115 pages
English

Sharing Their Highland Lassie

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Description

Three dominant noblemen are going to share her, but will they keep her?

When an industrial accident floods the roads, Catriona has to stay at the country estate of Lord Wyndham Bradleigh overnight. Dodging the London social season, Bradleigh came to Glenash to shoot pigeons with his friends Viscount Carlyle and Count Ludovich, but their attention is swiftly drawn to a new pastime: Catriona.

Unable to leave the estate, Catriona is shocked to discover the three young noblemen are rakes with salacious tastes. After correcting her for telling an untruth, they claim her together. She is even more surprised that she enjoys being treated like this by the dominant noblemen. But how can three men of their position keep one lassie without causing a scandal?

This is book four in a series but can be read and enjoyed as a standalone.

Publisher’s Note: This steamy reverse harem historical romance with a HEA contains elements of power exchange and paranormal themes.

Sujets

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 06 décembre 2018
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781947132191
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0012€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

SHARING THEIR HIGHLAND LASSIE HIGHLAND FLING BRIDES - BOOK FOUR
KATIE DOUGLAS
BLUSHING BOOKS
©2018 by Blushing Books® and Katie Douglas All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®, a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design 977 Seminole Trail #233 Charlottesville, VA 22901 The trademark Blushing Books® is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Katie Douglas Sharing Their Highland Lassie
EBook ISBN: 978-1-947132-19-1 Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Epilogue Katie Douglas EBook Offer Blushing Books Newsletter Blushing Books
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
GLENASH VILLAGE, SCOTLAND, 1877 Cit wasnot how she had expected to spend the evening when she had come to Bradleigh atriona was impaled on two cocks at the same time, a fact which greatly surprised her, given Manor earlier today on an errand. By rights, she should be at home in her own bed right now, not being utterly debauched and deflowered by three English Lords. Her eyes were half-closed and she shook as little sparkles of light seemed to radiate through her body from Raleigh’s finger stroking her clit, while she suckled on Wyndham’s cock as though it were filled with sweet ambrosia. The salty, musky taste wasn’t something she’d expected, but as he thrust into her mouth, she found the flavour was not unpalatable by any means. Wolfgang stepped forward and took her hand in his, placing it gently on his cock. Trying to pay attention to all three men at once was difficult, but she managed to wrap her hand around his hard shaft, hoping she wasn’t squeezing him too hard. She held him without moving her hand at all, unsure what to do next. “Slide your hand up and down, like this,” Wolfgang guided her hand with his own, and she enjoyed moving her hand over him in a way that seemed to make him harder than ever. Little droplets of liquid seeped from his tip, but she ignored it, not caring that her hand was getting wet, while she continued to move her hand slowly over him. At the same time, Raleigh was stretching her in a w ay that was almost painful, and an intense pressure was building deep inside her. She needed some sort of release, but her only uncertainty was, would the three men permit it, or would they make her wait? She wasn’t sure she could stop herself from coming apart very soon. Oh, thisreallywasn’t what she’d expected to do today. Her attention was drawn firmly to the three men, as one of them pinched her nipples and she squeaked in surprise.
CHAPTER 1
TWELVE HOURS EARLIER “I don’t understand. How can I smooth this over for yo u?” Catriona was perplexed. She stood in her father’s office, in the Village Hall, and inhaled deeply. When her ribcage pressed tightly against her corset, she felt calmer and more confident. However anxious she might be on the inside, that corset always held her together, so she could show her best face to the rest of the world. The other women of the village disapproved of her bringing modern city styles to Glenash, but Catriona was certain she would have ended up in an asylum long ago if it wasn’t for the support of an extensive network of whalebone surrounding her like the suits of battle armor that knights of old used to wear. “You’re a lovely young lassie, Catriona,” Mayor Keeghan MacAllen said gently. “I’m certain you’ll think of something. Distract Lord Wyndham Bradleigh from what happened. Throw yourself on his mercy if you have to. We need to ensure we don’t incur his ire.” Catriona ought to be surprised that her father was sending her to flirt with the aristocrat who took up residence in the village two summers in a r ow. Last year, Lord Wyndham had come to Glenash alone, and moved into his father’s country estate, three miles out from the village, staying all through the winter season. The third son of a Duke, Lord Wyndham was the objec t of much gossip and speculation, on account of being in possession of a vast fortune, i f no real title or lands, and every woman in the village would be dying to know what the inside of his spacious manor house was like. Catriona knew rumors would fly if she went there. Being the mayor’s daughter, Catriona was constrained by rules other people in the village didn’t need to follow. Her father never allowed her to go out by herself, and he had engaged a chaperone to ensure her conduct was without reproach. She rarely got to speak to anyone, because she was almost without peer in Glenash. None of the local hunters or fishermen were interes ted in marrying her, which was just fine, because she planned to never marry. Men died so eas ily she didn’t understand why any woman allowed herself to grow attached. It would only end in pain. In a village full of comfortably-dressed, easy-going women, Catriona’s corset protected her from any danger of marriage. Who would marry a prickly, disinterested young woman when they could find someone warm and sweet with little effort? As her thoughts drifted to marriage, Catriona was reminded of the abject futility of life. People got married, produced children, who grew up and got married, to produce more children... what was the point of it all? The emptiness momentarily gripped her chest once more and she breathed in deeply, until the whalebone dug into her ribcage much harder than before. The pain, the constriction...
they were more powerful than smelling salts. “Catriona! Do try and keep up! Leave now, and you’ll return before sunset. Youmust smooth things over with the duke’s son. We cannae have him thinkin’ we’re all a bunch o’ thieves, lassie!” Her father slipped into his Highland accent, which he always did when he was deeply concerned about something. “I’m sorry, father. I will do my best for you.” Catriona wanted to do nothing less than she wanted to visit a lord, but she bowed her head and went to find someone to drive the pony trap, so she could begin this fool’s errand. With any luck, she’d be back in time for dinner.
“Ah, the country air. It’s so refreshing after choking on the smog of the city, is it not?” Lord Wyndham Bradleigh, third son of the Duke of Ribbleston, stretched his arms out to demonstrate how much space he was surrounded by. He felt the tensio n of the past fortnight ebbing away and he filled his lungs with more of the sweet, clean air. Beside him, Raleigh Carlyle, Viscount of Castlereagh, surveyed the landscape. “The hills are a fine change,” Raleigh commented. Wyndham eyed his friend with some amusement. Raleigh’s dark hair contrasted with Wyndham’s golden hair. Raleigh had long sideburns in the modern style, where Wyndham had no patience for any kind of facial hair, and shaved to his ears every day. “Weren’t you born here?” Wyndham and Raleigh turned to their other companion, Count Wolfgang Ludovich, Graf of Lefsburg, a small area in an obscure part of Austro-Hungary. His hair was light blond, and it matched his clear complexion and pale blue eyes. His brow l ine was straighter and more pronounced than Wyndham’s, but otherwise, they might have been mistaken for cousins. “Indeed, I was born on this very estate,” Wyndham replied. “And I was brought into the world in Fort William, although it was almost thirty years ago, and I remember nothing of it.” Raleigh’s father and Wyndham’s had been hunting companions, back in their younger days. “Anyway, this certainly is an improvement on the social scene,” Wolfgang said. “If I had to endure another ball with those pasty-faced waifs swooning everywhere, I might have been driven to bedlam,” Wyndham agreed. “Two years in a row they were an especially bad crop of debutantes,” Wolfgang added. “Anyway, we can put the whole shoddy business out o f our minds, now. Which way are the hounds?” Raleigh asked. “Over there.” Wyndham began walking across the rolling lawns of Bradleigh House to show his friends the dogs. Wyndham was rather proud of his prize hounds. He hadn’t seen them since last year, and looked forward to a reunion. Dogs were always so happy to see their master. Wyndham opened the gate to the kennels and paused. It was oddly silent. “Is the kennel master taking them for a constitutional?” Raleigh asked. Wyndham frowned and walked further inside. Every kennel was empty. In a swirl of concern, he ran to the kennel master’s lodge and hammered on the door. “Angus!” Wyndham shouted. “Aye, sir?” The pasty-faced youth seemed to blanche more than he’d already done, and Wyndham knew something was deeply amiss. “Where are my hounds?” Wyndham tried to keep his voice steady.
“Uh... well, y’see...” the youth trailed off and his white face had now turned a deep crimson. “I want to see them within the hour.” Wyndham decided Angus needed some time to compose himself. Pressuring him to make the dogs re-appear or to explain himself wasn’t going to help matters. After clearing his throat, Wyndham turned back to the main house, followed by Wolfgang and Raleigh. “Do you really believe the hounds will be back in an hour?” Raleigh asked. Wyndham shook his head. “No. But I’m hoping by then our kennel master has overcome his selective muteness and put together a rather good explanation.” “Whether or not that explanation reveals the locati on of the hounds remains to be seen,” Wolfgang added. They entered through the French doors that led from the terrace to Wyndham’s drawing room. With no women around, he was using it as an office. Almost immediately, they were found by Palfreyman the butler. “There is a young woman to see you, sir.” “Unannounced? Who is she?” “Miss Catriona MacAllen, daughter of Lord Mayor Keeghan MacAllen.” Wyndham frowned. The mayor wasn’tex officioany sort of peer; the title was bestowed on him for the duration of his time as leader of Glenash. Still, it grated on Wyndham that the Lord Mayor’s daughter wasn’t viewed as a Lady, and he didn’t know why that ought to bother him. “Send her in,” he said after a moment’s thought.
CHAPTER2
C atrionastepped into the spacious drawing room. This was the first country estate she’d ever visited, and it was huge. This one room was at least the size of the village hall. She gazed around the sage-green walls and took in little details. The overhead chandelier hung down from an ornate circle of moulded plaster, which was adorned with leaves and fawns. The edge of the oak bookcase was carved with tiny ivy leaves. The floor was polished so much that it shone, unlike the scuffed, chipped parquet of the village hall. This room had been decorated by someone with exquisite attention to detail, and the money to bring their ideas to life. Someone coughed, and Catriona’s gaze flew toward the sound. Now she saw the men, she didn’t know how she had tuned them out. “Did you venture all the way here to take in the nu ances of my drawing room furniture?” The man’s voice was unusual. He sounded like Martin, who was from London until the Highland Fling had drawn him to the north of Scotland. This man’s vowels were harsh and his tone lacked the cadence Catriona was used to hearing. “I’m here to see Lord Wyndham. Which of you is he, please?” Catriona was usually quite good at etiquette, but the station and living habits of these men was so far removed from her normal world that she had no idea how to respectfully treat them. Should she curtsey? Call him sir? She wished she knew. “I am.” The man who had just spoken announced. He wore a dark tweed hunting suit with leather patches over the elbows, making him appear older, but he couldn’t possibly be thirty, yet, unless he bathed in milk and honey on a daily basis. “I bring word from my father. The Lord Mayor hopes you are in good health?” Lord Wyndham narrowed his eyes at her. She didn’t like it. He was barely older than she was. “Why did he not visit me himself?” “He is rather busy. We cannot all live a life of idleness.” “And what is it that you do?” Another man, with a hint of a Germanic accent, fixed her with two steely eyes, so light blue they were almost silver. If his goal was to intimidate her, he would have another think coming. “I read,” she replied primly. The hole in the conve rsation implied the three men were unimpressed. She didn’t care. Her goal wasn’t to amaze them. Which is why it surprised her when she added, “And I play. The piano and the oboe. My tapestry is faultless, and my eye for flower arranging has won me several prizes in the village flower sho w. You won’t find a more accomplished woman for fifty miles.” Wyndham frowned but the third man, who until now ha d remained silent, put a hand on Wyndham’s arm. “She plays theoboe,” he muttered. Catriona had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but
perhaps Wyndham was a fan of double reeds. Wyndham sighed. “Why did your father send you here?” “He wishes to convey his most humble and grave apologies,” she said. “Regarding what, specifically?” Wyndham seemed purposely obtuse, and Catriona had to hold her temper in check. She hated uphill conversations. “Your hounds.” Wyndham’s face changed and suddenly, instead of feeling like a nuisance, Catriona felt like she was the subject of intense scrutiny. “What do you know of their whereabouts?” The strength in his voice frightened her and she to ok a step back before breathing in deeply, letting her corset remind her of its presence. The whalebone would always protect her. “My father is deeply apologetic, but his valet accidentally sold them to a man who put them on a ship bound for America. It set sail last night.” Wyndham’s face turned a deep red and Catriona held her breath. She detached from the conversation for a moment and focused on the hard and flexible boning, as it pinched against her own bones. Her skin and the fabric of the corset hardly seemed to exist when she filled her lungs with air like this. There was just a series of solid objects compressing her body. When she returned to the moment, she noticed the Germanic-sounding man was regarding her intently. She quickly flicked her gaze away. “Fascinating.” The light blond man’s voice cut into her thoughts and seemed to lay her soul bare with only that one word. “Your father’s valet sold my hounds? How? I can’t i magine any situation where this mistake could possibly be made!” Wyndham pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I am sorry to trouble you,your majesty, I shall be on my way, now.” Catriona turned to leave. “That’s not the correct form of address for the third son of a duke,” Wyndham snapped. “Oh? I amterriblysorry, but we haven’t been introduced, so I do not believe I have to address you as anything more than a common hooligan who makes it his business to go around insulting messengers.” With that, she turned and left. On her way out of the room, Catriona’s senses returned and she realised the grave mistake she was making. Her father needed her to keep the peace, not cause more problems, and regardless of how much she felt this task was beneath her, she sh ouldn’t have left. Uncertain of how else to prolong her time here, she stumbled over a rug and the perfect ploy hit her as she tumbled to the ground. She landed on her hands and knees, or more accurately, her hands and crinoline. In reality, she was completely fine, but nonetheless, she decided this was a fine time to have a twisted ankle. “Oh! Oh, it hurts!” she complained. In an instant, the three men were at her side. “Does she need a doctor?” the European one asked. “Where is the pain?” the dark-haired man wondered. “In my ankle!” She often had swollen ankles anyway; it was a hazard of how tight she laced her corset. Sure enough, when Lord Wyndham rolled her stocking down and examined her, he tutted. It almost sounded sympathetic. “You’ve twisted it. It’s swollen but you will survive. I’m afraid you ought to remain here for an hour or two until it eases. I will instruct my butler to take you to the sitting room.” Catriona did the only thing any well-bred, middle-c lass, young ladycould do in the circumstances. She fainted.

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