy as far as they were concerned.
Pouring water into the basin, Ramsay soused a rag then filled it with the sweet-smelling white goo that a maid had informed him Old Creada—the white witch—had proudly gifted the new chieftain and his lady. As he sudsed away the cock-hardening scent of the afternoon’s pleasures, he tossed his words back over one shoulder. “I dinna recall any details about Clan Ross. Educate me, Gordon.”
Silence met the request.
