Taming a Highland Devil Read online

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to Gerard Butler for being my inspiration.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Scottish Highlands, Dunrobin Castle

  1487, January

  Laird Magnus Sutherland loved women. Tall women, petite women, thin and thick women. He loved the svelte texture of their skin and the way they purred when he pleasured them.

  Blondes, brunettes, raven-haired beauties all appealed to him, but he was partial to redheads—as was the case this night. The maid impaled on his cock had wide hips and enough flesh on her backside to fill his palms as he guided her up and down the length of him. He wet her nipple with the tip of his tongue then blew on it just to feel her shiver. “Do ye know what’s better than having a willing woman in my bed?”

  “Having two?” A second redhead drew up beside him and pulled his hand to her wet cunny. She sucked air between her full lips when he dipped two fingers inside her silken flesh.

  “Aye,” he agreed wholeheartedly and filled her mouth with his tongue. It thrilled and delighted him to feel them quiver at his touch, to hear them whimper and moan. S’truth, he oftentimes gained more satisfaction in bringing them to climax than finding his own release.

  Women were such innocent creatures, so unaffected by politics and war, which was the other reason he kept company with so many of them. They made him forget the battles, the bloodshed…the guilt.

  The single candle he’d left burning outside the bed drapes provided him with enough light to perform. Unfortunately, the darkness prevented him from seeing the details in their expressions. He wished he could see the ecstasy lining their faces, but hiding his scars was essential in keeping his bedmates aroused.

  Since he knew neither of their names, he’d decided to call the one riding him Heather, for she smelled like a field of flowers. And the minx grinding her pelvis against his hand, he’d named Honey as that’s what she’d tasted like when he’d suckled her to orgasm.

  “’Tis my turn.” Honey nipped his earlobe and ran her small hands over his hairless chest.

  “Nay, please,” Heather whined in protest as he laid her atop the silk coverlet. “I’m nearly there.”

  She didn’t lie. He’d felt her muscles clenching his cock, as well as the shivers racking her body. However, Honey gave him little choice in the matter when the brazen wench sprawled out atop Heather, face to face, tit to tit and clit to clit.

  “Fear not my wicked lovelies.” He stepped off the bed, grinning. “I’ll not disappoint either of ye.” He repositioned them at the edge of the bed and admired the twin pair of pink swollen nocks glistening in the light of that single candle flame. He then pleasured them in unison, giving one his fingers and the other his thumb until his own clawing need demanded he take them.

  Lifting Heather’s knees provided him the perfect angle to drive his manhood deep inside one, only to pull out and thrust into the other. They were hot, slick, tight and demanding.

  “Faster.”

  “Harder.”

  Determined to satisfy, he ignored the burning in his bollocks and set a rhythm that might kill the average man, but Magnus was far from average. He’d built up his stamina over the years which had earned him the name Devil of Dunrobin. ’Twas not a name his mother was proud of, but in the twenty-seven winters since his birth, he’d not once received complaint from the maidens.

  “Oh, aye, m’laird! Aye!” When Heather once again reached that shattering edge of bliss, he pulled Honey off the bed by her hips and bent her over, setting her mouth in alignment with Heather’s ripe clit. He didn’t have to tell them what to do. Need controlled them now. They would do anything to find release. He thrust deep and fast into Honey’s silky canal as she tongued Heather to climax. Soon, both women trembled, screamed, then withered, sated and satisfied.

  Magnus, however, was still raging hard and eager to be rewarded for his services. He dove back into the bed, propped himself against the bolster and laced his fingers behind his head. “Now finish me.”

  They pleasured him with their mouths, curling their tongues around his cock head, licking the throbbing shaft, forcing the length of him deep into their throats one at a time. ’Twas good to be laird, he decided as he shot his seed into their awaiting mouths. He was the king of Dunrobin Castle and Chieftain of Clan Sutherland. No one owned him. No one told him what to do.

  A fierce pounding shook the door in its frame. “Maggie!”

  No one, except his mother.

  Magnus blew an audible breath and rolled his eyes when the maids launched out of his bed in search of their garments. He’d dismissed his warriors from the training field hours earlier. His uncle was abed. The keep was secure with the night watchmen in position on the wall. There was naught that required his attention that couldn’t wait ’til morn.

  “Maggie!” Mam screeched again and beat on the door. “Quit friggin’ the bluidy maids and get your arse out here at once!”

  Grumbling, he snatched his plaide off the back of a chair, draped it over his person, then ripped open the door in a fury. “What is it?”

  Red-faced, Mam tossed her silver-streaked brown braid over her shoulder, punched her fists onto her hips and glared at him with irate dark eyes. “The Mackay has arrived, and he’s brought your betrothed.”

  They were perfect for one another, Effie decided as Laird Sutherland entered the Great Hall. Four of his kinsmen trailed him, all braw and thickly built, but none possessed the chieftain’s dominating presence. Hair, black as a raven’s eye, lay disheveled about his shoulders with a braid falling from each temple to mark his status. A sea-green and pale blue plaide, perfectly pleated, draped over a clean léine shirt, but what impressed her most was the arsenal he wore on his person—a basketsword hung from his hip, two daggers sheathed at his waist and the black handle of a sgian dubh poked out the top of deerskin boots.

  He was a good match for Effie’s younger half sister, as well as Clan Mackay. Their union would make their clans a fearsome beast to behold. Clan Sutherland was known for their prowess in battle. They were powerful enough to protect themselves as well as Effie’s clan. The truth of the matter was, Clan Mackay needed Clan Sutherland more than Clan Sutherland needed the Mackays. And her brother knew it, which is one of the reasons Ian had traded their sister for an alliance after Da died.

  The other reason was simple—Ian was as eager as Effie to see Vanna wed. Effie had taken over Vanna’s tutelage after Da ousted Vanna’s mam from the clan four years past. At nineteen, Vanna knew her letters and could manage a household, but Effie feared her sister might be a wee bit loose with her legs. Given Laird Sutherland’s lascivious reputation, Effie suspected he might find such a quality agreeable, so long as the girl took care not to spread her legs for his kinsmen.

  ’Twas a mistake Vanna’s mam had made.

  Effie shook the thought out of her mind. Vanna was not to blame for Besse’s transgressions.

  “Think ye the chieftain will like me?” Vanna swished long black hair over her shoulder and fiddled with the brooch pinning the heavy wool of her arisaid.

  “The man agreed to the union in writing six months past. It matters naught if he likes ye.” The worry stitching Vanna’s thin black brows together made Effie wince. She would do well to remember Vanna was the daughter Da had coddled throughout her adolescence, unlike Effie who’d had two bairns in the nursery by nineteen. “I suspec
t ye will have Laird Sutherland feeding ye roasted almonds before dawn.” Effie gave her sister’s cold fingers a reassuring squeeze then stepped into her brother’s shadow where she belonged.

  “Laird Mackay, welcome to Dunrobin.” The chieftains embraced in a fierce hug, smacking one another heartily on the back. “Ye must forgive my tardiness, but in my defense, ye are more than two months early. I didn’t expect ye and your retinue until the first thaw.” Laird Sutherland glanced down a line of Mackay warriors, all huddled in furs with melted snow beading their beards. He made a gesture toward one of his housecarls. Moments later, the fire burning in the hearth roared to life.

  “A wee bit o’ snow cannot contain the young and impatient.” Ian’s cracked lips split into a wide smile beneath his thick copper-colored beard.

  A wee bit o’ snow? Effie contained a snort. They’d traveled four days through a bleating blizzard, risking their horses’ health, as well as their own, because of Vanna’s impatience. Effie feared her toes would never thaw inside her worn leather brogues.

  While the chieftains introduced their kinsmen, Effie peeked around her brother’s shoulder to study Laird Sutherland more closely. The man was as braw as they came. Black stubble shadowed his jaw but didn’t hide the strong angles of his chin and cheekbones. Silver-blue eyes the color of shallow seawater glittered beneath thick black brows. His nose, slender and straight, directed her gaze to sharply-defined lips.

  Simply put, the man was…well, he was certainly easy to look upon.

  Effie decided her sister had been blessed with good fortune, until Laird Sutherland turned toward his seneschal. A scar trailed a sinister red line from in front of his ear, down his thick neck and into his léine shirt.

  Vanna sucked in air, her spine straightened.

  Effie wanted to scold her. The girl slept peacefully night after night beneath the blanket of protection the Mackay warriors provided. War was essential to the security of their borders. No one knew this better than Effie. She had her own scars, though none marred her skin.

  “Wake the servants and warm ale for our guests,” Laird Sutherland issued the order to no one in particular for his attention was now on Vanna. He added instructions to prepare their accommodations, then set himself before his betrothed.

  “If this is your sister, then ye did her no justice in your missives.” Laird Sutherland eyed Vanna from tit to toe and awaited introductions.

  Ian angled himself toward Vanna. “May I present Lady Vanna Mackay.”

  Vanna’s smile could weaken any man’s resolve, and she knew it. She glossed her full lips, batted her curled black lashes and dipped low as Effie had taught her. “’Tis a pleasure to finally meet ye, m’laird.”

  His bow was deep, reverent, but his eyes darkened with lust. ’Twas how men looked at Vanna. She possessed uncommon, exotic beauty, unlike Effie, who resembled every other green-eyed lass in the Highlands with unruly copper-colored curls and pale skin. The one physical attribute Effie had to her favor was her firm, round breasts. Not that anyone ever noticed them.

  Laird Sutherland noticed. His gaze flitted over Effie’s person then lingered long seconds on her breasts.

  Her heart skidded, but she quickly pulled the seams of her mantle tighter around her bosom and tucked herself farther behind Ian.

  “And who, pray tell, is this bonnie creature?”

  Ian had to follow Laird Sutherland’s eyes before he replied, “This is Euphema Reay—”

  “Effie, m’laird,” she corrected quickly and stepped forward beside Vanna to curtsey. As she stood upright, she glared at Ian. At four years her junior, Ian had the bitter disposition of a man twice his age. “I am my brother’s other sister.”

  Laird Sutherland’s brows perked up, his head tilted, then his eyes shifted back to Ian. “I was not aware ye had two sisters.”

  Ian scratched his beard. “I saw no point in mentioning it during our negotiations.”

  Laird Sutherland’s gaze swept over her like a gust of heat before he met her eyes. “Are ye married, lass?”

  “I’m widowed, m’laird.” She hated those words. Had hated them for two years.

  “And past her years.” Ian’s callousness spiked her temper.

  “I just turned two and thirty. I’m hardly dead.”

  “Do ye still bleed?” Silence hummed in the wake of Laird Sutherland’s inquiry. The fire cracked in the hearth, raising the short hairs at her nape.

  She considered herself keen, but it wasn’t until he asked his blatant question that she fully understood the path of the conversation. She held no desire to take another husband, much less take a husband from her sister. Staring wide-eyed at the rushes scattered about the floor, she felt almost ashamed when she answered, “Aye.”

  Effie swore she heard Vanna’s teeth grind as Ian attempted to remedy the situation. “Forgive me, but ye agreed to marry Vanna in exchange for an alliance.”

  “We’ll have our alliance.” He locked eyes with Ian. “But I’ll remind ye that I agreed to a union with your sister.” Laird Sutherland’s attention shifted between Vanna and Effie. “I’ll need a fortnight to decide which one is best suited to be my wife.”

  Chapter Two

  “Are ye completely wowf?” Mam scolded Magnus the following evening, arms whipping this way and that, nearly striking one of the two housecarls removing the wooden bathing tub from his solar. “Ye have insulted the Mackay and his sisters and put the clan in jeopardy of losing this alliance.”

  “Mayhap I dinnae want the alliance. Ian Mackay’s quest to avenge his father’s death will only result in another battle with Clan Ross, and ye well know it.” Magnus sat in a high-back chair beside the hearth and drummed his fingertips atop the arm. His mother was going to be the death of him. If she hadn’t given him life, he would be sorely tempted to banish her from the clan. “We will reap no reward from this alliance.”

  “The reward is an heir. And ’tis obvious the younger Mackay is more suited for breeding.”

  “Breeding?” Ack! The woman was callous. ’Twas no wonder Da had kept so many mistresses. Magnus stood and fidgeted with the clasps of a green damask robe. “We are talking about the future Lady of Dunrobin, not bluidy livestock.”

  “Providing the clan with an heir is the sole duty of the laird’s wife.”

  “What about managing the household and being my advisor?” he argued, thinking he wanted more in a wife than a body to plant his seed.

  Mam snorted. “Ye have a council and a head steward for such tasks. What ye are looking for does not exist. There are two types of women in this world—women who warm a man’s bed and women who do everything else. At the present, ye need the former.” She punched her hips with her fists. “Ye owe the clan a legitimate male heir.”

  “Then mayhap I should bed them both and marry the first to get with child.” His response was as cold as Mam’s presence, but her comment infuriated him. She’d never hidden the fact she blamed him for the death of his nephew.

  “Do not mock me, Maggie.”

  He gave Mam his back and added peat to the fire, igniting a flame to match the anger roiling inside him. He knew he had to marry, but he wanted a damned choice. “Clan Sutherland will have its heir within the year.”

  “You’ll need more than one heir. I gave your father four strong boys and the bluidy wars took three of them from me.”

  Magnus needed no reminder. He wore his brothers’ scars on his person and was tortured by their memory every time he looked upon his reflection.

  “How many bairns can the elder Mackay give ye before she can no longer produce?”

  “I suspect a half-dozen or more if I shackle her to the bed and get her with child every year ’til her womb is auld and withered.” The sarcasm in his voice didn’t deter Mam in the least.

  “Marry the younger, more fertile Mackay. If she is not to your liking, then ye can take a mistress. No woman will expect a man of your status to be faithful. ’Tis the way of things.”

  Magn
us cocked his head over his shoulder to give Mam a questioning look. “Ye knew Da was unfaithful?”

  She rolled her dark eyes. “Of course. And I was happy to send your father’s mistresses to his solar.” Her demeanor seemed to soften with this statement. The wrinkles at her eyes smoothed. Her brow became less furrowed. “Not every woman enjoys her conjugal duties.”

  The direction of their conversation soured his stomach twofold. For one, he no longer wished to hear the grim tales of his sire’s marriage bed, and for another, he refused to take a wife who didn’t enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. He crossed his solar and kissed Mam’s forehead, feeling a great deal more sympathy for her than he ever had before.

  “Dinnae look at me like I’m a leper. Think ye there is another reason men and women of nobility retain separate sleeping quarters?” She crossed her arms, refusing his compassion. “I’m not alone in my thinking.”

  “’Tis enough. Ye’ve spoken your peace.” He guided her toward the door. “I’ll heed your advice as I make my decision.”

  “Verra well,” Mam conceded with an audible exhale. “Sleep well, son.”

  Once he was free of Mam and her opinions, he sent for the younger Mackay and nursed a goblet of gooseberry wine while he awaited her arrival. He considered himself a good judge of character, especially when it came to women, but he wasn’t choosing a maid for the evening. He was choosing a mate for life.

  Of course, he wanted someone to share his bed with ardent enthusiasm, but he also wanted his wife to possess other qualities—intelligence, tolerance, devotion. S’truth, he wanted a woman who could help him carry the burdens his brothers had left him. Not that his blood kin were burdens, there were just so damned many of them. Unfortunately, the legitimate bairns were all lasses. He wanted sons as much as Mam did, but he also wanted to be around long enough to watch them grow.