Page 10 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
“B-beg pardon?” Ramsay scooted to the edge of the cushion, heat from more than the whisky making him wish he’d taken the time to check the thermostat of the room. A bit of cooling air would be most welcomed about now.
Katie pointed to the spear propped next to the hearth, thankfully, failing to notice his social panic. “The spear. I’d love a closer look at it, if that’s okay. I’d love to hold it and check out those carvings all along the shaft.”
Silently cursing his idiocy, Ramsay quickly recovered. “Of course.” He fetched the spear but before he presented it to her, he motioned toward the back of the couch. “ ’Tis quite a bit heavier than it looks. Ye’d best scoot back into the cushions t’be better supported.”
Katie immediately complied and sat cross-legged with her forearms supported on her thighs. She held both hands, palms up. “I’m ready.”
Aye, lass. So am I.Perhaps, the whisky was no’ such a good idea. Ramsay had forgotten how quickly it lowered his cock’s inhibitions. He swallowed hard and gently placed the spear in her upheld hands.
Bringing it closer into her lap, Katie gingerly cradled the spear as though Ramsay had just handed her a newly birthed bairn. She stole an excited glance up at him before returning her full attention to the spear and dancing her fingertips along the meaningful symbols carved the length of the blackened shaft.
“It’s incredible,” she whispered. She leaned closer and frowned down at the carvings. “Absolutely incredible,” she repeated under her breath.
An uneasiness stirred within him. A subtle but intense warning. This woman was an archeologist. How many of the symbols might she understand? As nonchalantly as possible, he lifted the spear out of her hands and placed it on the floor in front of them. He refilled their whisky glasses and handed hers to her with a smile. ’Twas best if the lass drank herself t’sleep. Now.
“Celtic. Goddesses. Bride for sure,” Katie mused between sips of the whisky, her gaze locked on the spear as she emptied her glass without realizing it—just as Ramsay had planned.
Not much longer now, aye?He’d noted that Katie was struggling to form her words and properly string her sentences together.Aye, verra soon.Mistress Katie Jenson would be well on her way to her dreams and all her questions would be forgotten.
“Sc-scota.” She frowned as she swallowed and looked at Ramsay, dangling her empty glass in one hand. “Couldn’t quite make out the other…ones. What do the other symbols mean?” She made an attempt at a rubbing motion with her fingers, her eyelids dipping low before she forced them wider open as she continued, “The s-symbols. Kind of worn in spots, probably where it’s been gripped the most.” She concentrated on making awkward clenching motions with her hand, trapped in the effort to demonstrate the wordgripped. “Wornnn,” she carefully repeated with an endearing whisky slur.
Even in her cups, Mistress Katie knew entirely too much for both her and his own good. Ramsay filled her glass again. “I dinna ken,” he lied, immediate guilt jabbing him in the gut. “The weapon’s been in the family for a verra long time but the meanin’ of the cuts upon the shaft were lost long before my generation.” He scooped up his glass from the table and lifted it in the air, silently begging forgiveness for his untruths. A MacDara and, more important, a protector never lied unless forced. Disgrace filled him.
“A drink to the generations before us!” he said with a strength he didna currently feel.
Katie complied then peered at him over the rim of her empty glass as she paused with it propped against her bottom lip. “Other generations,” she enunciated carefully, and Ramsay was relieved to see she was losing the struggle with her drooping eyelids. “Danu!” she suddenly exclaimed, bouncing as she lifted her empty glass high into the air. “That’s the other goddess—Danu!”
Time for more whisky.Ramsay hurried to pour her more, filling her glass extra full this time. “Danu, ye say?” he remarked, maintaining an air of disinterested stupidity about the spear as he eased back down beside her on the couch.
Katie licked her lips, frowning as she squinted at the level of whisky in her glass first, then blinked hard and refocused on the spear. “Last glass,” she advised as she attempted to scoot forward toward the spear but lost her balance and fell back against Ramsay with a thud.
“Oops! Sorry.” She wiggled sideways, attempting to correct her course out of his lap, but only succeeded in sloshing whisky on his exposed leg. “Sh-shit! Sorry, again.” With her still half-full glass curled to her chest, she rubbed her other hand across his whisky-covered thigh, attempting to wipe her clumsiness away.
“Damn—I don’t wanna get it on yer kilt,” she slurred. She shoved his kilt up closer to his crotch and proceeded to blow on his leg. “I’ll make it ‘vaporate.”
“God a’mighty,” Ramsay groaned through gritted teeth, praying first that the height of his kilt over his hardening cock wouldna draw the inebriated lass’s attention but the more she blew on his bare leg, the quicker his prayers changed to hoping she would notice and decide to help him find relief.
Unable t’take anymore, he gently lifted her by the shoulders and settled her back beside him with an arm curled tightly around her to keep her from moving. “Dinna fash yerself, lass. ’Tis but a wee bit a whisky.” He showed her his own untouched glass. “See? We’ve plenty more, aye?”
Eyelids half-closed and her head bobbing from side to side, Katie snuggled close, then propped her chin on his chest as she attempted to look up at him. She laboriously worked her whisky glass up to her mouth and downed the remaining contents then gave Ramsay a scarlet-cheeked smile. “All gone,” she reported in a breathy tone. Still gripping the empty glass, she draped that arm across his chest, nestled her head into the dip of his shoulder, and scooted and squirmed like a pup making a nest for the night. Finally, she grew still.
At last. I’ll sit here for just a bit then make my escape.
Katie suddenly shifted. Her whisky glass fell out of her hand and her arm slid down and came to rest on top of his rock-hard cock.
“You know what?” she asked in a low purring slur that made his bollocks tighten and scream for mercy.
“What’s that, lass?” he asked in a strained tone, doing his level best to survive this damn predicament like the gentleman he’d been raised to be.
“This is the perfect size.” She nudged deeper into his lap, shifted again, then took hold of his aching kilt-covered cock and squeezed. “Perfect size,” she repeated in a contented exhale followed by a faint clicking snore.
Ramsay swallowed hard, then thudded his head back against the couch cushion and stared up at the ceiling, his throbbing member screaming for more. “Sons a bitches,” he hissed under his breath. How the hell had his plan ended up this way? A delightful woman, obviously pleased with his man parts by her own admission, tightly latched onto his cock and passed out ‘til who knew when.
He tossed back his whisky and swallowed the liquid fire with clenched teeth.Lore a’mighty. What the hell do I do now? She’s no idea what she’s doin.Under no circumstances would he take advantage—he’d ne’er disrespect a woman in such a way.
Katie stirred the barest bit and gave his cock another long, hard squeezing pull. “Perfect shaft,” she mumbled. “Gotta feel the other hieroglyphs. Cypher the meaning out.” She worked her fingers and thumb up and down along his poor sufferin’ member as she tucked her legs up beneath her, shifted into a comfortably curled position across his middle, and decided to use both hands in her exploration of his aching cock.
Holy shit.Ramsay planted his feet, tightened his buttocks, and struggled against the urge to buck as Katie ran both hands up and down his long-sufferin’ cock as she lay across him with eyes closed and mumbling softly. She inched her thumbs up against his swollen head and rubbed them around the throbbing rim.
