Overcome with shyness, Elizabeth raised her hands, which were hidden inside the long velvet sleeves, and said the first thing that came into her head. "The robe is much too big."
His mouth curved as he gazed down at her. "Big enough for both of us." With deliberate hands he opened the black robe and stepped inside, drawing her naked flesh against his. As his possessive hands slid about her back, he realized that her skin was softer and smoother than the velvet of his robe. Slowly, his palms moved lower to the swelling curve of her bottom, and he felt his phallus pulse against the warm softness of her belly. "Beth!"
Elizabeth gasped and raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself. It lifted her breasts against his hard muscles and the crisp black curls on his chest abraded her nipples. She cried out from the strange sensation and from sheer excitement. He dipped his head and took possession of her lips, taking her cry into his mouth hungrily. Her hands slid up to the nape of his neck, and she threaded her fingers into his black hair. His kiss deepened, and she yielded her mouth willingly, eagerly, generously, and felt his tongue master her. Heat leaped between them, almost scalding her as he pressed her against his granite hard thighs, flat belly, and his rigid, unyielding erection. When he lifted his mouth, she raised her lashes and saw his face, hard with passion. "John, we must not..."
"Beth, we must..." His lips moved hungrily down her throat, leaving a trail of kisses over the swell of her breast, until his mouth took possession of its delicate pink tip, almost devouring it whole. He felt her shudder--the towel about her hair loosened and fell to the carpet, and it shocked him into realizing he must go much more slowly in his foreplay. He stooped to pick up the towel, then led her before the fire. "Let me dry your hair." He sank to his knees on the hearth rug and tugged on her hand, drawing her down before him, so that she faced the fire with her back toward him. Gently he began to towel her long golden hair as he knelt at her back, where she could not see his nakedness.
No longer intimidated by the sight of his rampant maleness, Elizabeth calmed. She sat before him, gazing into the leaping orange and blue flames, as his powerful hands rubbed the wetness from her hair and worked their magic. She became almost mesmerized by the fire and by his touch as they knelt together in the intimate warm glow. He tossed away the towel and she felt his fingers comb through her tresses, lifting and separating the strands and tendrils until they formed a myriad of curls that tumbled over her shoulders.
"The reflection of the fire turns your hair to pure-spun gold."
Lightning at the mullioned windows momentarily lit up the darkened chamber, making Elizabeth jump. As thunder crashed above them, she felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head then place his hands on her shoulders. Slowly, he drew off the black velvet robe, so that only her cascading hair covered her nakedness. She felt his hand sweep it aside, and his lips begin a fiery trail down the curve of her back, causing a delicious shiver to run down her spine. When he kissed her bottom, she gasped with shock.
He stopped immediately and diverted her attention by slipping his arms about her waist to draw her back against him. It was his turn to shudder as the soft curve of her bum brushed against his muscled thighs. His palms cupped her lush, full breasts, loving their weight, and his thumbs brushed across her nipples, turning them into tiny thrusting spears. He heard her soft cry at the new sensations he was arousing in her body, and the sound made his own passion flare. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, "Your breasts are exquisite. I've pictured them ever since we were naked together in the loch, but I had no idea they would feel so lush and lovely and fit so perfectly in my hands." Still cupping her left breast, he stroked his other hand down across her soft belly and his fingers drew slow, tantalizing circles around her navel.
Elizabeth began to realize that all her most vulnerable and private parts were open to his seeking hands. Surely the wicked devil would not dare to touch her secret place? Her answer came immediately as she felt him cover her mons with his warm palm. She instinctively eased back but met the inexorable barrier of his iron-hard thighs pressing against her from behind. She stiffened as his fingers began to separate the curls between her legs.
"I know you are virgin, Beth ... I promise I won't tear your hymen, sweetheart. Yield to me."
His fingertips circled the tiny bud inside the folds of her cleft, and she was swept with a burning desire to let him do whatever he wanted. She stopped resisting and opened slightly, knowing that he would not hurt her.
Cupping her mons, he slowly, gently slid his middle finger into her sheath. She was so tight and hot he had to close his eyes to control the raw desire that urged him to carry her to his bed. He held still so that she could get used to the sensation of fullness, then began to move his finger in and out, a movement that matched what he wanted to do with his cock. Each time his finger stroked over the tiny bud of her womanhood, she arched back against him and brushed the sensitive, swollen head of his shaft, arousing him to savage need. He felt her sheath tighten on his finger, then he felt a small implosion inside her and heard her gasp out her pleasure. He withdrew his finger but still cupped her tightly until her last tiny spasm was spent. Gradually, he felt her breast soften in his hand and her body relax as she reclined against him.
"I feel boneless," she murmured shyly.
Deftly, he pulled the robe from beneath her bottom, spread it before the fire and gently pushed her down to lie upon it. She was naked, save for her lace stockings and green ribbon garters adorned with snowdrops. He spread her hair in a golden halo about her shoulders. Her pale skin, also touched by gold in the flickering firelight, was a startling contrast against the black velvet. "You are so beautiful--you steal my breath."
Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks, veiling her eyes from his nakedness. After a full minute, she raised her lashes and looked at him. He was propped on one elbow, his eyes ravishing her. "You have stolen my breath and my senses, John Campbell." Almost against her own volition she reached out to touch him, drawn inexorably by his dark, compelling male beauty. She traced along his collarbone with one finger, then outlined the contour of a chest muscle. She stroked the crisp black pelt of hair, feeling its texture, so different from the soft curls at the nape of his neck. The corners of her mouth lifted. "Your animal magnetism attracts me. I am unable to resist touching you." Her fingers trailed across his rib cage then boldly descended to his belly, where they circled his navel, as he had done to her.
"Touch all of me."
She raised her eyes to his. "I dare not."
"Do I frighten you?"
"A little," she confessed breathlessly. _A lot_!
She was so delicate, so vulnerable, it brought a lump to his throat. He lifted her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss into her palm, then he guided her fingers toward the nest of curls that covered his groin and from which sprang his rampant manhood.
With great daring she touched the head of his shaft. "It feels like velvet." Her voice was filled with wonder. At his hand's urging she closed her fingers about his shaft. "It is so thick. Is it always so?" she asked shyly.
"No, sweetheart. When you are not about, it actually behaves itself and lies soft and quiet. But the moment I see you it becomes aroused and longs to bury itself deep inside you."
She loosened her fingers immediately and withdrew her hand. "I couldn't resist touching you."
"And I cannot resist _tasting_ you." He began at her temple, feathering kisses where the tendrils of hair fell over her brow. The tip of his tongue traced her cheekbone, where she had placed the black beauty spot. His fingers removed the little patch and stuck it beside her lips, then he dropped a quick kiss at the corner of her mouth. He covered her lips possessively and explored her mouth sensually, tasting its sweetness. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, he moved the tiny black heart to the curve of her breast. His tongue licked a path down the arch of her throat, her shoulder, and finally across the swell of her breast. He licked and tongued her nipple until it peaked, then sucked it whole into his mouth as
if it were a ripe berry.
Elizabeth was breathless at the game he played, moving her beauty patch to the place where he intended to kiss and taste her. It was tantalizing, filling her with anticipation mixed with apprehension, especially when he placed the beauty mark beside her navel. As his tongue licked across her belly and dipped into the indentation, she was torn, wanting him to stop, yet wanting him to never stop. She watched, fascinated, as he moved down her body.
He lifted his head, and his eyes met hers as he moved the small black heart to sit atop her pubic bone. Aware that she watched exactly what he was doing, he blew softly upon the golden curls covering her mons and dipped his tongue to taste her. With a shocked gasp, she raised her knees in a reflexive move. Gently, he pushed down the knee closest to him but left the other one raised, allowing him to delve more deeply into her honeyed sheath.
Elizabeth, stunned at the wickedly erotic thing he was doing to her, reached down to stay the dark head, but the moment her fingers touched his hair, the pleasure his plunging tongue gave her was so intense she arched up into his mouth with an uninhibited little cry. Perhaps because it felt so forbidden, she gave herself up to him with blissful abandon, allowing the rough primal thrust of his tongue to breach her last defense until she lay beneath him in a wanton sprawl as she dissolved in exquisite liquid tremors.
He came back up over her and enfolded her in his arms as she cried out her release, burying her face against his shoulder. He stroked her hair and murmured endearments that he meant with all his heart. As she clung to him so sweetly, she was unbelievably precious to him in this intimate moment, and he knew in all conscience that he could not take her virginity then leave for Scotland. He raised her chin and kissed her quickly, then removed himself from temptation. "Your petticoat should be dry by now." He went into the adjoining room and lifted it from the brass fireguard. The heavy ache in his groin made him momentarily fear a case of blue balls. He took a deep breath to control his raging lust and returned to his bedchamber. She stood up, and he slipped the petticoat over her head. Then he shrugged into his black velvet bedrobe. "There's something I must tell you, Beth."
She looked at him with trusting eyes and waited.
"I have to go to Scotland. The king has asked me to recruit soldiers for his Highland regiments. I shall probably be gone for a couple of months."
His words made her feel forlorn. "When are you leaving?"
"My orders were to leave immediately, but I couldn't go until you had seen Sundridge. Elizabeth, I swear I didn't plan the rain but I'm not sorry we got drenched. What about you, sweetheart?"
She shook her head and said shyly, "I'm not sorry, John." Then she smiled at him. Her face was radiant and her eyes sparkling. "I want to see you in your uniform."
He threw back his head, laughing. "Careful what you wish for." When she sat down on his bed to watch, his jaw clenched like a lump of iron as he tried to control his rampant cock. He took underdrawers and stockings from his tallboy then removed his uniform from the wardrobe. As he took off the bedrobe their eyes met, making his arousal buck and throb, and he knew for her own safety it was good that she was across the room. He pulled on his smallclothes and the white riding breeches of his major's uniform. Then he donned a linen shirt, buttoned it, and tucked it in. He left off the vest that went over the shirt and slipped his arms into the sleeves of his scarlet jacket with dark green facings and brass buttons. He indicated the yards of dark blue and green plaid as he fastened on his sword and dirk. "The kilt is alternate dress to my uniform, but when I must spend hours in the saddle, I prefer the riding breeches."
She jumped down from the bed and drew close to examine his crest, with its Campbell shield and boar. Her fingers traced the Latin motto, NE OBLIVISCARIS. "What does it say?"
"Do not forget."
She wrapped her arms about him. "I cannot bear you to leave. Do not forget me, John."
He enfolded her against his heart. "Don't cry, sweetheart." After a moment, he removed one of the brass military buttons from his uniform and pressed it into her hand. "Do not forget, Beth."
"I have no keepsake for you."
Quickly, he withdrew his dirk, sliced off a small golden curl and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Then he kissed the teardrops from her eyelashes. "My own sweetheart, I'm not going to war! Come, you need some food inside you to banish the darklings."
"I cannot leave this chamber in my petticoat!"
"Nonsense, the only servant in the entire manor at the moment is my cook, and Mrs. Craufurd will keep to her kitchens. Did you know that Combe Bank has a ghost? A lady in gray!" He removed his weapon belt and jacket. "Come, and I'll show you the place where she has been seen."
The temptation was too great for Elizabeth to resist. As he took her hand, drawing her along the beamed corridor and down the polished oak staircase, she said, "I love this house! Its welcoming warmth wraps itself about me, almost as if it knows me."
He took her to the old hall. "My lady ghost moves from the window to warm herself at the fireplace."
"I sense only happiness here ... no great sorrow or tragedy. Do you have any idea who the lady in gray is--was?"
"She was the mistress of the lord who owned the manor in the last century. The lovers could not marry, perhaps because he had a wife. Supposedly, she always watched for him at the window. Legend says this manor was where they spent their happiest hours."
Elizabeth sighed and touched the bright yellow lilies in the blue jar. She imagined that she too could be happy here.
He sat her down at the polished refectory table before the stone fireplace. "Wait here... I'll go and see about some food."
While she waited, she glanced at the window. Though the thunder and lightning had abated, rain still pelted against the panes. He seemed to be gone a long time; when he returned from the kitchens he was carrying a huge serving tray laden with food, which he set before her. He got plates, silverware, and glasses from the tall Welsh dresser then slid in close beside her on the bench.
He lifted a silver cover and pretended surprise. "What a coincidence ... partridge!"
She laughed happily. "You asked Mrs. Craufurd to prepare them special." She watched as he carved them and put the choicest pieces on her plate. "They're stuffed with chestnuts! The aroma is making my mouth water." Under another cover were small roast potatoes, a dish of leeks, and pieces of buttered marrow.
"I want to see you eat the partridge with your fingers."
She obliged by picking up a wing and slowly tearing the tender meat from the bones with sharp white teeth. Before she could lick her fingers, he took possession of her hand and did it for her.
"I love to watch you eat. You enjoy every morsel as if it were a sensual experience." He took up the bottle of red wine, filled a glass, then lifted it to her lips. "And you already know that wine steals the senses," he teased.
She took half a dozen slow, deliberate sips then watched him drink from the same glass, making sure his lips touched the spot where hers had been. Then he kissed her, deeply, and she tasted the wine on his tongue. The sensation was intoxicating.
He deliberately finished his food before her, then slid beneath her so that she was sitting in his lap, and he proceeded to feed her with his fingers. When she playfully bit his fingertip, she felt his arousal swell beneath her bottom. "Now, see what you've done." He kissed her ear. "I don't dare let the wild beast out of his cage ... he would devour you."
She slid from his lap and stood up. "Thank you for feeding me, and warming me, and telling me about your ghost, John. Perhaps I had better go and see if my clothes are dry."
He picked up another bottle of red wine and a glass. "Lead the way, and I shall follow."
When they arrived in the bedchamber where she had undressed, she walked a direct path to the brass fireguard to feel her garments.
The skirt of her jade riding habit was still quite damp. "I feel so exposed," she said self-consciously.
She was in danger of withdrawing
from him, and he refused to let that happen. "Then you shall wear my shirt." He removed it quickly and slipped her arms into it, so that her bare shoulders were demurely covered, then he poked up the fire. "Another half hour will thoroughly dry your clothes. In the meantime, let's have another glass of wine." He took her hand and led her into the adjoining chamber. Then he took pillows and cushions from his bed, tossed them before the fire, and sank to his knees to fill the glass with wine. "Do you remember the words to our own special toast?"
She sat down beside him and nodded shyly. "To this moment and the moments we have yet to share." They sipped the wine and shared kisses. "When you removed your shirt, I believe I saw that you have a beauty mark of your own."
He touched the black mole in his armpit, and grinned. "It's a birthmark, passed down for generations from a father to his sons. It was known as the mark of Argyll."
"Let me see!"
He lifted his arm, but the moment she touched him he revealed that he was ticklish, and they both dissolved into laughter. His playful kisses soon turned passionate, and his need to again have her naked in his arms overcame her reluctance. His hot, hungry mouth trailed down across the scented, soft flesh of her belly and then his tongue delved deep to taste her lovely essence.
The rough, soft slide of his tongue aroused a myriad of pleasure points and exquisite sensations deep within her woman's center, making her moan and writhe with passion until at last she peaked with a sensual shudder that left her languorous with love.
John quickly moved up over her body until he straddled her with his muscled thighs. He had faithfully promised not to tear her hymen, but at the moment his body's needs were rampant. He had thought he could control himself, but her pale enticing loveliness had aroused him beyond his endurance. He pressed her lush breasts together and slid his marble-hard cock into the valley between. He thrust between her satin-smooth flesh until a great cry was ripped from his throat as he spent.
When he could move and think again, he brought warm water to bathe her breasts, then enfolded her in his arms and cradled her against his heart. "Forgive me, Elizabeth."
Undone - Virginia Henley Page 16