The Highlander’s Lost Bride (The Highlands Warring Scottish Romance) (A Medieval Historical Romance Book)

by Anne Morrison

  'Then you should stop me," he murmured and kissed her again.

  She knew she should. She should push him away, demand that they leave now that she was healthy enough. There were a dozen things she should be doing now, and none of them should have been pressing herself against Aidan as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

  His kiss filled her with a sweet warmth that felt like wine, and his mouth only made her want more. For a few moments, she simply submitted to the kiss, letting his tongue tease her lips open, tasting her deeper. Then, with a soft sigh, she gave in, kissing him in return, reaching up with her free hand to tangle her fingers in his hair.

  He groaned when she reached for him, and with one arm wrapped around her waist, he dragged her half on top of him. She was tall, but he was far taller and broader besides. Through their clothing, she could feel his muscled frame underneath her, feel the strength there as well as the heat. If Margaret could have purred like a cat, she would have.

  Aidan's free hand came up, sliding under the back of her shift, resting for a moment on her rear and then sliding up to her back, stroking and petting her and sending a thrill of pleasure up her spine. She was so close to him, and there was so little separating them. Even as she thought that, she shifted and her thigh brushed against his manhood, already hard and getting harder. She bit her lip, and then deliberately, she pressed herself against his flesh, the pleasure deep inside her roaring up as she did so.

  In return, Aidan ran his nails down her back, so pleasurable it made her squirm.

  "Is that what you like, little darling?" he murmured. "Do you want me to make you feel so good you can't bear it?"

  He didn't wait for an answer. Suddenly, she was toppled off Aidan's body and rolled down on her back on the mattress. She could smell the sweet hay that filled the mattress as well as the dried flowers that gave it a delicate pleasant scent. At the same time, she could smell her body with Aidan's, familiar and strange at once. Her heart started beating faster when he rose over her, and then his mouth came down on hers again. His hand came up to take hers, lacing their fingers together, and even if they were in bed together, even if he was kissing her as if the world might end if he stopped, there was something so intimate about the way he held her hand that she thought she might weep.

  "I need to see you," Aidan murmured, and then he was drawing her shift over her head, leaving her naked to his hands and his eyes. Margaret made a brief low sound of panic, reaching to cover herself.

  Aidan only laughed, drawing her hands away.

  "Never do that, sweetheart. You are too beautiful by far to be ashamed."

  Margaret truly seldom thought of her body. She knew the words others used for her. She knew that she was tall, that her dark red hair drew stares, that her slenderness was often teased, and that she lacked the buxom curves that drew most men's gazes. However, when Aidan looked at her, there was no doubt in her mind that he found her beautiful, that the sight of her captivated him. She could feel his gaze almost like she could feel his hands, and she moved restlessly against his pinning grasp.

  "Please,” she somehow managed to say. "Aidan, I need... I need you."

  It felt as if she had opened a deep well inside her. The moment she acknowledged the deep need he woke, it multiplied, making her skin burn for his touch, for his mouth, his hands, all of him.

  Aidan's smile was gentler now, and when he kissed her throat and her shoulders, he was kinder.

  "I'll give you what you need. I always will."

  He sat up to strip off his own shirt, and Margaret couldn't help staring. She knew he was strong and that he was muscled, but she hadn't realized how attractive he would be to her with it all revealed. She reached a shaking hand out to touch the thin mat of dark hair on his chest, marveling at the narrow trail that led down his lean belly. She didn't know what she was doing before he took her hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss hungrily.

  "You don't know what you are doing to me at all, do you, darling?" he murmured, and she might have taken exception to the tone he used, but her hand turned out to be almost unnervingly sensitive, especially when he lapped at the places between her fingers.

  When Aidan stretched out beside her, he started to kiss her again, but this time, there was something a little rougher to it, more purposeful. He stroked her sides with a firmness that made her press against him, and then he reached up to cup her small breasts, stroking at the nipple tenderly with the ball of his thumb. Her breasts were sensitive enough that sometimes even the lightest contact could make her flinch, but his touch, firm but still careful, was exactly what she wanted.

  She wrapped her arms around his body, bringing him closer and absorbing the warmth that rose up from his skin. She thought that if he stopped touching her, she might go mad, but there seemed to be no chance of that.

  She was so lost in the pleasure he was giving her that she only realized that he was sweeping his hand lower when it glided over her belly, tangling in the dark gold curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  "Aidan!" she murmured in shock, and he leaned down to kiss her again.

  "I'll never hurt you," he promised. "I only want your pleasure..."

  She had always been told that men would say such things, lying to get their way, but she knew that there was nothing in Aidan that was even capable of that. She believed him with every fiber of her being, and some of the apprehension melted out of her limbs, leaving her soft in his hands.

  To reward her for her sweetness, Aidan started kissing her again, and this time, he did not limit himself to her mouth. He rained gentle kisses on her face, shoulders, and collarbones, and then he moved lower to suckle gently on her breasts, drawing her nipples up into hard peaks that left her gasping. it felt as if he was everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his body, and slowly she gave herself over to him, unable to do anything but groan in pleasure at what he was doing to her, making her feel.

  Margaret became aware of a tension low in her belly, something strange that made her think of a rope drawn too tight or the moment when she stepped too close to tall cliff and looked down. It was part and parcel of the pleasure growing between them. It made her restless, pushing up against his body without a care about how it looked or what he might think. In truth, he was clouding her with the sensations that ran through her, making it difficult to think at all.

  She felt like ice, melting slowly under Aidan's tender actions. When he stopped stroking her thighs and went to part her legs, she let him do so with only a moment of hesitation. No man had ever touched her there before, and for a moment, a surge of nervousness came up again. Then she looked at him and remembered that it was no stranger, no gruff or crude man she might have met on the road. This was Aidan, and she trusted him with her life, with her soul. That she trusted him with her body was simply a matter of course.

  "Aidan, I've never..."

  "It's all right, Meggie. I will always take care of you."

  Despite how much she trusted him, despite the fact that a part of her was already pleading for more, she could still feel the tension in her frame as he stroked first her outer thighs and then her inner thighs.

  He took a long time before he finally touched her between the legs, moving with an ease that reminded her of the flow of a summer river. She shivered when he ran the very tips of his fingers along her most delicate parts. It was pleasurable, it felt good, but then he parted her folds and found a spot that she had never known existed. It sent a bright shoal of sparks through her, so intense that it took her a moment to realize that it was only pleasure. She half sat up from the bed, but his hand on her shoulder pressed her back.

  "You like that, sweetheart. That's fine, simply lie back and enjoy it. I will not hurt you, I promise."

  By that point, she was no longer worried about the pain. There was no such thing in her world as pain now. The only thing that mattered was getting more of what he had already given her, of making sure that he simply did not stop.

  She hear
d Aidan's soft laugh, and she could hear the strain in it as well. She was driving him toward a breaking point simply by being who she was, by letting him touch her like this, and that sent another pleasurable sweetness through her.

  She knew he was talking to her still, murmuring sweet words that made her shiver. She was too overwhelmed to hear what he had to say, however, because just then, he slid his thumb over the nubbin of pleasure he had found at the same time he slid a finger inside her.

  "Ah!"

  The slight intrusion gave her a shiver of a different sort, and she stirred restlessly again. It felt strange to her, and but then he stroked her sweetly again, the pleasure making her forget about the oddness of it. She could feel herself growing wetter with every pass he made, but she didn't care about anything more than how he was touching her and how good he felt.

  That tautness in the very core of her was growing again, rising up, and she felt a moment of worry about what might happen when she tipped over that edge. She tried to hold it back, but Aidan could tell what she was doing immediately. His hands became more demanding, and she gave up. She didn't have control over her body any longer. He did, and she wanted to give it all up, all of it.

  She keened as his touch grew more insistent, drawing the pleasure up high and hard, and for a moment, she thought of Aidan in a fight, not giving in until his opponent was done. A moment later, her body shuddered, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, because otherwise, she would have screamed the house down. The pleasure took her with absolutely no mercy at all, and she gave herself up to it, to the fire, to the feeling of falling. The things he had made her feel before were intense, but there was no way he could have told her about this, could have prepared her for how all-encompassing her climax would be.

  "Aidan, oh, Aidan," she whispered, and then he rose over her. She gratefully wrapped her arms around his body, and when he kissed her, she responded as best she could.

  "Sweetheart, look at me."

  She opened her eyes, drowning in the green of his, and then, with a single fast motion, he entered her.

  The flash of pain cut through the pleasure, sharp and bright as the glint of sun on a blade, and this time, Margaret couldn't hold back a sharp cry.

  "Aidan!"

  "Shh, shh, darling, it's all right, it won't last long..."

  She allowed him to kiss her face, more comforting than sensual, and she realized with a dawning wonder that he was right. The pain faded almost immediately, leaving a sweet and lush fullness in his wake. She shook as he kissed her ear, whispering how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how he was going to make her feel so much better.

  By the time Aidan started to move, the pain was only a memory. She gloried in how well their bodies fit together and how very sweet it was to feel him move within her.

  There were no words for this. There was only a primal rhythm that felt as if it must have been older than the stars, making her lift her legs to wrap them around his waist. She sobbed his name and cried out as he drove into her, long slow thrusts that woke the pleasure in her again.

  She had thought nothing would be more intense than the climax he had given her before, but now she could feel a different kind of pressure rising up in her. It came up fast and shocking, and all she could do was cling to Aidan as it came over her again. She dug her nails deep into his shoulders, almost afraid of how he could make her feel, but then it was upon her and she wasn't afraid at all any longer. Instead, she was flying again, only this time it was better because Aidan was with her, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. Just as she reached her peak, he thrust into her one last time, crushing her to him and crying out her name. She could feel the liquid heat of his need inside her, feel his heavy body over her, and all that mattered now was how close she could be to him, how much she had wanted this without ever knowing it at all.

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  chapter 12

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  It was likely only a few minutes, but it seemed to Aidan that he lay for hours over Margaret. His body wouldn't seem to obey his commands, and in the end, the only thing that made him rise at all was how concerned he was for Margaret.

  She uttered a soft protest when he pulled away.

  "I must be crushing you."

  "Not at all. You feel so good."

  He smiled a little at the sound of her voice, low and sated, and he waited another few moments before rolling over to his side.

  Aidan knew that there was still a great deal wrong. They were in a dangerous situation, and given what Ava had told him, it didn't look like it was going to get easier any time soon. Despite all of the danger they were in, Aidan couldn't resist letting it go for just a little longer, couldn't resist allowing himself just a little longer to enjoy the pleasure that had come for them both so unexpectedly.

  Aidan had grown up knowing that he was going to be responsible for the wellbeing of the entirety of Clan MacTaggart, however, and there was only so long before reality set in and the full impact of what they had done seeped into him.

  "Meggie? Meggie, are you all right?"

  "Of course, I am," she said, and he was comforted by the drowsy good humor in her voice.

  Still, he frowned and pulled back from her. When he did, he was startled to see the blood, not much, but enough to stain their bodies and to make him fully aware of what he had done. With a frown, Aidan stood and crossed over to the washbasin, where he washed himself. Then, thinking a moment, he soaked a cloth, wrung it out, and brought it back to the bed.

  There was a moment, looking at Margaret stretched out like some kind of sleepy feline creature from a story, Aidan wanted to forget everything he knew about decency and crawl back in bed with her to see if he could make her cry out all over again.

  Instead, he took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and touched her face gently.

  "Here, pretty one, roll over on your back for me?"

  She made a questioning noise, but she did as he asked, and he had to draw his breath at how very lovely she looked. There was something entrancing about her form, lean and sweet, perfect for his touch. Then he pulled himself together and parted her legs slightly. She made an inquiring noise, and then she sighed as he started to wash her using the cloth.

  "Cold," she complained, but she relaxed as his touch stayed soft and gentle. Finally, he was done, and Aidan had decided at least some of what he wanted to say.

  "Here," he said, handing her the discarded shift. "Margaret, please put this on. We need to speak.”

  He turned from her to put his shirt and trews back on at least, and he could feel her frowning at his back. He cringed at it, wondering what she must think of him now. When Aidan was at least somewhat covered, he turned back to her, determination stiffening his spine and a better sense of what he had to do.

  In her shift and with her glorious red hair down around her shoulders, there was something almost achingly young about Margaret in that moment. She was watchful, that slight line between her eyes again, and her mouth tight.

  "What's the matter with you?" she asked.

  Aidan had not expected that. "What do you mean?"

  "You're different from what you were before. You look different, act different."

  Aidan flinched.

  "I would not hurt you again."

  She blinked at him.

  "Aidan, you did not hurt me."

  He gestured toward the stained cloth he had laid aside.

  "I made you bleed, Margaret, and I am sorry."

  She stared at him, and he could see her throat working a little as she decided what to say.

  "Are you?"

  "Margaret?"

  "Are you sorry about what we did?"

  Aidan wanted to close his eyes against the heat in hers, and shame twisted inside him. A part of him, the pagan part that charged into battle without a single concern about who was in front of his sword or at his back, still howled for her. The savage part of him barely u
nderstood why he was apart from her right now. Why, when they were so close and he could still almost feel her under his hands, was he allowing her to pull away from him?

  "Of course, I am," he said. "Margaret, surely you know that what we did was wrong."

  A dozen things flashed through her eyes then, hurt, pain, confusion, more that he couldn't track, but it resolved into something he knew very well, which was anger.

  "What we did, we did together," she hissed. "You cannot condemn me for it now."

  "I am not trying to condemn you! I am trying to make this thing right."

  She flinched away from his words, hunching her shoulders. When he reached for her, however, she shrugged him away.

  "There is nothing that needs to be made right," she said sullenly.

  Aidan shook his head.

  "You know that that is not right. I've had you, slept with you, taken your maidenhead. You know what that means..."

  "Do not lecture me as if you were my father, Aidan! I am a woman, and I know very well what that means. It means that no good man will have me now that you've... you've..."

  "Yes," Aidan said. "Margaret, I will make this right by you. We can marry, and—"

  "I would sooner marry the devil himself," Margaret snapped. "If I am only some obligation to you, if it is only guilt that has forced you into this, then I will do no such thing."

  The sting of her rejection was sharper than Aidan would have thought that such a thing could be. After what had happened eight years ago, he thought that he would be immune from her biting words, but that wasn't the case. They felt like hot sparks singing his skin.

  "Don't be a fool. I made this offer to you once before, in Scotland, and now I am making it again to you," he growled.

  "Save it," she said cuttingly. "If I did not want you before, I do not want you now. I was not a burden then, MacTaggart, and I will not be a burden to you now, some poor charity case you take in because you tumbled me like a barmaid.”