Chapter Six

Janet stood inside of the crude hut Euan had cloistered her inside of an hour past, wondering morosely if this pathetic place was to be her new and permanent home. The hut boasted but one room…one single, solitary room. A hay-strewn bed lay at one side of it, a kitchen-like area with a few clay bowls on the other, and a solitary chair in the middle. That was it. No tables. No more chairs. No anything. She hated it immensely.

Naked, Janet covered her breasts with her hands as best she could while she watched two village women remove the crudely made tub she'd just bathed in from the one-room hut. She nibbled on her bottom lip, hoping that the women would hurry up and come back with her clothes. She didn't want to be caught unawares when her husband returned.

Her husband. Janet groaned. Good lord! How would she ever get out of this mess, find Morag, return to Nairn, and get back to the future? The task set before her was simply overwhelming.

The wooden door opened a moment later causing Janet's head to shoot up. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and her eyes widened skittishly when she realized that the new occupant was not one of the village women that had helped to bathe her, but instead the very man she least wanted to see while naked.

Dusk was just beginning to settle over the Highlands, so there was still enough light to see the heat in Euan's eyes as his black gaze raked insolently over her body. He was erect, very erect she could easily surmise, his penis bulging against the plaid he still wore.

He closed the door quietly behind him and made his way slowly towards her. Janet sucked in her breath and took a reflexive step backwards.

Euan stopped in his tracks, approaching her cautiously again, just as he had in the tent before tending to her knees. It was then that she noticed he carried a platter of some sort. Food. Against her will, her stomach growled hungrily in reaction to it.

"Hai." He dipped his head. His blazing eyes raked over her flesh once more, lingering over long at the clipped tawny curls between her thighs, but he made no movement to touch her.

"Hi," she whispered back. She gnawed on her lower lip and looked away.

It occurred to her that it was stupid to stand there shielding her breasts from his view when her mons was completely bared to him. But nonsensical or not, she continued to cup them.

Part of it was borne of fear, knowing what he meant to do to her and knowing equally well she wouldn't have enough physical power to stop him when he did. But she had spent all day long with him, first while he tended to her knees and then again for the long trek on horseback to the rugged area of the Highlands they were now in. She was afraid of him yes, but not as acutely as she'd once been. He treated her too tenderly to fear him too much.

No, it was definitely more than fear that kept her hands cupping her breasts. It was also reflex, Janet's naturally shy reaction to standing totally divested of clothing in front of a male.

Back home in the States she had endured all manner of teasing as a child and then again as an adolescent. Pudgy. Plump. Fat. Fluffy. Big-boned. Piggy. She'd heard every derogatory term imaginable coupled with her name, every euphemism there was to express the fact that she wasn't a rail and would therefore never be as desirable as every woman wanted to be to the opposite sex.

But this man, she told herself staunchly, this man had captured her, made her his prisoner, taken her against her will, even married her for the love of God! If he wasn't happy with the end result that was his own doing. Perhaps he'd even let her go once he realized his mistake.

Firmly resolved to get it over with while she was still angry enough to do it, she dropped her hands from her breasts and thrust her chin defiantly up. Her nostrils flaring, she stood there and waited for him to reject her.

His reaction wasn't quite what she had been expecting.

Euan groaned, the fire in his eyes raging brightly, licking over every lushly rounded curve, every nuance of her fertile figure. He didn't seem at all put off by her body. In fact, he gazed at her with such obvious desire that Janet's nipples involuntarily puckered up for him and her breath caught for the briefest of moments.

Biting her lip, she glanced away, shaken by both of their reactions. Now what did she do? She'd feel like an idiot re-covering her breasts at this point.

And then the decision was taken away from her as she heard him put down the platter of food and come to her. Two large, callused hands cupped her breasts and gently kneaded them like soft dough. He plumped them up with his hands, taking the nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers, and massaged them from roots to tips.

Janet closed her eyes and gasped. "No. Please. No."

From somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her that her voice sounded smoky with passion, not defiant with anger and fear. Euan didn't speak her language, she reminded herself, as he began to massage her breasts and nipples into a deeper state of arousal. If she wanted him to understand that his touch wasn't welcome, she'd better sound more forceful.

Janet's green eyes flew open and locked with Euan's black ones. He continued to stroke her, tug just the right amount on her nipples, just enough to where it didn't hurt but sent tremors of desire coursing through her blood instead. She opened her mouth to say no, but found herself sighing and her eyes glazing over instead.

He was handsome. Incredibly, impossibly, muscular and virile. The sort of man that would never look twice at her in her own time, but for some reason or another was fascinated by her in this one.

This was—madness. She couldn't even speak with him, couldn't converse with him, knew nothing about him beyond the fact that his name was Euan and he was well-versed in tending to wounded knees…among other things.

And then one of his hands dropped a heavy breast and a callused finger found the sensitive piece of flesh between her thighs and stroked it. "Oh God," she breathed out. Janet's head dipped back, her neck bared to him, all rational thought out the proverbial window. "Oh God."

Where a minute ago she would have tried to say no, she found in this moment that her feet were moving apart to give his hand better access to her clit. She closed her eyes against her worries and fears, accepting the pleasure, and moaned softly.

It was all the impetus Euan needed to further his ministrations. "Mmm, tha," he rumbled as his eyes watched her face, as his hand cupped her wet flesh and felt her liquid dewing up for him.

And then he was lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. He sat her down on the edge of it and splayed her legs wide.

Janet offered him no resistance, opening them impossibly wider for him instead so that her labia was on prominent display. The entire scene felt surreal, like it had to be happening to any woman but her. A more brazen woman. A more wicked woman. Not the reserved and mousy Janet Duval.

He traced the slick folds of her flesh with one callused finger, the look on his face reminding her of someone who'd found the most glorious treasure on earth and wanted to explore every facet of it. His reaction to her body was heady enough to induce her nipples to pop out further as desire shot through her at lightning speed.

"Oh lord." He was rubbing her flesh again, stroking her clit, exploring every wet nook and cranny. Her head dangled backwards like a puppet. She leaned back on her elbows and splayed her legs as wide as they would go. He began to rub her more briskly, faster and faster. "Euan."

"Mmm, te brèagha," he rasped out.

Beautiful one. He'd called her beautiful one. She'd understood that, knew that expression from her friends in Nairn. Her breathing grew more labored with each touch.

Faster. Faster.

Oh lord the stroking was faster, brisker…faster still. "Oh God."

She was soaking his hand, saturating his fingers. And still impossibly faster. "I'm coming Euan."

"Tha, te brèagha," he urged her on. Yes, beautiful one.

He didn't need to understand her language to comprehend what words she was groaning out. Her body was telling him.

"Euan," she moaned. "Faster. Yes…God—faster." On a final groan, her head snapped back, her nipples shot out, and her labia turned a juicy red as her orgasm blew. Blood coursed into her vagina and nipples, heating her body, burning even her face.

And then he was coming down on top of her…already naked? She didn't know when or how he'd discarded his plaid but didn't care either. She made him do a little groaning of his own when she pulled him roughly down on top of her and wantonly wrapped her legs around his waist. She wanted him to fill her—needed him to fill her.

Euan clenched his jaw as he poised his thick cock at her entrance. If she didn't slow down a wee bit he was liable to do her damage. "Gabh do thìde," he gritted out. Take your time.

But she was wild for him, his beautiful wee wife. Hot and wild. He'd never experienced such a primal reaction from a wench, had never seen a woman filled with such passion as his Janet. He was more glad than ever that he'd snatched the wrong wench for a wife.

Instead of slowing down, she gyrated her hips, thrusting them upward towards his jutting cock. It was his undoing. There was only so much a man could take, the Donald or no.

Grabbing her by the hips, he thrust deeply inside of her tight, wet flesh, groaning like a man possessed as he did so. Christ but he'd never felt anything so tight and welcoming.

"Oh Euan."

She was breathing out his name in her passion already, he thought with more than a little arrogance. Grabbing his wife's large, elongated nipples, he settled his body atop hers and began thrusting into her in long, deep strokes. He rolled the nipples around with his fingers, tugging at them in the way he'd discovered she liked.

"Faster."

She groaned out that foreign word over and over again. As much as he wished it otherwise, Euan knew not her meaning. He continued burrowing into her in long, agonizingly languid strokes.

"Faster," she all but shouted, this time arching her hips to pummel at his cock in quick strokes.

Ahh. Now that he understood.

Euan released his hold on Janet's breasts and came down fully on top of her. Twining a handful of her long, sweetly scented hair around his fist, he locked gazes with her just before he rammed himself home.

She groaned, her head falling back upon the bed as he rode her body hard, fucking her sweet cunt in fast thrusts. "Tha domh phuiseag fearachdainn math," he said hoarsely. Your pussy feels good.

Sweat-soaked skin slapped against sweat-soaked skin. The sound of Janet's sweet cunt sucking up his manhood reverberated throughout the shepherd's hut. Euan growled as he went primal on her, fucking her harder and faster, riding the body he now owned by law into ecstasy and oblivion.

"Euan."

His name on Janet's lips as her back arched and her body climaxed for him was powerfully arousing. She shivered and convulsed, moaning wantonly as she burst all around him.

In one fluid movement, he grabbed her hips and rammed himself inside of her body, over and over, again and again. Quick strokes. Deep thrusts. Flesh slapping flesh.

His muscles corded and bunched. His jaw clenched. He rode her fast, hard, like an animal. "Leamsa." Mine.

And then he burst.

Nostrils flaring, Euan's black gaze collided with Janet's as he thrust home once more, then on a groan of completion, spurt himself deep inside of her.

They held each other like that, both of them spent and breathing deeply, both of them too exhausted and replete to speak.

Euan bent his neck to sip gently from her lips. Janet accepted him without hesitation, sweeping her tongue out to meet with his. They kissed slowly for a minute or two, sweet and languid brush strokes until their mingling stopped completely.

Entwined with each other in every way possible, they fell fast asleep.