Chapter Eight

Janet had been surprised when Euan had awoken her a few hours later indicating that they were going to depart this place where they had shared so much passion together. He had taken her again, thrust himself into her with a groan as though he couldn't seem to help himself, as though her body was the most soothing place in the world for him to be. He had brought her to orgasm at least twice, maybe three times. She had been so groggy with pleasure and peaking she could no longer remember.

Euan had given her a new dress then, a floor length green number that was not only quite beautiful, but also more appropriate for his world. She could only assume that he'd somehow acquired it during the bath she'd taken after he'd married her.

And then he had taught her several new words by leading her outside and pointing to various things. He had been patient in his instruction, which had surprised her. She didn't know why she was surprised really, for he'd been extremely gentle with her ever since he'd captured her.

Perhaps she'd been taken aback because of the way Euan bellowed orders at his men. She'd quickly surmised that he was the leader amongst the group for everyone catered to him efficiently and unquestioningly. If he barked out a command, it was obeyed and answered instantly. It was through these exchanges that by the second day of their journey from the village Janet found herself picking up more and more words from Euan's tongue.

Janet was pleased that she seemed to be learning key words and phrases from his language rather rapidly. Not enough to where she could yet carry on meaningful conversation—they'd been together but three days after all—but enough to where she was slowly beginning to comprehend what he meant without his having to point at whatever word or action he was trying to describe.

The past three days had felt much like a dream to Janet. Riding through the Highlands on horseback, the brisk winds hitting her in the face, stopping to look at the wares of the occasional nomadic craftsman, making camp—and making love—with her husband at night.

Her husband.

The knowledge that she even had a husband, let alone one that had died hundreds of years before she'd been born, was what felt more surreal than anything else. And weirder still, she wasn't altogether certain how she felt about it.

Three days ago Janet would have escaped Euan at first opportunity. Today, if given the choice, she wasn't certain what she'd do. Such an admission was not only startling to her, but terrifying as well.

And Morag—oh how she missed Morag. Janet had no idea at all as to how her best friend was faring. Morag and her captor, a man Janet could safely assume was now Morag's husband, had ridden out ahead of she and Euan the morning following the weddings.

Where Morag had been taken Janet couldn't even begin to speculate. Worse yet, she wasn't well-versed enough in Euan's tongue to put such a higher level question to him. It was one thing to be able to ask for food and drink, quite another altogether to express feelings and concerns. She felt as though she were floating along like a piece of driftwood, unable to control her own destiny and uncertain as to where the waters would lead.

On the fourth day of their journey their entourage had been attacked by a group of bandits that outnumbered their party three to one. One minute Janet had been eating an apple as she rode in front of her husband on his mount and the next she was startled into dropping the piece of fruit by the sound of ear-piercing war cries followed by the thunder of hooves as a group of sword-wielding men assaulted them from the south.

Wide-eyed, her gaze had shot up to Euan's. He had paid her no attention, dashing off toward a tree with thick, high branches instead, and placed her into it for safe-keeping while he'd galloped back to charge directly into the fray.

Janet had been frightened. Not only for herself, but for Euan as well. Tears of frustration and terror had welled up in her eyes as she'd watched him ride off, watched him engage in a fight in which the numbers greatly out stacked any hope of a Donald victory.

A Donald. Janet now understood that her last name was Donald, or MacDonald. Apparently the two names were interchangeable, but since she knew from her own time that "Mac" meant "son of", she could assume that in these times the "Mac" was dropped as redundant, leaving whatever name was behind it to stand solo.

Not that she'd thought about something as inane as name trivia as she'd watched the skirmish unfold. She had considered the naming business later on, after the Donalds had surprised her by quickly vanquishing the threat to them.

It had been chilling, watching her husband kill men before her very eyes, watching as his heavily-muscled and vein-roped arm had bore down on men with such force that his sword had neatly sliced through their now dead carcasses like butter.

He had worn that mask again, that stony fa?ade that was so much a part of him…a part of him that was always in place save for the moments of passion they claimed together at night. But she supposed such a mask was necessary in this world, a needed way of severing all emotion from whatever job had to be done in order to keep your wits—and life—intact.

And so now here she stood on the fifth day of her journey, gazing out into the frigid Highland waters from shore as she watched a large boat being made ready for them to take to…well she didn't know where precisely, could only conjecture from the bits and pieces of Scottish history she'd gleaned while working in Nairn.

Janet knew that the clan MacDonald heralded from the Isle of Skye, that tiny dot of an island in the Hebrides where a man known as the Lord of the Isles had ruled as a king of sorts over the Highland clans in medieval times. She could only surmise, therefore, that since her husband's last name was Donald, or MacDonald, Euan must be of this lord's direct clan.

Janet felt weary, tired and bone-weary from their long journey. And she was confused, still overwhelmed by everything that had taken place this past week. And what's worse, at least to her way of thinking, was that she deeply suspected that she was beginning to grow feelings toward her husband that she wasn't particularly interested in having. Attached feelings. Caring feelings. Feelings of…love.

It was just that he was so…good to her. Euan made her feel special and loved and desired—three things she had never felt for a man back in her own world, most likely because no man had ever felt them for her either. The way he looked at her, the way he held her as though he'd never let her go or let anyone take her from him…it was heady stuff. Heady stuff that had little by little evolved into a deeper affection for him.

But how did he feel for her? she wondered. It was hard to speculate when she wasn't versed enough in his language to speak with him! But, Janet thought somewhat nostalgically, it was only when looking at her—just her—that his mask slipped from place, and bits and pieces of what in any other man would have been termed vulnerability could be seen.

Leaning against the bark of a tree, Janet had closed her eyes for barely a moment when the feel of soft lips placing kisses on her mouth startled her into opening her eyes. She kissed him back without qualm, then smiled up at the gentle giant towering over her. Well, gentle might not be the best term used to describe him, but he was gentle towards her at any rate.

Euan didn't smile at her, but then he never did. She could see the affection for her in his eyes though, the way they seemed to sparkle whenever he looked at her—and only when he looked at her. "Ciamar a tha sibh?" he asked somewhat briskly.

Janet cleared her throat a bit, answering him in broken Old Gaelic. "I am well. How are you?"

"Good. We will travel tae my lands today."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Land," he repeated quite patiently. He stomped his foot on the earth below him and repeated the word. "Land." When her eyes lit up with comprehension, he grunted, his usual response when pleased with her ability to learn quickly.

"We will go on the boat?" she asked him, pointing toward the large wooden vessel in case she was using the wrong word.

Apparently she hadn't. Euan nodded, speaking slowly so she'd understand him. "Aye, we will. 'Twill take most of the day."

Janet noticed that he didn't seem terribly put off by such a notion. And then she understood why when he backed her up against the tree bark and pressed his erection into her belly. The glazed over look in his eyes coupled with his thick erection let her know in no uncertain terms just what he planned to do with her to wile the hours away on the boat.

"Mmm Janet," he murmured against her ear, "I need tae love ye."

Janet's body responded immediately, her nipples hardening and her breath catching. She knew her own eyes were glazed over, could feel them narrowing. "Yes," she whispered.

And then Janet did something she never would have been bold enough to do to a man in her own time. Reaching up under his plaid, she wrapped her palm and fingers around his thick cock and began to masturbate him.

Startled, though not unpleasantly so, Euan sucked in his breath. "Ah Janet." He closed his eyes, clearly trying to steady himself, and pushed at her hand. "Stop," he said gruffly. "Later, wife."

But Janet wasn't listening. She felt empowered by the response he always gave her, brazen and daring.

Euan was given only a moment to wonder at the mischievous look suddenly in his wee wife's eyes, his own nearly bulging from their sockets when she dropped to her knees and her head disappeared beneath his plaid. Right here under a tree. Where anyone could walk upon them. She was massaging his balls underneath his plaid.

"Chan eil," he hissed under his breath. No.

But again, Janet wasn't listening. She'd never done this for him before and suddenly she wanted to do it more than anything on earth. She took him into her mouth, sucking from tip to base, deep-throating him in one suck. She was elated when he gasped in astonishment, then acquiesced to her on a low moan.

Obviously this wasn't an activity women of his time knew much about. Good, she thought wantonly. The realization that for once he was more of a virgin in this arena than her made her all the more determined to bring him to orgasm.

"Janet," he said harshly, a disembodied voice from where she couldn't see him on the other side of the plaid.

And then she was pumping him in and out of her mouth in quick sucking strokes, letting his cock go almost the entire way out of her mouth before suctioning him back in with her lips and tongue. She knew the smacking sounds of her suckling were as much a turn-on to him as they were to her.

Janet realized the exact moment when Euan mentally capitulated. His breathing ragged and choppy, he thrust the plaid from around her so he could watch his cock disappear into the depths of her mouth and throat. He groaned at the wicked sight, his muscles cording and tensing. "Aye, Janet," he said hoarsely. "Dinna stop kissing me."

Grabbing her by the back of the head with both large hands, he helped to ease himself in and out of her mouth, riding her faster and faster, much as he did to her pussy while mating.

Janet gave him everything, holding back nothing. She sucked him hard, faster and harder, in and almost out, over and over, faster and faster. Kneading his tightly-drawn scrotum with both hands, she suckled on him relentlessly, knowing from his now incessant moaning that he was about to burst.

"Tha, Janet," he gritted out between pants, his jaw clenching as he continued to ride her mouth, "doit mo bhod." Suck on my cock.

And then he was coming, riding her hard as he spurt into her mouth, moaning louder than she'd ever heard him moan before, uncaring if anyone heard what they were about.

Janet drank of him, sucked every drop of him dry, until his cock once again lay flaccid and sated in the nest of dark curls at his groin.

Euan drew her up to her feet, hugging her tightly against him, as if thanking her.

* * * * *

Five hours and three blow jobs later, Janet decided that she had created a monster. Her jaw was sore, she was slightly seasick from the rough movement of the waters in a postage-stamp sized cabin that boasted one tiny bed of animal furs and a few small slits for breathing in oxygen, yet she couldn't seem to stop herself from obliging his carnal longings.

Clearly, Euan was enthralled with the new form of pleasure she'd introduced to him. He hadn't left her side once. Not even to go check on the voyage's progress.

Three times now Janet had fallen asleep with a sated cock in her mouth and three times she had been woken up to a stiff, thick erection poking at her lips, wanting entry. She always gave it to him, of course, then secreted away a smile when she'd hear her husband moan as he closed his eyes and laid back to enjoy a special treat.

Janet honestly didn't know how her jaw was withstanding so much sucking, but it was. Every time she got sore to the point where she didn't think she could carry on, it took but once glance toward Euan's face to change her mind.

His expression while she sucked on his cock reminded her of what she assumed a little boy who'd discovered masturbating for the first time would look like—gloriously enraptured. A man who had found and captured Nirvana.

* * * * *

Euan simply could not get enough of his wife's suckling. He knew he was being hard on her poor mouth, but he kept awakening from his slumber with a rock-hard erection and a new load of juice that needed relieved. And by the saints, 'twas bliss the way Janet relieved him. He'd never before experienced such a sinful delight.

"Ah Janet," he murmured, as he watched her beautiful mouth slurp up his cock. "Keep kissing him," he groaned. "Dinna stop, love."

Love. Not a word he'd expected to feel for his wife. Not a word he'd felt for any female save his daughter Glynna.

Nay. With Janet he had felt lust upon seeing her, more lust than he'd ever entertained in his life. Lust that had driven him to capture her twice, lust that had speeded him towards the first village with a priest just so he could rut inside of her, lust that had kept his cock hard and pumping his cream into her more often than he'd believed to be possible.

But somehow over the course of the journey back home, over the course of fucking her mindless and spewing inside of her several times a night, the Lord of the Isles had fallen in love with his captured bride.

He would never let her leave him. Never.

Euan sucked in his breath and groaned as Janet released his cock from her mouth and bent lower to suckle of his man's sac. Running his fingers through her long curly hair, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the bliss.

Nay. He would never let her go.