Enraptured by the Highlander

Caelan stiffened and his voice dropped to a dark tone. “I’ll be damned if any man is going to touch ye but me.”

“Caelan, you don’t have any ownership of me,” she nearly squawked.

“I dinnae, eh?” he said as he backed her up against the wall and kissed her, loving how she melted into his touch. His lips made a path of light kisses over her cheek, to her jaw. Her head canted to the side for him to kiss over her neck and when he lightly nipped at her skin with his teeth, the beast in him purred at her soft mewl.

“Tell me,” his husky growl made her quiver, “has any other man made ye feel this way?”

“No,” she said. “But to be fair, I have never been in the company of any other man in this way.”

Pride filled Caelan’s chest. He kissed down her neck and his hand framed her breasts, caressing and kneading. He thumbed over her nipple and she gasped. “Is yer blood getting hot, lass? Is yer belly turning on itself when I do this?”

She nodded and grabbed as his arms. Smiling, his hand slipped from her breast to her waist and then rounded to her bottom. Grabbing a pert cheek, he growled. “When I touch ye here, this supple flesh, filling me hand so perfectly, how do ye feel?”

“Hot,” she whispered, “but not only there, wherever you touch me I feel hot under my skin.”

Caelan slid his hand from her bottom to her knee and cocked it over his hip. His fingers then trailed from the underside of her knee to her core and found her wetness again. Her fingers dug into his shoulders while he slid his middle finger into her and found her nub. Pumping her with his finger and rubbing her bud he whispered. “I’m the first to touch ye here…” she nodded, “and I will be the last.”

He slid his finger out of her and smiled at her bereft cry. Sliding his finger into his mouth he sucked on her essence and growled in his chest. “Ye taste sweet, lass, so sweet. I’ll taste more when I have me mouth on ye, licking ye, sucking ye to completion. Mark me words, I will nae leave ye here to suffer. I will come for ye and take ye to me home.”

She pulled away, “I can’t…I don’t know if that can ever happen. My life is here…even I did go, I doubt any of your people would accept me.”

“Don’t be afraid about that—”

Hurried footsteps came down the stairwell and then Martha was rushing in. Her voice was hushed but frantic, “My Lady, we have to go. The guards will be coming back now.”

Adeline touched his arm, “In two days, be ready,” she pressed a key into his hand. “This a copy of the key to the gate. I stole it from the spares they have in the guardroom. Keep it safe. When it’s near midnight, run.”

“Wait, lass,” Caelan said as he grabbed the book and handed it to her, “No trace of ye shall be found.”

She took the book and with a kiss to his cheek, she was off. Caelan stood as they closed the door and hurried off, leaving an echo of their steps behind and a growing warmth his heart. When he heard the door scrape closed, he began to pace again. His heart was somewhere in the clouds. His heart was overflowing. Adelaine believed him about her brother and was now sure about helping him run. In two days, she had promised. Two days! His first chance had gone but he’d be damned if he lost this one.

The hardest thing Caelan ever had to endure was pretending that he was the same as he had been days ago. He ate the tasteless food and paced hour after hour. On the second day, he felt like he was walking on hot coals. His anxiety was bubbling inside him, threatening to show on his face.

He had taken his meal early as snapping Leicester had told him that it was time for the jailer to go and be with his family not watch over a man that had nowhere to go anyhow.

Oh, you’re going to be so wrong.

Handing the bowl back he nodded. “Thank ye.”

Leicester cursed under his voice, “Listen, Scot, write yer confession to the King, you’ll be sent to work in the coal mines or to prison but you’ll be alive. If not, your neck will be on the chopping block and your head will roll.”

“I appreciate yer advice, but I will nae admit to somethin’ I dinnae dae,” Caelan said calmly. “I’d rather die with me honor in place than live as a disgrace.”

The guard’s black shoulders shrugged, “I have tried; your blood is on your hands.”

As he left, Caelan looked to the window. From what he could see, the sky was snowless. If it was terribly cold but there was no snow, it would help him run. He hoped the letter Adelaine said she had sent to his men had reached them in time for them to get to the end of the tunnel.

Darkness was filling the dungeon but his eyes were bright as something fluttered into his cage. Then a hard slender something was dropped in and at last, something metal clanged lightly on the stone. Grabbing at them, Caelan found a candle, two pieces of flint, and paper.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was alone and then used the flint to strike fire to the candle. Holding the candle up, he saw the paper was new but a detailed of drawing of the keep was on it. On the level under the guardroom where the basement was, he saw the outline of a tunnel and an X.

Caelan committed all to memory and blew the candle out. He said a prayer before tucking the map and candle into the blanket, and he took out the key he had hidden in his hose. With another prayer, he slid his hand through the bars and slotted the key in place. By inches, he turned the key and when the key met the spring-loaded bolt, he breathed deeply and spun the key to open the lock.

He was free. Carefully shifting the door so it did not make much noise, he slid out and hurried up the stairs. He could not concentrate on the fact that he was free; he could do that when he reached his clansmen. Now, he had to find that tunnel.

At the ground level, he stopped to blink. It was lighter up there and he had to adjust before moving. The makeshift map told him to take the first left corridor to the guardroom. Keeping to the shadows, he made it to the lower level but as he entered, he had to draw back. A guard was laying on a hammock with his head canted to the side and a bottle dangling from his lax fingers.

Caelan prayed the man was drunk enough to not hear him sneak past him to the stairs he could see on the other side of the room. He inched forward but the man murmured in his sleep. He stopped. His heart threatened to beat faster but his soldier training eclipsed his frightened reaction. He breathed in slowly as the man flipped on the side. The bottle slipped and Caelan had to grab it to stop it from crashing to the floor.