The Highlander's Triumph (10 page)

“Did my cousin wrench ye from bed to come and please me?”

She shook her head, realized he couldn’t see her,
then whispered, “Nay.”

He touched the dip in her throat. “Your heart beats fast.” He slid his fingers down her chest, between her breasts, pulling at the ribbons, until he touched right above her navel. Gooseflesh followed in his wake. “Your skin is so soft.” He pressed a hot kiss to her collarbone.

Mariana’s breaths came quicker.

“And ye taste like heaven itself.”

He slid his mouth to the center of her chest, and then traveled down between her breasts, sliding her gown open to expose her breasts and puckered nipples to the chill air. Her mouth went dry. Jumbled thoughts filled her head. Brandon’s thumbs brushed over her nipples and she moaned, jumped a little.

“Mmm,” he said. “I like the way ye respond to me.” Again he brushed over her nipples and saints preserve her, she thrust her chest forward, wanting more.

She bit her lip to keep from begging him, feeling more and more out of control, she didn’t trust herself not to speak in her French tongue.

Brandon’s lips branded a path from the valley of her breasts to the undersides, feather
-light in his teasing quest to drive her mad. He licked, kissed, suckled at nearly every part of her breast save the peaks that wanted him most. Mariana threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged in an effort to move him where she wanted, but he only chuckled, mocking her desire.

“Ye’re an eager, lass.” He gripped her hand and dragged it from his hair, down the thick muscles of his chest to the hardness beneath his plaid. “Do ye feel that? I’m eager for
ye too.”

His cock was long, thick, and stood as though waiting for her for an eternity. Mariana stroked a path upward, listening to his guttural moan. And that appeared to be the key, for his mouth fell over her nipple and drew it into the velvet, heated, cavern.

Mariana welcomed his touch, craved it. For the first time she would be with a man of her own choosing, and how glorious that she was truly enjoying it thus far. Her head fell back, mouth open on a moan. His cock jumped as if impatient to be inside her. She gave him a little squeeze, and Brandon growled, teething a warning over her nipple. Shivers made her skin tingly.

Brandon pushed her gown off her shoulders and with nothing to hold it up, the fabric slid to a puddle at her feet. Gooseflesh covered her, partly from the chill of his room and partly from anticipation and a little fear.

“I want to see ye,” Brandon said. He skimmed his hands over her bare shoulders, breasts, her belly and hips.

“Nay,” she whispered. If he lit a flint, this night would be over. “The mystery…fills me with—”

“Desire,” he finished.

Mariana didn’t answer, simply pulled the pin at his shoulder to free his plaid, reached for his belt, loosening it, and smiled
hearing the pop of the clasp. The pleasure of undressing a Highlander had never been hers. She dropped the belt on the floor, the clunk louder than she expected. Like her nightrail, with nothing to hold it up, his plaid, fell around his feet.

“Ye’re no timid, lass,” he said, but his words came out
sounding like a question.

Mariana wondered if he’d figured it out.
Figured her out. But that was absurd, for if he knew she would be back in her room. Unless making love to her haunted his thoughts the way it did hers. There was nothing she wanted more. Nothing she wouldn’t do to have him. Was it possible that he felt the same way? Was he willing to do anything to have her? It could be that they both realized this, dark, secret coupling, was the only way. Or, mayhap, just wishful thinking on her part.

She resist
ed the urge to shake her head nay. Brandon was a man of honor. If he’d guessed it was her, he must have discarded the notion, else she would no longer be there.

To prove just how bold she was, Mariana reached forward and clasped his length against her palm once more.
His skin was satin soft, firm. He was heavy in her palm, and when she stroked upward over the tip, Brandon let out a low guttural moan, his forehead falling against hers.

“Ye do that too well for a virgin.”

Mariana laughed softly, brushed her thumb over the tip.

“Ye’re no virgin, are ye?”

With one hand on his shaft, and the other on his cheek, she whispered, “Nay,” then ran her tongue along the shell of his ear.

“Och, I am in trouble then.” His voice held a teasing glint. He ran his hand over her naked behind, massaging her buttocks. Against her, she felt his breath quicken.

She laughed again. “Mayhap.”

“Ye’ve bewitched me,” he whispered back. Both hands now stroked her behind, then one came forward on her hip, slid over her belly and down toward the thatch of hair covering her sex. “I want to bewitch
ye.” He slid a finger between her slick folds, finding the throbbing nub of her desire with no problem.

Mariana
moaned, bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her entire body quivered with need.

“I’m afraid you already have,” she murmured.

Chapter Ten

I
f God were to strike him dead now, Brandon would die a happy man.

In his arms he held a woman of great mystique, beauty, and passion. Mystical, because she spoke in whispers
and preferred to go by Desire rather than her given name. Beauty, because her skin was so soft, her curves supple and he knew that her cheek would dimple slightly when she smile or laughed. Passion because of her response, her desire, the fevered way her tongue stroked over his and her hands clasped in his hair.

Mariana might have tried to disguise herself—but even in pitch black,
with her softly spoken words and a barrel of whisky in his system, he’d always known it was her.

When she’d first entered the room, her face had been outlined by the dimly lit corridor, the shape of her jaw, cheek and nose
, a torturous reminder of what he wanted so desperately and couldn’t have. She’d stood there, quiet, waiting, and he’d given her an out, pretended she was one of the maids. But she’d not taken it.

’Twas wrong, utterly immoral for him to take her offer, but he couldn’t help himself. He was powerless to her kiss, her touch. Brandon couldn’t even blame the drink because he knew full well if she came to him like this when he was sober, he’d still lay her on the bed and cherish her from head to toe. Under the guise of being strangers in the dark, it seemed possible that they could share this moment, however fleeting it would be. He’d let her pretend to be someone else, all while he truly made love to her.
Mariana, in his chamber, in his arms. He had to keep from shaking his head and pinching himself.

Was this what he
’d wanted all along? When he saw her lying on the ground, covered in soot? He’d seen the beauty shine from behind the layer of grime, but he’d also perceived her passion and fierce nature within those glorious eyes when she held his gaze.

“We shall both remember tonight for days to come,” he said.

Mariana shivered, her skin trembling beneath his touch. Her sex was hot, wet, and dammit if he didn’t want to press her backward and sink all the way to the hilt. But he couldn’t. He was serious about tonight being memorable, and though his cock was hard as stone, he wasn’t going to burst now, not when there was the whole night to savor her.

Her silky palm stroked him into oblivion, his eyes rolling with pleasure.

“Stop,” he said, although he could have lain back and let her do her worst for the next sixty seconds before he exploded.

Mariana pulled her hand away, and he could practically hear the questions running through her mind, the stillness speaking volumes.

“Dinna fash, lass, ’tis simply that it felt so good,” he murmured in her ear, skimming his tongue along the edge of her sensitive lobe. “I nearly came undone and I want to last much longer for ye.”

Mariana sighed, slid her hands up over his chest to his shoulders and then circled his neck. Her soft, warm body pressed against his, almost a shock at the difference between the two of them. His cock probed against the junction of her thighs, a mind of its own. But he couldn’t pull away, the combination of heat, the tickle of her hair and the dew that wetted the tip were enough to make a man get down on his knees and beg for entry.

“Och, lass,” he ground out.

Her nipples were hard, and scraped tantali
zingly against his chest. He’d teased about her bewitching him, but now he feared ’twas the truth. Burying his face against her neck, he kissed her bare flesh, breathed in the scent of her clean skin. Brandon seared a path from her neck to her breasts and this time didn’t tease her, but laved at her nipples in earnest. Her breaths quickened, and he swore he could hear her heartbeat pick up the pace, his own lurching into motion to match her steady cadence.

“Oh,” she moaned, tilting her hips forward, his cock sliding al
ong the slickened folds of her center.

If she kept that up, he’d lift her off her feet and bury himself inside her in mid-air. As much as it pained him, Brandon pulled his cock back, the cold air
in direct opposition to the warmth he’d just been cradled in. But it helped to calm his charging libido.

Brandon replaced his
length with the pads of his fingers, making sure to rub softly, teasingly over her nub. He stroked until her soft moans and gasps of pleasure were cries of bliss. He captured her mouth with his as her body quivered and pulsed against him. Mariana’s response, her climax, they were almost more than a man could take.

Lifting her in the air, an arm beneath her knees and another behind her back, he
carried her to the bed and placed her upon his coverlet.

“Are ye cold?” he asked.

A shifting sounded on the fabric. “Nay,” she said.

When he stroked a hand up her thigh, her skin was covered in gooseflesh. His chamber was exceptionally chilly.

“Let me light a fire.”
I know who ye are
, he almost added.

“Nay,” she said even softer.

“Then I shall warm ye with my body.”

“Aye, please,” she murmured.

Brandon longed to hear her say something in French, but he knew if he broke the spell of her mystery, Mariana would leave. He didn’t want that. Never wanted either of them to leave this room again.

But that was
unrealistic. There was a war going on. One he’d dedicated his life to. And then there were his lands. His duties.

“Come,” Mariana whispered. She reached for him, her hand sliding around his upper arm. She tugged.

Brandon could do nothing but obey, for he wanted nothing more than to be with her.

Lying down lengthwise beside her, he explored every inch of her skin with his fingers and mouth. From the curve in the arch of her foot, to the ticklish spot on her inner thigh, he cherished her, tasted her. When he slid his hand between her thighs, she was so slick and ready
.
For him
. She undulated her hips, and then broke apart once more. It was enough to make him come undone. Brandon had never taken his time with a woman, never savored the moment, like he did with Mariana. Aye, he’d left them all satisfied, but never sought to them bring them to release time and again. But that’s what he wanted with Mariana. To see her thoroughly spent. Wanted her to remember this night for eternity. When she lay in another man’s arms, he wanted her to think of him.

And there lay
the truth. If he couldn’t be the one to take her night after night, he wanted to be the one she dreamed of doing so.

His.
All his.

“Och, M—lass…” he trailed off, catching himself before he uttered her true name.

“I want you,” she murmured.

“I canna wait.”

“Don’t.”

He rolled onto his back pulling her atop him, her thighs straddling his hips. Lord
how he wished he could see her face, how desire would make her eyes hazy and lips plump and wet. The heat of her cunny hovered near his cock, an act of torture to his aroused state.

“I want to be inside
ye, Desire,” he murmured.

Mariana didn’t respond with words, instead she reached between them, her slim fingers wrapping around his
shaft. Lifting slightly, she guided the tip of his erection to her sweet opening. Brandon ground his teeth, guttural moans on the brink of becoming shouts.

He slipped in an inch, and then she imbedded him fully by thrusting her hips downward.
Both of them cried out, Brandon gripping her hips and Mariana clutching at his chest. She began to rock, transfixing Brandon wholly.

He tried to ignore the easy cadence she found, the smooth and eager rhythm that meant she knew how to meet her end. Surely
a lass who’d only been married to an elderly man wouldn’t be able to ride him like one accustomed to making love. Or would she?

Brandon thrust the thought aside, refusing to let a little thing like Mariana knowing how to give and receive pleasure ruin th
e moment. If anything, he should be more than pleased that she knew what she was doing. And then a fleeting thought had him nearly tossing her from the bed and lighting the nearest candle—what if this wasn’t Mariana?

What if in his need for her, his desire to fall heavily into her arms, he’d
fantasized the whole thing, and only a stranger straddled him?

The thought made him sick to his stomach, and he nearly lost his edge.

“Brandon…” she moaned, her French accent heavily lacing her call.

No fantasy, this was the real deal.

“Love,” he answered back, still afraid to use her name. “Ye feel so good.”

She moaned, her hands stretching
over his chest to his arms. Her pace quickened, hips swiveling in a circle and then bobbing up and down. Brandon tried to keep pace but it was hard to concentrate on her pleasure when she pushed him so close to his own.

Mariana slowed down, a painful surrendering of his pleasure.

“Dinna stop, lass,” he growled. “Please.”

Brandon had never begged before. Not even when he’d lost his virginity to the shepherd’s daughter in a pile of freshly shorn wool. This was a first for him, and it rocked him to the core.
‘Twas too much, too soon. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t like the change taking place within him.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Mariana slowed even more, her breathing ragged.
But Brandon refused to beg. In fact, he needed to take control.

Gripping her around the waist, he flipped her onto her back, without dislodging himself from her warm center.

“Ye tease me too much, lass.” He skimmed his teeth along her neck.

Mariana’s nails found anchor in his back,
clinging to him as he plunged deep and then pulled nearly the rest of the way out. He was relentless in his pursuit to see to her climax, and he didn’t have to wait long. Lithe legs clenched tight to his hips. The image within his mind of her toes curling spurred him further. Just as she was about to find her end, he stilled.

A long, tortured sigh escaped her.

“Tell me, lass.” He wanted to hear her beg, as he had moments before.

“Please,” she gasped.

That was enough for him. Brandon drove deep inside her, connecting their bodies with such ferocity the bed shook and hit the stone wall in a rhythm that could only be associated with love making. He couldn’t stop, not even knowing that half the castle could wake from the noise they made.

Beneath him, Mariana bucked and writhed. She called
out, little mewls mixed with frenzied cries. And then she shuddered, nails raking down his back, every inch of her trembling. Her cunny clenched tight then tighter around him, fluttering in a feverish beat. He was no match for her climax.

“Och!” he groaned, letting his peak take over his senses as
a pulsing pleasure captured him. He pulled out at the last second, letting his seed spill over her quivering belly.

With a corner of the sheet, Brandon wiped her clean,
then pulled her into his arms. Their legs entwined, she rested her hand on his shoulder, and he absently stroked over her back.

“That was…” Words escaped him. “I’ve never…”

“Shh…” She swiped at the sweat at his temple and then kissed him there.

Brandon clenched his jaw. She was right; he was about to share more than he should with a woman he knew little about
but had become enamored with. He’d been enamored with the shepherd’s daughter as well. But this was different. That was a lad’s first taste of what love was. He refused to think it was a man’s taste now.

Shaking his head, Brandon stood from the bed, rifled around for his shirt and threw it on. His skin was blazing despite the cool temperature of the room. Hands on his hips, he faced the bed, fingers itching to light a flint. In the pitch black he imagined Mariana lying on the bed, a knee bent up, breasts prominently displayed with her hands behind her head as she gazed at him.

The closing of the door was his only warning that she’d left the bed—in fact left the chamber.

“Mariana?” he asked, disbelieving that she actually left.

There was no reply. No whisper of sound. How silently she’d crept to gather her nightrail before slipping out. Brandon couldn’t help feeling slighted. A lass had never sneaked from his chamber before now. In fact, he was the one slipping silently from a lover’s bed time and again. Was the slight pain in his gut hurt feelings? That thought was disturbing. Why should he care? He should be glad that she’d crept out without telling him. There’d be no awkward goodbye or empty promises neither of them could keep. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed where moments before he’d been locked in an erotic embrace with the most enchanting woman.