The MacKinnon's Bride (23 page)

Like a man tormented, he closed his eyes and
groaned deep in his throat, lifting his face to the blue sky as he
kneaded the tender flesh cradled within his palm. Page watched the
knob in his throat bob, mesmerized by the intensity of the
expression upon his face, the taut lines of his jaw. Jesu, but it
was as though he had lived all his life for this moment, and she...
she had never in all her days known such joy in simply being.

And then his gaze lowered, and he bent his
head once more. His lips covered her mouth, and Page thought she
would die with the pleasure it brought her. Her body melted,
convulsed in the most private of places. He might have done
anything at all to her in that instant, and she’d have welcomed it
joyfully.

He wanted her truly.

She could spy it upon his face.

Could feel it in the way he touched her.

And she wanted him.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and
then slid within her mouth to taste her. Page moaned with pleasure.
And when he groaned with his own satisfaction, Page thought her
heart would shatter and her body would ignite to flame.

He tore his lips away abruptly, and it
wasn’t until then, in that instant, Page realized the horse had
stopped—or even that they were mounted still.

Somehow, when he kissed her, all the world
ceased to exist. He made her feel as though there were only her. He
filled her heart.

Made her soul unafraid to yearn.

When he dismounted before her, she knew what
he intended, and when he lifted his arms out to her, Page slid into
them without taking the time to consider the consequences, her
heart hammering fiercely. God’s truth, but she didn’t want to
consider anything at all. She wanted only to feel.

Carrying her far enough that she would be
safe from being trampled, but no farther than he had to, Iain laid
her down upon a bed of yellow crocuses, taking immense pleasure in
the desire so evident in her gaze, in the haze of her eyes.

Some part of him cautioned him to stop, now
before it was truly too late—that she couldn’t possibly understand
what it was he was about to do to her. All the things he wanted to
do to her. But God help him, he wanted this too much, was no longer
rational.

For the longest instant, Iain merely stared
into her eyes, not daring even to blink, fearful of closing his
eyes and opening them only to find that her desire was no more than
some cruel invention of his fevered imagination.

Could she possibly understand? Could she
know what it was she was asking for with that love-me-now gaze?

She couldn’t possibly, he decided, though he
couldn’t seem to muster himself to give a bloody damn. He fell to
his knees beside her, and bent over her, entrapping her between his
arms, and then he lowered his head to kiss her, anticipating the
sweet, welcoming taste of her mouth upon his lips. “Sweet,” he
murmured against her mouth. “So beautiful.”

“
Nay,” she murmured with a
sigh, closing her eyes.

“
Aye, lass,” he asserted.
“Ye are.” And he deepened the kiss.

With all her heart, Page welcomed the gentle
invasion of her mouth, delighting in the way he seemed to savor her
with every liquid stroke of his tongue .. . the way his mouth
seemed to revere her own. Never in her life had she felt so
cherished.

Never in her life had she loved someone
more.

But this was not love, she reminded
herself.

To expect love would bring her only
heartache. Nay... this was something else entirely... and if she
didn’t want for something more... something she could never have,
then she’d not be crushed by sorrow when it never came.

Aye, this was something else, not love.

This was a possession of her body, sweet and
wicked.

Nothing more.

That’s what she told herself. And she wanted
it more desperately than she’d ever wanted anything in her
life.

Iain was a man consumed.

It was his greatest desire to pleasure
her.

Aye, but he wanted even more than that to
make her stay. He withdrew and gazed down into her passion-flushed
face. He wanted her to look at him just so always... to bask in his
kisses like a blossom opening to the heat of the sun. But then he
knew the way to bind her to him was not to make love to her. He’d
attempted that with Mairi, and while in the dark of the night she’d
relented to his skillful persuasion, in the morning light she’d
despised him for it, too.

And then she’d borne him a child, and he’d
lost her forever.

He’d be damned if he’d travel that road
again.

Before Mairi, there had been lasses aplenty.
Since her, there had been nary a one.

Because he couldn’t forget.

This loving would be for her, he
decided.

For sweet, lovely Page.

For himself he would claim only the pleasure
of seeing the passion played out upon her face.

Nothing more.

That’s what he commanded himself.

When he reached out and lifted her arm,
placing tiny, delicate kisses along the sensitive inner flesh, Page
shuddered and squeezed her eyes closed, abandoning herself wholly
to his will. Arriving at her hand, he kissed her palm, lapped it
with his tongue, suckled her fingers, and nibbled the heel of her
palm, until Page shuddered with rapture, and then he guided that
hand above her head, moving to the other and doing the same. With
one hand he held both her wrists, pinioning her arms above her head
as he shifted over her, his body shielding her from the sun,
bathing her in cool shadows.

But she was far from cool. She was hot.
Burning hot, her skin afire.

Page sensed the heat of his gaze upon her,
though she wasn’t bold enough to meet his knowing eyes. As he
hovered above her, she was aware of everything in that moment.
Every nuance. The subtle shifting of the breeze, the warmth of the
sun against her skin where it touched her, the birds twittering
somewhere high above. The sound of the grass as it succumbed
beneath their bodies. The elusive scent of the crocus. And the
musky male scent of the man hovering above her.

When he lowered his face to her neck, she
shuddered, and dared to bare it fully, arching with complete
abandon, moaning with delight as he suckled her flesh, lapped it
with his tongue once more. Like a painter in love with his labors,
he left no part of her untouched by his divining brush. He
cherished her body, showered her with kisses until it seemed her
very soul would rise out of her body and meld with his.

“
Yesssss,” she whispered,
and felt him shudder above her.

His kisses became more fervent then,
straying to her breasts. He suckled through her wet gown, and
Page’s heart thundered, for she wanted in that insane instant for
him to rip the offending gown from her body, to feel the heat of
his lips upon her bare flesh. To feel his body lie upon her.

Instead, he moved lower still... leaving her
hands free, and sliding his arm beneath her waist to raise her body
for his fervent kisses. She moaned with exhilaration, nearly
mindless with the pleasure he was giving her, impatient with his
caresses. She clutched at her gown, drawing it up desperately,
inviting him without words.

Still she dared not open her eyes, dared not
speak to break the sorcerer’s spell, but cried out exultantly when
his lips kissed her bare belly. And sweet Jesu... those lips
remained for the longest instant, unmoving, frozen in place, liquid
flame against her bare flesh. Page reached out to hold him to her,
wanting him never to go.

And then he wandered down to her thighs,
nipping and kissing.

She gasped aloud, her heart pummeling
against her ribs, as he dared to kiss her in the most private of
places. Her body convulsed with a pleasure so incredible, it was
almost like a glimpse into Heaven itself. And then when his tongue
slipped within her body to explore so boldly, she thought she would
dissolve into a liquid pool beneath him.

“
Oh, yes,” she whispered.
“Oh... my... yessss...”

“
Sweet,” he murmured, and
pushed his tongue within her body, tasting with abandon, until Page
thought her heart would shatter into a thousand brilliant
pieces.

Jesu, but she could scarce bear any
more.

“
Please,” she murmured,
and whimpered, writhing beneath him, not truly understanding what
it was she was needing, but knowing instinctively it was something
more.

His hands moved over her body more
insistently now, while his lips continued to worship her, and then
he slid both hands beneath her bottom, cupping her, lifting her for
his pleasure, and Page felt her eyes cross behind her lids, so much
gratification did it bring her. Her body felt on the verge of some
undiscovered glory, and she wanted so desperately to reach for it,
cling to it, hold it forever.

And then suddenly he moaned, a tormented
sound, and stopped, lowering her, releasing her to the ground.

Page’s lashes flew wide, and she stared into
his fevered eyes, her heart hammering fiercely.

He knelt before her, his expression sober,
his eyes pleading. “I want you, lass,” he whispered once more.

chapter 20

Christ, but he couldn’t do it.

He’d thought he could, but he couldn’t.

Wanting her was driving him to a madness
beyond bearing.

His body ached, he needed her so
desperately. She blinked, her face prettily flushed, and nodded.
But God, he didn’t think she could possibly understand, though he
wanted so badly to believe that she did.

“
Are ye sure, lass?” he
asked once more, and his voice was thick with need.

For answer, she rose up, reaching forward to
catch trembling fingers within his belt, her wide, beautiful eyes
never leaving his. His heart hammering, he undid the belt at once,
and tossed it quickly away, holding her gaze, afeared she’d change
her mind, afeared she’d not.

Christ, but he wanted this. More than he
could recall wanting anything at all.

Every muscle in his body tensed as she once
again reached forward to touch his breacan, just a delicate brush
of her fingers, nothing bolder, but he understood as though she’d
spoken the request aloud and he drew it off at once, discarding the
blanket upon the grass. He knelt before her, wearing only his short
tunic, and he reached down to draw it off, as well, needing her to
see the full measure of his desire.

Needing her to understand before it was too
late. If she would flee him, it must be now. Before he lost what
will remained.

Before he dared to touch her once more.

One more kiss would seal her fate.

And bind her to him eternally.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her
face flushed.

Page’s throat tightened at the sight of the
man kneeling before her, gloriously naked, his skin bronzed from
the sun, and his body tumescent with desire. She tried not to look
so well, but could scarce keep herself from it. She swallowed her
fear.

How could a man such as this... want
her?

She wanted to weep with joy, for the
evidence was there before her, undeniable in its magnificence. She
wanted to strip herself too, be together with him as God had made
them both, but was afeared he would find her lacking, and so she
lay, marveling at the beauty of the man before her.

“
D’ ye wish to stop,
lass?” he asked her, his voice husky.

Page shook her head at once, meeting his
gaze, her face burning with chagrin as she realized he’d caught her
staring. “Nay,” she said softly, and then asked, “D-do you?” She
watched as his beautiful lips broke into a disarming smile.

He chuckled lightly. “Nay, lass, I dinna.”
He shook his head and reached out. She stared at his hand a
bewildered instant, dumbfounded. “Give me your hand,” he commanded
her, smiling still.

Page blinked, and yielded to him, her heart
beating fiercely. She let him draw her to her knees before him,
unable to keep her gaze from lowering once again to that very male
part of him.

“
Och, lass, but do I look
like I wish to stop?” he teased.

Her gaze flew to his. Page couldn’t speak to
answer, and he didn’t give her the opportunity. His hands reached
out, grasping her waist, squeezing gently, and he closed his eyes,
as though savoring the feel of her body beneath his hands.

Page, too, savored the moment, her head
falling slightly backward, though still she watched him, for she
wished to miss nothing.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to
meet her gaze, his golden eyes gleaming, and he whispered, “I wish
to see all o’ ye, lass...”

Page managed a nod, but no more, and he slid
his hands down to clutch the hem of her gown, drawing it slowly up,
and peering up at her as though he thought she might any moment
refuse him.

She didn’t intend to. Sweet Jesu, but she
was dizzy with desire, eager for whatever he would give her.

He drew the gown up and over her head, along
with her rent undergown, and tossed the damp fabric aside upon the
grass. And then he simply stared. Page waited anxiously for his
response, and was mesmerized by the dazzling smile that appeared
upon his face.

“
Beautiful,” he whispered
fervently, and Page wanted to cast herself into his arms and weep.
When he leaned forward at last, she welcomed him wholly, closing
her eyes, and lifting her arms in a gesture of total and joyful
submission.

And then she could think no longer, for his
lips closed over the peak of one breast, and he began to suckle.
She thought she would die with the pleasure he wrought from her
body. His kisses lifted to her face, while his hand caressed the
flesh he’d abandoned with his lips. When his mouth touched upon her
own, she thought the world might suddenly spin away. She clung to
him desperately, wrapping her arms about his neck, and he kissed
her deeply, his tongue sparring first gently with her own, and then
more urgently.