And the Bride Wore Plaid (28 page)

She pointed to one side.

His gaze followed her finger, his eyes widening when he realized she was pointing directly at the bed.

She handed him the scarf scraps. “You can tie me up there, if you’d like. I think it might be more comfortable for us both.”

Devon blinked bemusedly at the scarf ties, a gradual dawning crossing his face. “Kat, are you certain—”

“More, please,” she said again, only this time she stood and walked to the bed, not waiting to see if he would follow.

She stopped by the bed and reached up to undo the single tie that held on the pale green night rail, hesitating just a second when it dawned on her that for the first time in she didn’t know how many years, a man was going to see her naked. And not just any man, but Devon St. John, one of London’s most sought after, most feted bachelors.

He was used to having the most delicate and dainty women of the
ton
undress before him every day, if what Murien hinted was true.

Kat’s lips quivered suddenly. She wished she hadn’t grown so fond of pastries these last few years. But who could have foreseen that a beautiful, incredibly handsome man would even now be waiting for her to undress, his eyes dark with passion.

Life was a mystery. And so, too, was Devon St. John. She only hoped that he would not cease to be attracted to her once he saw her for what she was— too tall, too large, too awkward, too loud, and too ... undainty.

The horrid thoughts froze her fingers over the ties.

Just as she was preparing to force her fingers into behaving, a pair of warm hands closed over hers. Devon’s voice sounded in her ear. “You’re going to maul this lovely gown. That, my sweet, is my job.”

The humor lacing his voice made her relax somewhat. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to undressing on demand.”

He quickly undid the tie, but made no move to step away, his body warm against her back, his hands slowly sliding up and over her shoulders. “There. Now you are untied.”

So she was. She took a deep breath and pulled her gown loose about her neck, but didn’t remove it any further. In fact, she clutched it to her, feeling as bare and vulnerable as if she were suddenly seventeen once more, and thrust into the unwelcome arms of Edinburgh society. She couldn’t bring herself to turn to face Devon, so she said with a nervous laugh, “I’m certain you made many of the women of the
ton
very happy.”

There was a short silence, and then he leaned forward to wrap his arms about her. “Kat, don’t be afraid. Not of me. You are one of the most natural, passionate women I know. I don’t want you to feel less because of me.”

“Less?”

“I won’t pretend I don’t wish to see you without that blasted gown. I do. So much. But not at the price of your pride.”

Her pride. Was that what was holding her back? She considered this and then decided he was right. It astonished her that he seemed to understand her so well.

Her first impulse was to turn toward him, wrap her arms about his neck, press her body to his, and kiss him as deeply and passionately as he had kissed her only a day ago.

And after she thought about it, she realized it was also her second, third, and fourth impulse, as well. She wanted to kiss him. Kiss him and more.
Much
more. She wanted to kiss him, taste him, feel his mouth on her lips, her skin. She wanted to touch him, and feel him against her, inside her—

Stop it
, she warned herself abruptly. Already her body was responding to Devon’s intoxicating closeness. She didn’t need her vivid imagination adding more stress to her already fractured brain.

Devon watched the play of emotions on her face, fascinated despite the raging ache in his loins. He had never known a woman whose face showed her feelings so clearly, and he didn’t think he would ever tire of seeing her myriad expressions.

Her gown dropped to the floor.

Devon’s breath stopped as he slowly took her in, from feet to glorious crown of hair. She was magnificent, even more lush and beautiful than he’d imagined. Long-limbed and rounded, every lush inch of her made his mouth water, his heart pound, his manhood rise in eagerness.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, drawing his attention back to her face. “I am not going to be the only one without clothing.”

Her chin was jutting stubbornly, challenge in every line of her rich body. Devon undid his breeches and stepped out of them with an alacrity that had everything to do with the sight of the beautiful woman before him.

Kat eyed him up and down, her tongue coming out to wet her lips before she turned and climbed into the high bed. Devon watched her bemusedly, his body a raging river of want and need. Bloody hell, what was he supposed to do now? He had promised himself to be noble, to take his time and be gentle.

But he was caught by the sight of her plump white shoulders, by the smoothness of her pearly skin, by the silken threads of her hair curling at the juncture of her thighs. God, but she was magnificent. He wondered how he could have ever thought thin, tiny women would please him. They were pale wraiths in comparison to the sensuous woman before him.

He couldn’t wait a moment more. He joined Kat on the bed, climbing in beside her. Immediately the smell of lavender and jasmine sent a wave of anticipation through him.

Devon lifted up on one arm and admired the prize he’d captured. Never, in all his experiences, had he seen such lovely breasts. Full and ripe, they would fill a man’s hand and more. Each soft, abundant mound was topped with a guinea-sized areola, dusky pink and nipped with excitement. Beneath that, her stomach rounded down to—

He closed his eyes. She was going to kill him. Already his heart was racing, his stomach quivering, his manhood painfully erect.

He’d always loved women, loved sex. He reveled in a woman’s unique scent, in the feel of her beneath him, around him. But this ... this experience was different. More vibrant with taste, feel, color. There was something about Kat that inflamed him, aroused him, drove him mad with desire.

“I don’t think we’re going to use the scarf this time,” he said hoarsely. “Kat, I want you completely with me. Without anything between us.”

“As you wish,” she said, her voice soft and breathy. “Just touch me, Devon, and hold me. I want you so badly.” She ran her hands over his bare arms, across his shoulders, and then down his chest, her touch like lightning.

His tenuous control shattered and broke into a million tiny pieces. All that was left was the raging desire to make love to Kat. To hear her soft cries and make her moan with pleasure.

He took her in his arms and kissed her, his mouth covering hers, his tongue seeking. She clutched at him, opening her mouth beneath his, pressing closer. Devon cupped her to him, his hands spanning her luxurious curves.

The kiss deepened, fanning the flames ever higher. Her arms snaked around his waist, and to his pleased surprise, she pulled him even more tightly to her, pressing her hips to his.

Devon had pleasured many women and had left them all smiling happily. He knew the value of a woman who unapologetically enjoyed the physical act with all of her soul. And Kat was definitely one of those few. He gave himself over to pleasing her completely.

Kat was drowning in a sea of passion, of tangled blankets and a complete commitment to her own madness. A madness that had been threatening her own peace ever since she first laid eyes on Devon St. John.

God, but he was magnificent! All lean, rippled muscle and a firm arse that filled her with the bemused desire to nip it.

He was sublimely unapologetic in his nakedness, his attention focused on her breasts. Kat was used to men looking at her breasts; they had been doing so since she was fourteen. But somehow this was different; Devon held his hand flat over her nipples, rubbing his palm over them. They immediately hardened and peaked, but Devon continued his ministrations, as if seeking something more.

Soon she was panting, her body aching, her thighs moist with longing. “Devon,” she said. “Please.”

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

He grasped her rounded rump firmly, kneading and pressing. She moaned, squirming slightly, growing hotter by the second. He could see the moisture glistening on her inner thighs, and his own body tightened at the sight. She was so ripe, like a plucked peach, ready to be devoured. “Tell me what you like.”

“Like?” She gasped when his fingers brushed her center.

“Do you like this?”

“Oh yes!” she gasped.

He knelt between her legs, savoring the warmth of her skin, the scent of her secretmost place. He bent forward and kissed her there, gently but urgently. She planted her heels and arched upward at the shock of the touch.

He waited only a moment before he did it again. And again. Soon she was panting, her knees splayed as he pleasured her. After a moment, he lifted his head. “Tell me, Kat. I want to hear you say it.” He bent and traced a line across her most sensitive spot.

“Oh God, I love it. Don’t stop.” She squirmed madly, rubbing against his mouth. He sucked her gently, then with increasing fervor. She trembled against him, her hands in his hair, clutching, pulling, trying to get closer, and at the same time trying to escape. “Devon! Don’t stop. Never stop.”

Her gasped request set him to even more frenzied ministrations. He slowly slid his thumb into her, marveling at her tightness.

God but she was hot and wet. He wanted to plunge into her, to run his hands over her flesh and taste her until she cried out in wonder and happiness.

That was what he wanted, more than anything. Just as he had the thought, she lifted and stiffened, then said his name as the pleasure overtook her. Devon bent to capture her once more, tasting her and increasing the pressure of his tongue.

The musky-sweet scent of her and the ripe, womanly taste were more than he could take. As her shivers subsided, Devon lifted himself above her and positioned himself between her thighs. He was so ready for her that he ached, his mind a fevered flash of desire.

He was just ready to press forward when she clutched at his arms. “Devon.”

There was something about her voice, some hint of desperation or fear that made him pause, rigid and fierce as he was. He had to clench his jaw, but for her sake, he kept his control.

“Are you certain you want this?”

He almost laughed. Instead he pressed an unsteady kiss to her forehead. “I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

Relief, wonder, laughter, and unmitigated lust warred for expression on her face. To Devon’s relief, lust won the day, and she clamped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips to his.

He closed his eyes as he slid inside her, the overwhelming heat sending a shudder all the way to his toes. She gasped at the fullness of him, but only for a moment. Soon she was murmuring in his ear, clutching at his shoulders, moving more and more frantically as the pressure inside built.

Devon had to grit his teeth to keep from spilling into her. She was so tight, so hot, so incredibly sexy as she moved against him and writhed seductively. She had a body built for love, his hands roaming freely, touching and tormenting.

Just as Devon’s tenuous control began to slip, she came yet again, arching her back and bucking wildly.

Devon had to grasp her hips to hold on; the exquisite heat and her unbridled passion pushed him over the edge. He thrust forward, burrowing deeply as he came in a rush of heat, and then collapsed on the bed.

How long it took him to regain his breath, he’d never know. But minutes passed before he could even speak.

Never had he known such passion, such earthy sweetness, such complete surrender. Never.

Devon raised on his elbow and looked down at Kat. Her eyes were closed, her face turned to one side, her braid was still intact, if somewhat frayed.

He toyed with the silken strands that had fallen loose, a smile on his face. What an experience. It had been even more than he’d expected.

He bent and kissed her neck. “Kat, my love, are you well?”

A smile curved her lips, but she made no move to face him.

“Shy?” he asked.

That got a glance. “After that? I think not. I am just too winded to move.”

He chuckled, scooping her to him, soaking in the feel of her silken skin against his. “That was incredible, my love. Simply incredible.”

“Mmmmm,” she answered, burrowing against him, her arms about him. “It was lovely. And next time, we’ll use the scarf.”

He chuckled, a deep satisfaction warming him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “As you wish, my lady.”

A lovely peace filtered through him as he held her, their hearts returning to a normal rhythm, their legs entwined in a most intimate manner.

The bed was lovely, full of pillows and far more comfortable than the rock-hard mattress he had to sleep on at Kilkairn. And certainly his bed didn’t smell of lavender and Katherine Macdonald, which was a lovely scent he could quite easily become enamored of.

The thought held him, and he turned to press his cheek against hers, holding still so he wouldn’t wake her. He’d never felt this way before, such a sense of completeness. It was a good thing he was leaving soon, before this magical feeling left.

It was much later that he sighed, kissed her forehead, and slowly climbed from the bed.

Ten minutes later, Simon entered the workshop and lit a lantern by the door. Then he walked to the back of the room to a large red door.

He kicked it open and then held the lantern aloft, lighting a room lined with neat cots. The inhabitants of the room began to stir, cursing at the brightness.

“Bloody hell, Simon,” Donald said. “Put down the lantern!”

“What do ye want now?” muttered Hamish, leaning on his elbows and squinting toward Simon. “Was I snorin‘ again?”

Simon plunked the lantern onto the table that stood to one end of the room and then sat in one of the chairs. “We need to talk.”

“Now?” Neal asked, knuckling his eyes.

“Aye, now. I couldna sleep, so I went to the kitchen to see if Annie had left out a little somethin‘ to eat.”

“Ye’d better have a reason fer wakin‘ us other than Annie forgettin’ to leave ye a hunk of cheese,” Will said, sitting up and yawning.