Highlander's Ransom (22 page)

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Authors: Emma Prince

Tags: #Romance, #Medieval Romance, #Scottish Highlander, #Historical Romance, #Highlander, #Scottish Highlands, #Warriors

BOOK: Highlander's Ransom
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A soft smile came to his lips, and suddenly he looked
more like a lover and less like a warrior. “I know, lass. But you liked what we
did last night, didn’t you?” She nodded. “It can be better than that,” he said,
hunger edging his voice, transforming him swiftly back to a warrior, a hunter.

“If we do this, we cannot go back,” she whispered. She
was still afraid, but anticipation mingled with it. She felt like she was
standing on a precipice, about to jump over into the unknown, but she was
jumping toward Robert, toward a future with him.

“Aye,” was all he said. She searched his face, his
eyes. Silencing the hundred emotions jumbling inside her, she rose up on her
tiptoes and kissed his lips softly.

It was all the acquiescence he needed.

 

Chapter 30

He wanted to make this last, to make it good for her,
but her noises and movements were driving him crazy, and all he could think
about was being inside her. He deepened their kiss, holding the back of her
head as their tongues intermingled. She clutched his shirt between them, but he
moved her arms around his neck so that their whole bodies could press together.
His hands rubbed over her back, then dropped to grip her bottom, pulling their
hips even closer. He was already aroused and growing more so by each aching
moment. She shifted her hips a little, and he groaned at the sensation it sent
shooting through him. One of his hands traveled upward and cupped her breast.
Electric heat passed between them at the contact, surprising him with how
quickly her desire was building.

He tugged on the laces at the back of her dress until
they were loose enough for him to shimmy her gown off of her shoulders and down
the rest of her body. While he was working on her dress, her hands went to the
ties on his shirt. He could barely wait to feel her smooth, creamy skin against
his. With that thought, he stilled her hands to yank his shirt over his head.
She now stood in her chemise, and he in only his kilt. They rejoined their
lips, and the feel of her bare arms on his naked torso sent his senses reeling
and his desire soaring even more. Suddenly he lifted her under the legs so that
her thighs wrapped around his waist.

“Hold on, lass,” he mumbled against her lips. In two
strides, he had her back against the stone wall, his hands supporting her
bottom, and his lips trailing down her neck.

 

The cold stones pressing into her back were in stark
contrast to his blazing hot skin. She buried her fingers in his dark hair, half
massaging his scalp, half desperately clinging to him as sensation washed over
her. He kissed her collar bone, then her chest above her chemise. Without
moving his hands supporting her, he took the tie keeping her chemise closed in
the front between his teeth and tugged. The tie came undone, revealing more of
her creamy flesh to his lips. He nuzzled the material out of his way to expose
one of her breasts. His lips and tongue teased the pink peak, drawing a moan
from her. When he had thoroughly ravished one breast, he shifted and gave the
other the same treatment. By the time he drew his mouth away, she was moaning,
panting, and arched against him.

He stepped back from the wall, still clutching her,
and rapidly strode to the bed. In a rush, he tumbled them both onto the
mattress. He jerked to his knees and yanked off his belt and kilt, tossing them
onto the floor. She stilled for a moment, her eyes traveling down his length.
When they reached his manhood, which was fully erect now, they widened. He let
her look, unashamed.

She had never truly looked at a naked man before
Robert. She had caught glimpses here and there, but the most she had seen was
the other night when she and Robert had been intimate. Even then, though, she
had done more feeling than seeing. Now it was inescapable. He was there before
her, gloriously naked, his erection swollen and standing out. She again had the
creeping fear that what they were going to do was never going to work judging
by his size. But before she could begin to fret on the thought, he was pulling
up her chemise and in seconds she was naked too. She still felt shy, but liked
the raw look of desire filling his eyes as he drank her in. In a flash, though,
he closed the small distance between them and pulled her against him. She
shuddered at the feeling of their skin pressed together. If it was possible,
she felt even more raw, even more aroused than she had the night before when
they had touched and kissed and brought pleasure to each other.

One of his hands slid down to the crux of her legs,
and he teased her already-damp curls for a moment. Wanting more, she
instinctually opened her legs slightly, earning a growl of hunger from him. He
slipped a finger along her wet folds, causing her to shudder and moan. Then he
let his finger brush inside to her most sensitive spot. She gasped as fire shot
through her. That same achiness was building and building, centering where he
pressed and caressed with his fingers.

He moved slightly lower, and slid one finger inside of
her. She gasped again, suddenly feeling filled in a place that she had never
realized felt empty.

“Christ, lass, you are so tight and wet,” he whispered
against her mouth. He began moving his finger, slowly easing it out and then
entering her again, meanwhile using his thumb to brush higher against that
electric spot. Her hands went wild on his back, his shoulders, his hair, trying
to cling to him as she felt a similar pleasure that she had experienced the
night before, but this time deeper. She began moving her hips along with his
hand, desperate for contact as the pressure built and she felt herself climbing
toward release again. Her body began to shudder, and she distantly heard
herself call out his name as pleasure crashed into her.

Even as she was spiraling back down, he removed his
hand from her and she felt him position himself over her. She opened her eyes,
still in a haze of pleasure. His eyes were pinched with his efforts to control
himself, and his whole body was tense as he moved between her legs. She felt
something brush against the apex of her legs, and knew that they were about to
cross the threshold. He looked her directly in the eyes then, searching for any
sign of hesitation, but she gave him none. He began easing forward, the head of
his manhood nudging her entrance. He moved farther so that he was just inside her.
The sensation was strange—not painful, but new.

His shoulders began to shake as he worked to control
his motion and his desire. Next to her ear, he whispered, “I’m sorry, lass.”
She wasn’t sure what he was saying, but then he pushed forward all the way so
that he was inside her to the hilt.

Pain tore through her, radiating from her core. She
cried out and tried to push him back, but he didn’t budge. He held still,
waiting. Then he moved ever so slightly, pulling back and pushing in again. She
tried to suppress a little sob of pain at the movement. A moment later, he
moved again, and this time she thought the pain was slightly less. He moved
again, and the pain began to mingle with something else. She felt the hurt
mixing with a building pressure inside her, and with each of his movements, the
pain subsided and the pressure increased. Her body relaxed, and he began
thrusting in and out of her with a slow, steady rhythm. Soon, she was near
drowning in pleasure again, and she found herself moving in rhythm with him. He
increased the pace, his patience seeming to wear thin. His jaw was clenched
next to her face, and his shoulders were tight under her hands.

She was only vaguely registering this, though, for she
was lost in a sea of sensation. He began to move even faster still, and the
increase sent her over the edge to release. She called out as euphoria swept
through her, shaking at the intensity and depth of her release. A second later,
he groaned and thrust all the way inside her, shuddering and gasping as he too
found release.

The moments stretched as they both drifted back. He
rolled over onto his back, dragging her along with him so that she was nestled
against his side. He stroked her hair for a moment, then whispered, “Lass?” but
she had already drifted off into a deep and contented sleep.

 

Chapter 31

Sometime well before dawn, Alwin stirred and slowly
came awake. She was blanketed in the warmth and scent of Robert, who still held
her wrapped in his arms. The events of the night—their talk, their touches,
their pleasure—flooded back to her, but instead of feeling embarrassed or
confused, she let the memories warm her even more than Robert’s embrace. She
had struggled for what felt like a long time against Robert, against their
connection, against their marriage. The decision to commit to this new path she
found her life on had been difficult, but once she had decided, she couldn’t
imagine anything else feeling so—right. In fact, it was like they fit perfectly
together. Obviously their bodies fit well, she thought, her lingering innocence
causing her to blush a little at the images running through her mind. But she
also liked his character, and sensed from him that he, too, respected her,
cared for her, and enjoyed the way they challenged each other. Perhaps Father
Frederick was right. Perhaps this could be a truly great union.

As she considered all this, she let her fingers lazily
graze across his bare chest. His skin was smooth, and the muscles beneath were
firm, even as he lay prone in sleep. She felt that she would never get enough
of touching him, of having him touch her, and thankfully, they had their whole
lives to do just that. She sighed contentedly at that thought.

“Have I not earned a few winks of rest, lass, or must
you torture me with your touch at all hours of the night?” She jumped as his
tease rumbled through his chest, against which her ear was pressed.

“I thought you slept!” she squeaked in surprise.

At that, he chuckled and clasped her closer to him.
“Being a light sleeper is a requirement of staying alive as a warrior,” he
said, the smile on his face tinting his voice as well. She relaxed against him,
smiling too.

“And how did you learn such a skill? What was your
training like? How long have you been a warrior?”

“Easy, lass! One question at a time!”

She sat up suddenly, and the cool night air of the
chamber brushed her bare skin. She gazed down at his smiling, handsome face,
but her brow wrinkled as she continued to consider him.

“I’ve just realized that I know next to nothing about
you,” she finally said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’d say we just ‘knew’
each other quite thoroughly, lass.”

She swatted his shoulder lightly at his bawdy joke.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I suppose since this arrangement is
permanent
,
as you so affectionately put it, we should learn a bit more about each other,”
he said wryly.

Accepting his ribbing, she settled back down onto his
chest and let him wind his arms back around her. “I’ll begin. Do you have any
other family? Father Frederick mentioned that he was training here while your
father was still Laird.”

“Aye. My father was Laird of the Sinclairs until his
death five years ago. That’s when I became Laird, though, of course, I have
trained for it my whole life.” He paused, but she waited without prodding him.
“He was a great man—both as a leader and as a father. He prepared all of us for
our roles and responsibilities. He was stern and could be demanding, but we
always knew that it was because he loved us and wanted us to meet our full potential.”

“‘We’?”

“My parents had three sons. I am the oldest. Next came
Garrick, then Daniel.”

She laid a hand on his chest and propped her chin upon
it to gaze at him. “Garrick? What an unusual name. Surely that isn’t Gaelic?”

He smiled absently as he wound a lock of her hair
around his finger. “No, it is Norse. It means warrior archer. I’ve never been
sure if it was fate, or just Garrick’s insistence on living up to the name, but
he has become just that.”

“Where is he now?”

The briefest pause elapsed before he said “He serves
Robert the Bruce.” She looked closer into his eyes, which held a hint of
guardedness.

“What is it? What is the matter? Do you think—” and
then realization hit her. “You think that because I’m English, I pose some kind
of threat to your brother and the Rebel cause! But Robert, how could you
imagine me a spy?”

“The very fact that you call us ‘Rebels’ is telling,
lass,” he said calmly.

“But I would never betray you, or anyone you love! You
must believe—” Before she could finish her plea, his lips met hers and silenced
her with a kiss. After several heartbeats, he finally broke their contact, but
met her eyes again.

“Aye, you’re right, Alwin. Of course I trust you. I
imagine that we’ll have some…smoothing out to do regarding our different nationalities,
but I know you’re no cold-hearted monster to betray your new family.”

Family
. The
word made her heart swell. As an only child, her childhood had more often than
not been lonely. And after her mother had died, she felt empty, isolated, with
only her father’s cold cruelty for family. Of course, she had made friends, and
her old maid Betsy had been an immeasurable help. But now, she realized, she
had a husband—and brothers! And perhaps one day, she and Robert would have
children of their own…

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