Free The Scottish Selkie by Cornelia Amiri (Celtic Romance Queen)

such a workout. Malcolm wanted her to be his partner in guarding the stone, but she sensed he was also beginning to think of her as a real wife. Not one forced upon him, but one he wanted. 
    Riona met Malcolm and Bethoc at the door with a sweet smile on her face. 
    “Riona, we need fill the tub with water from the well.” As Bethoc strode in, she noticed Riona kept the shutters and door open to air out the rath, for the cottage was filled with the mellow scent of summer fauna. 
    “Yes m'lady.” The steward’s daughter grabbed a bucket and headed outside, passing Malcolm as he entered the rath. 
    “Here, I will help you,” Bethoc called. She slipped her shoes off again and grabbed a milking pail.

 
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    Standing in the doorway, Malcolm gazed at Bethoc's dark, glossy hair sweeping her back in an enticing sway. He had to have this wild, mesmeric Pict. No pawn in an arranged marriage, she was a lass who heated his blood. A woman he could never let go of. 
    Malcolm stomped his foot on the floor. No. He could and would set her free. Curse her if she thought she could hold him to the land. He belonged to the sea. And Bethoc could not come where Malcolm belonged. Curses on her. How could he think she was his woman? He was not destined for everlasting love. Another life awaited him. Full, wild, and free like the sea itself. 
    To take his mind off the sultry curves of her body and the alluring sway of her hips, Malcolm gathered choice pieces of wood for a fire. Adding fagots, he sparked a blaze, and with a puff of breath he brought the flicker to a vigorous flame. He laid two large, flat stones aside the fire and stared into the dancing crimson and amber flames. 
    Riona and Bethoc strode in, each carrying a pail of sloshing water. Side by side they emptied the buckets into the round, wooden tub. Malcolm grabbed a pair of tongs to pick up and drop the heated rock into the tub. The smooth stones hit the bottom with a loud plunk, followed by a sizzle of white steam rising in the air. 
    The girls went back to the well, leaving Malcolm with thoughts of Bethoc, nude and lying on his bed. Long straight legs, lithe thighs, and ample hips tapering into a slender waist. The ache in his groin rose to a throbbing pain. He pictured Bethoc smoldering beneath him as he stroked her flat stomach, firm breast, creamy shoulders, and lush lips to a fervid passion. Curse the woman. 
    As Bethoc walked back into his rath, her bucket full of water, Malcolm's gaze locked onto her wild, green eyes. She glanced away, empting her bucket into the wooden tub. Just as sudden, she followed Riona back to the well. Malcolm stared after her. It seemed like forever before she came back with the third pail of water. Riona quietly excused herself to fetch food from the hall. 
    Malcolm's gaze fastened on Bethoc's enticing face as he strode up to her. He knew his eyes betrayed his hunger for her. “While Riona fetches our evening fare, I will help you disrobe.”
    She stepped back, but Malcolm abruptly moved behind her. Slowly, he splayed his fingers across her neck and brushed back her dark hair, soft as a seal's pelt. Malcolm ran his tongue across his lips as he gazed at the dip of her neck. Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth against the milky flesh of her tender, salty skin. He wrapped his hands around her slender shoulders. In a serpentine motion, he skimmed his fingers across her taut flesh. Then he pressed down with the balls of his fingers applying firm, urgent pressure. She let out a throaty gasp.
     “Bethoc, your muscles are tight again.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to restrain his need. 
    She tilted her head back, and rolled it from side to side. Her long, silky mane swung to and fro. It smelled like strawberries. He ran his hands down her smooth, soft back to her plush buttocks. “Bethoc, so beautiful.” 
    A wild frisson of want surged in his veins. He pinched the cloth of her dress and