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Highland Wolf

Book by Lynsay Sands · 38 quotes · Claray Macfarlane, Claray And Bryson, The Wolf

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Highland Wolf Quotes

“Unsure what she was doing, she simply emulated his actions, allowing her tongue to tangle with his. It brought a growl from his throat that made her shiver, and then his kiss became hungrier and deeper, almost violent as his hands began moving, caressing her everywhere. He kneaded her back, urging her flush against him again, then let his fingers slide over her arms, and her sides, before his hands suddenly clasped her waist and he lifted and turned her to straddle him. The moment he'd settled her there, his hands shifted down and around to clasp her bottom. He then squeezed her cheeks through her gown, his fingers meeting in the middle and brushing against her core through the cloth. Claray gasped into his mouth at the touch and began to suck frantically on his tongue in response. When he released her bottom to tug at the top of her gown, dragging it off her shoulders, she let her hands drop to help him. The moment the wet cloth slid away to pool around her in the water, his hands claimed her breasts through the thin cloth of her shift. Claray broke their kiss on a cry at the touch, her hands grasping at his upper arms and then moving down to his wrists, urging him on. She looked down then to see that the thin linen of her shift had gone almost transparent. She could see the pink of her breasts and the darker rose of her nipples as his fingers squeezed the full globes and his thumbs ran back and forth over her hard, excited nipples. Watching him touch her so intimately only added to Claray's excitement and she found herself shifting in his lap, mindlessly rubbing herself against the hardness she could feel beneath her. When the Wolf gasped in response and claimed her mouth again, she kissed him frantically back and continued to move against him until he suddenly released her breasts and rolled them in the water. Only his hand under her neck kept her head from being submerged. Distracting her with kisses, the Wolf dragged her closer to shore until her head was out of the water and then broke their kiss to move upright. Kneeling with his legs in either side of her he then let his eyes slide over her, hot and hungry.”

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“Claray started to turn away, but then stopped and whirled back to give him a quick kiss, then promptly blushed at the spontaneous action when his eyebrows flew up. "Wives kiss husbands when they part," she muttered to cover her embarrassment, and headed away, only to have him catch her arm and draw her back. "That was no' a proper kiss," he announced solemnly, and then commenced to show her his version, which left her breathless and flushed when he released her and walked back to the men.”

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“Claray murmured sleepily, smiled and cuddled into the warmth wrapped around her. Only to blink her eyes open with surprise when her shifting brought on a responding movement that had her suddenly on her back with something heavy thrown across her legs and something else almost equally heavy across her chest just below her breasts. There was also a sleepy grumbling in her ear that blew the hair around her face. It was followed by a smacking of lips and a murmur of unintelligible words. Despite all of this, it took a full moment for her to realize that the warmth wrapped around her was the Wolf. She'd been resting on top of his chest; however, her squirming around had made the man roll and now he was the one on top. Well, sort of, she acknowledged wryly. Really, he was on his side next to her. But his one arm and leg were cast over her and cuddling her close, while his lips were now... well, she wasn't sure what his lips were doing, though it felt like he was chewing lightly on her ear. And why was that sending little arrows of heat and tingling through her body?”

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“Yer uncle said as how it looked a fine beast, and MacFarlane said 'twas a stubborn bastard, and in fact its name is Stubborn Bastard because they got so used to calling it that when it would no' let anyone ride it. Claimed he was thinkin' the beast a waste o' horseflesh and was considerin' killin' him when his daughter, yer lady wife, took an interest in him. He said she tamed it with a few soft words and an apple or two, and the next thing he knew it was following her around the bailey like a dog and letting her ride on him.”

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“Ye may kiss me again if ye like, husband, for I promise to enjoy it." "Do ye now?" he asked with a faint smile. Then bent to nip at her ear before trailing his lips down her neck. "Aye," she breathed, squirming against his body in the water. It wasn't the kiss she'd meant, but this was nice too. "And do ye like this?" he asked, his voice a husky growl as one hand covered her breast underwater and began to knead. "Or this?" His other hand pressed against her bottom as he moved closer to the stairs, so that she rode lower in the water and her groin rubbed against his. "Oh, aye," she moaned, arching her back and wrapping her legs around his hips so that their bodies rubbed together more firmly. The action earned her another kiss, this one hot and demanding as he carried her out of the water and up the steps.”

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“Her breasts were full and high, her hips curvy, and the triangle of curly strawberry blond hair at the juncture of her thighs was as visible as her dusky rose nipples. Conall heard Payton move away, but didn't take his eyes off Claray. She was a sight to make a man's mouth water and his cock spring up, ready for action, and he was experiencing both right then. He wanted to taste those dusky nipples rather than just touch them, and he wanted to bury his face between her legs and sample her sweetness.”

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“It was about the sexiest thing Conall had ever seen. While her gown had hidden most of her as she'd carried it out of the water, and she'd turned away quickly after laying it over the boulder, there was nothing hiding her assets now. Her shift was as good as useless, the nearly transparent material clinging to her curves as her position thrust her breasts into the air. Her nipples were small pebbles peaking the cloth. They looked to be as hard as they had been when he'd caressed her and now he wondered if it had been him or the cold that had brought on that result earlier.”

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“My sweeting is nice," Claray commented. "Nay," Conall said quickly, and when she looked at him with surprise, he tried to cover his horror at the thought of being called that, by saying, "I'd rather call ye that and we can no' both use it." "Oh," she breathed, seeming pleased at the idea of his calling her that. He made a mental note to use it, and to come up with other endearments to please her. Flower, perhaps. Or petal, to reflect how beautiful and precious he found her.”

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“She stared after him, her eyes widening when his plaid suddenly dropped to pool around his feet. He then tugged his shirt off over his head, bent to grab up the heavy plaid and strode into the water carrying both. Claray knew she should turn away, but couldn't seem to manage that as her eyes slid over his wide, muscular back and then down to the round curves of his derriere. They stopped there briefly before moving on to his strong thighs, and shapely calves. Claray had never thought she would call a man beautiful, but Conall was, and she found herself fascinated by the play of muscles in his back, buttocks and legs as he moved.”

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“He had apparently finished cleaning his clothes and set them on the boulder while she fussed with her plaid. Now he was done bathing too and was coming out of the river, his front as fully on display as his behind had been as he'd gone in. Claray's eyes ran over his chest and arms, taking in his wide shoulders and bulging pecs, then cascaded down over his rippling stomach to---Gasping, she whirled abruptly away and covered her eyes as if she could erase what she'd just seen. Good heavens, that was really... a terribly undignified appendage, she thought with a shake of the head.”

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“Like their wedding night, he quickly brought her passion back to life, and she was suddenly afraid he'd find his release and leave her wanting again as he had then. But even as she had that worry, he raised himself up on his knees, lifted her hips to the angle he wanted with one hand and then began to caress her above where they were joined with the other as he continued to thrust into her. Conall watched her the whole time, his eyes moving over her jiggling breasts and then to her face as she twisted her head on the ground. Claray had the brief thought that she should be embarrassed, but was too wrapped up in the sensations he was causing in her to care, and then she cried out with her release, and Conall gave one last hard thrust, burying himself deep inside her as his shout of pleasure joined hers.”

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“Turning back the way she'd been heading, she scanned the surrounding area, her gaze halting on a sweet little baby deer moving toward her on wobbly legs. "Ohhh," she almost moaned, enchanted at the sight. It was obviously very young, and not yet used to walking, or perhaps not strong enough. Rather than his legs being directly under him, they were spread out somewhat and he was staggering like a drunken fool. "Oh, ye sweet thing," Claray cooed when it made its way directly to her and into her skirts.”

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“Squeak scrambled down his body to hers and disappeared inside her gown again. She felt him squirm around between her breasts, finding a comfy spot, and then glanced up to see Payton walking beside them, staring wide-eyed at where the stoat had disappeared. Catching her eye he grinned. "I did wonder where ye kept him hidden all the time. Now I ken." "Aye, now ye ken," the Wolf growled with irritation. "So ye can stop ogling the lass. She's betrothed to another." Claray turned to him with surprise. "Nay. I'm no'. Remember? I told ye. I was betrothed to Bryson MacDonald, but he and his parents were murdered while I was still a bairn. I ha'e no betrothed now." "See. She has no' betrothed now," Payton said cheerfully, and then confided to her, "Fortunately enough, m'lady, neither ha'e I. Mayhap we should get to know each other better and see if we would no' suit each other.”

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“She wasn't surprised when Lovey gave up his spot under a tree where he'd been napping to rush to accompany her. Neither was she surprised to see Squeak sitting up on the base of his neck, his little paws clutching at the wolf's fur to keep his seat as he looked around like a little emperor. The stoat didn't like the jostling he suffered when Claray constantly bent over and straightened while weeding the gardens, and had taken to climbing out of her dress and scrambling over to climb onto Lovey to sleep while she worked. Much to her surprise, the wolf was tolerating it.”

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“It wouldn't have done to return with his cock making a tent in his plaid. Which is what it had been doing when he'd left Claray. Fortunately, it had calmed down and deflated during the trek back. Unfortunately, his emotions hadn't calmed down along with it. Conall's thoughts were in utter chaos at the moment. Half of his mind was recalling how sweet Claray had tasted when he kissed her. How her moans and mewls and gasps of pleasure had excited him. How her kisses, though inexpert at first, had quickly become as hungry and demanding as his own. How her nails had dug into the skin of his back and shoulders as she urged him on. And how her body had responded to his touch, her nipples pebbling, her body writhing and rising to meet his caresses. The feel of her warm slick excitement as he'd delved between her legs to caress her had almost driven him mad with the need to plunge into all that wet heat. He still wanted to.”

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“Where is Claray's horse?" "This is Claray's mount," her father announced, and she couldn't help noticing his pride as he glanced to the black steed pulling impatiently at the reins Edmund was holding on to to keep the huge beast from charging up the steps to greet her. "It's a stallion," Conall protested as they reached the bottom of the steps. "Ladies usually ride mares." "Aye. Well, she rides him well, and the stubborn bastard'll no' let anyone else on his back so I gave him to her two years ago," her father explained as Claray slipped her hand from Conall's to move to the horse and give him a soothing hug. The moment she touched his neck and leaned her head on him, the horse calmed, rested his head on her shoulder and raised his front leg to hook his foreleg around one of her calves in his version of a hug.”

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“She had worried for her soul because she'd enjoyed the bedding too. But where she'd accepted that it must be all right because she'd vowed to obey Conall and he'd ordered her to enjoy it, this woman had... well, she'd lost her mind as far as Claray could tell. Mhairi believed that enjoying the bedding was a sin that would see her soul in hell, but that killing so many innocent people would redeem her. It was madness.”

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“The thunder of the other riders loud in her ears, Claray didn't hesitate, but threw herself protectively to her knees in front of the wolf, her arms instinctively going around him, lest any of the men thought to attack the beautiful creature. Of course, the wolf thought this a fine game and promptly started licking the side of her face, her head and shoulder and anything he could reach, making happy little whining sounds of greeting as he did. At which point, Stubborn Bastard decided he wasn't to be left out and started to nibble and lick at the back of her head as well.”

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“The lass was sleeping and the realization made him smile. He liked that she trusted him so much. He also liked the way she cuddled into him as she did. He liked the heat of her body against his own too. And he liked her smell. Every time her hair whipped into his face, he got a whiff of wildflowers and spring rain. It made him want to duck his head and inhale her scent more fully, and when she sighed and shifted against him again, Conall did. He lowered his head until his nose brushed against her hair, inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as her aroma overwhelmed him, sweet and fresh despite the hours of travel. He wanted to run his hands through her glorious hair and bury his face in the soft tresses while continually inhaling.”

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“She didn't eat meat and hadn't for some time. Rescuing, mending and befriending a wee bird with a broken wing had made it impossible for her to eat the meat of flying creatures, and helping Edmund, the stable master at MacFarlane, mend a bull with a broken leg and then having it follow her everywhere like a dog had added beef to the list of things she wouldn't eat either. By the time Claray was fifteen years old, there wasn't any meat she could bring herself to consume. She'd explained this quietly to Conall and, much to her relief, while he'd looked surprised, he hadn't raised a fuss, and she'd then gone into the woods to find wild berries, mushrooms, wood sorrel and elderflower to munch on to ease her hunger.”

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“Why did ye ask to ride with Hamish?" Conall growled as she decided the baby fox was fine and let it sleep. "Do ye no' like riding with me?" Claray debated making up something that would be less embarrassing to her, but felt her earlier behavior had already put her soul in jeopardy. Lying didn't seem the way to help save it. Humiliating as it was, she supposed she'd have to tell him the truth. "I like riding with ye very much." "Then why ask to ride with Hamish?" "Because I like riding with ye very much," she repeated simply, and then her voice going husky, she admitted, "And I liked yer kisses and caresses in the river. I ken I responded most wantonly to them and have given ye a disgust o' me. I apologize fer that, m'laird, but much as I ken these feelings and desires and me own behavior will surely land me in hell, I can no' stop wanting ye, and would no doubt act the very same way did ye touch or kiss me like that again." She paused to take a breath after blurting that all out, and then added, "So it did seem better to ride with Hamish, who seems nice but does no' make me tingle with just a glance and threaten me soul with damnation by his very existence.”

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“Dear God, at this point, she would be on her knees for a month or more doing penance for the way he made her feel and what she'd let him do both by the river and just now. If she was forced to marry the man and suffer that kind of overwhelming, mind-numbing pleasure every single night... Claray shivered at the thought. Part of her reaction was alarm for her poor soul. But a good portion of it had nothing to do with her soul, and everything to do with her body's response to the man. Just the thought of his kisses and touching her every night sent tingles racing through her body that had her wishing he'd kiss and caress her again.”

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“She'd then rushed to embrace the wolf as if he were a long-lost friend. And that's what the horse and wolf were acting like too. Both were licking at her like they were mother cats cleaning a kitten who'd returned after being missing. Conall had reined in at once, and had heard the other men catch up as he dismounted, but had then simply stood staring at his wife and the beasts until Roderick had joined him and spoke. "I guess I win the bet," Roderick commented now, and when the words brought Conall's blank gaze back to him, he shrugged. "Hamish thought the next animal would be a dormouse or pine marten, Payton thought a wildcat, but I bet on a wolf." He grinned, something else he rarely did, and pointed out, "It's a wolf.”

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“Lovey immediately straightened next to her, his ears pulling back as he squinted at him, and then going straight up when Conall continued forward. When he then bared his teeth and growled low in his throat, Claray tightened her fingers in the fur at the back of his neck in warning, then turned to bare her teeth and growl at the wolf in return. Lovey didn't look happy, but he did relax a little. Though she noticed he stood a little taller, puffed out his chest and went back to squinting suspiciously at Conall too. "Wife?" Claray turned to him in question. "Aye, husband?" "Ye just growled at the wolf," he pointed out. "Aye," she agreed, and smiled at him. " 'Tis what he understands.”

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“Curious now, she glanced to its contents and this time did squeal with delight when she saw all the cages holding the furry friends she'd rescued, mended and adopted over the years. At least, the ones that hadn't been released back to the wild: Osborn the three-legged goat, Lowrans the blind wildcat, Grisell the baby cow who couldn't walk when she first saw her and now could but was still quite wobbly on her feet, and of course Brodie the bunny, and her earless little fox.”

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“I have trouble thinkin' o' ye as Bryson," she admitted apologetically. "Ye seem more a Conall to me." "Why?" he asked with interest as he moved a pawn on the board. "Weeell." She drew out the word and then pointed out, "Conall means strong wolf." "And ye like wolves," he teased. Claray glanced to where Lovey was asleep on the bed next to them with Squeak curled up on his back, and smiled faintly. "Aye. I do." Turning back to him, she admitted, "But ye also do seem strong to me. And as a mercenary ye were known as the Wolf. So, it just seems to suit.”

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“A man needed a clear mind to fight his foe, not one distracted with thoughts of whether the fishpond might please his wife. Or who found himself mooning about how she was a hard worker, and so kind-hearted. Or thinking on how her laugh was high and full of joy and made him want to smile. Or daydreaming on how sweet her kisses were, and how good it felt to bury his cock in her warm body. Or wondering whether she might care for him as he'd come to realize he cared for her.”

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“She had no desire to see Conall dead. She loved him. That was a thought that caught her by surprise. Claray had liked Conall from the start, admired his sense of honor and determination to look after his people. She also appreciated all he had done for her, rescuing her from Kerr, carrying her before him on his mount while she slept, no matter that he was exhausted. He'd also been most patient with her rescuing animals at every turn on the way home to MacFarlane when she'd known he hadn't wanted her to. He was a good man----he worked day and night here to build a home for them all, and he'd tended to her when she was injured and ill with such gentleness and kindness. And then there was his loving. Aye, at first Claray had worried that her soul might be in peril because of the pleasure he gave her, but she'd come to terms with that. It was just too beautiful and intimate to be something God would begrudge them. Surely, if He hadn't wanted them to enjoy each other like that, He wouldn't have made it possible for people to enjoy it as they did. At least that was her reasoning. Perhaps it was just a justification to allow her to continue to enjoy her marital bed without guilt, but since she found it impossible not to, she was happy to accept that justification. Whatever the case, with all that she admired, respected and enjoyed about her husband, Claray supposed it would be surprising if she did not love him. Conall was a man worth loving, and she simply could not bear the thought of this man ending his life.”

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“Are you troubled by me making ye enjoy it?" Claray flushed, but admitted honestly, "I was at first. But I've resigned meself to it." "Resinged yerself?" he asked with concern. "Should I stop---?" "Nay!" Claray interrupted quickly, and then scowled. "Do no' you dare stop. I love the pleasure ye give me, and if 'tis wrong, then I'll happily serve me time in hell fer it." "Ye will, will ye?" he asked with a faint smile. Claray nodded, and then added, "But I do' think the church is right about this. I love ye, and the loving is an expression of that. 'Tis beautiful and precious." Pausing, she smiled slightly, and added, "Besides, ye ordered me to enjoy it, and Father Cameron did make me vow to obey ye. I can hardly be punished fer keeping vows the church made me make." The concern easing from his face, Conall chuckled and hugged her close. "I do love ye, Claray. Yer beautiful, and clever, and sure to drive me mad and scare me witless at times. But I'd have it no other way." "Neither would I, husband," Claray murmured, hugging him back. "Neither would I.”

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“The warrior who went by the moniker "the Wolf" was a favorite subject of the troubadours of late. Every other song they sang was about him, praising his courage and prowess in battle as well as his handsome face and hair that was "black as sin". According to those songs, the Wolf was a warrior considered as intelligent and deadly as the wolf he was named for. But he was actually a lone wolf in those songs, because he spoke little and aligned himself with no particular clan, instead offering his sword arm for a price. He was a mercenary, but an honorable one. It was said he served only those with a just cause.”

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“Claray had not been made to spend her life on her knees in prayer. The lass had too much passion in her for that. So, he would marry her, reclaim his name, title and home and set to work filling her belly with bairns. The thought made him smile, and imagining all the ways to accomplish the task of filling her belly, all the positions and places he could do so, helped pass the time as they continued their ride through the long day and the evening that followed.”

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“Without Claray blocking the view, he could see that the beast was a good six feet long, perhaps four or five inches short of three feet high at the shoulders, and looked like he weighed a good ten stone. He'd never seen a wolf so big. But it had some damned fine coloring, Its fur was a combination of gray and white with black on the tip of the tail and around the face and ears. "I guess 'tis fitting," Roderick said suddenly. "The name?" Conall asked with amazement, thinking there was no damned way he was calling the great beast Lovey. "Nay. That she has a wolf," Roderick explained, and when he didn't comprehend right away added, "She married you, the Wolf, and she has one fer a pet. 'Tis fitting.”

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“Do ye often howl at wolves?" "Only Lovey," Claray answered. "He's the only wolf I ken." "Ye ken Conall, and he's the Wolf." "Aye," Conall agreed aloud, and then leaned down to whisper by her ear, "And ye howled for me on our weddin' night. Hopefully this night I can make ye howl again. Finally." Claray stiffened in surprise and then felt heat suffuse her face as his hand crept up her waist where it was resting, and his thumb brushed over the bottom of one breast.”

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“His knee pressed between her legs then, rubbing against her and making her cry out into his mouth, and he did it again with the same result. Then his leg shifted and his hand replaced it, his fingers gliding through the folds to find her most sensitive spot. Claray stilled briefly, and then begun to suck frantically on his tongue as he began to rub his fingers gently over, then around, the treasure he'd found. Within moments she was panting, and writhing beneath him, some fine string inside her body tightening as taut as a bow. So caught up was she in that feeling that she hardly noticed when he broke their kiss and began sliding down her body, his mouth grazing over one breast and the other and then licking and nipping his way down across her stomach. She was vaguely aware of him urging her legs to open wider, so that he could settle between them. However, it wasn't until his fingers stopped their caressing and his head dipped down between her spread legs that she took notice. She was glancing down with confusion when he nuzzled his face between her thighs and lashed her most sensitive area with his tongue. When Claray gasped and bucked in shock, Conall grasped her upper thighs to hold her in place and pressed his mouth between her legs again. For one moment, she was too stunned to feel anything else as he began to caress the sensitive nub with his tongue, and then suckled at the lips around it. But that soon passed as her body responded to his hungry feasting. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, nothing she'd even imagined, It was all so raw and carnal and overwhelming and she didn't know what to do. Claray was quite sure this was not something the church would approve of. He could not give her his seed like this. This was--- "Oh God," she gasped, her thoughts scattering on the breeze as he began to suck on the most sensitive part of her. And then it became a mantra. "Oh God, oh God, oh God." She felt his finger push into her, and struggled against the hands holding her, wanting to move her hips, though she had no idea why, and couldn't with him holding her down. He was still caressing her with his mouth even as he withdrew the finger. He then pushed in again and again until something inside of Claray snapped and she cried out breathlessly, her body suddenly thrashing as pleasure overwhelmed her.”

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“Her protests died in her throat as Conall suddenly covered her mouth with his in a searing kiss that made her forget the long list of reasons that were lining up in her head for why they shouldn't marry here and now. That wasn't all she forgot either. She forgot that her father stood beside her, that hundreds of soldiers surrounded them and, worst of all, that Father Cameron stood just feet away, witness to her horrible, sinning ways when she melted against Conall, wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed and moaned as he devoured her mouth. When Conall's hands slid down her back, pressing her body firmly against his and then curved under her bottom and lifted her off the ground, Claray instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, then gasped into his mouth as he began to walk, his body rubbing against her core with each step.”

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“Tis sorry I am, niece. But I'm tired o' being looked down on as a lowlander and MacNaughton has promised MacFarlane to me do I see this through. Ye're marrying him and that's that." Claray closed her mouth and gave a resigned nod, but couldn't resist saying, "Let us hope, then, that ye live a long time to enjoy it, uncle. For I fear yer decision will surely see ye in hell for eternity afterward." Fear crossed his face at her words. It was closely followed by anger, and his hand clasped on her arm in a bruising grip. Dragging her out into the hall, he snapped, "Ye'll want to be watchin' that tongue o' yers with the MacNaughton, girl. Else ye'll be in hell ere me." Claray raised her chin, staring straight ahead as he urged her up the hall toward the stairs. "Not I. Me conscience is clear. I may die first, but 'tis heaven where I'll land. Unlike you.”

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