[2015] Into the Highlander's World Read online

  As he climbed on top of her and parted her legs with his knees, he held onto his thick shaft and moved it closer to her opening. As he positioned the tip at her sex, he looked her in the eyes, and and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer to her. As he penetrated her, pleasure rocketed through her whole body. He groaned as his whole length sunk into her, and he began to thrust in and out of her tight, wet, warm pussy.

  “Gwen!” he grunted as he wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled it tight.

  His powerful thighs drove his cock deep inside her and it wasn’t long before she knew she was about to tip over the edge into the most intense orgasm of her life. She gasped and screamed as she came and dug her heels into the base of his spine. Andrew’s breaths were becoming heavier and more frantic, and she knew he too was about to explode. At the same time she was in the throes of ecstasy, Andrew came hard and fast inside of her. He pumped his load into her and collapsed onto her chest.

  “My God,” he panted, before kissing her neck.

  “Andrew…” she whispered.

  “This was meant to be, Gwen,” he looked into her eyes. “Of that, I am sure.”

  8.

  Gwen wrapped herself up in the sheets and watched Andrew dress at the foot of her bed. As he strapped weapons to his side, she realized that whatever was about to happen, she was already going to give him a baby. She didn’t want to lose him, but wherever she ended up in time, she would have a piece of him with her.

  “I’ll be back for you, Gwen,” he said as he held onto her face and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I have something to live for now.”

  As he left the room, he didn’t look back at her for fear he may never leave, and as the door slammed behind him, Gwen felt a tear roll down her cheek.

  ***

  The cries from the battle raged through the night. Gwen didn’t dare move from her bed and she couldn’t bear to look from the castle windows for fear of being seen or of what she may see. As dawn came and the cries began to fade, Gwen found herself pacing the chamber… What if the Urquharts didn’t win? What would become of her then? She sat down on the edge of the bed and strained to listen out across the plains.

  She knew that they had rode north and were on the other side of the loch. As she listened, she could not hear any more sounds of fighting and she knew that it must be over. But there were no cheers and there were no celebrations. She feared the worst as she huddled into a ball and clutched her belly.

  “Please come back to me, Andrew,” she whispered.

  ***

  Around an hour later, she heard the sounds of hooves pounding across the fields. She ran to the window and looked out to try to see who was coming back to reclaim the castle.

  Would it be the Mathesons, or would Andrew and his father be leading the way?

  She could see a banner high in the sky, being pulled between two horses. The men were all galloping fast towards Castle Urquhart and it was with pure joy and relief that she spotted a gillyflower on the banner. She clapped her hands and squealed with delight. The Urquharts had won! She had helped them reclaim their land and their lives!

  The horse at the front charged in a straight line towards the castle drawbridge, and she could see even from up high that it was him. Her man had returned to her. She ran to the door of the chamber and pulled it open. The guards stood back and let her run down the hallway, following hot on her heels.

  She did not know her way, but she ran for the staircase. She was sure from there she would be able to find her way to him somehow.

  “Andrew!” she cried through the long corridors. “Andrew, where are you?”

  She could hear footsteps running towards her, and as she turned another corner, he was there, a wound on his leg and his arms scratched and bloodied. But he was alive and he was in one piece and that was all that mattered.

  They ran to each other and Andrew scooped her up in his arms. She kissed him as if it was their last day on earth and she never wanted it to end.

  “I love you, Andrew,” she whispered so only he could hear. “And I never want to lose you.”

  “I love you too, Gwen,” he said. “And you never will.”

  Behind them Andrew’s father, Robert, came into view. He watched them with a knowing smile.

  “We won,” he said. “And we couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “He’s right,” Andrew said. “You brought us the sword.”

  “This land is now yours,” Robert said. “The two of you will rule as the leaders of our clan. We need to build a strong family, and you are the ones to do it.”

  Reaching down, Andrew touched her stomach and looked her in the eyes.

  “Will you stay?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, unsure of whether she could truly do it. It would be such a scary, life-changing decision, but the thought of leaving Andrew behind was too painful to bear.

  “You can return if you want to,” Andrew said with a look of fear on his face. “We know how.”

  “You do?” Gwen asked hopefully.

  “Yes,” Andrew nodded. “It was another piece of information passed to us by the ancient oracles.”

  Gwen broke away from him and bit her lip.

  When she had found herself there in Scotland, all she wanted was to wake up and for it all to have been a bad dream. But that was before she had found her connection with Andrew and her sense of purpose. She thought back to her job and her apartment and her lack of any real anchor in her time and then looked at Andrew. He could give her everything she wanted and something about being with him just felt right. She didn’t want to lose that feeling, and she didn’t want to let him go.

  “No,” she said quietly, “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

  Andrew swept her up in his arms and kissed her again.

  “I’m going to make you the happiest woman alive,” he promised.

  And she knew he was telling the truth. Their fate was sealed… They were meant to be.

  THE END

  Thank you so much for reading!

  If you would like to join our VIP club, please click on the badge

  Preview of The Highland’s Call

  If you enjoyed this story, you may also like this Highlander Tale…it is the first of three novellas in the Runes of Argylseries…

  Andrea clutched the small stone in the palm of her hand. It felt cool and smooth and somehow strangely comforting. Her Grandmother Betty had insisted that her only granddaughter be given this small artifact on her death. That had happened over a week ago, as Andrea was driving through New York. It was almost as if she knew. An image of her beloved Gran had flitted through her mind at the exact moment she took her last breath.

  Betty was her father's mother. Her dad Joe had died a few years ago and her mother Pat had remarried. She had never approved of her stepdad, Pete; he could never replace her beloved father.

  Perhaps she was being unfair, but she had always sided with her dad against her mum, and now the two women seemed poles apart, no longer able to communicate with each other. Pat didn’t even attend the funeral. Not that Betty would have minded. She had never approved of the union in the first place.

  Andrea had inherited her Grandma's creative talents and she had been close to Betty when she was a child, closer than to her own mother, but after college she had been offered a three-year contract with a major advertising company in New York, and it had been too good an opportunity to turn down. Betty had understood that she needed to fly the nest. She had been a young woman once, although that seemed such a long time ago.

  Andrea had only seen her Gran when she flew home for Christmas and important family occasions. Then she had met Steve and her life in the US seemed to take on a more permanent footing, until the death of her Grandma had made her suddenly homesick for the English countryside. She loved the buzz and fast-paced life of New York but now longed for some peace and time to reflect and find herself again, and she certainly couldn't do that on Fifth Avenue.
/>
  Steve had stayed behind. He was in the middle of an important project but was willing to travel with her on a trip home for the funeral. For once Andrea didn't feel the need to be accompanied; this time she wanted to be alone with her thoughts and memories. Her insistence on being alone had caused a strain between them, the first serious rift since they got together almost two years ago, and it would be the first time they had spent any real time apart.

  The pressure of the stone against her palm brought her back to the present. It had been almost five days since she left JFK airport, and Steve hadn't phoned her since. Not even yesterday after the funeral to see how she was coping. It saddened her to think the man she had grown to love could be so stubborn and heartless, and she began to question her commitment to the relationship. Did she really know him? He had seemed to be perfect for her, and she had enjoyed his company; yet when she looked back at the continual rounds of friends and parties, drinks and dinners, it seemed somewhat shallow. Lately she had started to feel broody; her body clock reminding her that time was ticking away. She had mentioned it to Steve once in a light-hearted way, and he had held up his hands in mock horror. That would never be the deal with him; his career was way too important, and her needs would always come second.

  Did she and Steve really have anything in common?

  The day was grey and coarse; the wind whipped up sharply from behind the trees and caused her to shiver. She had forgotten the English weather and hadn't prepared nor packed for it.

  Opening her palm, Andrea looked down at the stone in her hand. She remembered seeing it as a child, taking prize position behind the glass in the old china cabinet in her Gran’s front room. Occasionally she had been allowed to take it out and hold it in her small palm. It was pale in color, not quite white and not quite beige. Several markings had been etched deeply into the surface, and she’d been told it once belonged to a white witch with magical powers. As a child, she had held the small token and made a secret wish that she would never grow up, that she would always remain a child. Of course, that hadn't happened. Not physically, anyway—but perhaps in her heart?

  Grandma Betty had always been so full of life, her small blue eyes twinkling on the wrinkled and careworn face. There had been some sadness in her youth, but no one had talked of it and Andrea had never asked, but sometimes she saw a wistful shadow slightly dimming those sparkling eyes.

  And now the stone was hers—that and an old battered leather diary from 1956. Before her death, Grandma Betty had written her a letter, the hand-writing barely legible on the expensive vellum cream paper. It had taken her a while to read the spidery hand.

  Andrea,

  My darling Granddaughter, I fear that I may not see you again. I do hope that is not the case, but I have to be practical. There is so much I should have told you and so much left to say, but my time is running out. Remember the wishing stone you used to ask me about as a child? I leave that to you. It's my most valued possession. You must promise that you will do something for me? The stone needs to be returned to its rightful home on the Isle of Iona, just off the Isle of Mull. You must take it into the Abbey and enter the little graveyard of St. Oran's chapel. Take the stone and place it on the third grave on the left-hand side. I can't explain everything to you in this letter. Most of it I don't understand myself. But you must promise me this, this small pilgrimage of mine. The diary may help? Call it an old woman's ramblings, but as you loved me please do this one last thing for me. The thought of you, my only remaining flesh and blood carrying out this last request, brings peace to my mind as I near my end.

  I will never stop loving you even when I am far away.

  Grandma Betty x

  Tears trickled down her face as she imagined the dear old lady sitting up in bed, scribbling her last instructions to the world. It must have taken a lot of effort to write the letter. She had been in a very weak state in the end and therefore must have considered it extremely important to write.

  Andrea had promised Steve she would be back in a few days, but what would a few more matter? It wasn't as if he was speaking to her anyhow. She would visit Iona. It was the last thing she could do for her grandmother, and although it would mean a further 1000 mile round trip, it would give her some peace of mind to follow her last wishes.

  Click here to continue this compelling short story