Read Kilting Me Softly: 1 Online

Authors: Persephone Jones

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Kilting Me Softly: 1 (8 page)

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Chapter Seven

 

Morgan pushed the truck over the rocky terrain at full speed. If she didn’t slow down, she was going to wreck. And being stranded in rural Scotland with a werewolf on the loose was more than she was prepared to handle at the moment. It was strange. Her mind was filled with images of the path she needed to take to get to the sea. She’d never been there but somehow, she’d known exactly how to get there. Now, she hadn’t a clue where she was going.

Looking up, she saw a small cottage in the distance, the same one she’d passed on the way to the cliffs. The McCade family cottage.

Violent nausea gripped her suddenly. Cold sweat covered her. She was going to be sick. White-knuckling the steering wheel, she was determined to keep going.

Another vision. It seized her and despite her screams of objection, it took possession. In her ear, she heard Conall’s account of his cursed family. Before her eyes, like a transparency over the road ahead, the visual story of the curse revealed itself. She could see the handsome Alastair McCade and the beautiful women who split him in two. And the witch that leveled them all to emotional cinder.

As she let off the accelerator, the truck slowed to a sluggish crawl. Pumping the gas repeatedly, she jerked when it lurched to a stop. The gas tank was full. The truck looked new so it shouldn’t have been having problems. The damned thing died right in front of the cottage. On purpose, like something wanted her to stop.

It looked deserted. Not that she cared. With a forceful nudge, she opened the door and ran inside. The space was easily surveyed from the front door. There was no one there. Latching the door behind her, she pulled out the revolver. Checking the clip, she saw that all eight of the silver bullets were still there.

Even then she couldn’t sit still. She was in total disbelief. Seeing Conall and Ciaran like that a second time did nothing to convince her of the truth. A hundred times and she would never get used to it. Her lover, the one person in all the world who had hold of her heart, could transform into a tall, hairy, bloodthirsty animal, a monster—a werewolf.

A scuffle on the wooden porch brought her to the present moment. The sound of feet. Thank the Lord above it wasn’t paws. But she couldn’t wager her life on a sound. With arms that quaked when she raised them, she pointed the revolver at the center of the door.

The door jostled on its hinges and sweat dripped down her sides. With a loud thud, the wooden slab came open and Conall stood filling the empty space. She aimed the gun directly at his heart. She could shoot. There was little doubt the bullets would hit him even with her entire body shaking from head to toe.

Morgan watched him stand with his arms up to his chest, palms out in complete mercy. He was an unarmed man, naked and vulnerable to the core. He did not attempt to run or dodge her aim. The sympathy and understanding in his beautiful eyes made her want to weep. Without words, he told her whatever she decided would be all right. He was giving her his blessing to finish him.

But she couldn’t.

Her shaky resolve was shattered in a sob. In a quiet rush, he came to her and rid her of the gun. They embraced in tight desperation and wept.

“It’s all right. It’s all right.” He cradled her head against his heart.

“But
how
?” she cried.

Unconvinced, she searched his barely scratched skin as tears flowed from her eyes in a mixture of distrust and gladness. He should have been dead. A man would have bled out from such bloody wounds. A normal human man, that is.

“Nothing on this earth could keep me from you.”

They sealed his declaration with a kiss. Her mouth surrendered under him in what had become a wonderful familiarity. In seconds their kiss became heated and before her mind could make sense of it, she was hot, breathless liquid in his arms. Her mind reeled with the need to feel him against her, inside her.

Drawing strength from each other, they shared their tears and held each other close. Conall took hold of her face and kissed her again, breaking contact long enough to ask her, “Why did you run away?”

She shook her head and tried to explain. “I saw Megan in your eyes. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I just had to.”

“Aye, it does.” Conall’s voice cracked under pressure and he held her tight. “I thought I’d lost you.”

She soaked up the relief in his voice like sunshine.

“Do you know what that would do to me?”

Morgan found she could not answer, didn’t want to. She kissed him instead, reassuring him he need never wonder because she wasn’t going to run from him ever again. He wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that now. Her panic at the cliffs had little if anything to do with Conall and more to do with Ciaran and what he’d done to Megan.

Conall put a hand to his side and swooned a little. Seeing four gashes, Morgan took his arm and put it around her. “I think you need to sit down a minute.”

“Good idea.”

She helped him navigate around an end table and eased him into a seated position.

“I’ll get some bandages from the bathroom.”

“Aye.” He nodded.

Morgan watched him pull his hand from his side and check it for blood. There was very little. He pulled her into his lap, a devious twinkle in his eye.

“Later.”

In the midst of running her hands over him, Morgan stopped when Conall winced. She checked his side and saw bruises forming where the cuts had been.

Wanting to examine him properly, she tried to pull away but found it impossible. It wasn’t the firm yet tender grip on her that held her fast but something more primal. It was the heat between them. Her fight died with the acknowledgement of what he needed and she let him undress her. Suddenly she couldn’t be joined with him quickly enough.

Morgan worked frantically to assist him in undressing her, but neither of them were willing to be idle for even a moment. His fingers slipped under her white cotton panties and kneaded the soft, plump rounds of her backside. Forcefully, he pulled her to him and ground his shaft against her pelvis, hard and ready to be sheathed deep within her. Taking him by the cock, she tugged in long upward strokes until the bulbous head was crowned with pre-cum.

But Conall was no victim of her sweet attack. His hand tore at her t-shirt like a savage, pulling it off her and tossing it to the floor without a second look. He guided one of her plentiful breasts to his lips and drew it deep into his mouth, launching a full-scale assault on the pink marble nipple. Feverishly he worked to drive her to an insanity of his own design, thumbing her hair-trigger clit, massaging it in a circular repetition while fingering her hot, wet pussy. She was helpless to do anything but grip his shoulders and endure the waves of euphoria rippling through her.

“Who’s running now?” he teased rakishly.

She relented with a slug to his shoulder, helpless to the ecstasy about to take her over. The walls of her pussy clenched tight around his fingers as she came, rocking into his hand, riding it as though it were the real thing. Then without hesitation, Conall directed his cock into her core. Holding her tight, he thrust hard against her. Overcome, both of them cried out as he bucked deeper and deeper into her, driving into the heart of her. With a firm grip, he held her stationary above him while he worked his hips up and down in rapid succession. The delicious sensations were more than she could bear and she whimpered at the impending implosion within her.

“Ah fuck—I love you, Morgan.”

“I love you, Conall.” Clutching the cushions, Morgan gasped and froze, another orgasm taking hold. Blissfully destroyed and reborn in his embrace, she let go and came with him. His body answered hers with his own climax, jolting through him like a bolt of lightning.

His head fell against hers. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered breathlessly.

They were quiet for a while, content to simply remain there, leaning against each other. The sticky ooze of blood from her lover’s side tickled her and she nearly chuckled. They’d made his injuries worse with their lovemaking. “I’ll get those bandages.”

Once on the other side of the door, she retrieved a bandage from the medicine cabinet. Upon closing it, she stared at herself in the mirror. The first wave of emotion brought with it tears but she stopped when she heard his voice calling. She thought of her sister and how she would never know this miracle, this magic, this love she had for Conall. She realized her life would go on. When Morgan was old and gray, Megan would still be young and beautiful, a bittersweet memory. She would change while the memory of Megan would retain a certain immortality, forever frozen in time.

Morgan dashed the salty drops tracing her cheeks. Too many tears had been shed already. She’d made someone happy and likewise she’d found someone who made her want to live again. Now it was time for life. Now it was time for love.

Possessed by the need to touch Conall, Morgan couldn’t get the door that separated them opened fast enough. And he was there, waiting for her on the other side where he took her firmly into his arms and lowered his face to hers as though they’d been separated by years rather than minutes.

“Oh. And one more thing.” He said with a smile, taking her face in his big, warm hands and gazing into her eyes. “My name is Conall McCade and I was put here to love you.”

About Persephone Jones

 

Persephone Jones lives in the piney woods of east Texas with her computer geek husband, two dogs and one cat. The only child of divorced parents, she learned early on to entertain herself by inventing imaginary worlds where the dragons are tame and the damsels don’t stress. She spends most of her time reading, writing, and listening to those pesky muses. Apparently they like horror movies, eighties music and Tex-Mex. Unfortunately muses don’t do housework. But always just in the nick of time they swoop in and rescue her with a hunky hero, a smartass heroine and a happy ending.

 

 

Persephone welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

 

 

 

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Ellora’s Cave Publishing

 

 

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Kilting Me Softly

 

ISBN 9781419942587

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Kilting Me Softly Copyright © 2013 Persephone Jones

 

Edited by Raelene Gorlinsky

Cover design by Fiona Jayde

Cover photography by Honored Member, Pockgallery, Birgit Urban/Shutterstock.com and RomanceNovelCovers.com

 

Electronic book publication May 2013

 

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

 

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

 

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

 

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BOOK: Kilting Me Softly: 1
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