The Knight and the Seer (16 page)

His hands tightened on her arms and he held her a little away, his eyes hot and fierce as they stared into hers. “What am I to do with you, Imp?”

“Love me, Andrew. Just love me.”

His breath came out in a long, deep sigh. “God in heaven. How can I not?”

And then his mouth covered her in a kiss that nearly devoured her. When at last he drew away her lips formed a little pout.

“àin,” she whispered.

He gave a dry laugh. “If I do, I won’t be able to stop.”

“How grand.” Her smile was radiant. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Nor do I. But sooner or later the servants will return.” He gave her a dangerous smile. “And I’m in no mood to be interrupted by servants. We need to go somewhere away from the others.” He skimmed his mouth over hers. “I suppose we could bar the door to your chambers or mine. But even then the servants will simply stand outside waiting to enter.”

She gave him a sly smile. “I know a place where the servants will never bother us.”

“Where?”

Her smile grew. “The old abbey library.”

She saw him considering her suggestion before he cupped her face with his hand and kissed her soundly, lingering over her lips until he caught himself going under. It was so easy to fall under the spell of this woman.

Against her mouth he muttered, “You really are a clever little imp. And if I don’t get you out of here this minute, I’ll never make it.” He caught her hand. “Follow my lead.”

As they stepped out into the hall they encountered the housekeeper who was poised with her hand lifted, just about to knock.

“Finished so soon, my laird?”

“Aye, Mistress.”

“Cook has made a tray of sweets, my laird.”

“Thank Cook, and send my apology. The lady and I have had our fill.”

“Will I send ale to your chambers, my laird?”

“That won’t be necessary. Good night, Mistress MacLean.”

“Good night, my laird.” She gave a light bow of her head, trying not to stare at their disheveled appearance, or to make too much of the fact that their breathing was overly shallow. Still, she gave a knowing smile at their retreating backs as she called, “Sleep well, my laird. My lady.”

Chapter Fourteen

A
ndrew and Gwenellen moved quickly along the hall, acknowledging any servants they met with a simple nod. Neither of them spoke. Nor did they touch. But each was achingly aware of the other. Of the heat that seemed to shimmer and pulse in the very air between them. Of the furtive glances with each hurried footfall. Of the purposeful way they moved, desperate to reach their goal.

Finally they rounded a curve and stepped into the old section of the abbey. After following another hallway, they paused at the doorway to the library.

As Andrew shoved open the door, Gwenellen felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of what they were about to do. Would he find her inexperience laughable? Would she be as clumsy in her lovemaking as she was in other areas of her life?

Then he turned and smiled, and her fears evaporated like the mist over the Enchanted Loch. This was what she wanted. What she desperately craved. To be held in this man’s arms. To be loved. Woman to man.

“Afraid, Imp?” He gathered her close and brushed his lips over her temple.

“I was. But not now.”

“And why is that?”

“What I feel is so strong, so right. As though we were meant to be together here. Do you understand?”

“I do.” He nodded. “I was afraid, too.” He smiled. “But not now.” His hands moved along her back, causing the most amazing sensations to slide, like fire and ice, deep inside.

“You were afraid? Truly?” For some strange reason that admission made her heart feel incredibly light.

“Truly. You’re so very special to me, Imp.” He rained soft butterfly kisses across her upturned face. “So sweet. Untouched. Each time we’ve kissed, I’ve thought about a score of ways to love you. But always I was afraid. Afraid to spoil someone so unsullied by this world.”

“And now?” She stared into his eyes as though searching for answers.

He tossed aside her cloak and ran his hands up her arms. “And now we’re here together, and, right or wrong, I’ll have my fill of you.”

She shivered and gave a little laugh. “You make me sound like Cook’s sweets.”

“You’re so much better.” The look in his eyes was a mixture of teasing laughter and simmering desire. “Every time I see you I want to devour you.”

He dragged her close and kissed her, lingering over her lips as though she were the sweetest confection. His hands were in her hair, drawing her head back while he kissed her until they were both breathless. And still it wasn’t enough. He wanted to crawl inside her skin. To take her, hard and fast, like a barbarian. Instead, he held back, keeping his kisses gentle enough to allow her to relax and open to him.

Open she did. Her lips to his. Her body, straining toward his, with the most incredible rush of heat. And her heart, eager to accept the love he was offering.

Lost in the kiss, she reached out blindly, her hands clutching his waist. She had the sudden notion that her legs might fail her and she would slide bonelessly to the floor. His kisses had a way of doing that. Of making her weak, and turning her world on its head. Surely it was magic. A very special kind of mortal magic that only he possessed. Not that she cared, as long as he didn’t stop doing what he was doing, for it was mesmerizing.

He brushed wet nibbling kisses down the smooth column of her throat.

She tried to push away while bursting into gales of laughter. “Andrew, that tickles.”

“And this?” He drew her close and buried his mouth in the little hollow between her neck and shoulder.

Her laughter turned to a low moan of pleasure as he continued down her collarbone to her breast. Despite the barrier of her clothing her nipple hardened instantly at his touch.

She hadn’t expected that quick tug of desire, or the liquid warmth deep inside that had her trembling with strange new needs.

“A moment, Andrew.” She placed her palms against his chest. “I can’t think.”

He ran his hands lightly up her arms. “There’s no need to think, Imp. Just feel.”

“But I feel so…” She tried to put it into words, but all she could do was sigh. How could she possibly explain the way her body vibrated with such need, it had her shuddering.

He gave her a heart-stopping look. “Would you like me to stop?”

“Nay.” Her hands fisted at the front of his tunic, holding him when he started to pull away.

Against her lips he muttered, “Praise heaven for that. I don’t know what I’d do if you asked me to stop now.” With a chuckle he wrapped her in a fierce embrace and covered her mouth with his.

He took the kiss deeper until their chests were heaving, hearts thundering.

When at last they came up for air, he reached for the buttons of her gown. His fingers fumbled and he swore. “Why must there be so many buttons on women’s gowns?”

“I never thought of it before. Perhaps it’s intended to preserve our virtue.”

She saw his quick grin. “You don’t think a few buttons will do it?”

She laughed, and the warmth of it trickled over him like warm honey. “Not when you’re in such a mood as this. Shall I help you, my lord?”

“Allow me, my lady.” Before she had time to realize what he planned, he tore the bodice in two and the gown slipped away, pooling at her feet.

“Andrew.” Her eyes widened. “How will I explain this to Olnore?”

“You’ll tell her that the buttons were much too small for your lover’s hands.”

“My lover?” Again that wide-eyed reaction, as she realized the implication. “You are, aren’t you? Truly?”

“Truly.” He reached for the ribbons of her chemise. With one tug the delicate fabric parted.

He slid it from her shoulders, all the while staring at her with a look that spoke more than words. She was so incredibly lovely, standing in the spill of moonlight from high, narrow windows above. The sight of her took his breath away.

“Oh, my beautiful Imp.” The words were spoken with a sort of reverence.

Then those strong, warrior’s hands were touching her. Moving along her body. The soft curve of her breasts. The narrow waist. The gentle flare of hips. His mouth followed the trail of fire started by his fingertips. With lips and tongue he kissed, caressed, worshiped, slowly driving her mad.

He was losing himself in her. Her scent, as fresh as wildflowers. Her sighs, whispering over his senses like the siren song of some exotic bird. Her skin. Pale as milk, and softer than the underside of a rose petal.

Each time she trembled at his touch he found himself more and more aroused until he thought he’d go mad from the need for her.

When she reached for his tunic he helped her until his clothes joined hers on the floor.

Now she was free to touch him as he was touching her. Her fingers moved tentatively across his face, over his shoulder, down his chest.

“You’re so beautiful, Andrew.”

“I’ve a warrior’s body, covered with scars. It could hardly be called beautiful, Imp.”

“But it is. You are. All that muscle. I’ve never before seen a man’s body. It’s so different. So…splendid.” She trailed her hands across the flat planes of his stomach, then lower, until he moaned and covered her mouth in a savage kiss.

Her touch on his naked flesh was the most exquisite torture. He wanted, more than anything, to take what she offered here and now, and end this hard, driving need building inside. But he wanted so much more. He cautioned himself to go slowly. Now that he was free to indulge, he would have it all. He would take and give until they were both sated. A feast for one who’d been starving. A night undisturbed, to indulge in every kind of fantasy. This was what he craved for both of them. And they would have it, even if it took superhuman control.

Taking her hands he drew her down on the cloak and lay beside her, before covering her mouth in a searing kiss.

Gwenellen absorbed the quick rush of heat, then the slow, steady throb of need. She could actually feel her blood begin to pulse and flow like lava through her veins. When his lips left hers she made a sound of protest. But when his mouth began a lazy exploration of her body, she could do nothing more than sigh from the pure pleasure of it.

She lay steeped in the most amazing sensations. As though she had just discovered her own body through his touch. She’d never dreamed a man’s hands could be so compelling. She could feel him in every pore. Could taste him on her lips. Could smell the distinct male musky scent of him deep in her lungs.

She felt beautiful. Desirable.

Andrew could feel her begin to relax in his arms, as trust replaced fear. Trust. More than desire, more than need, the knowledge that she trusted him had his heart swelling with love for her.

His kisses deepened. His touch became more impatient. Teasing. Arousing, until she moaned and clung, afraid that at any moment she would burn to ash from the heat building inside her.

He saw the look of surprise mingled with pleasure as he brought her to the first unexpected peak. Those wide innocent eyes going sightless. The lips pursed in a question. And then her hands fisted in the cloak as she rode the crest.

This was how he’d wanted her. Alive, vibrant, and aching with need for him. This was how he’d dreamed of her as he’d paced his chambers in the dark of the night, thinking of the beautiful creature who slept but a door away. His. Only his. His woman.

He could feel the need rising, threatening to take him over the edge. Once again he pushed it aside, wanted to give her more. So much more.

His kisses were no longer gentle, but demanding, drawing her in, taking her to a newer, darker place. A place of hot, slick flesh, and shallow breaths that couldn’t quite fill lungs that were straining.

Gwenellen was reminded of the first time she’d seen him. There had been a darkness about this man that had been as exciting as it was frightening. Now she was joining him in his darkness. But instead of fear, she felt a ripple of excitement. She not only welcomed it, but reveled in it.

She could feel her flesh melting, her bones dissolving. Despite the lack of fire on the hearth she was burning with fever. A fever that had her breath growing more shallow with every minute; her heartbeat more thunderous.

The room was so still, the only thing she could hear was the sound of ragged breathing. Hers and his. Two hearts drummed in unison. The only thing she could see was Andrew. Those dark eyes narrowed on her with such fierce concentration. Those warm, clever lips that were curved in a mysterious smile as he looked into her eyes. Those strong warrior’s hands that brought such pleasure.

Following his lead she touched him as he’d been touching her and was rewarded by his low growl that seemed more animal than human. He dragged her into his arms and kissed her, long and slow and deep, until he could feel her actually quivering with need.

“Andrew.” A voice she barely recognized as her own sounded more like a whimper than a sigh.

He knew he could wait no longer. As he levered himself over her he felt her tense.

Against her mouth he whispered, “I’ll try not to hurt you, Imp.”

She smiled then. The sunlight that he craved, lighting all the darkness inside him. “I know you could never hurt me, Andrew.”

Her trust in him was as erotic as her touch. He knew now there was no way to stop, or even to slow the crest sweeping them both up and over. The beast inside him was struggling to be set free. He was being carried along in a tide of unbelievable pleasure as she took him in deeper and began to move with him. Climb with him.

“My beloved Highland warrior.” Her words were a whispered sigh as she wrapped herself around him and matched her strength to his.

She would make him hers. Only hers.

With hearts thundering, lungs straining, they began to climb, to soar, until they reached the highest peak. With a starburst of incredible sensations they stepped off the edge of a high, steep cliff.

And soared through the heavens.

“What’s this?” They lay, still joined, while their breathing slowed and their heartbeats steadied. With his lips against her cheek he tasted the salt and lifted his head to touch a finger to the corner of her eye. “Tears, Imp?” His tone hardened as he started to push free. “I never meant to hurt you.”