Last Wish (Highland Magic #4)

Just as he reached my inner thigh and I could bear it no longer, he shifted and moved onto the chaise. He blew gently and I almost fainted. His head lowered, his tongue darting down my clitoris, mimicking the same circular motion he’d used everywhere else. I let out a ragged sob, my fingers clutching the crushed velvet of the chaise. At the sound, Byron stiffened and lifted his head. His eyes met mine with an odd note of regret that I didn’t understand at first. When I focused on the tension of his body and the flaring desire in those emerald depths, however, I realised what it was. He wanted this to be perfect. He wanted it to be slow and sensual and to last for hours. The trouble was that he couldn’t wait.

Recognising this because I felt the same, I smiled and pulled him upwards until the length of his body hovered over mine. I grabbed his hips, positioning myself. We shared one mutual glance of fire and desperate need before we met each other halfway and he plunged inside me, filling every inch of me.

He withdrew more slowly, teasing out the sensations, his eyes fixed on mine. I could feel his body trembling and I shook my head. Enough of slow ? I wanted fast and hard. I twisted, forcing him to move with me, flipping round until I was on top of him. I had to take charge or he’d feel guilty for losing control. His hands curved round my waist while I set the tempo, sliding up and down, almost purring as I built up to the inevitable crescendo. I’d never felt connected like this before, not just physically but on an almost telepathic level. I could feel him clinging on, still wanting to draw this out. No. I wanted it now. I increased the strokes and he rose to meet me every time, our bodies pounding together. Byron moaned, his eyes boring into mine one last time. Then I nodded, crying out as he thrust upwards in one final, fluid movement and we collapsed into each other, his heart hammering against mine as wave after wave of orgasm racked us both and the rest of the world fell away into meaningless ether.

I dropped my head against his chest. This was the way it was meant to be. This was what the poets wrote about. For one long moment, we lay together, my skin burning and my mind at rest.

I felt it the instant the atmosphere changed. Still slick with sweat, Byron yanked himself away from me and stood up, tension rolling across his shoulders. There was still passion in his eyes but now it was passion of a different sort. ‘You bitch,’ he said quietly.

I propped myself up on my elbows. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You let me believe you were dead.’

Uh-oh. I guessed the celebration was well and truly over. Bites aside, I’d known he was going to get angry sooner or later but I’d kind of hoped that what had just passed between us might delay it. I got to my feet, not bothering to cover myself. We faced each other, both as naked as the day we were born. ‘I had good reason,’ I said calmly.

‘After everything we’d been through, you really thought that the best way forward was to fake your own death?’ His voice remained low but there was a tremble to his words. If I thought he’d been angry before when he’d caught me flipping through the window, I was sadly mistaken. This muted rage was far scarier than any shouted admonition.

He wasn’t done yet. ‘Who else knows you’re alive?’ he demanded.

‘Hardly anyone. Taylor, of course. And Bob, Brochan, Speck, Lexie, the trolls…’

‘Angus MacQuarrie,’ he ground out. ‘He was there when you supposedly died. Does he know the truth?’

Shite. I was getting the impression that there was little I could say to appease him. Maybe I should just jump on him again and kiss him. That would shut him up. I sighed. It would also only delay the inevitable.

‘How many times,’ I asked, ‘did I try to get you to see the truth about your father? I even tried again, right before the entire charade. I had no choice.’

‘There is always a choice, Integrity. Always.’

I drew myself up. ‘Yes, there is. I’m a Clan Chieftain, Byron. I have to make decisions and choices not just for myself but for the people under my care. If I hadn’t pretended to die, those demons would have kept after me until I really was a cold corpse. They would have hurt the people I loved, too.’

‘That doesn’t justify lying to me. Do you have any idea what that did to me? What the last few months have been like?’

‘I’m sorry. But you don’t seem to have been all that upset.’

He glowered. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘Your wedding to Tipsania,’ I said pointedly. ‘You don’t know where she is and yet you’re still going ahead with it. You’ve kidnapped the love of her life and you’re going to use him as bait to draw her out. And for what, Byron?’ I demanded. ‘So the Moncrieffes can have a bit more money to spend on blackmail and murder and…’

He stepped towards me with such a look in his eyes that I lost track of my words. ‘I am not my father.’

I barely heard him. ‘Yeah? But you’ve defended him enough bloody times! I told you again and again and you wouldn’t believe me! How was I supposed to trust you?’

‘Don’t you get it?’ his voice was strangled. ‘Don’t you understand how I feel about you? Your supposed death almost destroyed me, Integrity.’

‘Why are you still marrying Tipsania?’

‘I’m not.’ The magic inside me told me he was telling the truth. Confused, I shook my head while Byron clenched his jaw. ‘Why couldn’t you see how much your death would hurt me?’

‘It was a necessary evil.’ I glared at him. ‘Why is your friend rotting away in a damn dungeon?’

‘He’s perfectly comfortable and he’s there because I asked him to be there. I have a plan and he’s part of it. What the hell have you been doing all this time? Laughing at me?’

‘No. I’ve been getting stronger and sorting out my damned ancestral Lands. You know, the ones your fucking father effectively destroyed. And what’s your plan? What’s so important that it’s worth locking up someone for?’

‘Bringing down my fucking father.’

My mouth dropped open and I stared at him, stunned into silence. It wouldn’t have lasted long, however, if it weren’t for the sudden thump from outside. Byron and I looked at each other with wide eyes. He lunged forward, grabbed me and hauled me behind a large chintz-covered chair, effectively barricading me within the cage of his arms. He murmured, ‘Stay quiet.’

I raised my head, peered round the corner and spotted the chink of light under the door at the far end of the room. Someone was on their way.

‘Byron,’ I hissed. ‘Our clothes!’ They were still strewn all over the floor. He cursed and I felt his body tense then he used his Telekinesis Gift to yank at each discarded item and drag it out of sight. He was just in time – a heartbeat later the doorknob turned and a figure glanced in.

‘Hello?’

I tried not to breathe too loudly. I could feel Byron’s naked chest against my back, his pulse hammering.

‘Hello?’

‘There’s nothing there,’ someone else said. ‘Come to bed.’

‘I could swear I heard something.’

‘Love, no one is going to break into the Moncrieffe castle. If they did, the Steward would hunt them down and set their head on a pike.’ There was a yawn. ‘Come on. I need to sleep.’

I remained frozen, praying that the first figure would take the advice. Silence stretched out then the door closed and Byron and I were alone again. I exhaled. That was too close.

‘I thought you were a skilled thief,’ Byron murmured in my ear.