Never Love a Highlander (7 page)

He waited, not wanting to do any more that would put them at odds. He seemed to have the ridiculous habit of shoving his foot into his mouth every time he opened it.

“Will you be wanting to get on with it tonight?”

His eyebrows drew together and his forehead wrinkled as he stared back at her. “Get on with what, lass?”

She gestured toward the bed, color surging into her cheeks, painting them a dusky rose he found fascinating. Realization hit him, and again he was struck by how protective her hesitancy made him.

“Come here, Rionna.”

For a moment he thought she was going to disobey him. Then with a sigh, she rose gracefully from her place by the fire and walked toward him, her hair shimmering down her back like a lighted torch.

When she was close enough, he drew her between his thighs and gathered her hands in his.

“If I expect you to mount a horse tomorrow, and ’tis obvious I do, then I’ll not be doing anything tonight that would make you too tender for the ride.”

Her blush deepened and she ducked her head.

He squeezed her hands so she’d look back at him. “However, when we do get around to consummating our marriage, you have nothing to fear, lass. I’ll not do anything that frightens or hurts you.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced. She nervously licked her bottom lip, leaving it shiny and moist in the glow of the firelight.

Unable to resist the unintentional invitation, he tugged at her hands until she was perched on his thigh. With a gentleness and grace he didn’t know he possessed, he stroked his hand over her cheekbone and then delved his fingers into the mass of hair behind her ear.

Warmed by her sitting by the fire for so long, it was indeed like caressing sunshine. Mesmerized by the feel and sight of the strands spilling and sliding over his fingers like liquid silk—he was sure he’d never touched anything so fine—he drew her closer until their mouths were just a breath away.

“Kiss me,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize.

The directive unsettled her. She sat rigid in his lap, so tense she resembled a stone pillar. She looked at him, then at his mouth, and licked her lips again.

Ah hell.

His cock was as rigid as she was. He shifted his position, not wanting to alarm her, but every time he moved, he only became more aware of the fact that a beautiful, fiery woman was sitting in his arms. A woman he’d told he wasn’t consummating their marriage tonight.

Idiot.

Surely he could put her on the horse with him so she experienced no discomfort.

Nay, that wouldn’t work either because then he’d have to endure the entire ride in agony.

He sighed and resigned himself to a night of extreme discomfort. He had no intention of bedding her, but neither would he allow her to sleep in her own chamber.

His brothers never spent a night away from their wives. He’d give them no cause to think he was lacking.

Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his. Just barely a touch, but it was like a streak of lightning. Hot. His toes even tingled as if they’d been dipped in fire.

It took every bit of his restraint not to roll her onto the bed and kiss her senseless. His newfound patience and desire to not frighten the daylights out of her was one of his more stupid decisions.

She drew away immediately, her eyes wide, a touch of pink suffusing her soft cheeks. Then she slid one hand up his chest and over his shoulder, staring warily at him the whole while as if she expected him to bite her for daring to touch him. Jesu, but he was nigh to the point of
begging
her to touch him.

Her fingers wandered to his neck and then she put her mouth carefully to his again. This time she remained there as she tentatively explored his mouth. With her tongue. Sweet mother of God, this was killing him.

She stirred restlessly against him as she pressed closer, her mouth hotly fused to his.

A surge of lust rolled through his body, but he held back, not wanting to destroy the sweetness of her offering. She was an innocent for all her warrior ways and attempts at acting like a man. She deserved all the gentleness and wooing he could muster, though God only knew he’d deserve sainthood before this was over with.

“ ’Tis not unpleasant, this kissing,” she whispered.

“Nay, lass, ’tis not unpleasant at all. Who told you such?”

She paused and pulled farther away, her eyes faintly glazed as she stared back at him. “No one. I’ve never kissed anyone before. ’Tis the truth I don’t know the way of it.”

He nearly groaned. It pleased him that he was the only man she’d ever kissed—provided she told the truth—but such innocence couldn’t be faked, surely, and what would she have to gain by such a falsehood? Nay, he was allowing past transgressions to color the present, which was hardly fair to his bride.

And that she said she didn’t know anything of kissing made him want to snort. The lass was a born temptress. She kissed with a mixture of bold vixen and sweet innocence that inspired so many conflicting reactions that he was tongue-tied and cross-eyed.

“I think you have it just right,” he murmured. “But just in case, perchance you could practice a bit more on me.”

She shook with nervous laughter, the sound tinkling over his ears like little silver bells.

“Kissing can be wondrous if done correctly,” he said. Even as he spoke, he thought on how long it had been since he’d truly enjoyed something as sweet as a simple kiss.

“Correctly?”

“Aye.”

“Show me.”

He grinned and pulled her lower, then bent and pressed his lips to the pulse at her neck. She jumped and then let out a breathy sigh just before melting against him. He nibbled a path to her ear and licked the lobe like she was a delicious treat.

Her fingers dug into his arms. She was turned in his lap so that her bound breasts were pressed tight to his chest. It was killing him, now that he knew what lurked behind that binding.

“Oh aye, kissing is nice.”

There was no way in heaven or hell that he was going to content himself with lying beside her in the bed all night. He’d promised himself and her that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her or make tomorrow’s journey uncomfortable, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge himself in the feast of her silken skin.

He tugged at the sleeves of her gown until her shoulders were bared. She immediately went still and then pushed away from his chest, her mouth pursed as if to protest. She opened her mouth then sealed it shut as she continued to look at him.

“I want to look at you. Then I’m going to show you that there’s quite a bit more to kissing, not to mention a lot more places that kissing brings pleasure to.”

“Oh.”

The word slid from her lips with breathless excitement. Her pupils flared and a flush danced across her throat and cheeks.

“What do you want me to do?”

He smiled. “Not a damn thing, lass. I’ll be doing what needs to be done. All you have to do is lie back and enjoy it.”

C
HAPTER
6

Rionna couldn’t help her reaction to Caelen’s husky drawl. It prickled over her skin, eliciting a feminine longing deep within. And then he stood, nearly carrying her upward as he set her away from him.

Before she could process the emptiness that suddenly besieged her at the loss of his touch, he began inching her gown up her legs, baring her ankles and then her knees.

She felt sinful and brazen and it perplexed her that she decided she quite liked it. Who would have ever accused her of being sensual? A woman to turn a man’s head?

An indecent thrill sent chill bumps racing across her belly as the gown inched higher. She quite liked that, too. Panic scuttled through her chest about the time Caelen finally pulled the gown free of her head.

Clad now in her most intimate underthings, hardly barriers to his seeking gaze, heat scorched over her flesh and her cheeks tightened as she blushed furiously. He looked at her as though he wanted to devour her whole, like he was a beast closing in on his prey. She should be afraid, but what she really felt was … anticipation.

“I should do this slower so that I can savor the sight of you, but I’m an impatient man, and I can’t bear the excitement a moment longer. I simply have to see you, lass. I want to touch you so much, I’m shaking with it.”

She’d never been a woman to swoon. She’d never fainted in her life, but her knees were precariously weak and she was so light-headed that she feared falling right over.

She had no sense of herself. She felt as though she were floating in some delicious dream she never wanted to awaken from. Only, her dreams had never been this erotic, and they certainly didn’t include a magnificent warrior standing before her, trembling because he wanted her so. Staring at her like she was the only woman in the world.

With urgency he hadn’t displayed so far, he quickly divested her of the last remaining material and suddenly she was clad in only the binding around her breasts. A shiver overtook her though she was far from chilled.

He stared at the binding for a long moment before lifting his gaze. “ ’Tis a travesty to hide such a wealth of feminine beauty. Are you ashamed?”

Her cheeks tightened in mortification. “Nay, I mean aye. Maybe. They’re inconvenient,” she finally managed. “They get in the way.”

Caelen chuckled, his voice husky with amusement. “I’m torn between forbidding you to ever hide them and only allowing you to reveal them to me.”

“You … You like them?”

“Oh aye, lass. We men are fond of such things. However, I’ll like them more when I get this binding from around you.”

He turned her around and gently untied the ends. Holding one of the strips of material, he walked around to the front and then began unwinding, transferring from hand to hand and reaching around her until her breasts pushed forward and at last, sprang free from confinement.

He stared unabashedly, though he didn’t just focus on her breasts. Finally, she was completely nude, and he took his time, sweeping his gaze over her body from head to toe. Then he stared into her eyes. His breath came out in a ragged exhale.

“You are magnificent.”

His palms glided over her, stroking reverently. Her breasts grew heavy. Aching. And so very tight. Her nipples puckered and became hard, pouty, begging for his touch.

She sucked in her breath when his fingers brushed over both of her nipples. Shards of exquisite pleasure streaked through her abdomen and down to her groin. Her womb clenched and her most intimate flesh grew damp. She was swollen and … hot.

Any idea that she could maintain her footing disappeared as soon as he lowered his head and his mouth closed around one taut nipple. She gasped and her knees buckled.

With a groan, he caught her against him, turned, and took a step to the bed. His arms wrapped tightly around her, he fell forward, coming down on top of her as her back hit the straw mattress.

His mouth melted over hers, taking until she couldn’t draw breath. When he tore his lips away, they both gasped for air. Before she could regain her senses, he ran his mouth heatedly down her jaw then to her neck and lower until he shaped her nipple and suckled strongly.

With each pull of his mouth, she moaned and wave after wave of excitement tugged relentlessly at her womb. He swirled his tongue around each peak, one and then the other. He licked and teased until she squirmed in frustration.

He acted like a man starved. And yet he was exceedingly gentle and in turns rough. It confused her.

She wanted more. She needed more. But she wasn’t at all sure what it was she wanted or needed.

He slid his tongue around and then up the underside of her breast until the bud balanced precariously on the edge of his lip. Then he sucked it inside, sweeping it past his teeth, pulling and tugging at it until she cried out and dug her nails into his broad shoulders.

“Caelen, please! Have mercy.”

He raised his head, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames in the hearth. “Mercy? Lass, I have none. Furthermore, you won’t want it. But you’ll beg for more. Aye, you will.”

He kissed the hollow between her breasts and murmured softly against her skin. “You’re beautiful, Rionna. Never hide what God has given you. You are a woman blessed.”

His words soaked into her heart, giving comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. How could a man who was so harsh and unyielding speak with a poet’s soul? He was a hard man. His words were harder. He was quick to offer criticism. He hadn’t spared her feelings at any point. And yet now he wooed her as gently as a man wooing his lover.

He kissed a path down to her navel, moving his big body as his mouth moved lower. He tongued the indention, then grazed his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

More goose bumps scattered across her belly and still he moved lower, shocking her with his daring.

He parted her thighs and positioned his body so that his head was above her pelvis. Her eyes widened as he lowered his head. He couldn’t. Surely he wouldn’t.

Oh God, he did.

He slid his fingers through the patch of hair covering her throbbing center and parted the swollen, aching folds. She was so mystified that she couldn’t form a single objection as he pressed a kiss to her damp flesh.

She trembled uncontrollably. Her thighs shook. Her knees shook. Her belly quivered and her breasts strained upward, so unbearably taut that she wanted to writhe right out of her skin.

And then he licked her.

A long, positively sinful swipe of his tongue, from her opening to the hood of flesh where he circled the throbbing bundle of nerves at her very heart.

He followed it with a simple kiss and then he sucked ever so gently at the little bud until she was a sobbing mess of incoherency.

Oh aye, he’d certainly told the truth about kissing.

Her sense of urgency mounted. Her body tensed and coiled, tighter and tighter. Pleasure bloomed and became nearly painful through her breasts and her womb and centered at the pulsing nub that he so unmercifully teased.

It felt as though she’d simply break apart at some point, but each time she thought she’d surely split, the pressure and indescribable pleasure only increased, driving her further into the state of madness.