Falling for the Highlander

by Lynsay Sands

  Murine gasped and grabbed his head now, her hips doing a little shimmy in reaction to the sensation that was part ticklish and part excitement as his tongue teased her. When his hands shifted just a bit lower, the cloth dropped with it and his mouth followed, burning a trail.

  "Dougall," she cried uncertainly. Her legs were suddenly shaking madly and she wasn't sure she could remain upright. She was holding him now as much to keep her feet as to urge him on. It was something of a relief when his hands shifted to catch her by the waist and lift her. She lost the gown altogether then, but at least he'd removed the risk of her falling, she thought, then blinked her eyes open with surprise when she felt hard wood beneath her bottom.

  He'd bypassed the bench and set her on the edge of the table, she realized just as he settled on the bench before her and ducked his head between her legs to taste her. Shock and embarrassment struck her first, but were quickly nudged aside by the crash of excitement that followed. Dear God, he was--she--"Oh God!" she cried, clutching at his head again as he bent to his meal.

  Murine wasn't sure what the devil he was doing, but Dougall was definitely driving her mad as he laved and nibbled and suckled by turn, using his tongue, teeth and lips to search out every last drop of passion in her. When his hands slid up between them to knead her breasts, she gave up holding his head and grabbed at them, squeezing them encouragingly, half aware that somehow her legs had wrapped themselves around his back and her heels were digging in, urging him on too.

  When he withdrew one hand, she let it go, and then bucked on the tabletop as it slid between her legs to join his mouth in pleasuring her. She felt his fingers run lightly over her skin beside his madly working mouth and then they dipped below it and she felt something pressing into her.

  "Aye!" Murine cried, her hips shifting on the wooden surface, trying to meet the pressure. But the pressure eased briefly before it surged back, this time pushing a little farther. Sobbing her need, Murine dropped her hands to the tabletop and pushed with her whole body this time, crying out as the dam of excitement inside her burst just ere something else broke and she felt pain. Murine was quite sure she knew what had happened, he'd pushed through her maidenhead, but it was much less painful than she'd expected, just the tiniest twinge, hardly felt above the roaring wave of release she experienced.

  She was still riding that wave when Dougall straightened between her legs, clasped her hips and slid into her. This was not quite the same as when he'd pressed his finger into her. This was much bigger and for a moment she feared he would not fit, but much to her surprise her body managed to accommodate him. Still, they both went briefly still as her body encased his.

  Dougall shifted his hands to her face then and tipped her head back so he could kiss her. If she'd thought his kisses carnal and exciting before, they were nothing next to the hungry devouring she experienced this time, and then he shifted his hips back, withdrawing slightly from her body before surging back in even as his tongue withdrew and thrust into her mouth.

  Murine breathed a long groan into his mouth as all the tension that her body had just released suddenly sprang back into place. He was driving her back to that cliff edge again, and she was going willingly, her legs wrapping around him, her heels digging into his behind to urge him on, her hands clutching at his sides, nails scoring him as she tried to make him move faster and harder. Dougall resisted the silent demand at first, his movements almost leisurely, but just when she thought he would drive her mad, he growled into her mouth and began to thrust more swiftly. When he tore his mouth away on a triumphant roar, Murine was there with him, her cry joining his as her body convulsed around him.

  Chapter 10

  Dougall breathed out a little sigh and opened his eyes, his gaze moving over the lodge. It was a place full of good memories for him . . . and now he'd added another. He didn't think he'd soon forget this one. Murine was . . . asleep, he realized as his eyes drifted down to her. Damn, he'd worn the poor lass out. Here she was recovering from a wound that might have killed her, and he--

  His thoughts died as he thought of her wound. He immediately tipped his head to try to get a look at it. Fortunately the lass was shorter than he. She'd also ducked her head against his chest and he was actually able to see the wound in question from his position. A little breath of relief slipped from his lips when he saw that it appeared to be fine.

  Dougall briefly considered putting her bindings back on as he'd intended to do before she'd so unceremoniously let her gown drop, but then changed his mind. Doing so would wake her and he'd fair worn her out. Besides, the air would do the wound some good, he told himself. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that he wasn't looking forward to having to apologize to her for taking her maidenhead.

  When he finally did apologize, it would probably be good if he could put some sincerity into it. The problem was, he wasn't feeling at all sorry. Doing so ensured that there was no question but that she'd have to marry him now, and Dougall was hoping her eager response to him meant that she wouldn't mind too much about that. He certainly saw it as a good sign for their life together. The woman was a wildcat, easily excited and very enthusiastic. He knew without looking that she'd scratched the hell out of him. He could feel the blood trickling down his sides.

  Moving slowly and carefully, Dougall slipped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her off the table. He briefly considered kicking the bench behind him out of the way, but then decided against it, unwilling to risk waking Murine. So, instead, he eased slowly to the side to get out from between it and the table and then turned in a slow circle to face the bed before starting to walk. By the third step he decided that waking Murine might not be a bad thing after all. He was still inside her, and the friction as he walked was certainly waking parts of him he'd thought sleeping.

  They were halfway to the bed when Murine moaned sleepily and tightened her legs around his hips. Another step and she rubbed her face against his chest, then closed her lips on the nipple nearest her mouth. That made Dougall pause. No one had ever even touched his nipples. He'd never thought doing so would even affect him, but her nipping and suckling at it now was definitely having an effect, he realized and took another step.

  Murine groaned as their bodies rubbed together, and then nipped at his nipple before releasing it to raise her head in search of his lips.

  Dougall smiled faintly when he saw how swollen they were already from his kisses, then lowered his head to cover her mouth with his own as he took the next step. When her tongue slid out and pushed between his lips, he almost fell to his knees with surprise. While Murine had always responded eagerly to his kisses, this was the first sign of aggression she'd shown and his heart nearly flew out of his chest with excitement at the action.

  Oh, aye, she would make a fine wife indeed, he decided and strode the rest of the way to the bed more quickly. Once there, rather than set her down, Dougall settled on the bed himself, arranging her in his lap as he went before breaking their kiss. He then lay back, holding her arms to urge her to remain upright as he did.

  Murine blinked at him, awake, but obviously confused at this new position, and he smiled, his voice a husky growl as he instructed, "Ride me, lass. Pleasure yerself on me body. Ye can go as fast or as--" His words died on a sharply indrawn breath as she suddenly shifted her hips above him.

  "How?" she demanded in a sharp whisper. "Tell me what to--"

  Now it was Murine's turn to gasp in air as he slid one hand down between where they were joined and began to caress her. Murine didn't ask for further instruction. Clutching the arm of the hand he had at her waist, she began to move her body into his caresses, her hips rising and falling, rotating and sliding back and forth by turn.

  Dougall tried to control her movement with both his caress and the hand he had at her waist, but it was like trying to herd a wild horse. She wasn't interested in his guidance, she was doing exactly as he'd suggested and using his body as she chased the excitement he was stirring. The probl
em was that what she was doing was working too well. His excitement was growing by leaps and bounds and Dougall very much feared he was going to reach the end of the race before she did if she didn't stop.

  In a desperate bid to make her do so, he left off caressing her and grasped both of her hips, but she merely leaned forward, changing her angle enough that she was caressing herself on his body. That was even worse for him and Dougall changed tactics, trying to think of unpleasant things to stave off his mounting excitement. Unfortunately, her breasts were bobbing directly over his face and it was difficult to think of anything unpleasant with that view.

  Dougall was just about to resort to viciously biting his own tongue to prevent his body finding release when Murine suddenly began to thrash above him, her body squeezing and pulsing hard around his staff as she cried out her pleasure. Relieved beyond measure, Dougall immediately took over steering this ride and pumped up into her hard a bare two times before the release he'd been trying to avoid rode over him like the king and his court stampeding the table at a feast. When it ended, he found Murine slumped atop him, already fast asleep again.

  Chuckling softly to himself, he slipped his arms around her, careful to avoid her wound, and then simply lay there, holding her as she slept.

  Murine yawned sleepily and shifted in bed, frowning when her knee bumped into something extremely hard. Blinking her eyes open, she stared at her "bed." What her knee had bumped was a rather large upraised knee, and her bed was Dougall's body. Murine lay with her hip and one leg on the bed and her head and upper body across his chest. Her other leg was splayed over one of his. It was a most indelicate position.

  Eyes shooting upward, she peered at his face in the early afternoon light. She wasn't positive from this angle, but thought he might be asleep. That was something at least. How embarrassing would it have been had he been awake and watching her drool all over his tartan? And she'd definitely been doing that, she decided as she felt the dampness beneath her cheek. The thought made her frown. The man hadn't even removed his clothes while she was completely naked. How fair was that?

  "Lass?"

  Murine stiffened and raised her head again, eyeing him warily. She wasn't sure why, but something about his tone put her on the alert. She had the feeling that he was about to tell her something unpleasant.

  "I'm sorry, lass, I meant to talk to ye earlier, but then--" He grimaced and then said almost apologetically, "Ye realize this means we ha'e to marry."

  Murine peered at him uncertainly. It wasn't because, despite his words, he didn't sound the least bit apologetic, or even because she felt sure she'd heard a note of gloating in his voice. It was the words themselves.

  "I thought we were to marry anyway? Ye told Aulay--"

  "Ye remember that?" Dougall asked with surprise.

  "Aye," she murmured and wondered if she wasn't supposed to. Had he not meant it at the time?

  "I thought ye might ha'e been in shock and missed it," he admitted with a wry smile.

  "Oh," Murine murmured and lowered her head, unsure what to think now. Had he said it because he hadn't expected her to remember? Had he not meant it at all? Dear God, had she--?

  "I am sorry," he repeated and she didn't need to look to see that he was frowning. "I realize that I may not be all ye wanted."

  Startled, she raised her head. "What do ye mean?"

  "Well, Aulay's the eldest. He inherited the title and castle," Dougall pointed out, then shrugged and said, "Not that we'll need live in a hovel. Between me mercenary work, acting as Aulay's first, and me horse breeding, I've saved a good deal of coin over the years. I'll build us a fine home. But it'll take some time, and we may ha'e to stay here or with Aulay while our home is being built."

  Murine tilted her head and frowned at him. "Ye think I care about that?" She didn't give him the chance to answer, but continued, "Ye think me so light o' character that I would choose a title and castle over the man?"

  "Many women would," he pointed out gently.

  "Aye," she agreed grimly, pushing herself up to her hands and knees and then easing back to sit on her haunches as she spat, "But those women did no' spend a year under the thumb o' a brother who delighted in tormenting her with all she'd lost, and who would sell her to the first man who came along with something he wanted."

  Clucking with disgust, Murine shifted off the bed and scurried over to grab up her nightgown and drag it on. "I have lived in a castle with a man of title, Dougall, and I was miserable there. The dwelling does no' make the home. The people in it do. I--"

  She broke off with surprise when he was suddenly in front of her, grasping her hands.

  "I'm sorry," he said for the third time, but this time sounded sincere. "I did no' mean to offend ye."

  "Well ye did," Murine said quietly. "Honestly, Dougall. Today in this cottage . . ." She waved around at their surroundings and shrugged unhappily. "This was the happiest day o' me life to date." Peering at him earnestly, she added, "And that's including all me years growing up at Carmichael with me family who I loved dearly. I had a happy childhood, and mayhap the last years and losing all those I loved has colored me memories, but none of them seem as shiny to me as simply playing chess and talking with ye and . . ."

  Blushing, she trailed off.

  Dougall smiled faintly, and suggested, "And playing bed games with me?"

  "We were no' in the bed the second time," she pointed out dryly, but didn't fight him when he pulled her to rest against his chest.

  "Ye mean the first time," he corrected.

  "Nay. The first time we were on the bed and ye ran above stairs to close the shutters," Murine mumbled into his chest.

  "Oh. Aye," he murmured, rubbing her bottom through her gown rather than risk rubbing her back, miscalculating and hitting her injury. "I was no' counting that time. We did no' carry it through to the end then."

  She shrugged in his arms, squeezing a little closer until her breasts were plastered to his chest and the apex of her thighs was pressing against his pelvis. Still, it was only when she tipped her head back and slid her hands up and around his neck to pull his face down for a kiss that he realized he was exciting her with his caress. And that he had stirred some interest in himself with the action too. Christ! He couldn't even be near the lass without wanting her. He should have known that touching her so intimately would lead to--

  "Nay, Murine," Dougall breathed, pausing before his mouth touched hers. Removing the hand that had been squeezing her bottom, he caught her arms and dragged them down. "Ye'll pull yer stitches reaching like that. And ye'll be sore do we do it again. If ye're not already," he added with a frown and asked. "How do ye feel? Are ye tender?"

  "A little," she admitted. "But I still want ye."

  Dougall stared blankly, stunned that she'd admit as much. He had no doubts that Murine had been a virgin ere today. Hell, she hadn't even known how to kiss at first, but she was a quick learner and seemed to have little shame when it came to the bedding. God bless her parents for raising her to be that way and not turning her into one of the cold, timid prudes he had occasionally encountered in the past, Dougall thought suddenly.

  "Please, Dougall?" She shifted against him, and then rose up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his neck. He was tempted, more than tempted, but he didn't want her sore and needing a week to recover.

  "Are ye thirsty?" he asked suddenly, hoping to distract her long enough for her to tire again.

  Murine pulled back to blink at him. "Thirsty?"

  "Aye. I'm thirsty," he announced. "Go sit yourself on the bed and I'll fetch us some cider. Then mayhap we'll . . ." He let his voice trail away.

  A big grin on her face, Murine turned and skipped back to the bed.

  She was actually skipping for God's sake! Dougall thought with amazement. Like a child who'd been promised a boon. He should really just follow her to the bed, bend her over it and give her a good seeing to. Lord knew his body was crying out for him to do so . . . again.

  Giving
his head a shake, Dougall turned abruptly and moved to the mantel. He'd moved the tincture-laced cider there when he'd cleared the table to play chess after they'd had their soup. Now he grabbed it and took a moment to pour half of it into a new container, and then dilute it with fresh cider before pouring himself one as well. He carried both back to the bed.

  "Here ye go," he said, handing her the cider laced with Rory's tincture. He raised his own drink to take a swallow as he waited for her to take the other one, then nearly choked on the liquid when she released her hold on the linens and furs she'd pulled up to her chest and he saw that she'd removed her gown. How had he missed that her shoulders were naked? he wondered as he watched her take several swallows of her drink. She wrinkled her nose slightly after the third and complained, "'Tis bitter."

  "There is still some of Rory's tincture in it," Dougall explained solemnly. "He said it would build yer strength. Drink up so I can remove the mugs and join ye."

  It was all he had to say; she downed the rest of her drink in two large gulps and then smiled as she handed him the empty container.

  Dougall carried the empty mugs to the table and set them down, then turned back to the bed.

  "Do ye ken ye've seen all o' me, but have yet to remove even yer tartan?" Murine pointed out and while there was a definite naughtiness to her expression, there wasn't a sign of weariness.

  It seemed her earlier exhaustion had fled. Dougall was trying to decide if that was a good thing or bad when her words suddenly registered and he glanced down. She was right of course, at the table he'd merely lifted the hem of his tartan, and then they'd still been joined as he'd carried her to the bed.

  "'Tis most unfair," Murine added.

  In truth, he supposed it was. Holding her gaze, Dougall reached for the pendant at his shoulder and removed it. His tartan immediately dropped away. Leaving it where it fell, he stepped out of it and crossed halfway to the bed before stopping and tugging his shirt off over his head.