His mouth, hot and moist against her skin, made her inhale sharply. Suddenly her whole being was focused on him, his hair in the fire’s glow, the gold flecks in his gray-green eyes.
“Will ye?”
Isabella looked out on those spinning around the wood floor. Many were worse for drink now and truthfully she was so undone by his touch she feared she would look a stumbling fool.
“I best not,” Isabella managed. “Many, I think, are in their cups. I fear they will soon be knocking into each other.”
“Come then,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Walk a bit with me outside where it’s cooler.”
“I do not think a walk alone with you in the dark is something a lady would be wise to do.” It was meant to come out light and teasing, but her quickened breath did not render it so.
He wrapped both hands around her one.
“Surely ye dinna think I would trespass where I’m nae wanted?”
He was in no way unwanted and she would wager a dozen gold coins he knew it.
But when he tugged at her hand she did not resist him.
She ducked her head, half afraid someone would call her out and demand what she was about. He led her from the hall quickly, but those within were so occupied she doubted any noticed their departure. The music, the dancing, and drinking would likely go on well into the night.
It might be hours, or tomorrow, before anyone wonders what happened to us.
They slipped through the archway, the light and noise spilling out through the doorway behind them. It was quiet here and empty among the wooden pillars. His hand was warm, insistent, as he drew her further into the darkness.
His mouth was on hers in the instant they reached the shadows.
It was different without the beard. His skin was smooth against hers as his mouth explored. Her breath drew in sharply at the new sensations and, as if fearing he had frightened her, his touch gentled. She yielded and returned his kiss, molding her body to his, her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
He broke away a bit, and gave a soft breathless laugh. “Methinks ’tis nae cooler out here after all.”
Suddenly his mouth was on hers again; too hungry to be gentle now. The cold of the pillar behind her crept across her back as he pressed her against it.
The voices of two men deep in conversation reached them, and Colyne broke away. In a heartbeat he drew her farther back into the shadows. He kept her cradled against his chest as a pair of clansmen passed them. The fear of discovery set Isabella’s heart pounding. Colyne bent to whisper to her, his warm breath against the skin of her ear sending a shiver through her.
“I think we need find somewhere more private.”
He drew her along with him and it was not long before they were alone in the cold, dark outer hall. Isabella kept close to him, seeking warmth, and stumbled over the hem of her gown.
He stopped when she caught herself against him and looked around at her for a moment. He gave her a half smile then changed direction and led her instead to the staircase.
Her heart quickened as she realized where he was taking her.
Her heart was thumping now, fearing discovery at every turn, but they encountered no one and soon reached the privacy of her rooms.
A fire had been lit and thankfully Mary was nowhere to be seen. Standing in the center of the room, Isabella felt her blood singing in her veins and she was trembling, eager for him to shut the door and latch it.
He paused in the open doorway. “Is yer head clearer now?”
She blinked. “You think me in my cups?”
“Ye can barely walk.”
“No such thing!” she cried. “I stumbled, ’twas all!”
“I’ll nae take liberties with a lass whose head is clouded with wine.”
She held the skirt of her dress out. “I caught my foot in my gown!”
He indicated the room with a nod. “Ye let me lead ye to yer bedchamber easily enough.”
“Not because I had too much wine.”
“Then yer thinkin’ me kisses nae sae bad?”
“Well, of course they are not—” She caught herself. “You are teasing me!”
He flashed a grin. “A bit.”
She was ready to shout out a tirade that would do Kat proud but he was already closing the door and fastening the latch.
Her heart sped as he walked—so very slowly—toward her.
He is not teasing now.
He stopped close enough for her feel the heat of his body.
“You did not truly think me drunk?” she managed.
“Ye canna blame me for wantin’ to be sure,” he murmured, sliding his hands around her waist to pull her closer. His mouth brushed hers gently, and then brushed again. He drew back to look at her. She ached with wanting.
She tilted her head and brought her mouth to his.
She heard his breath catch and, emboldened, she deepened the kiss.
In a swift movement, Colyne grasped her upper arms, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead against hers.
He gave a breathless laugh. “Ye go to me head more than wine.”
Isabella frowned. She did not want the charmer who held her away from him; she wanted the man who had been too eager to be gentle when they were below stairs.
She kissed him again. For an instant his grip tightened on her arms as if he were going to push her away then his touch softened. He cupped her face as he kissed her. His fingers trailed along her throat and slid down over her gown. She gave a little gasp when he traced the curve of her breast. She could feel him ready against her.
He drew back, taking a shuddering breath.
“Bid me go, sweet, I dinna have the strength to do it else.”
At the rough sound of his voice her heart skipped. With her fingertips she traced the line of his throat to the hollow, then as low as the open front of his tunic would allow.
“And if I bid you stay?” she whispered.
She could see him swallow.
“Ye canna know what yer asking, sweet. I am nae a courtier playin’ for a few kisses and wants nae more of ye.”
Her hand slid beneath the cloth of his tunic, her fingers stoking the warm skin there. “Stay.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and she could feel his heart pounding under her touch.
“Please,” she murmured. “Colyne.”
“I canna do this,” he answered hoarsely, even as he brought his mouth to hers.
His hand cradled the line of her jaw, running over the skin there and lower still. She gave a soft moan as he cupped her breast. The sound seemed to unleash his hunger, his fingers already at the fastenings of her gown. Deftly he had the knots undone and moments later slid the gown from her shoulders until it fell in a puddle of damask at her feet.
His forehead was against hers as he followed the lines of her body. His hands were clumsy with wanting as he undid each tie of her gold chemise by turns. Gently he pushed the fine fabric from her shoulders. She shivered as the silk chemise fell away.
Isabella swallowed. She had never been bare before a man before. She fought the urge to cover herself.
His expression was absorbed, his eyes big with desire as his gaze ran over her.
“Sae lovely,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of her collarbone, the outline of her breast, the curve of her hip. “My sweet one.”
He grasped her by the waist and in one fluid movement, lifted her onto the bed. The linen sheets felt cold against the heat of her back. His hands caught her thigh and slid down the length of her leg, pausing to untie the hose she wore.
He drew a line between her breasts with his tongue. She inhaled at the sensation—the moist heat of his tongue, the following coolness where his mouth had been. Her thighs trembled now in reaction.
He cast the mantle aside and in a moment had pulled the tunic over his head to be bare before her. In a quick movement he was poised, kneeling over her on the bed. She had seen men bare before, but not up close and neve
r roused like this.
If any man could be called beautiful, it was Colyne MacKimzie.
Her eyes widened as she looked at him and he held still there, and she knew he had mistaken her fascination for fear.
His skin was nearly as fair as hers; red-gold hair covered his chest, the strands seeming alight over the paleness of his skin by the fire’s glow. Her eyes followed the flatness of his abdomen, his slim hips, and above the fiery thatch there, his cock at full stand.
She touched his chest, and he froze. She explored in wonderment at the softness of the hair, the feverish heat of his skin. Her hand edged lower, brushing the lines of his stomach and feeling the muscles trembling there under her fingers.
She hesitated for a moment, and then touched him shyly.
He made a strangled sound. His eyes closed and his lips parted.
Emboldened, she wrapped her fingers around him, marveling at the silky feel of his skin, listening to his quickening breath as she touched him.
She experimented with his body, sliding her fingers up and down his shaft, and felt the flesh grow tauter as she stroked.
A groan escaped his throat as her hand caressed him, and she felt a drop of wetness under her fingers.
“Stop, stop,” he panted.
Confused, she let go.
He dropped his head, his breath ragged, his hair almost aglow in the firelight.
“I did not do it right?” she asked. “I did not please you?”
“Aye, ye did. Too much,” he replied, with a shaky laugh.
His body covered hers as he bent to kiss her. She knew the delicious shock of skin against skin as his mouth found hers.
Isabella could not think with him so close; all that mattered now was his body against hers, his warmth and his scent. His tongue touched her lips as his hand slid over her breast, gently outlining. As he pressed her gently into the bed, she could feel his hardness against her and it sent her trembling anew.
His mouth soon replaced his fingers and she gasped at the new sensation as his tongue gently teased the peak. His hand slid over the skin of her ribs and across her belly to rest on the inner curve of her thigh beside the dark hair that curled there.
The heat of his body and the sensations his tongue drew forth made her arch against him. His hand covered her center and the answering tightness within made her bite at her lip. His fingers touched her lightly, sending shocks of pleasure through her. Her head fell back as the pressure of his fingers changed, and his stroking became rhythmic.
He slid his fingers into her. She tensed at the sudden stretching, the unexpected discomfort, and he held fast, waiting till she relaxed against him.
His fingers regained their rhythm slowly at first, coaxing the heat to build within her until she was moving against him, eager for more.
He shifted his weight so that he was poised above her. He touched his mouth to hers again, lightly, and groaned as he slid himself into her.
It did not hurt, though everything she had heard made her expect it to. Still, the sensation of feeling him fully inside her was startling.
He heard her sharp intake of breath and froze, trembling. “Do ye wish me to stop?” he asked, his voice rough. “Only tell me now, sweet, while I still can.”
“No,” she whispered. His hardness inside made her ache with wanting more and her hands went to his hips to keep him from pulling away. “No, do not stop.”
Watching her, he slowly he drew himself nearly out then slid in again.
Resting on his hips, Isabella’s hands followed his rhythm, her mouth parting at the pleasure of it as he moved.
She was taut beneath him, poised at the brink, and another stroke made her cry out. She could do no more than cling to him as waves of pleasure hit her.
Her eyes fluttered open. Colyne’s gaze was wide, transfixed. She knew then he had watched her release and it had roused him beyond measure.
His eyes closed tightly and his movements came fast and deep. In a handful of strokes his absorbed, inner focus suddenly gave way. He tensed, lips parted, and she felt him spend within her.
Colyne collapsed against her, gasping, still trembling with his release, his face buried against her neck. She cradled him against her, winding her fingers in the strands of his brilliant hair.
As Isabella lay wrapped in his arms, warmth penetrated her very bones. Her body felt heavy and tired and she sighed, snuggling closer. He brushed a kiss against her temple.
“Did I hurt ye?”
“A bit,” she admitted. “When you touched me inside.”
“I dinna want to hurt ye at all,” he murmured, his voice troubled. “But it dinna hurt when I took ye?”
“No.”
“Tha’s somethin’ at least.”
“I am glad,” she whispered, her palm against his chest, “that ’twas you first.”
“I am glad ye found pleasure in it. I was sae crazed I thought sure I would fail ye in that.” He kissed her again, his fingers touching the outline of her jaw gently, then sighed. “I canna stay, sweet. Half the Highlands will hear of me in yer bed by dawn if I dinna leave now.”
The words hurt more than she expected, and jolted her from her comfortable, safe cocoon.
What had she hoped? That he would declare for her? That he would stand against the king and Douglas and Kat and all his clan for her sake?
She blinked quickly to hide her tears.
“Ah, sweet, dinna cry. I can hardly bear to leave ye as it is.”
“You can bear it enough to do it,” she said, hating the sulkiness in her voice.
“I dinna wish to.” He cupped her chin and gave her a small smile then dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “But I’ll set it all to rights on the morrow. I promise.”
He stood and she could not help catching her breath at the sight of his body by the light of the fire. The smooth sinew and elegant strength of his body disappeared under his tunic and in moments he was tying on his boots.
“Quick, sweet, there’s nae time now. Any moment yer little maid’ll be at the door.”
He tossed the silk chemise to her and bent to retrieve the pin to fasten his cloak around his shoulders. Isabella’s face had barely cleared the chemise’s neck when Colyne wrapped her cloak around her.
She wanted to argue, bid him stay, but he was already unlatching the door. She followed him, the wooden floor cold beneath her bare feet. He opened the door to go, but then, in a rush, turned and gathered her in his arms again, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Have yer maid dress ye verra warmly come morning,” he whispered. “I’ll come for ye first thing and we’ll ride away to a place with none but ourselves. Till then, I’ll be longing for ye, sweet.”
His mouth found hers again. She clung to him, hoping to coax him back to the bed despite the danger of discovery. His lips touched her temple and she sighed as he cradled her. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder as her eyes opened dreamily.
Isabella frowned. In the faint light of the hall, she could make out the curve of a cheek, the faint golden glint of hair, a woman’s rounded softness.
Alisoun!
Colyne’s mistress was watching them intently from the shadows, but it wasn’t anger or jealousy in the woman’s face—it was smugness, as if she expected find Colyne there.
Isabella went cold.
What does he play at?
Colyne drew back to look at her, and in that instant Alisoun vanished, retreating on silent feet.
“Isabella? What’s the matter, sweet?”
God’s blood, had all of it been calculated? Was not one sweet word or loving caress honest?
“Let go of me,” she whispered.
“Are ye angry?” His brow creased. “Ye must know I’m goin’ only to protect ye.”
She stepped back. “Get out.”
He reached for her, his frown deepening when she took another step back. “I ken I hurt ye before. Is that it? I’faith, love, I’m sorry for it.”
She shook he
r head. “Did you think I would be your whore?”
He blinked. “My—?”
“Whore,” she said, her voice rising. “Why did you lay with me? Is it because you hate the king so much?”
He shook his head a little. “The king?”
“A fine jest, to have me and the ransom too!”
“Is that what ye think? That I’ve lain with ye, to have revenge against the king?”
“Douglas, then. I know you hate him nearly as much.”
Colyne’s cheek twitched. “Yer wrong. I hate Douglas more.”
The breath rushed out her lungs. To send her back to Douglas to marry, knowing he had her first—in truth, a fine revenge indeed!
A terrible thought occurred to her and she wished it had not. Did he think of Alisoun while he lay with me tonight?
Knowing that she was a heartbeat from shattering, Isabella cried, “Get out!”
With a burst of movement she shoved him backward; he was so surprised he nearly tumbled over.
“Isabella—!”
A timid voice emerged from the darkness. “Milady?”
Mary! How long had she been there?
Isabella was trembling now. I will be ruined by this! Known whore of a chieftain? I will be lucky to find a freeholder to take me as a wife!
Mary looked between them. Her dark mournful eyes were wide and her hands twisted in her skirts.
She is timid as a rabbit, mayhap if—
“Mary!” Isabella snapped, her voice like a whip. “Where have you been?”
Mary flinched, “I—I am sorry, my lady, I was—”
“Not where you were supposed to be—as usual!” Isabella retorted. “I should not have to send to your lord to ask your whereabouts!”
Mary glanced at Colyne, her chin trembling.
“I am sorry, my—”
“Enough! Your lord wishes to return to the hall and your fool tongue tries my patience.” Isabella turned away. “I am frozen, shut the door, Mary!”
Behind her she heard the door close. Would he push his way in? Name her harlot in front of the little maid?
He did neither.
Mary hurried about, shaking out Isabella’s gown, building up the fire, kneeling to put slippers on Isabella’s feet.
When had she had last seen Alisoun? She had been absent from the castle or at least out of Isabella’s sight these many days. The ride through the village, Isabella realized, on the way to the well. Isabella had thrown herself at Colyne that day too and he had pushed her away, vowing not to touch her again.
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