Mated By The Demon Collections: Paranormal Romance Read online

  ‘No,’ Bridget said, ‘She wouldn’t.’

  ‘Come, look down at the gardens,’ Peigi said and Bridget went over to her bedroom window and looked outside. The highland spring flowers were in full bloom everywhere, and bushels of them had been plucked from the moors and forests and arranged on tables in the gardens.

  ‘The Laird will leave no stone unturned to make this the most perfect day for ye,’ Peigi said.

  ‘I hope I will make him happy,’ Bridget said anxiously, ‘We have waited so long for this.’ She continued to look out of the window, seeing the hills bathed in sunshine and the heather reflecting the warmth of the day. The air was sweetened with the sound of a piper and Bridget took one last look at herself in the mirror.

  ‘You look lovely,’ Peigi said, and Bridget smiled. She wore a gown of white taffeta – soft and flowing – and a sash of Sutherland tartan. Peigi adjusted her veil and placed a wreath of white lilies on her hair. Bridget gave her a kiss and then left the room.

  The ceremony was fraught with barely restrained emotion as Kirk and Bridget pledged their troth to each other – this time as man and wife.

  ‘How long the path has been,’ Kirk said, as they danced later. Bridget looked up at him, wondering why he had not yet said he loved her.

  ‘Come,’ Kirk said, when the toasts to their health, long life, wellbeing and fertility were over.

  Bridget turned pink with anticipation. This time it would not be to keep her there. This time it would be...for love.

  They climbed up the stairs, and Bridget stopped outside Kirk’s bedroom. He turned her gently around. ‘First, there is something I have to show you. And then when we return to this floor, it will be to the Nuptial Suite.’

  ‘Oh! You have a Nuptial Suite?’ Bridget said, her eyes wide.

  ‘It would have to be the most important suite of all, in this castle,’ Kirk replied with an enigmatic smile.

  He took her hand and led her up to the castle battlements from where they commanded a sweeping view of the moors.

  ‘Bridget Drummond,’ Kirk said as he invited her to take a look over the parapet. ‘This is your land. Feast your eyes on it, and embrace it, for it is to be your home for ever. You will never ever love any place more than you love Scotland.’

  ‘I already do. Already did,’ Bridget breathed. That’s why I came here.’

  ‘And even if you should travel – as you will... as we both will...you will be drawn back here...always...to me.’ Kirk turned her around to face him and took her face in both his hands. ‘Bridget...I love you...so very very deeply.’

  A tear slipped through her lashes – one of the many she had sought to keep under control all that day. ‘I love you too Kirk, so very very deeply.’

  She reached up to place her hand against his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard and touched his hair, as if reassuring herself that this was really happening. ‘Kirk, when did you know you loved me?’

  He laughed, ‘Lifetimes ago. I knew I loved you when I missed you, and when my soul cried out to yours. I knew I loved you when we met for the first time, by the castle keep at Duffus, and then again when you returned to me.’ His lips found hers, brushing against them briefly, the tip of his tongue teasing her mouth open just a little bit. ‘And when did you first know you loved me?’

  ‘When I met you again and was pulled back to my world...and when I knew for certain that I wanted to be here and nowhere else.’

  They kissed again, Kirk’s tongue going just a little deeper into her mouth this time. Bridget threw her arms about his neck and drew his face down to hers, opening her mouth and arching her body towards his.

  Kirk lifted her up into his arms and carried her down to the Nuptial Suite – where a tub of scented water and a bed strewn with petals awaited them.

  ‘And now, my bride, I’m going to claim you – again! And again! And again!’ Kirk said gleefully, carrying Bridget over the threshold and swinging her gently down. As her feet touched the flagstones, Bridget flung herself against Kirk eagerly seeking his mouth and winding her fingers through his hair. He broke the kiss gently and held her at arm’s length.

  ‘Let me feast my eyes on you,’ he said, and began to unbutton the back of her dress. She helped him slip it off her shoulders, and he watched the dress slide over her breasts to her waist and down her hips to the floor. Kirk’s breathing was uneven as he slid the straps of her chemise over her shapely shoulders, burying his lips in her neck as he did so, and savouring the moment when he ran his eager hands over her body, and filled his palms with her breasts.

  Bridget freed her hair from the pins that Peigi had carefully placed amongst the curls and Kirk kissed her hair, forehead and eyelids. Bridget pulled herself away and looked at him, dressed as he was for their wedding – in a kilt of Sutherland tartan with a creamy white shirt and grey plaid waistcoat. Bridget had not looked at him this way that first time together, but this time she watched him hungrily as he shrugged off first his waistcoat, then his shirt and lastly his kilt. Kirk was majestic and Bridget gasped as he pulled her into his arms drew her pelvis in to meet his. She felt him between her thighs, throbbing and insistent. ‘Oh Kirk!’ she said, as he pushed against her. He broke away again and pointed to the tub.

  ‘What is the tub for?’ Bridget asked.

  ‘It is filled with hot water to relax our limbs before our coupling.’

  Bridget laughed at the word. ‘I love how you speak, Kirk Sutherland,’ she said, and climbed into the tub of water, holding her hand out to him to follow. He slipped in behind her and pulled her against him, nuzzling her neck as they soaked in the heated tub. Kirk reached for the bath salts placed by the tub and shook them in, stirring the water lazily with his fingers and caressing her body with tiny splashes. Then he caressed her body – his fingers creating ripples of desire down her spine and to the spot just above the curve of her hips. Then he ran his fingertips down the hollow between her breasts, tracing the line down to her pelvis, parting her thighs to probe her core. Bridget moaned softly and lay back against his chest, submitting herself to his lovemaking, turning about ever so slightly to seek his lips. Then he rose up from the water like a godlike creature and lifted her up and out of the scented liquid, wrapping both their bodies in one large towel and drying their skin before he gently lay Bridget on the bed and she opened herself to receive him. Their coupling was intense, the culmination of more than just the long journey to find each other again, but also a celebration of their love for each other – a love that had gathered strength and intensity through lifetimes of yearning. Bridget surged through each moment of rapture, inhaling the fragrance of Kirk’s hair and skin, the scent of his body and his aggressive maleness, as she rode on his power, his immense strength and his gentleness.

  ‘And so I have tasted you,’ Kirk said, holding her close as he paused to catch his breath, ‘And now to feast!’

  Bridget laughed as he drew her body over his and rolled her over, subduing her with his thighs as he rode her to another ecstatic peak from which she drifted down as if borne on a feather.

  ‘I must go and announce that we have successfully consummated our marriage,’ Kirk said, leaving her reluctantly to go to the window and wave to the assembled guests. Then he returned to hold her against him as the cheers went up from down below and while the pipers played and the sounds of revelry continued, their own sounds of love grew to soft whispers and then to the hushed breathing of a peaceful sleep.

  Bridget woke as the first light filtered through her heavy eyelids. She turned around, reaching out for her husband and saw that he was already awake and gazing at her as she slept, hair strewn on the pillows. She touched his face, smiling.

  ‘I love you my darling Kirk,’ Bridget said.

  ‘Show me how much,’ Kirk challenged.

  ‘Oh I will,’ Bridget said, allowing her hands to travel across his body in a journey of exploration. When they lay back, replete, Bridget wrinkled her forehead, spying for the first time, the
cases neatly standing in a corner.

  ‘What are those?’

  ‘Cases of our clothes – packed by Peigi for our journey.’

  ‘A journey? Where to?’ Bridget asked.

  ‘I thought you might show me the sights of England,’ Kirk said, kissing her.

  ‘But I don’t know the England of now. I do know the England of my world - which I am sure is very different.’

  ‘Show me anyway,’ Kirk said, ‘Besides, it may be fun for you to see something of the Country you lived in.’

  ‘How strange to think that the future is my past,’ Bridget laughed. She sat up in bed. ‘When do we leave for England?’

  ‘Within an hour or two at least. We will take my – our - carriage.’

  ‘I’m excited!’ Bridget said, beginning to dress.

  They rode across the moors and the sun was warm on their faces. Bridget slid her hand into Kirk’s and smiled up at the sky. ‘I have never in all my life been so happy,’ she said. As they drove towards Drummond Castle, Bridget leaned forward to get a closer look at the carnage from the day when she had been captured. Kirk slipped his arm protectively around her shoulders and drew her back against him. ‘Don’t let any of those memories haunt you, my love,’ he said.

  ‘I try not to,’ Bridget answered, ‘They seem to have destroyed most of the castle – so I can barely recognise it.’ Her face clouded over. ‘Why did Moira have to die like that?’

  ‘Like me she was waiting for you; waiting to play her part in your life...and then she left – went back to wherever she came from.’

  ‘Well, at least I had one complete lifetime with her,’ Bridget sighed.

  The streets of London were cloaked in evening shadows; the diffused light from the lamps picking out the people as they went about their business – some hurried from places of work while some went off to seek places of pleasure. Kirk and Bridget were staying at an Inn, and there they rested after their long journey. The next day they went to the Drury Lane Theatre and Kirk sat transfixed through a performance. Bridget felt her heart swell with joy as they shared that evening together. Earlier that day they had strolled through the pleasure gardens at Vauxhall, hand in hand, stealing a kiss in the shade of an arbour. After the performance they returned to the Inn, lying warm in each other’s arms, talking and making love. The next day they took a walk in the pleasure gardens again, and it was while they were there that Bridget fainted. Kirk caught her in his arms and took her quickly back to the Inn, bathing her face in lavender water and fanning her until she came to. Bridget looked up into his troubled face.

  ‘Where were you?’ Kirk asked.

  ‘What happened?’ Bridget asked anxiously.

  ‘You passed out – fainted – in the gardens and I had to bring you back here. Did you feel like you were being summoned back?’

  ‘I don’t know my love,’ Bridget answered. ‘I have no recollection of being anywhere but here with you.’

  Kirk watched her closely after that, afraid that she would disappear from sight if he didn’t.

  ‘Let’s go back to Scotland,’ He said, and Bridget nodded.

  ‘Yes, let’s.’

  ‘Did something here upset you?’ Kirk asked.

  ‘Oh no, not in the least. I have been happier than ever my darling,’ Bridget answered.

  CHAPTER VII

  They made the long journey back to Skelbo Castle but Bridget felt increasingly unwell. They stopped on the way by a loch in the highlands for the horses to refresh themselves and rest, and Kirk opened a picnic basket and fed Bridget the bannocks and roast veal that the Innkeeper’s wife had packed for them. The day was so pleasant and the sun so warm, but Bridget’s face was pale and she found she couldn’t eat; or that when she did, she couldn’t keep a morsel down.

  When they resumed their journey Bridget nodded off to sleep, dozing against Kirk’s shoulder, her body rocked by the motion of the carriage. Her eyes fluttered open briefly as she heard someone call her name and she looked across the path they were going on, and saw the car, in which she had made the journey to Scotland. Allie was sitting in it, looking out of the window wide-eyed at Bridget as she drove past. ‘Allie!’ Bridget called, smiling and waving at her friend. ‘Allie!’ But before Allie recovered from seeing Bridget through the mists of time, or reacted, the car was gone.

  ‘You called out to Allie,’ Kirk said, alarmed.

  ‘I saw her driving past, going back the way we’ve just come.’

  Kirk speeded up the journey and they arrived in Skelbo before nightfall. Peigi rushed out to greet them along with the rest of the servants, and peered anxiously into Bridget’s pale face. She helped her up the stairs and filled a tub with warm water for her to wash, and then she sat by her bedside and fed her some porridge.

  ‘I don’t know why Peigi,’ Bridget said, ‘but I cannot seem to eat though I am hungry. I feel like bringing everything back up...and sometimes I feel like I am going to faint and I am even more scared that if I pass out I might never come back to my darling Kirk and I cannot bear to leave him.’

  Peigi looked closely into Bridget’s face and then she bid her lie back in bed and she felt her tummy. Then she threw back her head and laughed.

  ‘And which century did you say you came from, my dear?’

  ‘Why do you laugh at me Peigi? What is going on?’

  ‘You are with child, my dear, what else did you think?’

  Bridget shot up in bed, her eyes flying open in astonishment.

  ‘I am with child?’

  ‘Yes, yes! What do you think happens when a laird beds his lady?’

  Bridget put one trembling hand on her belly and took a deep breath. ‘So that’s why I felt faint? That’s why I felt sick and couldn’t eat?’

  ‘Yes!’ Peigi said, ‘and now I will go and fetch you something you will eat and that’s some hot soup. And I will make it myself with herbs from the forest that will stave off your squeamishness.’

  Kirk peeped around the door. ‘Is everything alright Peigi?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh everything’s very fine, my laird, and my lady will be wanting to speak to you so I’d best take myself off to the kitchen and make her some soup.’

  Kirk walked slowly over to Bridget’s side and took her hand, sitting down on the side of the bed as he did so.

  ‘Has everything that has happened recently proved to be too much for you?’ he asked, ‘Is that why you want to go back?’ He looked deep into her eyes. ‘I cannot live without you, Bridget, and I do not know how I ever did. But now that I have you; now that I know what it is to have you with me and to love...and be loved...so completely...I cannot let you go.’

  Bridget smiled up into his face. She stroked a strand of hair back from his forehead and pulled his face down to hers to kiss him.

  ‘What is it my Bridget? Peigi said you would be wanting to speak to me.’

  ‘Yes, I do want to speak to you. It’s about the nursery at Drummond Castle. Would you be able to get permission to maybe take the rocking horse, and whatever toys may have survived the carnage, and keep them here at Skelbo?’

  ‘Yes...but why?’

  ‘Because I would want our child to have something of mine to play with.’

  ‘Our child?’ Kirk said, wrinkling his brow, ‘But when it comes, there are a lot of playthings here in ...’ His voice trailed away and he stared hard at Bridget. ‘My darling, are you trying to tell me what I think you are?’

  Bridget sat up and threw her arms about his neck. ‘All those giddy spells; that time I fainted; the sickness each time I see food – it’s all for good reason, my love. I’m carrying your bairn!’

  Kirk stared at her wide eyed for one long minute and then whooped and gathered her up into his arms and danced her around the room until Peigi came in with Bridget’s soup and scolded him for being rough with her.

  ‘I’m sorry Peigi, I just had to do that. Oh Bridget, I am so happy!’

  ‘And now my lady must have her soup,’ Peigi insisted
and Kirk took the soup tureen from her hands. ‘Yes, and I will feed it to her,’ he said.

  Bridget twinkled at him from over the rim of the soup tureen. ‘So you need have no fear my love, I will not be leaving you as we feared. In fact I know I will never go away...ever!’

  There was one less in the car as the group of students drove back to England, unknowingly travelling the same route as the carriage with Kirk and Bridget as they went on their visit to London. Allie’s eyes were red rimmed.

  ‘How can we just give up the search?’ She said for the millionth time. Her professor placed a hand on hers. ‘The police have said they will keep up the investigation and get in touch just as soon as they have any news.’

  ‘She wasn’t unstable as people tried to make her out to be.’

  ‘No, of course not. She had a condition and the doctor says we are to address it as soon as she returns,’ the professor said.

  ‘If she ever returns,’ Allie said. She leaned back in her seat, lulled by the motion of the car. ‘Allie!’ she thought she heard Bridget call, and instinctively looked out of the window and saw – or thought she saw – a horse drawn carriage going past. In it sat Bridget and a very handsome Scotsman in a kilt, and as they passed the car, she saw – or thought she saw – Bridget turn to her, smile, and wave.

  ‘Oh!’ Allie gasped, sitting up looking startled.

  ‘What happened?’ her professor asked.

  ‘I must have dozed off, that’s all, and woke up very suddenly.’

  ‘No. You were wide awake and staring out of the window and for a minute there I thought you’d seen a ghost!

  THE END.

  MAJESTIC HIGHLANDER

  Highlander Romance

  Riley Moreno

  CHAPTER I

  Armadale Castle basked in the late afternoon sunlight. Around it grew pine, rowan, birch and juniper trees, some clustering quite close to the walls. Within the castle grounds there were large expanses of landscaped gardens and lawns like pools of emerald lent added beauty to the exquisite environs. That day they were dotted with the castle staff, bustling about laying out tables, while the aromas that emanated from the kitchens hinted of the lavish spread that had been planned for the night. And what a night it was going to be since the Clan Chief’s son Raibert MacIntyre was to be engaged to Edme Campbell, thereby continuing the tradition of marriages between the two clans. Raibert had not had much say in the matter, not because he was in any way intimated by his very powerful father Alistair MacIntyre, but because his mother Isobel had taken to her bed with an illness that threatened her very life, it was said, and she wished to see her only child married before she faded away completely.