One Year Later
Dear sister mine,
Your last letter filled me with so much joy. It's superb to hear how well you took up married life. I cannot believe your stable master put Debranua and Fiadhaich in the same stockyard before your wedding. And now you have a foal running around as elegant as you describe.
Your happiness shines all through your words. And your happiness means mine as well in more ways than one, as you may guess.
Stanley and I are expecting. Can you imagine it to happen so fast? Alright, so we have been, you know, tempting destiny and other parts of our persons long before the bans were put. Oh, Catriona, I love him so dearly! We did not even try to resist. To become the Countess of Arleigh proved to be a pale boon compared with our married bliss. He's the utmost gentleman, everything I ever dreamed of in a husband. And I have only you to thank. Meeting and marrying your Highlander savage—sorry for that—gave us the chance to live out our love. I'm sure you don't mind it, do you? As for me, I don't mind you choosing that man in the least! Much on the contrary, I must confess.
I hope you consider a visit to us soon. I did not forget you do not care for town, but I will so much enjoy having you here. Do it for me, please. I will use my condition as an excuse not to travel to the wilds of the country where you made your home. Even if you miss me so much as you state. And I believe you when you say so.
Send news soon!
Your beloved sister
Anna
Catriona folded the paper with a wistful smile. In the drawing room, the watery late afternoon sun tinted the carpet with smooth colour. Anna and Tremaine tied the knot six months ago, to her father's exasperation and her sister's utter elation. They were no doubt the perfect match, fond of London and its dubious entertainments. But if that was what Anna wanted, Catriona would respect her wishes.
Debranua foaled a few months ago, Craig having confessed he had facilitated it even while Catriona and Fingal were working with the stallion. Embarrassed, he admitted that he thought both would produce a magnificent breed. He was right. They named the little one Samhradh, summer, to remember when she and her husband met.
A movement in the room told her the nanny brought Ava to her mother. The three-month old baby displayed a tuft of dark hair, but the eyes were still undefined, dark brown probably. Catriona took the girl and gave a break to the nanny. Anna had been so effusive when she came to know of her niece. Aunt and niece had yet to meet.
But her father saw his granddaughter.
After Anna's wedding, he sat with Drostan and accepted he could do nothing about how his daughters ignored his designs. So, the alliance between the McKendrick and the McTavish had been validated much to everybody's satisfaction and Catriona's relief. A rift between the clans served nobody, though Fingal demanded Angus apologise to his elder daughter for his behaviour when they last met. At Marie's coaxing, the McTavish acquiesced.
The presence of Ava made it all easier, however. Catriona's parents melted at the sight of the little girl. Fortunately, they did not live nearby, or they would spoil her rotten.
Mother and child approached the window to watch the butterflies as Catriona rained kisses on the girl's rosy petal cheeks.
Two fierce arms enfolded them, accompanied by the scent of horse and man. The love of her life. Her head rested on his broad shoulder with a contentment that spread itself warm and soothing inside her.
"How's this little hoyden doing?" The throaty voice asked as a masculine finger feathered his daughter's chin. The big hand caressing their girl brought tears to her eyes. How could such a giant be so heart-melting towards the baby? The sight of them together always filled Catriona with overflowing emotions.
A tender smile reflected on the glass pane back at Fingal. "Drowsy. She's just awoken."
"Five minutes for the hurricane to start," he teased while his head bent for him to brush her temple with his mouth.
She laughed. "You impossible man."
His arms tightened around them. "Since I met you I've dreamed we'd make a baby daughter just like you."
"You don't say." Her head burrowed in his tartan.
"So I won't have peace until I'm very old," he jested with a smile moving on her smooth skin.
"If next time it's a boy, I'll have my revenge."
"We'd better hurry up and get down to it, then."
"How focused, Mr McKendrick," she taunted, knowing he always 'chastised' her when she called him that.
"Hm," he growled. "Wait until tonight, and you'll see who is this Mr McKendrick."
"I can hardly wait," she confessed.
His knuckle lifted her chin to him. "I love you, Catriona."
"I love you, Fingal." And his sculpted lips touched hers before Ava demanded her share of attention.
The End
Continue reading on to a preview of The Lass Initiated the Laird - Erotic Novella
PREVIEW OF THE LASS INITIATED THE LAIRD - EROTIC NOVELLA
Oxford, England, 1816
He had been hard for her for the better part of the morning. If you did not count the last seven years, that is.
For seven agonising years he relied on his own imagination and self-relief to keep his sanity in place. Or his insanity in check, more like.
Samuel Bryce McDougal, or Sam as the McDougal and his wife Aileen called him, sat at the desk in his professor's study with Mrs Stratham. Her role in this household comprised of being the professor's children's governess, doubling as assistant when her duties allowed. For now they did, since Professor Walter Hayley travelled to Cambridge on an academic assignment together with Mrs Dora Hayley and their two children.
Which meant Sam and Harriet were alone in the house.
Which meant they had to make progress with the paper he would present shortly.
And it also meant that he was at the bursting point for the woman he had wanted since he first set eyes on her as a freshman at eighteen.
The green eyes so like his father's went no higher than her creamy ample bosom covered by her demure dress for fear of giving himself away. Those prominent mounds haunted his dreams and carnal fantasies for such a long time he knew exactly what he wanted to do with them, had he the chance of one day coming within touching distance.
The image almost undid him. His rampant erection engorged to the point he was sure he would shame himself on the spot. The breeches he wore when in Oxford squeezed the poor flesh cruelly. His nostrils sucked in air, twitching his spectacles, his skin flooding with that kind of colour that afflicted only a red-haired person. In short, him.
For years, his fellow students tried to convince him to accompany them to those rackety bawdy houses they used to frequent, rich noble heirs that they were. In between lectures, they boasted their prowess with the so-called Cyprians on offer.
Invariably, he declined.
He wanted none of them. He had no wish for a meaningless tumble when there was only one woman who never left his mind.
The result being he remained a virgin.
Perhaps, he should follow their advice and try to assuage the urges of his body with one of those dolls. He careened too close to obsession, and it was getting out of hand.
"Is anything the matter, Samuel?" Even her lyrical voice contained the power to unbalance him.
With no other option, his stare met hers. Those enormous blue eyes seemed to engulf him in a maelstrom of madness. On an oval face, framed by wheat ringlets, they fairly frayed him.
At twenty-five, his hormones clamoured for the satisfaction that one of his own hands was not capable to offer anymore. Solely, a woman. This woman.
"Not at all, Harriet," he answered, unable to control his gaze when it lowered to her full lips. Her tongue moistened them, causing his heart to speed up and pump even more blood to the wrong place.
Sam was well aware that he would never be any woman's choice—not first choice, at least. Too awkward, too red-haired, too big spectacles. And bookish to distraction, he did not come out as exactly charming or manly. Paying for their favour might be his last resort.
"We should continue then," she replied but did not bend those blue temptations to their work. Instead, her gaze roamed from the slick hair falling on his brow, the green eyes fixed on her, to zero in on his lips, which were as red as his— Well…the tip of him, the very leaky tip of him.
The things his friends said a woman's lips could do!
Fuck!
He needed to leave the room. At this second! Or he risked shaming himself. Worse still, his distended member demanded its due fare. One unavailable to him. So he must go and get the relief that was at his disposal.
"Excuse me," he said and stood up fast and clumsy. In shirtsleeves, without a coat to cover his denouncing midriff, he turned in a quick motion. Out of the study, he nearly ran to the chamber Professor Hayley allowed him to use in his absence. To protect Harriet, the Professor said.
At that instant, he was not so sure she was that protected.
With that thought, he burst into his chamber and shut it with an urgent click.
Harriet followed Samuel's retreat with interest. She knew exactly what was happening to him, what usually happened to men lusting after a woman.
At thirty-one, widowhood did not intimidate her. Long ago, such status meant she obtained release from a bad marriage. If her late husband understood that drinking and brawling in London's underworld consisted of the best amusement life could offer—and then die from one of those soused fisticuffs—it was nothing to do with her. Except she had been left poor and indebted, desperately in need of employment.
The polished education her father, an attorney for the crown, bestowed on her, came in as her salvation. One year into her position, the Professor had brought the Scot. Mr McDougal had been barely more than a lad at the time.
She thought the awe with which he boyishly regarded her endearing, certain he would grow out of it. The freshman possessed his own lodgings near the campus, afforded by his powerful Highlander of a father. Academic assignments brought him often into the house to work with the Professor.
He grew into a man before her very eyes. Lean and tall, six feet four probably, the round spectacles did not hide the clear green eyes or the freckles on his translucent skin. As he came into adulthood, though, his hair darkened into a reddish brown and his cherry lips firmed into a sensuous shape. It made him compelling in a distinct way. The fact he treated her with nothing but the utmost respect, despite his obvious desire, counted points in his favour.
All of a sudden, her mind started weaving the most absurd reveries involving her employer's protégé. Together with shameful body reactions she never ever dreamed of transpiring in her arid and infrequent marriage bed. She took note of this awareness of him mere months ago, the discomfort of it wreaking havoc with her lucidity and composure. She must be an inglorious wanton to harbour such unacceptable tendencies towards a man who not only was much younger than her, but also a part of the Scottish lofty aristocracy.
As Samuel took his leave, she did not miss the immense bulge in the front of his breeches. Her fingers itched to undo each button on either side of his hipbones, letting the flap fall to wrap her hand around him. Test the hardness, the heat—tunnel her fingers along its whole extension. The ache and moistness the image produced got her breathless. And eager for any resolution.
Would the hair cradling him between his thighs be lighter or darker than the slick strands on his head?
The afterthought brought a scalding flush to the surface.
What the deuce!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa Torquay comes from a multi-cultural family. She graduated in History and got a Master degree in British Empire. She has worked as an English and History teacher at high schools. She got married to a Norwegian and moved to Norway, where she has lived for three years. Writing has been her passion since she was thirteen.
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Connect with Lisa Torquay
www.lisatorquay.webs.com
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Other Books by Lisa Torquay
Build It Higher (Contemporary Romance)
Her Irresistible Guardian (Contemporary Romance)
For the Earl's Taking
The Lady and the Desert Scoundrel
The Forbidden Duchess (Rogues from War 1)
Claiming His Estranged Viscountess (Rogues from War 2)
Igniting the Countess
Duke of Treason (Rogues from War 3)
The Lass Defied the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 1)
The Lass Defended the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 2)
The Lass Beguiled the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 3)
Coming soon!
The Lass Initiated the Laird - Erotic Novella (Explosive Highlanders 3.5)