Page 49 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
“We’ve three entire rooms and all night, wife. Be thinkin’ of what would thrill ye.” Still pleasuring her clit as she rode him, he slid his other hand behind her head and pulled her down for a long, deep kiss.
Katie rode him harder, suckling his tongue like she’d sucked his cock. Her wet heat clutched around him and she broke free of the kiss with an ecstatic groan.
“After I bend ye over the bench and take ye from behind, ‘twill be yer turn to choose the next position,” he said between a few groans of his own.
Gyrating her hips harder and faster, Katie smiled and gave him a slow wink before she threw back her head and shuddered. “Prepare to be dazzled,” she said in a breathless moan as her fiery hot wetness quivered and squeezed, sucking him hard with the age-old rhythmic massage his cock could ne’er withstand. The time had come. Literally.
“My creativity is endless,” Katie gasped.
“No doubt, m’love. None whatsoever.”
Ramsay squeezed the cheeks of her arse, yanking her hard and fast down on him, as he thrust his hips upward and successfully completed round one with a groaning roar and Katie enthusiastically joined him.
Chapter 21
She’ll be sorely disappointed when she wakes.
Ramsay stared up at the ceiling, one arm behind his head and the other curled around Katie’s soft, warm body snuggled up against his side. He’d been awake for quite the while. He’d opened his eyes, wide and startled, to the shadowed room, all silent and gray. What had awakened him? He’d lain motionless. Waiting. ’Twas almost as though every particle of energy surrounding him had its breath held whilst caught in the in-between—the witching hour that blankets the world just before dawn.
Ramsay had held his breath too. Straining to hear the slightest sound. Reaching out with every warrior instinct he possessed. But all was calm. The eerie feeling had passed just as quickly as it had jolted him awake—’twas as though a wandering ghost had brushed a cold hand across his chest then continued on its eternal journey.
Fully awake, he’d lain there and watched a beam of sunlight grow broader and stronger as it stole into the bedroom window and crept across the floor. And he realized that he could no’ have been happier. He was still in tenth-century Scotland. MacTavish Keep. In bed with his beloved wife.
But a niggling of guilt tarnished his happiness.
When Katie opened her eyes and discovered they’d not been returned to the twenty-first century, she’d be beside herself. She’d mentioned going back several times last night whilst they lay in each other’s arms and caught their breath before continuing with the evening’s pleasures. She’d teased about making love in a tenth-century keep for the last time.
And Ramsay was at a loss for what t’do. He’d felt certain that meeting and rescuing Brant, the lost MacDara son, from the label of “bastard” and the clutches of the boy’s manipulating mother had been the reason for their journey. So, they’d done so. Set the boy on an honorable and proper path and given him all the tools and opportunities to make his life better. Ramsay was certain, with time, the boy would mature into a fine leader and warrior.
And yet, here they remained. What did the goddesses want?
“Guid mornin’ t’ye, m’lady,” Mrs. Macklemurry sang out, bellowing the words like a barroom ballad as she hurtled through the chamber door so fast that it bounced back against the wall. “The sun’s risen and so must we—up now, so’s I can pour yer tea and get ye dressed good and proper.” The detail-absorbed housekeeper buzzed across the length of the room and over to the bed then came to an abrupt halt. “Oh. Guid mornin’ t’ye as well, m’chieftain. I didna expect ye.”
“Obviously,” Katie grumbled without opening her eyes as she rolled away from Ramsay and yanked the pillow and covers over her head. “Come back later, Agnes.”
The order was muffled but clear.
Agnes Macklemurry gave Ramsay a proud nod as she slid the breakfast tray onto the table beside the bed. “I’ll just leave this here,” she mouthed before turning away, her movements exaggerated and slow in her effort to exit the room a great deal more quietly than she’d entered. The door barely had the nerve to click when she closed it behind her.
The final few moments of peaceful silence ticked by. Ramsay waited, eyeing the twitching mound of covers beside him. She was awake and processing her surroundings. Any moment now…peace would end.
“Why did Agnes bring the tray?” Katie asked from the muffled depths of the covers. Floundering her way to an upright position, she sat up in the middle of the bed, wondrously naked with curls tangled and wild, and the bedclothes swirled around her hips. She looked like an angry goddess rising from the sea of slumber. She scowled at the tightly closed chamber door then jerked her attention back to Ramsay. “Where’s Flora?”
No longer muffled, Katie’s tone hit him like a wall of ice. The question brought a frown to his own countenance. WherewasFlora? He’d no’ seen the wee bletherin’ midge last night either and that was odd. Ever since she had proudly stepped into her role of Katie’s handmaiden, Flora had also firmly attached herself to Katie more permanently than a shadow—available whenever Katie might have eventhoughtshe needed something.
Ramsay contemplated Flora’s absence as he sat up and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. Surely, there was a simple explanation but what was it? “I havena seen her since yesterday mornin’ when the two of ye were at the east paddock t’see the new colts.”
“All these new people in the keep. The different clans. You don’t think…” Katie scooted out of bed while hurriedly combing her fingers through her long tangle of curls, slowing long enough to snatch a stray ribbon off the floor and knot it around the wad to hold her ponytail in place. She snatched her shift off the window ledge, yanked it on over her head, and shook it down her body. She paused and turned to Ramsay, worry shadowing her every feature. “This is the damn tenth century, Ramsay. Women are considered chattel, property free for the taking. We’ve got to find her.”
“You’re overreacting.” And Ramsay prayed to the goddesses that she was. The Celts respected women more than most cultures that Dwyn had shown him across the ages. The druids cherished females even more. The goddesses ordained it to be so. Women were the life-bearers. Sacred. But he also knew of what Katie spoke and that sent an icy rage coursing through his veins. There were always unpleasant outliers in every group. ’Twas best not to dwell on that possibility. He rolled out of bed, padded over to his distressed wife, and brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Perhaps she was just charmed by a lover and spent a verra nice evenin’ doin’ the same thing we did,” he assured her as he nuzzled another kiss to her throat and pulled her closer. Perhaps he could distract her for a wee bit.
Katie stepped away and shot him a chilling look that clearly informed him that was not the best thing he couldha said and there would be no distractions tolerated this morning.
Well, shite.
Tightening the laces of her everyday bodice, Katie shoved her feet into her tennis shoes and headed toward the door. “I know Flora. She wouldn’t shirk her duties or leave me hanging just to be with a man.” She gave him an even angrier glare. “Especially when she knows that you and Agnes are trying to replace her with somebody else.”
“Now wait just a minute.” Ramsay held up both hands against her accusation. “I merely said that Mistress Macklemurry felt that someone a bit more mature might be better suited for the position.”
