Victory made her almost light-headed.
She took a deep breath, her gaze locked with his. She couldn’t wait to see what he would do next. The slow smile beginning to tug at one corner of his mouth indicated he had something most wicked in mind. The hungry look in his eyes proved her right.
“As you have no more secrets, Isobel, I will share one with you.” He swept his hands up her back and over her shoulders, reaching round to cup and mold her breasts. “I would have you naked. Stripped bare here at Dreagan Falls, your lush bounty mine alone to enjoy.”
She melted, the thought sending rivers of molten heat pouring straight into the tingly woman’s place between her thighs.
“So you dinnae mind?” His fingers were already undoing her bodice laces. He opened her gown quickly, a muscle jerking in his jaw as he looked down at her nakedness. Cold air washed across her, chilling her skin and tightening her nipples. Clearly pleased, he took the material in both hands, easing it down to her waist.
“Gods, but you’re lovely.” He splayed his fingers across the full rounds of her breasts, plumping and squeezing. When she closed her eyes, shivering at the wondrous sensations, he began circling the taut crests with his thumb. Wind whistled past them, but he kept her pressed to the rock wall. He slid an arm around her, bracing her as the gusts buffeted them, each chill blast bringing the heady scent of clean, icy water and cold, wet stone.
“Being here would make any woman beautiful.” Isobel tipped back her head and breathed deep, reveling in the wildness, her breasts now tingling with the same thrilling female need as the dark, secret place between her legs. And still, he rubbed her nipples, rolling the hardened peaks between his fingers, and then making her gasp when he splayed his big hands over her flesh, palming her.
She arched her back, pressing into him, needing his touch. She ached for a deeper, more tantalizing intimacy, the kind he’d shown her so briefly in the shadows of Castle Haven’s entry hall when he’d slid his hand up her thigh, his fingers just barely grazing her neediest place.
“Kendrew…” She could hardly speak, her voice a breathless gasp she didn’t recognize as her own. “I want… I need more. Touches like—”
She broke off, stunned she’d admitted such a thing. Hot color stung her face and she was sure she must be glowing like a balefire.
If so, he didn’t seem to mind.
“Och, I’ll touch you, lass.” He grinned, the look in his eyes bolder, hotter than ever.
“I’ll ne’er tire of touching you.” He stepped back then, seizing her bunched gown. With a flick of his wrist, he whipped it down over her hips so that her skirts pooled around her ankles. Slanting his mouth over hers, he claimed her lips even as he thrust his hand deep between her thighs, cupping her possessively.
He kissed her hard and fast as he stroked her, using his knee to nudge her legs apart, giving him greater access. “You are sweet, my lady.” He breathed the words against her cheek. Then he nipped her ear before he brought his mouth back down on hers, kissing her even more deeply now. “But you have not yet felt the bliss I wish to give you.”
“Indeed?” She swayed as he teased her with his tongue, each tantalizing swirl of his tongue over and around hers giving her more pleasure than she could bear.
Her entire body trembled. Heated darts of incredible intensity tingled all over her deepest places, making her rock her hips against him.
“You err.” She ground herself against him, not caring if she behaved wantonly. She needed to intensify the pressure. Any moment, she’d shatter from the wonder of what his hand was doing to her, the maddening thrill of his kiss. “There can be no greater pleasure than this.”
“Say you?” He spoke against her cheek, letting her feel his grin as he formed the words.
Then he circled his thumb over what felt like the center of all pleasure. The world caught fire and she gasped, her eyes snapping wide, her knees almost buckling beneath her.
“Tell me again that I err.” He circled that place again, rubbing deliberately.
Isobel was going to die.
The world no longer just burned. It disappeared, leaving only the rushing wind and the roar of the falls. The heady scent of cold, damp stone flooded her senses, intoxicating. And, most glorious of all, Kendrew’s hand stroking her so wickedly, his thumb circling round and round…
“Just breathe, lass. I have you.” His arm tightened around her, lifting her against him so that her feet left the stony ground. “Better yet…” His voice came as if from a distance. Deep, familiar, and oh-so-rousing, but blurred as if he spoke through a haze.
“Better yet,” he repeated, “let me breathe with you.”
Isobel did as he asked, parting her lips and then nearly dying of pleasure indeed when he brought his own mouth down hungrily on hers.
“Breathe with me, sweet.” He slid his tongue between her lips, letting it glide and tangle with hers as they shared breath. The intimacy was almost too startling to bear. “Let me drink of you, and”—his thumb still rubbed her, circling purposefully—“bring you bliss such as you’ve never known. Just breathe and feel, drift away…”
“I’m falling, I am…” Isobel tensed in his arms as she split apart. Great waves of pleasure rolled through her, washing over her entire body.
Somewhere in the madness, she saw Kendrew watching her. His smile was dark, his gaze locked on hers. His eyes flashed with triumph and he said something she couldn’t hear because of the thunder of the falls.
Or perhaps it was the roar of her own blood in her ears.
She didn’t know.
But she did notice that he was carrying her. He’d lifted her into his arms and was striding along the narrow ledge, making for a spill of large, tumbled boulders at the overhang’s far end. The rocks looked smooth and were lichened, some covered with a thick carpet of moss.
“Here, sweet”—he set her down beside them, gesturing to the largest boulder, covered with deep green moss—“a bed of emeralds, for you.”
Isobel touched a hand to her breast, happiness suffusing her because she knew what he meant.
“There is no finer bed in the land.” Her heart swelled when her words made him smile. “You could not have chosen better.”
“Now you err, my lady.” He shook his head, his gaze not leaving her as he threw off his plaid and then lifted his heavily muscled arms, pulling his mail shirt over his head as if it weighed nothing.
He flashed a glance at the boulder, the deep green of its mossy cushion.
“I would ne’er have noticed these emeralds had you not opened my eyes.” He’d left his ax strapped to his saddle, but now he unbuckled his sword belt, letting the wide leather belt and his short, stabbing blade drop to the rock-strewn ground. Still watching her, he bent to tug off his boots and then he made short work of the rest of his clothes until he stood before her as naked as she was.
And oh, but he was magnificent.
Late-afternoon sun slanted across his broad, powerful chest and the shimmering spray from the falls sent rainbows of color across the swirling blue kill-marks on his arms and chest. He truly did look like a wild, pagan deity from the mead halls of his beloved Valhalla.
Isobel sat on the moss-grown rock, sure her legs wouldn’t support her if she tried to stand.
Seeing him naked was almost too much.
It was a joy she’d never tire of.
So she let her gaze flicker over him, loving how his gleaming auburn hair whipped about his strong, wide-set shoulders. It also excited her to see the tantalizing wedge of dark gold hair that glinted on his chest and then arrowed down across his abdomen, joining a vertical scar there before thickening around his manhood.
His proud, rampant manhood that proved beyond doubt how much he wanted her.
“Oh, my.” Isobel knew she was flushing.
Kendrew set his hands on his hips and grinned. “Mackintosh men are well blessed, what?”
“Yes!” Isobel blurted the truth, laughter chasing h
er blush.
His audacity was just one of the things she loved so much about him. She would never have lost her heart to a man of soft words and gentle manners.
But she couldn’t resist teasing him. “They have over-large opinions of themselves as well.”
“And rightly so.” He didn’t turn a hair. But he did step closer and lean down to brush a quick kiss across her lips. Before he straightened, he nuzzled her neck, growling something she didn’t catch against her hair.
It’d sounded like I love you.
Then he was lowering back onto the mossy boulder and urging her to wrap her legs about him as he climbed over her, settling himself between her thighs.
“Kendrew…” She twined her arms around his neck, clutching his hair and pulling him down to her for more kisses. “I have dreamed of this—”
“You have no more need of dreaming.” He braced himself on his powerful arms, looking into her eyes as he nudged her most vulnerable place, finally taking her again as he’d done on Midsummer Eve.
“I am now yours, Isobel. You fought well and besieged me. Though I will ne’er call it a fair fight, know that.” He grinned down at her, taking the sting from his words with a kiss to her nose. “You were a formidable foe. One of the worst I have ever stood against.”
“The stakes were high.” Isobel gloried in what he was telling her, each word bringing her such joy. “I had to fight well.”
“And you did.” He stilled inside her, holding her gaze. “The battle is yours. Now and for all time to come, nothing will ever come between us.” He thrust deep then, the long, thick length of him filling her. “That I swear to you, here in this sacred place.”
“I make the same oath.” Isobel clung to him, running her hand down over his shoulders, needing to explore him. She wanted to brand the feel of him onto her skin so that she carried him with her always.
“We are one, now and forevermore.” She lifted her hips, matching his rhythm as he moved into and out of her, the pleasure rising, spooling through her entire body. “I swear it on my Thor’s hammer—”
“And I on mine.” His gaze darkened when she locked her legs more tightly about his hips. He moved faster now, thrusting a hand between them to rub the special place that had already brought her such pleasure. “You are mine, Isobel. I will never let you go.”
“You won’t have to—o-o-oh!” Tingling waves of bliss rushed over her. Even more powerful this time, they blurred all but the feel of Kendrew’s strong, hard body riding her so deeply. She clutched at him, her innermost place clenching around him with equal need.
“That’s my lass…” His hips were pumping now, muscles straining in his arms and along his neck. “Isobel.” He tipped back his head, staring up at the sky as he rode her, sweeping her into a dazzling place of spinning light and bright, wondrous seas of scintillating pleasure.
She was melting, splitting apart. And she wanted the glory, the rightness, to never end.
Then, through the haze, she heard a long, deep rumbling. It was a terrible sound, almost a feral growl. But then Kendrew nuzzled her neck, nipping her ear and grazing her skin with his teeth. And just when he bit hardest, the sweetest, hottest flames swirled across her center, liquid fire spreading deep inside her.
Kendrew’s seed, she knew. It could be nothing else, for he stilled above her, his manhood jerking in his release.
“No return now, my lady.” He looked down at her, his gaze hot, burning.
Isobel lifted a hand to touch his face, not caring if he noticed that her fingers weren’t steady. “I have looked this way for long. I have no wish to turn elsewhere. Most especially now.
“Can it be that Mackintosh men”—she couldn’t keep from smiling—“have one fault among their many proud attributes? Can it be they keep wax in their ears?
“It must be so or you would know I am here to stay.” She curled her hand around his neck, pulling him down for more kisses.
He gave them gladly.
Or so she thought, though she really didn’t know how other men kissed. Nor did she have any wish to learn, wanting only this man and no one else.
“Oh, Kendrew—”
“Kendrew! Love of thunder, man!” a deep voice echoed through the cliff passage. “Hie yourself out here. Now!”
“That’s Grim.” Kendrew leaped to his feet, glancing round as he snatched up Isobel’s clothes and tossed them to her. “Make haste, lass.”
He was already pulling on his boots, yanking on his tunic, and then dragging his mail shirt back over his head.
“Something’s happened.” He bent to scoop up his sword belt. “And it willnae be good.”
“Kendrew!” Grim called louder, his shout joined by the sound of running footsteps crunching over stone. “Niall’s dead! Two others with him, butchered!”
“Niall?” Isobel stared at him, not recognizing the name.
“My second captain of the guard.” Kendrew shoved a hand through his hair, his voice tight. “He took Grim’s place on patrol so Grim could ride with me to Castle Haven for the dedication ceremony.”
“Dear saints.” Isobel’s heart dipped. Her blood ran hot and cold.
She grabbed her amber necklace, not needing to touch the stones to know they’d sprung to life. The heat pulsing inside them burned her skin.
But it was the horror on Kendrew’s face that terrified her. Looking as if the earth had just opened to swallow them, he seized her hand and pulled her swiftly along the ledge, back toward the gap in the cliff-side.
He didn’t speak, but he kept his free hand on the hilt of his stabbing sword as they ran. She knew he’d grab Blood Drinker as soon as they reached the horses. The urge to kill stood all over him, his Berserker rage breaking loose.
He was also concerned for her.
And that meant…
Before she could finish the thought, Grim burst from the passage. His face was ashen, his eyes deeply shadowed, as if he’d seen something unspeakable.
“It was at Slag’s Mound.” He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, panting as he stared up at them. “The cairn was split wide and”—he looked like he was going to be ill—“Niall and two other guardsmen were found savaged.”
He paused, breathing hard. “Not much remains of them, but what does is scattered across the rubble.”
“Our men?” Kendrew’s voice was cold, his arm around Isobel’s waist tight as a vise. “Are they riding out? Searching for who did this?”
“The bastards left no trail.” Grim straightened. “But a patrol is looking, aye.”
Isobel rubbed her arms against the cold. The sharp blue of the day was dimming now, the light fading.
Kendrew nodded, not even glancing at her. “Send a man on to Nought.” He spoke directly to Grim, his words damning because Isobel knew what they’d be even before she heard them. “Have him muster my fiercest fighters to escort Lady Isobel back to Castle Haven.”
Grim frowned, glancing from Kendrew to Isobel. The pity in his eyes hurt almost as much as Kendrew’s words.
“I’m sorry, lass.” Kendrew finally turned to her, setting his hands on her shoulders. “It would seem I did err. This is no place for you, after all. Not after this. I cannae allow you to stay here.”
“No-o-o.” Isobel shook her head, feeling the blood leave her face. “Now, especially, you need me here. I am not afraid. You know that. Please…”
But he wasn’t listening.
And his face, as he turned from her, was shuttered.
Then he followed Grim into the cliff-passage, pulling her along behind him.
It was over.
She hadn’t won at all.
And whatever tragedy had happened, she knew in her heart she wouldn’t be able to convince Kendrew that it had nothing to do with them.
Many heather miles away, in a small but well-appointed room set off Castle Haven’s great hall, James sat in his favorite chair feeding bits of beef rib to his dog, Hector.
The hour wasn’t all that
late. And even though the door was closed, he could hear the murmur of voices in the hall. He also caught the sounds of eating and drinking. And, from somewhere, the soft plucking of a lute drifted into his little privy solar. The lute-picker would be his brother, Hugh. Not that it mattered.
What did was that this was his quiet hour, and he was enjoying the chance to sit alone and ponder names for his soon-to-be-born son.
Hector helped by twitching an ear if a name held possibilities.
Neither of them considered names for a daughter.
James knew his firstborn child would be a boy.
Pride welling, he stretched his legs to the fire and prepared to test a few more options on his dog. He was just reaching for a bit of beef rib—Hector appreciated a treat for each ear twitch—when the door to his privy solar swung open, the din and smoke from the hall rushing in to spoil his quiet evening.
Pushing to his feet, he swung round, ready to order Hugh from the room. His younger brother was the only soul at Haven who felt privileged enough to breach James’s most sacred sanctuary.
But his scolding died on his tongue when he saw the stout and matronly figure of Beathag, the cook’s wife, filling the open doorway.
Her already-fearsome face was set as if the worst rainstorm of the century was pouring straight into the hall. And she held a small, thin-shouldered boy by the hand. A kitchen lad who rose each day before cockcrow and crept silently through the castle, taking tallow candles to the bedchambers so that no one need rise in darkness.
The lad’s name was Tam.
And he looked terrified, his eyes round and unblinking.
“Beathag.” James strode past her and shut the door, closing her and the boy in the room with him. “What’s the meaning of this?”
He wasn’t of a mood to tolerate anyone frightening innocent castle bairns. Most especially not the tallow lad, as James held a special fondness for the boy.
So he crossed his arms and frowned at Beathag. “What have you done to the lad?”
Tam looked at the floor, avoiding James’s eyes.
Beathag huffed, swelling her formidable breasts. “It’s glad you’ll be that I’ve brought him here—once you’ve heard his news.”
Temptation of a Highland Scoundrel Page 26