Free Kate Robbins - The Highland Chiefs Series 03 by Enemy of the Highlander Page A

could do to keep her tears at bay. She slid onto his erection; her body quivering as she thrust her pelvis forward. Ronan gripped her hips and buried himself deeply into her, she was now completely impaled by him. The sensations racing through her veins were almost too much to bear. He grasped her hips and repeatedly impaled her while at the same time tugged on her nipple with his lips, extending it and flicking it until white hot heat shot to the junction where their bodies were joined.
    As suddenly as before, she climaxed around him.
    Her body still shuddering, he flipped her onto her back and thrust back into her, deep and hard. His erection hit a place deep within her which coiled her passion once again. When she felt his body stiffen, she was right there with him, her body convulsing with a climax so hard she feared she would faint.
    Ronan panted into her neck and held her tight. She wrapped her arms and legs around him too for fear he might disappear if she did not hold fast.
    Hours later, just as the first streaks of grey crossed the sky, Freya slipped from the bed, dressed, then padded to the door. She turned to look at Ronan’s crumpled bed and the sleeping form of her love. Her eyes burned and her chest constricted, thinking about her future on the other side of this door.
    She had to be strong. She had to let him go.
    With that thought, she quietly returned to her chamber and to her own cold and unused bed. Freya turned her head into her pillow and wept.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Ronan approached Strathnaver with caution, followed by the men Fergus had sent with him: his wife’s uncle Neville, and brother Colin. His mother’s cottage was down by the sea and not visible from the road.
    He shifted on his horse. His night with Freya had left him depleted and weary, as though he had been in battle. Her passion had barely doused when she had become aroused again. Not that he had a problem seeing to her needs, but it had been a long time since he had bedded a woman through the night.
    When he turned his head, could still smell her faint scent in his skin. His loins tightened. How was that even possible? He had woken thirsty and ravenous from their intense lovemaking and sought out sustenance in the hall. He had hoped to see Freya breaking her fast, but she was not there, and he had not seen her upon his leaving. It was probably for the best. After the night they had shared, he doubted he had the strength to walk away from her. He was now more determined than ever to find a way to have her and prevent the inevitable feud that would ensue should she break her promise to her brother and Rorie MacKenzie.
    Rounding the turn before his mother’s house, Ronan brought his horse up short. Allain nearly collided into the back of him. The roof of his mother’s cottage was nothing more than charred pieces of thatch still smoldering. He had burned them out? Ronan clenched his fists.
    “Whoreson!” He was off his horse in a heartbeat and running. Inside, the table had been tipped over and shelves were knocked down so that their contents had spilled and smashed onto the floor. He spied a dark spot on the floor beside the bed and walked toward it. Reaching down, he brushed his fingers across the stain, his stomach lurching. He turned his fingers over and rubbed his thumb across them.
    Blood.
    Ronan met Allain outside.
    “We ride hard,” Allain said.
    “Aye to that.” Neville agreed. “How do you wish to approach the castle?”
    “From the beach,” Ronan said. “We can come in from the north side and follow a path they may not have guarded. ’Twas how I helped Fergus escape.”
    “Aye, I recall that lad. So you expect to gain entry through the dungeon then?”
    Ronan nodded and pointed to the cottage. “That I do. If the mess in there is any indication, I doubt they have offered them guest chambers.” He gritted his teeth. If that bastard had hurt one hair on his mother or sister’s head, he would gut the man and then