Susana and the Scot (17 page)

Ah, yes, she might regret it tomorrow, but today's hunger was far too savage to be denied.

She spread her legs and leaned up, offering him entrance. His eyes flared and he took his cock from her keeping, from her tight grip, and eased it in.

Susana nearly swooned as the fat head slipped inside. Long-starved nerve endings screamed their delight. He pressed deeper, wedging inside her, filling her, completing her.

God, it was delicious. Why had she waited so long?

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist and pulled him closer. He drove in with one sure thrust.

As he hit
that
spot, so deep within, her every muscle clenched.

He hissed a groan as she closed on him and then, tightening his hold on her hips, yanked out.

Everything within her rebelled. The emptiness was an aching void, but he didn't torment her for long. He thrust back in, harder this time, deeper. New shivers took her.

“Aye,” she muttered. “More.”

He complied. His hips picked up speed, and he fucked her, sluicing in and out in an ever-increasing frenzy. Harder, faster, tighter, he pummeled her, with each lunge, sending greater and greater pleasure through her. Her breath caught, her heart raced, her body burned with an internal flame. It was far too intense, far too exquisite, far too raw. She didn't think she could survive this. She didn't think she could bear it. The tension increased, closed down on her, threatened to shatter her sanity.

She clasped him tightly, holding him close, savaging the flesh of his back with her nails in her frenzy to urge him on. “More” she huffed into his ear. “More.”

And ah, he gave her more.

The sounds of flesh slapping flesh ringed the small, shadowed room. Their grunts and groans twined.

His movements became shorter, sharper. His cock swelled, filling her completely. Each slide drove her higher and higher into the ether. Each thrust sent shards of indescribable delight sluicing along every nerve, making her mindless and mad.

Helpless, hopeless, battered by bliss, she broke. Mind spinning, soul wrapped in exquisite pleasure, she released.

He wasn't far behind. Indeed, her crisis incited his. As she clenched him, barraging him with a hellish raft of shivers, he tossed back his head and hissed, “Susana,” and he flooded her. Flooded her with a delicious heat.

When his body stopped shaking and the shudders had quieted to mere ripples, he relaxed against her. She could feel the thrum of his heart through the layer of his tunic and her dress. His weight was warm and delicious and she couldn't help wishing they were melded, skin-to-skin.

She kissed his neck, reveling in the gruff scratch of his beard against her cheek, and sighed. He murmured something unintelligible and eased back, but she locked her legs. Holding him in. She didn't want it to end. Not yet. The connection, the closeness was far too enjoyable and she'd been alone for too long.

He chuckled and lifted his head. “I told you we were well matched.”

“I dinna disagree.”

His grin was provoking.

“What?” she muttered, but there was a lightness to her tone, one she hadn't tasted in a long long time.

He raised and hand and cupped her cheek. Thumbed her lips. “It is only … that's the first time you havena disagreed with me,” he said.

“That's hardly true.”

“It is.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to start a quarrel?” Seriously? At a time like this? When he was still buried deep within her?

“Nae,” he blurted. And then he repeated himself, more softly, in a low rumble. “Nae. I'd rather not quarrel. I'd rather do this.”

His lips touched hers, teased them. He sucked in her lower lip and she felt her desire stir again. Could it be that, even though he had sated her completely, she still wanted him?

But in truth, she didn't want to quarrel, either. Not when she had him in her arms. Not when his body was warm against hers and his tongue danced delight on her neck. Ah, she was weak and she knew it. At the moment she didn't care.

“In fact…” He lifted his head and stared at her and while she was annoyed that he'd stopped that delicious drizzle of exploration, she liked the look in his eyes.

“In fact … what?”

“What if we never have the third heat?” he said softly.

Susana's pulse fluttered. “Never have the third heat?”

“What if we call it a draw? Right here and now. What if we agree … to both be in charge.”

She gaped at him. “Both of us?”

“Working together. Do you no' think, with our combined brilliance, we could outstrategize any villain?”

She tipped her chin to the side. “Are you saying I'm brilliant?”

“I'm saying you are verra brilliant. And clever and beautiful.”

“You're … not so bad yourself.”

He chuckled. “Doona overwhelm me with compliments.”

“I wouldna dare.” He did ease away then, slipping from her; she quivered as yet another shower of delight rippled through her at his passing. She pushed down her skirts as he fastened his breeks and she tried not to dwell on the mortifying fact that neither of them had bothered to undress for this mating. Then again, there had been no time. One kiss and the frenzy had consumed them.

It should frighten her, the ease with which he seduced her, but she was woman enough to admit that her need had been powerful and his allure had been strong.

And she was woman enough to admit she'd missed this. Missed him.

No other man made her feel like this. Ever.

She'd never
wanted
another man. She'd married Gilley upon her return, aye, because she knew she was with child and couldn't bear to dishonor her father's name, but also because she knew Gilley wasn't the kind of man who would ever demand
this
of her.

And he never had.

She'd lived the past six years untouched. Unloved. Alone. Though surrounded by family and friends and beset with the business of her life, she'd walked each day in utter isolation.

When the desire rose—and it often did, as she was a passionate soul—she would force it down, back down into the deep dark well of her soul.

It only stood to reason that when
he
resurfaced in her life, the one man she craved, it was only a matter of time before this happened.

And she couldn't regret it. It had been wonderful.

Joy and fulfillment bubbled up. When Andrew glanced at her and their gazes tangled, and he offered her that boyish grin, the one that had stolen her heart all those years ago, she had to slip into his arms and kiss him again. “Thank you for that,” she said. “It was lovely.”

It surprised her that he frowned. “It wasna lovely…”

“What?” She glared at him. Disappointment and discontent twined in her chest.

He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a sigh. “It was. It was lovely. Susana … it was perfect. But…”

She narrowed her eyes. “But what?”

He threw out his arms, gesturing to the swords and bows and spears arranged along the walls. “This is hardly the place I would have chosen to seduce you for the first time.”

It was hardly the first time, but she wasn't telling him that. Instead she sent him a minxish grin. “It is the perfect place. For a woman like me.”

He stilled. Perhaps noticing the coquettish tone in her voice. Or her fingers trailing along his muscled thigh. And damn, it was muscled. She wanted to see it, touch it, taste it, bare. “A woman like you? A warrior princess?”

“Is that how you think of me?”

“Aye. How could I not?” He adjusted the angle of her bodice, which had somehow become rumpled. “A room like this arouses you?” He posed it as a question, but it was not.

He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms again. She recognized the glimmer in his eye. She certainly recognized the rising bulk of his passion.

He was ready for another go.

For that matter, so was she.

“I would much prefer a bed,” he murmured against her lips. “A soft bower with…” He tapped one of the arrows. “Fewer pointy things.”

“Perhaps that can be arranged.” The words were whispered, but he heard. His lips on hers quirked. His body firmed.

“Tonight, perhaps—”

The door slammed open and they flew apart. Susana quickly bent to pick up the arrows he'd knocked to the floor in his passion to get at her. She glanced up, pretending surprise when she saw Keir in the doorway. He stood with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. His gaze flicked from Susana to Andrew and back again.

“Perhaps a soft bower without … interruptions,” Andrew said in an aside.

Susana nibbled her lips to keep back an inappropriate smile.

“There you are,” Keir said. He stepped into the armory, ducking his head to avoid a row of crossbows hanging from the low rafters. “I was wondering where you'd gone.” He shot a look at Andrew. “The rain has stopped. Are you ready to finish the duel?”

“Ah…” Susana set the arrows back in their quivers and leaned them against the wall. When they slipped again, Andrew helped her right them. “We've been talking, Keir…”

“Talking?” He said the word in a sharp tone, as though he suspected, or perhaps smelled, what had really happened here.

“We're calling it a draw,” Andrew said, taking her arm in a message stronger than any words. “We'll be working together from now on.”

Keir's features closed into a tight ball that looked a little like petulance, but he recovered quickly, arranging his expression into something bland and unreadable. “Very good, my lady.” He gave a curt bow, spun on his heel, and left the building.

Susana stared after him. She'd suspected he'd had a tendre for her, but their relationship had never been anything more than cordial. She'd absolutely never given him cause to think she had
that
kind of interest in him. She could only imagine that his pique stemmed from his displeasure over being replaced as the man in charge of Dounreay defenses. She hoped he wasn't too upset with her decision, but really, it was for the best.

She turned to Andrew and found him studying her solemnly, as though he could read her emotions. Which was silly. Just like every other man, he was oblivious to much. A muscle ticked in his cheek. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She forced a smile. “Keir will come around. Doona worry. If I command my men to work with you, they will.”

*   *   *

It was probably inappropriate to feel like a conquering hero as he emerged from the armory with Susana on his arm, but Andrew couldn't quash the feeling. Exhilaration, joy, and utter satisfaction swamped him.

It was more than the thrill a man felt when he chased and caught his prey. It was more than the contentment in the lingering pleasure of an extraordinarily satisfying fuck. It was far beyond that.

Because it was Susana.

Not only had she allowed him to make love to her—in an armory, no less—she'd encouraged him. Incited him.

The gratification hit him deep, where he lived.

The woman he wanted, more than he wanted his next breath, wanted him, too.

And beyond that, this had been but the first foray of their relationship. He could only hope for more.

When he'd mentioned a next time, she had not demurred. Nae. She had smiled.

He glanced down at her as they emerged into the bailey. She wiggled her shoulders until he realized she meant for him to drop his arm and his mood dipped, but only slightly. Of course she didn't want anyone to see his arm around her. Didn't want anyone to witness their affinity. This was far too new.

But damn, he didn't want to stop touching her.

What he wanted was to kiss her.

What he really wanted was to find that secluded bower … and fuck her again.

But he merely smiled and bowed and said, “Will I see you at dinner tonight, my lady?”

He invested a low thrum in his tone and while on the surface, the invitation seemed innocent enough, he could tell from her flush that she had divined his true meaning. He didn't give a good goddamn about dinner. He only cared about seeing her again.

Her lashes fluttered. “Aye.”

“Excellent.”

Her smile flickered again and then she turned to make her way back to the castle through the puddles in the bailey. He couldn't rip his gaze from her and was rewarded when she looked back, not once, but thrice.

He didn't stop watching until she disappeared from sight, and even then, it was difficult to turn away.

It helped that Hamish sidled up next to him and nudged him with his shoulder. “Well,” he gusted. “That was an interesting duel.”

Aye. It had been, indeed. But not a duel so much as a dance. A frantic, impassioned, exhilarating dance.

“When are you going to finish it?”

Andrew blinked. “Finish it?”

“The duel.”

“Oh, it's finished.” The battle between them was finished, but the war wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

“And who won?”

“We both did, I think.” He nibbled at his triumphant smile, then added more soberly, “She and I agreed to work together.”

“Did you?” He didn't like the contemplative light in Hamish's eyes. “Interesting.”

“Indeed. It was a successful … negotiation.”

They both chuckled as they made their way up into their loft. As they rounded the corner of the staircase, Andrew's steps stalled. Though it had stopped raining, the damage to their rooms had been done. The pallets lay in fat puddles, and drops still pooled from the ceiling.

“The least you could have done was negotiate better sleeping arrangements,” Hamish murmured.

Andrew couldn't help but bite back a grin. “Believe me, I'm working on it.”

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Susana stared at her reflection in the mirror as she readied herself for dinner. The smile teasing her lips concerned her a little, but she couldn't banish it. Her mad passionate tryst with Andrew in the armory had been nothing short of glorious.