My Cursed Highlander (28 page)

Her breasts swelled. Her mons swelled.

Oh,
cazzo
!

While ravishing her mouth, his hot hands cupped her backside and pressed her pelvis into a rock hard erection that strained against the laces of his braies. She could do little more than cling to his broad shoulders and pray he noticed her sensitive nipples poking him in the chest.

"I want you," she whispered, uncertain whether or not she'd spoken the words aloud. Anticipation stirred in her nether region and turned to silky wetness.
Mannaggia.
She was behaving like a brazen paramour.

He glanced overhead, not doubt leery of onlookers, then raised the hem of her undertunic to her waist. Wind lashed at the moisture gathered between her thighs like a whip and caused her to jerk against the rail.

His heavy breathing drowned out the lull of waves. He studied her, as if contemplating where he would start and where he would finish. Her lips were red, abused by his kiss. Her erect nipples tented the thin material of her undertunic, and the slight covering of fuzz at the apex of her thighs couldn't hide the pink frills peeking out of her swollen flesh.

His gaze devoured her and stripped her of modesty just before he delved deft fingers between her folds—two digits, in unison.

She cried out and latched onto his arms, startled by his assault.

"Oh, sweetling, ye are so hot, so wet... so ready," he crooned into her ear.

Heat scorched her cheeks, embarrassed by her state of arousal. Viviana wiggled in a paltry attempt to escape his embrace and tucked her chin to her chest.

He retracted his fingers as quickly as he'd inserted them and freed from himself from his braies. "Do ye see what ye do to me?" He looked down at his cock.

His manhood looked bigger than she remembered, long, thick, red and erect with a pearl of his seed sitting atop the bulbous knob. Saliva pooled in her mouth wondering what he would taste like. She'd never gotten on her knees before her husbands. Radolfo reserved such acts for his whores, and Luciano didn't care how she performed her conjugal duties so long as she did. But it was different with Taveon. She wanted to taste him, to hear his cry of pleasure when she took him into her mouth.

Just as her knees bent, Taveon picked her up, and for a brief moment she thought he would carry her inside the cabin, but that notion was quickly extinguished when he propped her bare bottom atop the cold rail.

Fearful of falling, she grabbed hold of his upper arms, her nails piercing the skin.

"Trust me," he demanded and before she understood his intent, his hands wrapped around her buttocks spreading her wide enough to slide the head of his erection into her aching core.

She gasped, surprised by his fervor, and linked her ankles around his waist.

One thrust was all it took to bury himself inside her.

"Oh, God!" he cried.

She yelled in unison. Not a moan or a whimper, but a wail of wondrous torture. Sweat broke out at her temples and between her breasts while the muscles inside her pulsed around him.

Taveon looked over the edge at the glistening water below. "Shite!" He raised her off the rail and fell back against the bulkhead. His heart raced, pounding in time with hers like they were one in the same. The growl building deep in his chest vibrated against her skin—a warning that the beast inside him had waited far too long to be unleashed.

He showed no mercy as he slammed her repeatedly against his pelvis.

It was wonderful. The need. The carnality. The untamed passion. Him.

She squeezed her thighs around his hips and panted, her climax on the edge, demanding to be set free. So close...

Thrust.

"Damn-it-to-Hell!" He stilled inside her and the heat of his seed exploded against her quivering walls.

No!
She wanted to scream. Her untouched breasts ached, her mons burned on the verge of a bliss that never came. She retracted her nails from his shoulder and slid her hand between them, desperate to find fulfillment.

Ye are far from innocent. Do ye not consider pleasuring yourself an act of infidelity?

The memory of his words filled her with shame. Her fingers curled into a ball just beneath her naval. She could wait. She'd always waited with Radolfo and Luciano. Wrapping her arms around his damp neck, she collapsed against him as he carried her back inside the cabin.

"Mayhap you could order me a bath?" she suggested, needing only a moment of privacy. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, determined to hide her disappointment.

"Ye are satisfied?" His question was laden with doubt as he slipped out of her and set her on unstable legs atop a fur rug.

"Sì.
It was wonderful," she lied while fire pulsed through her core and burned in her nipples.

"Wonderful?" he echoed, holding her at a distance. The perspective of his side-long gaze told her he might be skeptical.

She forced an innocent smile at up him. Was it wrong to protect his male pride?

Long agonizing seconds passed before he released her and stalked across the cabin. The door swung on its hinges. "I'll be back a ten."

She stood in a blind inferno, her heart beating out of cadence, waiting for the door to...

Click.

"Oh,
cazzo!"
She squeezed her breast, pinching the nipple hard, and cupped her mound in an effort to ease her discomfort. Her mouth lay open, sucking in the air she'd deprived her lungs while she'd waited for him to leave.

"I'll not call ye a liar, but I daresay your actions dinnae resemble those of a satisfied woman."

Startled by his words, Viviana jumped and then whipped her arms behind her back like a child caught with her hands in the hive. She felt him glaring at her. Was he appalled by her behavior?

Mortification coated her with yet another unbearable layer of liquid heat. She wanted to be angry at him for this embarrassment. Damn him! His accusations regarding her conduct at Chillion Castle made her feel ashamed to touch herself. He robbed her of fulfillment, and when she protected his inflated pride he had the audacity to accuse her of wrongdoing.

Pish!
Never had she been in such an awkward situation. "Taveon, I..."
You what, you imbecile? What is it you think you can say to save yourself?
She swayed back and forth, thinking she could easily fake a swoon.

"Ye are my wife, and I'll be damned if I'll allow ye to feign fulfillment in our marriage bed. I'll order your bath now, but rest assured, ye will not be taking it alone."

Chapter 22

Taveon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, watching his wee wife chew on her lip. The three young grommets pouring steaming water into a wooden tub didn't dare look at either of them.

Standing in the farthest corner of the cabin, Viviana twisted her fingers round and round the belt of her scarlet-colored robe. Her cheeks remained a similar hue. From the damp warmth filling the cabin?

Doubtful.

Most likely the blush staining her skin stemmed for her complete and total humiliation. No doubt, he would eventually pay for his trickery, but at the moment, he held the advantage. He'd spent countless hours in that uncomfortable chair devising a way to ease into his wife's heart. Spending himself prematurely had not been part of any one of those plans.

Taveon rubbed the tension from the back of his neck. He wanted to be angry with her for lying to him, for not trusting him with her pleasure. However, he'd made love to her like a wild animal and could hardly blame her for his lack of skill. A skill he'd proven he possessed on more than one occasion.

Only briefly did he recollect the women he'd bedded in his past—a handful of village maidens, a widow or mayhap two, and of course, there had been Makayla's mother. Besides Nessa, he'd taken great care not to spend his cursed seed inside their wombs. Instead, he often found release anally. Not one of them ever feigned fulfillment. In fact, most of them experienced a far greater pleasure from his tactics.

Hadn't they?

Shite! Now was not the time for him to question his skill as a lover. He focused on what he knew about pleasuring a woman. The one thing he knew for certain was that women were all different. There was more than one erogenous place on the female body, and Taveon intended to locate all of those places on Viviana.

As he stared at her through the haze of steam, he realized he didn't care about those other women. He wanted to show Viviana how desirable she was. He wanted to learn how to satisfy his wife, how to get her to trust him with all her desires. Mayhap then she would trust him with her heart.

Oh, he liked this plan. She would purr at first, then moan, and with any luck he would have her screaming her pleasure within the hour. His bollocks thickened, but he refused to pay heed to his needs before Viviana was completely sated and satisfied.

Content with his plan, he held the door wide for the grommets and their empty pails. "Thank ye, laddies."

Two of the three young boys disappeared down the ladderway. The lanky boy, one of Laird MacKaskill's kin, remained in the doorway. "Have ye need for anything else, Laird Kraig?" The lad couldn't be a day over thirteen summers. Only the tiniest bit of fuzz sprouted from his jaw. He glanced at Viviana, his black eyes twitched in the corners and his white-knuckled grip on the handle of his pail tightened.

Taveon could hardly blame the grommet for drooling. Viviana was indeed a vision. Not to mention the only woman on board a ship filled with ill-bred, lusty Scotsmen. If he learned anything from the Duke of Savoy, it was to trust no man. He retrieved three pieces of siller from a satchel inside the desk and set the coin in the grommet's hand. "I've a duty for ye."

The laddie bit the silver and waited for instructions.

"Take a post at the main mast until the sun sets. If anyone dares to come within a stone's throw of this cabin, sound an alarm."

"Right-o, m'laird." The boy's chapped lips curved upright, displaying teeth in danger of rotting.

Taveon closed the door of the cabin, locked it, and propped the hilt of his broadsword into the lever. Content with their privacy, he positioned himself beside his wife and gently caressed the curve of her back. "Your bath awaits ye, m'lady."

Her spine snapped ramrod straight, but her face remained angled toward the planked floor. His grin felt slightly wicked. He was about to embark on a challenge. He'd gained her forgiveness, but he wanted so much more. He wanted her surrender.

A shove at the base of her back was needed to get her bare feet walking toward the tub. "Might I enjoy my bath in privacy?"

"Nay, ye may not." He untied the knot at her waist determined not to fail in his quest.

"I fear I'm feeling slightly ill." She quickly derived another excuse.

He laughed outright at her attempt to finagle her way out of the bath. "The sails are hanging like drapes from the halyards. We've reached a doldrum and are barely moving." He peeled the robe off her shoulders, leaving her in her undertunic. The scent of a heady arousal drifted to his nose, igniting his senses anew.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, but not before he caught a glimpse of her hardened nipples. "It was a naughty thing you did staying behind."

"Mayhap, but not half as naughty as what ye intended to do had I actually left," he teased, wanting to keep the lines of conversation light.

Her ears glowed red. "I'm angry with you for tricking me."

"And I'm angry with ye for lying to me."

Her dark brows angled into a scowl, and her thick bottom lip protruded. He ignored her pout, uncrossed her arms, and yanked her undertunic over her head. Her eyes twitched beneath closed lids, and her hands fisted at her nicely rounded hips. The amulet lay between nipples pointed upward, red and ripe like berries just waiting to be tasted. He looked his fill and hoped she could see how beautiful she was through his eyes.

He cupped the underside of her breast in his palm.

She squirmed and swallowed. The pulse in her neck beat in double time.

The woman had incredibly sensitive breasts, he noted, and recalled not having touched them earlier. He was a fool, but he was learning.

When he twisted her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she slapped his hand away. "Do you intend to punish me?"

"I most certainly do." He smacked her on the rump—hard.

Her eyes snapped wide the same time she gasped.

"Dinnae fash, wife. Ye will enjoy it," he crooned in her ear, bit the lobe, and rubbed her sweet arse where he'd just spanked her. He enjoyed their banter, but not half as much as he was going to enjoy their bath.

Curling his hands around her waist he picked her up and set her in the water. She sank immediately and hugged her knees.

"I'm going to shave then I will assist ye with your bath." He hummed as he removed the day's growth from his jaw, completely unaffected by her silence. Anticipation was one of the greatest tools in a seduction. "If ye like, I can shave ye."

"I do not shave," she retorted harshly.

"Then how do ye dapple?"

"It is called depilation and not a topic I wish to discuss."