Chapter 4

Holy.

Christ.

Holy Christ on the Cross !

Pleasure burst over Brigit, white-hot and bright as the noon sun, and she curled forward around her core, around Drummond's head, trying to capture the sensations.

The man knew what she liked.

How could he always make her come so quickly? It was a combination of his words, his fingers knowing exactly what to do, and his tongue… Dear God in Heaven, his tongue.

Panting, Brigit allowed her muscles to relax, to feel . The frissons of pleasure, the jolts of pure excitement were beginning to fade, and as she exhaled, she felt herself loosen from around him.

As she leaned back once more, Drum's face appeared from the pile of her skirts. He was grinning, self-satisfied and cocky, and his mouth and chin were covered in her spend.

Brigit had never been a self-conscious sort of person, but the first time a lover had made her squirt liquid, she'd thought something horrible had happened. After much experimentation on her own, she'd realized it only happened with the very best of orgasms and was something to be proud of.

Drummond seemed proud of it too, judging from the way he licked his lips.

He rose to his feet, body relaxed, manner at ease, as if he'd also been satiated by that amazing release. But she saw the way he gripped himself through his kilt, stroking his cock almost lazily.

"Come here," she ordered huskily, pushing herself upright and reaching for him.

But Drum just shook his head slowly, his smile easy as he stroked himself. "Dinnae be daft, lass, that was for ye."

Hungrily, she eyed the shape in his kilt. "This is for me, too. And I cannae have ye walking around all day with a loaded cannon hanging between yer legs—I'll worry." She beckoned him impatiently. "Come here."

Holding her gaze, Drum flipped up the front of his kilt and she eagerly took in the sight of his thickness. Blessed Virgin, she loved the way he was so casual about his body, his impressive cock.

When he grasped the thing, wrapping his fingers around its width to spread her wetness across it, they both sighed in satisfaction.

She sat there on his desk, legs spread, desire dripping from her core, down her thighs…and her inner muscles spasmed again at the thought of him filling her.

So Brigit beckoned him again. "Drummond, ye're making me ache again."

Aye, his grin was a bit cocky as he stepped between her legs, still stroking himself. "Ye're certain, lass?"

As he asked that, the tip of his cock rested against her entrance, and the movement from his strokes sent a shudder through her. She loved how nonchalant he was, as if ‘twas her pleasure, her desires which mattered .

Drummond Kennedy made her feel powerful.

So she reached up, grasped the sides of his head, and pulled his lips down to hers. She made certain to stroke his cheeks with her thumbs, and the little noise of surrender he made caused her insides to flutter again.

When he straightened, he reached for her breasts, still hanging heavy in the cool air of his office. His cock slid along the wetness of her cleft, the tip of it hitting her clitoris, causing her to gasp, even as his fingers reached her nipples.

He knew how sensitive her nipples were, and treated them like royal jewels, rolling them gently between his thumbs and forefingers, as he lowered his mouth to the little spot where her neck met her shoulder.

The feeling of his stubbled whiskers there, on her sensitive skin, made her shudder again. With a moan, she tipped her head to one side, allowing him to kiss up her throat as his fingers and callused palms sent quivers through her.

And through it all, he rocked his hips against her core, sliding his cock along her wetness, across her already-sensitive cunny lips, until she was shuddering with need. Each thrust caused the head of his cock to brush against her pearl, and soon she was rocking forward to meet him, to prolong the delicious friction.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd spilled like this, against her. But Brigit wanted more . Her core was still humming from her first orgasm, and she needed to be stretched, to be filled. By him .

"Drum!" she gasped. "More, please. "

She felt him smile against her neck even as she reached between their bodies, shifting and rearranging until she could grasp him by the base and angle him where she wanted him.

As his cock slid into her weeping core, they both stiffened, then relaxed with a sigh.

Aye.

He was still for a moment, but then began to move, the same rocking motion. Brigit kept her fingers between them so she could stroke herself, and ‘twas a good thing, because having him inside her was building her pleasure to the same point where it had been with his fingers and lips.

"Christ, Brigit, ye feel perfect," he groaned appreciatively, and she felt herself smirking, even as she gasped at the sensations sweeping through her. "So wet, all for me."

"All for ye," she gasped. "Ye, Drummond."

Blessed Virgin, only him!

Her legs reached around his thighs, ankles linking behind his arse so he could increase the power behind his thrusts. She pulled her hand from between them so she could reach for his shoulders. One of his hands still cupped and caressed her breast, but his other supported her lower back, holding her against him as his movements became stronger, less controlled.

This is what she loved; when he went all beastly and unrestrained. It made her feel powerful as well, to know she had this effect on him.

Then his hand moved from her breast, lower, between them. His palm was flat against her pelvis as he thrust, and his thumb …

This thumb found her clitoris again, and the way he touched it—light brushes alternating with flicks because of his movements—sent her soaring.

"Drum!" she gasped again, tightening her legs around him.

"Come for me, Brigit," he crooned, rubbing her pearl, his cock filling her. "Come for me, like a good lass." His teeth nipped at her neck.

That was all the encouragement she needed.

Brigit groaned as her pleasure exploded again, her inner muscles squeezing his cock. Drum's thrusts slowed, then stilled, allowing her to gyrate beneath him, milking her pleasure for each spasm, each breath-stealing wave of ecstasy.

All for her.

But Brigit didn't want that. She wanted him to find pleasure as well. So even as her orgasm crashed over her, she reached for him, pulling his lips down to hers again.

He tasted of her , and she'd never considered that to be an erotic flavor, but Blessed Virgin, this was Drummond . Her fingers dug into the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer, urging him to give himself to her.

It worked.

With a groan, he stiffened in her arms then rocked forward, plunging his cock to its hilt inside her. She felt him spill, felt the flood of warmth, of liquid heat filling her.

And all she felt was satisfaction.

He was a considerate lover, one who kept track of her cycle and knew when to spill outside her body. But today? Today was different. Special .

And the absolute shite of it was…she didn't know why.

Was this a goodbye? Or an acknowledgement of his innocence?

Or an attempt to apologize for all the secrets she'd held from him?

Because she knew what she had to do.

She had to bring him to the Queen, and when she did, he'd realize she'd been lying to him about who she really was.

Slowly, Brigit moved her hands down to his shoulders, then to his upper arms, tightening her fingers, squeezing him with her entire body. When she pressed her palms to the back of his shoulders, hugging him, she was holding his body with all of hers.

All of her heart and soul.

"God's Blood, Brigit," he whispered against her neck, where he had burrowed his face after he'd spilled. "That was…"

Magnificent .

So she sat there, holding him, cherishing him, allowing herself to feel all the joy, the regret, the guilt, the pleasure…as the sun sank in the afternoon sky.

Finally, his entire body shuddered, as if he'd been in a daze and now he was coming out of it, and he slowly straightened. As he pulled away, his softened cock slid from her, and Brigit couldn't help the way she squeezed just slightly, as if she could keep him—all of him—with her.

The rueful twitch of his lips told her he understood .

But he merely sighed and flipped his kilt back down, then moved toward the wash cabinet where he kept the wash basin and rags, along with his whisky and glasses. He returned to her with a wet rag and cleaned her just as gently, just as reverently as he'd touched her before.

She was used to this treatment, but still, today was…different. She placed her hands on his shoulders in a kind of benediction as he performed the ablutions, and wondered if this was to be their last time together.

He's innocent .

The certainty filled her.

Drummond hadn't tried to kill the King. No one could act as well as he had today, especially not knowing she was a Queen's Angel. He was innocent, but he'd have to convince Their Majesties.

"Dine with me tonight," she blurted.

From the way he twitched a brow as he straightened, he hadn't expected the invitation. She hadn't expected to issue it either. But she had to.

"Aright," he finally said, tossing the rag aside and arranging her skirts over her legs once more. He took hold of her waist and gently tugged her forward, until her arse reached the edge of the desk. "Where?"

With her palms on his chest, she tipped her head back to study him and named a place to meet. She'd take him to see the King and Queen, but he wouldn't suspect, not ahead of time.

But with a quick nod, he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

"Ah, lass, ye do my auld heart good. "

There was that tone again, a bit of sorrow, a bit of regret. Brigit wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his kiss. "Ye dinnae feel so auld to me."

A little huff of air against her hair, as if he might be laughing, then another kiss. His lips lingered atop her crown, and they stood like that for a long moment, wrapped around one another, reluctant to pull away.

Brigit lost count of how long they stood like that; she'd closed her eyes and could almost imagine herself drifting in and out of sleep, although upright. She could feel his slow and steady breath against her hair, hear his heart beating strongly.

Finally he stirred, but she was unwilling to let him go. "What are ye thinking of?"

He hummed. "Och, all sorts of things." She thought that was going to be the end of it, but he hesitated, then admitted, "Today was…fun."

Surprised, Brigit pulled away long enough to glance up at him. "Fun? Even though the stakes are so high?"

"Even so."

She grinned. "I agree."

His lips twisted a little wryly, and she pressed her cheek to his chest again. She felt the rumble of his voice deep in his chest as he spoke.

"I…have never had a partner like ye. On an investigation. We work well together."

They did. "Like me?" she repeated. "A lover?"

He huffed what might've been a laugh. "A female . I…had a bad experience, and have no' allowed myself to work with women. Or for women. "

Oh, the Queen wasn't going to like that. But she needed to hear all the information possible, so Brigit pushed. "Tell me about it." To be honest, she wanted to know for herself , not just for Her Majesty.

He hesitated, then took a deep breath as if preparing himself. " ‘Twas one of my first assignments as a Hunter, a decade ago. I was young and cocky, and I was sent to escort a lady to a nunnery. Her family disapproved, and I admired her dedication to Christ."

There was a twist in his tone, as if he were laughing at himself, that made Brigit say, "Was she?"

"Nay. Rebecca was…ambitious. She lied to her family, lied to me. Let me believe we had a chance at a future together."

Sucking in an angry breath, Brigit straightened to frown up at him. "Ye loved her?"

A pause, then he shrugged, his expression carefully blank. "I thought I did. I thought she loved me too. By then I kenned she didnae really want to become a nun—she wouldnae have used me that way. She wanted power, and was planning on becoming an abbess at the least. She just needed me—and the King's name—to get her away from her family."

Brigit felt her nose curl in disgust. "There are some who will do aught for power. She sounds verra determined."

He shrugged, but she tightened her hold so as not to lose contact with him. "When I left her at the nunnery, she told me I was a fool to trust her. To trust any woman. She said a strong woman will do what needs to be done to better her life, since nae one else will do it for her. "

Frowning, Brigit shook her head, but the movement turned into a sigh and a shrug. "I guess…there's some truth there, honestly. But no' all women are like that."

"Clearly." He squeezed her, then dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Today taught me I've been wrong all these years. There are some women who no' only I can trust, but I can partner with. Have ye ever considered a career in espionage, lass?"

The question was so ludicrous, Brigit felt a hopeless sort of chuckle bubbling up from her chest. "Me?" The word came out too quickly, too squeaky.

He's going to learn the truth. He'll ken ye've been hiding secrets all these months .

Aye, but…but let her have a few more hours of peace with him. Knowing his innocence, and him not knowing her guilt.

"I dinnae like this Rebecca of yers," she finally muttered, dropping her forehead to his chest. "She's ruined ye for the rest of us."

"No' the rest of ye, lass," he whispered, brushing his lips against her hair again. "Just ye. I think…I think I could be happy with ye."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Brigit whispered the truth into the stillness of her own heart.

I could be happy with ye too, Drummond Kennedy .

‘Twas too bad she was cursed to betray him as badly as this Rebecca had.