“Aye, you were a wee bit worn from falling down a ravine and busting up your foot.” He helps me sit up, putting a couple of pillows behind my back. “I have a doctor coming in to be sure it’s not broken.”
“You’re taking this all very calmly,” I say sourly, watching him hold up a mug of tea to me.
“I can see you’ve been punished enough by the consequences of your actions,” he grins.
“Really now? You sound like my grandmama,” I’m trying to sneer, but the bed is so warm and whatever’s on that tray smells amazing.
He offers me a spoonful of chowder and when I put my hand up to take the spoon, he pulls it away. “Ah-ah wife!” he scolds me. “I’ll feed you or you’ll not eat.”
I open my mouth to tell him to go straight to hell and he shoves the spoonful of chowder in my mouth. It is delicious, and I choose to swallow it over spitting it back in his face. There’s another spoonful, and another before he offers me a bit of wheat bread. It’s freshly baked, still warm and slathered with butter. Fighting my very real need to bite his fingers, I close my eyes and moan when I start to chew.
“The next time you make that sound, we’d better be naked together, wife.”
My eyes pop open again to find his face close to mine, almost kissing close. “You’re not kissing me, so get your ugly face away.”
“There’s something so enticing about you.” His mouth is still lingering over mine. “It’s the way you look at me with your sea-glass eyes. Like you want to fuck me, but you wouldn’t mind killing me, either.”
“You think that’s hot?” My brow furrows, “What kind of murder kink are you into?”
Dougal’s long fingers are in my hair and grabbing a fistful before I can take my next breath. “No kink,” he chuckles, “but the thought about you finally giving into me is so fecking sexy.”
“That’s not-” My objection is cut off by his full lips fastening over mine, gently nipping my bottom lip and pushing his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like mint and whisky and I forget all about biting his tongue as it twines with mine and damn him, I moan again.
“Just like that, wife,” he says, diving in for another kiss and tightening his grip on my hair. I’m suddenly on my back, and he’s hovering over me like a dark angel. His shirt is already gone, the rough material of his jeans is rubbing between my legs and I can feel his cock getting harder with each pass. Now my shirt is missing and he’s holding my arms out wide. I can nearly feel the steam coming off him as he examines my breasts before swooping down to capture my stiff nipple in his mouth.
His fingers and tongue are finding all the pulse points on me, kissing my wrists and the base of my throat, running his tongue up the wildly pulsing artery in my neck and then sliding down to kiss and bite against the soft skin of my inner thigh, pressing his tongue against a throbbing vein there. I know he can feel it; the blood rushing under my skin at the feel of him on top of me.
Dougal - my unwelcome husband - is gorgeous. Absurdly handsome in a way that I know exists on the cover of magazines but in real life, without the aid of airbrushing, couldn’t possibly be real. The thick fan of his eyelashes, the sculpted cheekbones, and wicked mouth. He’s looking up at me, his chin resting on my center and he rubs his bristly chin very slowly against the thin silk of my undies.
“I’m going to spend quite a bit of time down here, getting acquainted with your perfect little pussy, wife. I suggest you get comfortable.” He blows his warm breath on my clitoris and even covered by my undies, it springs to life. I’m already wet. Embarrassingly wet, like I’m one of his silly girls who gets all turned on by a wink or an ass-grab. I can’t help it, any more than I can stop watching as he pulls down my undies with his teeth and I feel so…
Wet.
I wake up to the feel of rain on my face and I groan under my mound of branches and moss that make me look like a deranged beaver. It’s nearly dawn and my head drops back as I groan. A dream. It was only a dream.
Rocks and soil rolling down the steep wall of the ravine make me fight to slide out from under my shelter. Is it a search party? Or a bear? Or-
A rope drops and I see the muscled ass of Dougal as he slides down, landing gracefully and turning to shine his flashlight on me.
“There you are, little thief, and you look so cozy, too! Good survival skills, creating a debris bed. Next time you take off, bring a few things, like a way to make fire and a light.” He decides to take a moderate amount of pity on me, because he helps me free myself from my shelter and lifts me in his arms. “Wrap your legs and arms around me, ya’ little spider monkey and I’ll get you out of here.”
I hate him. I hate him so much.
Chapter Fourteen
In which Isla is a luscious burrito.
Dougal…
My palm has itched for hours, wanting to land against the creamy skin of her arse. I’d spent the night searching for Isla with the full intention of spanking her the moment I caught her without a care for who might be watching.
Running off seemed unlike her. My wife is a planner, she’s cunning. Simply taking off in a harsh environment without a clear idea of where she is? She’s smarter than that.
When we finally found her, banged up from her tumble over the cliff, with her wet, pale face, I didn’t have the heart for the spanking. Now, anyway. Not that I wasn’t going to turn her arse red at a later date. I knew she wasn’t doing well when she failed to snarl at my taunting.
Climbing up the sheer rock of this ravine should not be as pleasant as it is. Isla’s clinging to my front with her head buried in my neck. She’s starting to shiver from the chilly rain and I wrap a blanket around her when we’re on solid ground again.
“Angus, contact the other search parties and let them know Mrs. MacTavish has been found, tell them to head back to the lodge.”
