The Highlander's Stolen Touch (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

S
he was embarrassed.

She was magnificent.

He’d watched as she gave herself over to him and allowed him to
give her pleasure. And he’d touched her with nothing but his mouth. He ached for
release, but he would not seek it now—he would not bury himself deep within her
still-pulsing flesh no matter how much he longed to do so. When her hand brushed
against him, he hissed at the near-painful touch. Ciara pushed up on her
elbows and looked at him, making it react.

‘Did I hurt you?’ she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. ‘You did not.’

‘But you did not...?’ She reached for him and he swore he would
spill it if she uttered another word about it.

‘Nay. Worry not about it, lass.’

He began to sit up, to move away, when she put her hand on his
chest and pushed him down. ‘’Tis my turn to kiss you,’ she said, bold now,
embarrassment clearly forgotten.

‘You will kill me.’

She laughed at that and shrugged. ‘Let us find out.’

No threat uttered by foe and friend ever filled him with such
terror. The thought of her mouth on him, on his flesh, made him shake. She
laughed at that, too, before kneeling over and staring at his body. He closed
his eyes and threw his arm across them. Mayhap if he did not watch he could
control himself?

The first touch of her mouth, on his nipples, proved that this
battle would require every ounce of will within him and he still might lose. But
when she moved lower and he felt the heat of her mouth and the tickling trail of
her hair on his thighs, he knew he could never win.

She learned quickly, imitating everything he’d done with deadly
accuracy. Unsure of what to do, she touched the tip of her tongue to him and he
reacted suddenly.

‘Bad?’ she asked in a throaty voice.

‘Good,’ he growled back. ‘Too good.’

The witch laughed and applied her newly found skills to
torturing him until he begged her for more. She traced a path with her wet, hot
tongue.

Ciara would drive him insane from the pleasure. She used her
lips and tongue against him as he had on her flesh and he even felt the edges of
her teeth graze along the length of him. He knew his release was not far
off.

That was when she realised she could take him in her mouth. She
opened her lips, surrounded the head of his cock and pushed down until she took
most of it inside. Her innocence was demonstrated once again when she paused and
he realised she did not know what to do next. He could have died a happy man in
that position, but he urged her on.

Tavis deserved the torment he received, for though new at this,
it took her little time to master the movements and bring him to within moments
of release. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her mouth tightening around
him, but he lifted her head.

‘I think I like kissing,’ she said with a smile.

‘Then think of how much you will like the rest of it.’

The words were out before he thought them through, but for a
fleeting moment they both realised that it would not be him doing the rest of it
with her.

‘Come, Ciara. You should get home before you are missed.’

He slid from the bed and gathered up her clothes, only then
realising that she did not move. Well, she did move, but that was only to
stretch her body like a cat, elongating her spine and rolling on to her belly,
giving him a glimpse of her beautifully sculpted arse. Her long, blonde curls
swirled over her body, hiding just enough to be enticing.

‘My parents believe I am spending the night at Elizabeth’s,’
she explained. ‘A last night alone with a dear, dear friend.’

He did not like deceiving his friend and mentor, but the
alternative was a slow and agonising death at his hands for even touching his
daughter this way.

‘You did not touch me with your hands,’ she said. He’d hoped
she’d not notice that. Leave it to her to pick up on it.

‘You asked me for a kiss,’ he said, walking to the bed and
holding out her clothes. ‘You got your kiss.’

‘You make it sound like a chore,’ she said, laughing. ‘I
thought men enjoyed tupping.’

He sat next to her and tossed the clothes on a stool. ‘Men do.
But we are not...tupping. I told you—’

‘I understand your boundaries, Tavis. And I thank you for them.
But will touching me cross that line?’

‘You are killing me by inches!’

‘Then we can talk instead.’ She held out the weapon and he
suspected she knew it would work. It did.

He turned and was on her before she could react. He lay over
her, enjoying the feel of her. He eased one leg between hers from the back and
slid it high, grazing the hair and rubbing until it eased up against her womanly
flesh.

She sighed and leaned back against him, exposing her breasts to
him. He slid his hand across them, caressing them until she arched against him.
Positioned as she was, her neck was open to him and he leaned down and kissed
her there, enjoying the way she shivered in his grasp.

Every sound she made pushed him to pleasure her more. He moved
so that she lay half on him and eased both hands around her waist so he could
stroke the folds between her legs. She lifted her leg over his, giving him
access and he slipped his fingers along the wet flesh. Her breathing became
shallower with each touch and she shifted restlessly against him. This time she
and her body knew what to expect and she responded to each caress. He found the
little bud buried in the folds and touched it. She moaned and opened more to
him. He kissed her neck and bit down gently on the cord of muscle there. Her
indrawn breath was her reply.

‘Now, Tavis, now!’ she demanded.

He did as she asked and moved faster and faster against her
readied flesh until she fell apart in his arms.

It was magnificent to see and to feel. Neither of them moved
for several minutes and it felt incredible to hold her like this.

‘Now it is time for you to go, Ciara,’ he whispered as he
relaxed his hold on her and rolled away.

But she followed him and slid her arms around him. ‘Now? Now
when you are ready?’

She could feel the moment his resistance melted, for he turned
in her arms and slid up against the headboard of the bed, giving her complete
access to his body.

‘Here, like this,’ he said, as she knelt next to him and
wrapped her hands around him.

‘Like churning butter,’ she said, intent on her purpose once
she got the movements in a smooth rhythm.

He laughed then, leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. It
made her lose her pacing, but she got it back. He did not laugh after that. He
may have panted, he may have moaned, but he did not laugh...

Later, Tavis took one of her hands and slid his fingers between
hers.

‘Now you must go,’ he whispered, kissing her knuckles.

‘Aye.’

‘Do you have regrets about coming here now?’ he asked softly,
not letting go of her hand.

She started to answer, but what good would it do? So she shook
her head. She began to sit up and he helped her this time.

Ciara knew she was not done here yet, even if Tavis did not.
She’d come here with two purposes in mind and only one was accomplished.
Accomplished well and wonderfully and now she would never have to wonder what it
would be like to find pleasure in his bed. But the more serious task lay
ahead.

They dressed in silence and he poured her a cup of ale before
she left. Ciara knew he would follow her back to make certain she made it safely
and without being recognised—he could not help himself. She turned to him before
lifting the latch and stopped.

‘I have one more request of you, Tavis.’

‘Do not ask me to watch you marry him, Ciara. I cannot do that,
even for you.’

She smiled, her eyes filling with tears. She shook her head and
glanced away for a moment. ‘Nay, not that.’

‘Then what do you ask?’ he said quietly.

‘Tell me of Saraid’s death at your hands. I would know why she
haunts you even these years later.’

‘Ciara,’ he said, his voice pleading with only that word for
her to stop.

‘I would know why the woman you loved above all keeps your
heart and soul bound to her, even in death. You owe me at least that.’

He grimaced at her, but it did not put her off.

‘Do you know that I plotted to trip her on her way to the
church for your wedding? To keep her from marrying so that you would wait for
me?’ Tears gathered once more, but she smiled through them. ‘Elizabeth and I
were ready to lunge and bring her down.’ She nodded then. ‘Now when I look back,
I realise it was a grievous error on my part not to have done it.’

‘You did not?’ He narrowed his gaze and laughed then. ‘You did?
What stopped you?’

‘I saw the way you looked at her from your place by the door.’
She took in and released a breath. ‘I knew then that that was what love looked
like.’

‘I did love her,’ he admitted the obvious.

‘You looked at me that way on our journey to Perthshire. I saw
it then.’

‘I cannot deny the love I feel for you. I just cannot put you
in the same position I did Saraid.’

‘Tell me, Tavis. Explain how you killed her.’ She dropped her
shawl around her shoulders and sat down in his chair. ‘I am not leaving, not
giving myself to another man instead of the one I love, until I understand what
keeps your heart imprisoned.’

‘She was carrying our bairn,’ he said, rubbing his hands
through his hair and turning away from her to stare into the fire that now
burned low in the hearth. ‘And she had terrible fears about it. Terrible. She
would beg me every night not to leave her alone. Not to let her die.’ He glanced
at her with bleak eyes and then continued. ‘God forgive me, but I tired of it.
She became too scared to leave the cottage. Too frightened to do most anything.
She would not travel with me. Would not ride a horse. Would not...’

Ciara did not remember this at all. Too young to realise the
true intimacy between a man and his wife. ‘What happened?’

‘I swore to keep her safe. I swore she would not die, I would
not let her die.’ He shook his head again, but did not meet her gaze then.
‘Connor asked me to see to a task for him that would take me from the village
for a day, maybe two, and I accepted the assignment. I could have assigned
someone else, knowing how frightened Saraid was—I should have. But, sweet
Christ, I needed to be away from her for a short time. I could not breathe, I
could not...’

He walked over and splashed more ale in a cup for himself and
drank it down. She could feel the pain pouring out of him with each passing
moment. He was reliving this dark time in the telling of it.

‘We argued. We argued badly and I left her behind. Told her I
would be back whenever I got back,’ he admitted in a tortured voice. ‘I did not
know...I had no idea...’ He ran his hand through his hair and stared at her with
bleak eyes. ‘I goaded her into something she should not have done.’

Ciara went to him, kneeling before him and taking his hand in
hers. He needed to tell this and release the pain he carried deep, deep
inside.

‘I carried out my duty. It was a day’s ride away. I was
returning when I found her.’

‘You found her? Where was she?’

‘Her pains began after our argument. Instead of calling for the
midwife or one of the women, she got on a horse and followed me. She caught up
with me a few hours from here and I was still angry. I ordered her off, demanded
she return here without hearing her out and then I rode off full of my own
bluster and rage.

‘By the time I returned and found her there on the ground the
next day, she’d bled so much there was nothing I could do for her.’

‘Tavis, it was not your fault,’ she said firmly. ‘You did not
cause her death.’

‘But I did, Ciara. If I’d been more attentive. If I’d listened.
If I had stayed. If I’d ridden back with her and saw to her safety, she might be
alive today.’

‘That is something that only the Almighty decides, Tavis. Not
us. She could have died in childbirth, too. Would that have been your
fault?’

‘I gave her my word! Do you not understand? I swore an oath to
keep her safe and I rode away.’ His hands shook as much as his voice did. ‘She
would have had a chance if not for me and my anger. If not for me...’

He had played a part in Saraid’s death, if he’d acted as he’d
just described, but Ciara thought the ending might have been the same no matter
what help he offered or what he did. Tavis was too controlled by his guilt and
pain to accept any truth that might include his own vindication, but mayhap he
would when he thought on it.

Later.

Later, when he considered the error in his decision not to put
the past behind him and ignore a future he, they, could share. Or later when he
learned how to forgive himself for his failings.

She stood and put her shawl up to cover her head for the walk
back to Elizabeth’s cottage. Well, not really to her cottage, for Elizabeth did
not know of her plans this night. No one did. She would sleep in the small barn
next to Elizabeth’s and then return to her parents’ house in the morning—none
the wiser of what she’d done or where she’d been.

‘I know it is too late for us, but I beg you to speak to the
midwife, Gunna. She saw Saraid frequently and has a different view of things. It
might help you forgive yourself.’

He was too steeped in the pain of dragged-up memories to hear
anything else. ‘Twas only then that she noticed the small piece of wood on the
hearth’s shelf. Picking it up, she recognised the shape—a heart. Instead of a
horse, he’d carved something of himself for her to keep with her always. Tears
trickled down her cheeks as she shook her head and walked to the doorway.

‘Farewell, Tavis,’ she whispered as she closed her fingers
around the precious keepsake. Ciara opened the door and pulled it closed behind
her and ran off down the path.