MacArthur's Challenge - Laird's Love Vol. 2

Clouds of Paradise

The ceremony was held along the east wall of the keep. Although some questioned the choice, Aimil and Iain were both in agreement. Their first night as a couple – though they hadn't called themselves that – had occurred under the stars there. As such, it was the perfect place for their first day as man and wife.

Hamish was smiles and grins, jovial and loud as he awaited his stepdaughter;s appearance. Her mother was weepy and happy, standing off to the side as she was gathered by some of the women from the kitchens. While Aimil was not one who shared her voice with many, she was nevertheless beloved by nearly all – save those who were jealous of her, that was.

In the dungeons, Catriona and Gavina languished. They'd heard about the festivities and knew that their time on the earth was likely coming to an end. How else could it be, but that their Laird would take their lives for harming his Lady?

Across from them, Duncan Crosbie stewed. He had plans for Aimil and they did not involve the MacArthur Laird having a taste of the sweet lips that had been on Duncan's mind since he'd come to in the healer's care. He knew, however, that he had little choice but to accept that Aimil was without saving for now. That would not stop him, though, from rescuing her later.

The Crosbie men had been informed of the deal struck between Angus and Iain. They had one week to wait for Angus to bring the bounty and secure their freedom. And, though Duncan knew his Aimil would have already been taken by the Laird MacArthur, he nevertheless planned for her escape. She would be free of the Laird and would, Duncan was sure, be so pleased with that fact that she would accept Duncan's suit.

Unfortunately, Duncan knew that Aimil's freedom would have to come with the Laird's death. If the carousing and revelry he heard even down to the depths of the dungeons were anything to go by, the ceremony affixing Aimil's fate with Laird MacArthur's was complete. Even Duncan was not willing to go against the vows of marriage and so he had no choice: Laird MacArthur had to die.

While Duncan plotted and Catriona and Gavina wept, Aimil and Iain MacArthur rose their glasses in the air above the keep. The vows had been exchanged and the party had begun, it spilling over from the walls around them into the village itself. Every member of the MacArthur Clan was ecstatic. Their Laird had a Lady and, though she was not originally of the clan, she had been with them long enough for them to know her measure.

Aimil would make an excellent Lady.

"'Tis time we left, wife," Iain whispered into her ear, bending slightly so that his breath teased at the hair near it. Aimil smiled, her eyes meeting the dark ones of her husband as she answered.

"And where would you take me, husband? The entire clan seeks to thwart your plan," she noted, amusement flickering in the gold of her eyes as she gestured to those around them.

Iain breathed deeply through his nose, nodding slightly. She was right, of course. While the clan was happy for them, the boisterous MacArthurs had a bit of the devil in their eyes. They would do their utmost to ensure a lengthy torture for their Laird, if only to say that they had done it.

Examining the crowd around them, Iain's eyes landed upon the path out. Ever the warrior, he looked for weaknesses before he slid his hand around his wife's waist and pulled her slowly in the direction he needed her. His movements were carefully planned, appearing to suggest that they were making their way for more sustenance. Instead, he would sneak them through a hidden doorway that lead to the solar.

Aimil kept her laughter at bay, but only just. As she nodded and smiled at those around her, she worked with Iain toward the main keep. Her husband was not to be dissuaded from his goal and, to be fair, she would rather it be just the two of them anyway.

Iain hesitated near the doorway for a full minute, keeping his eyes carefully noncommittal. When he saw the break he needed, he swooped Aimil up in his arms and ran with her through his keep. That he was all but marauding his own home was neither here nor there. He had the prize of his woman's love and he was going to enjoy it in peace.

His fitness apparent in his unrelenting stride, Aimil thought it time to tease her husband. As he reached the bottom of the stairs to the solar, then, she placed her mouth upon his neck. Her reward was a hardening of Iain's entire frame as he took the stairs three at a time.

Once in the solar, Iain threw the bar and then turned to his Aimil. Her eyes glowed with her love and her appreciation for him, which only had his body reacting all the more. As he came up to her, hand outstretched to cup her face, he bent his head.

Emotion swirled in the love nest of the solar. As Iain's lips caressed Aimil's, his hands moved to undue her laces. While captured by the sensations of his beard and tongue, Aimil was rid of every stitch of her clothing.

"My bonnie wife," Iain said, his voice guttural with feeling.

He owed the lad McIntyre more than he could ever say. Though Aimil had been in his clan, Iain wasn't sure he'd ever have gotten to know her, learned to love her, without the Daidh's connection. And, as Iain's large palms swept over the creamy skin that had haunted his dreams, he knew that the lad would forever be welcome in the MacArthur Clan as a result.

"Do I not get to touch you?" Aimil asked, her voice breathy and loaded with desire. Iain pulled back, a dark smile of intent lifting his lips as he shed the material covering him. He nearly crowed at the blush that broke over his wife's face as she saw him ready and aching for her.

Sliding his arms around Aimil, Iain pulled her to him and toward the settee. Pillows flung out as he sat, placing her on his lap and ripping a groan of want from him. He could feel the arousal of his love against him as his mouth explored her breasts and his hands cupped her arse.

"Iain," Aimil moaned, her head back. There were still flowers in her hair as it flowed over one of his forearms and the scent of them and her was heady and intoxicating. He could not get enough.

His mouth insistent and his hands driven, Iain devoted himself to memorizing every curve, every inch, of Aimil. She writhed against him as he drove her pleasure, his fingers dipping between her legs to stroke at the nubbin of pleasure that would bring her to the stars. And, only when she hit that peak did he raise her up and then, slowly, lower her upon his shaft.

Iain's groan of approval was deep and reverberated through the solar as Aimil's body welcomed him. She was clasped tight and hot around him and it was enough to cause his thoughts to disintegrate. There was nothing in the world, no clan, no land, no worries. There was only Aimil.

The steady thrust of her upon him caused each to moan. Over and again, Aimil met him as he pushed up, her breath breaking over his ear as he held her. And, when the build became too much for them to go slow anymore, the tempo increased and their cries rose until finally, they both were spent and resting in the clouds of Paradise.