The Devil of Jedburgh

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The Devil of Jedburgh Page 17

by Claire Robyns


  “There’s still time for that.” He gave one hard tug and brought her facedown across his lap, then in the next moment allowed her to wriggle free. Her breasts dragged heavily across his groin and his reaction was instant, his blood warm and thick and pumping.

  A smile played on her lips as she danced out of reach. Her gown clung softly to her woman’s curves and the pale blue enhanced the sparkling vitality in her gaze. Her hair fell like a river of black silk to her waist and the contrast with her creamy skin was like night and day.

  Breghan was passion, courage, beauty.

  She was everything he didn’t deserve.

  “Many of the rumours you once feared about me are true, Breghan. I would have protected you from the brutality of man’s nature, of what and who I am, but what you saw yesterday can never be unseen.” Arran swung his legs to the floor. “I can’t afford to be compassionate or lenient to Scotland’s enemies.”

  “I’m appalled by what must be done.” Breghan held out a hand toward him, then dropped it when he didn’t take it. “I’m not appalled by you.”

  “You should be,” he said dully. He’d long since given up dwelling on that which couldn’t be changed. “I am beyond redemption.” He ran his hands over the ragged remains of his plaid and grinned at her. “And I stink.”

  “Is that your way of asking for a bath?”

  “An icy swim would be more beneficial to my current condition.”

  She made a moue with her lips. “Too bad, I was going to offer to soap your hair.”

  “I accept.” He watched those lovely lips part and knew exactly what was coming. Her small jest had grown two heads and she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  “I instructed Bryan to ready your bath before I woke you.” The smile she gave him hit a spot low in his abdomen and swept downward to his lower regions. “Give me a moment to braid my hair so it doesn’t get in the way.”

  “You never fail to surprise me.” Arran stood there, drinking in her vibrant sensuality, the light flush of innocence brushed across her cheeks, the delicate hollow at the base of her throat and the slightest glimpse of ivory skin swelling above the bodice of her gown. He shook his head to break the spell and said hoarsely, “I’ll be waiting.”

  In his chamber, Arran stripped his clothes and tossed them into the hearth. He packed logs around the rags and set the whole lot ablaze. Then he grabbed a bar of soap and a linen towel and headed down the outside steps to his favourite swimming hole.

  Breghan waited until he’d left before she sat down on the bed and scooped the full length of her hair over one shoulder. Her breaths were coming shallow and ragged, and that was just from his heated gaze. Their connection was so intense, his look had touched her like a physical caress.

  But it was more than that.

  When she looked into his eyes, she felt as if she could see all the way down to his very core.

  While her fingers worked her hair into a single braid, Breghan wondered what in hellfire she was doing. She’d seen the weariness eating at his soul and felt the ache echo within her own. She’d wanted to pamper him, both inside and out. She’d wanted to soften the hard edges where and how she could. Her offer to bath the man, however, had little to do with catering to his needs and everything to do with exploring his body on neutral ground, on her own terms. All it had taken was one scorching look from him to imprint her bones with the combustion of their desire.

  There would never be anything close to neutral when it came to her and Arran. Damn my curiosity.

  Breghan took a deep breath and contemplated her predicament. She realised her sudden anger stemmed from a natural shyness and nothing else. Her skin tingled at the prospect of his touch. He’d taken her to a place where diamonds shattered the night and chased her shallow dreams from their shadows.

  Shyness might be natural to Breghan, but so was courage. Instinct told her that what she and Arran shared was rare and precious, a gift that would devalue if left to gather dust behind self-imposed barriers.

  She grabbed a vial of rose oil on her way out. When she found his chamber empty, she lowered herself beside the wooden tub and scented the cooling water with a few drops of oil. She heard a door open and turned. Her throat went dry at the sight of Arran with the small towel wrapped low around his hips.

  “Stay right there,” he drawled, flicking the towel aside as he came up to her and stepped into the tub.

  She shot her gaze downward and didn’t look up again until she heard the sucking sound of water being displaced. His hair was bound at his nape, his jaw bearded with three days growth. The whole of him was damp and clean and irresistible. “You’ve already washed.”

  “There’s plenty of me in dire need of attention.” He dropped the bar of soap into her hand with an audacious wink.

  “Let’s start with your back.” She moved around and lathered the soap in her hands. Then she pressed her hands to the granite-hard twin blades of his shoulders so he would lean forward. Her fingers spread across the massive width of his back, massaging flesh that was thickly corded and coarsened with a smattering of dark blond hair. Even the knots of his spine seemed to be individually wrapped in muscle.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Arran said, his head bent forward and his chin tucked in, “but to what do I owe this unexpected welcome home?”

  Her fingers dipped below the water line, all the way down to the base of his spine, eliciting a groan from him. She fanned her palms flat across the flanks of his back and moved up, over his shoulders and along the thick muscle of his upper arms. A tremor of excitement fluttered her pulse at the pure bulk and power of his masculinity.

  She put her lips close to his ear and murmured, “Perhaps I missed you.”

  He grabbed one hand and pulled her around the tub to face him. “It was my body you missed.”

  She blinked into his eyes. “Is that not one and the same?”

  “Male and female bodies are designed to give each other pleasure for the sake of procreation, sweeting. Don’t mistake physical desire for emotion.”

  Breghan knew that admitting emotion of any sort would be anathema to him. Men such as Arran spoke with actions, not words.

  She put both her hands to his chest and threaded her fingertips through the short curls. She looked into his eyes and saw raw hunger had replaced the weary emptiness. Her skin tingled beneath his gaze and the thrill of discovering her own power acted as an aphrodisiac. Fire swept through her blood as her hands explored the ripples of his chest.

  “Jesu, Bree…” Arran grabbed her hands and brought her up with him as he leapt out of the tub. “When you look at me like that, I have to touch.”

  He heaved her up into his arms and carried her to the edge of the bed. He stood in front of her, completely naked and wedged between her thighs. Breghan found herself staring at the marble length of his shaft until he reached over, blocking her view as he tugged the remainder of her clothes and undergarments free and flung them across the room. His slate gaze explored every inch of her body.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His voice was gruff and smooth and deep, honey heated over crushed oats and stirred with whiskey. He slid an open palm along the inside of her thigh and her legs parted naturally. “Your skin is all satin and cream.” When he reached the triangle between her thighs, he twirled a finger in the tight curls. “Your woman’s hair is all silk and black sin.”

  The ebb and flow of desire pulsed through her entire body. Not only his touch, but his heated gaze sent an erotic thrill to her blood. Her fingers spread across the covers and gripped as a moan rumbled up her throat.

  His gaze came up to meet hers, dark and stormy with hungry passion. He dipped a finger inside her, then rolled the wetness into her folds and around the pebble where every nerve ending in her body had gathered into a pulsing throb.

  “Arran,” she moaned wildly, lashing her head this way and that, unable to contain the burning energy inside. Her grip tightened on the bed covers as her entire body writh
ed in ecstasy. “Please…”

  His jaw was clenched into a grim smile that looked almost painful, but before Breghan could wonder at his anger, she was pulsating around the finger he plunged deep inside her again and again. She rode the swelling tide to the highest cliff, then every muscle inside her clamped around his finger and she flew off the edge into that abyss of black madness.

  Before she got her breath back, Arran was on top of her, kissing her mouth, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts. He rolled to the side and brought her up against the full length of him, flush from their chests down to their hips. His swollen shaft was rock hard and throbbing against the tender skin of her abdomen. His mouth and hands went everywhere, stroking, licking, massaging. She felt the heat build inside her again and knew they were far from done. She put her lips to his throat and tasted the mix of salt and male. When she nipped his shoulder with her teeth, she felt him grow even longer against her belly. Her hands moved over slabs of muscle to his lean hips.

  He slipped his arms around her waist and cupped her bottom, moulding the softness in his palms as he pressed her closer. Their bodies were slick with sweat and want, and when he started moving her up and down along him, his shaft slid easily down her belly to prod between her legs. She opened and he entered her with one decisive thrust. Unlike his finger, his shaft filled her completely and she felt herself stretching to fit around him with hot friction.

  They clung to each other as he moved inside her, their lips exploring and tasting, always coming back to meet with clashing tongues. Each thrust took her to that peak, but Arran knew exactly when to plunge and when to withdraw to bring her down before she toppled over to the other side. Each time she almost exploded, and each time the next peak was higher, the journey hotter, until Breghan knew for sure she would explode before that ultimate pleasure.

  As if reading her mind and body, Arran flopped her onto her back and rolled on top, never breaking the controlled rhythm deep inside her. He propped his weight onto his elbows and looked into her eyes as he rode her beyond the highest peak and pushed her off the edge.

  Flesh swollen and tender, muscles as weak as a lamb, Breghan regained her senses and opened her eyes. Arran’s eyes were closed, his face contorted in an expression of anguish as he moved still, pumping and thrusting. It took a moment for her to realise his shaft moved outside her, between the folds of her nether lips. Warm liquid spurt over her belly as he cried out with the sound of a dying beast. Then he grabbed a linen cloth to wipe her belly and wrapped her into his arms. His warmth, his strength, the rapid beat of his heart against her cheek, lulled her into sleepy contentment.

  Arran stirred soon after. “Now we know where Sandie Armstrong gathers to give his orders, we’ll trap the fox in his hole and smoke the mongrels out.”

  Breghan came fully awake from her drowsy state and propped herself up on an elbow to watch as he dressed. “Will you be gone for days again?”

  “Armstrong uses a series of small caves at the confluence of the Stig and Teviot.” He paused by the bed to drop a kiss on top her head on his way out. “’Tis only a few hours’ ride, sweeting.”

  “Arran,” she called, rolling onto her other side to follow him with her gaze.

  He stopped in the doorway and turned. He looked into her eyes, but their special connection was missing. His mind had already shifted from her to his plans for this afternoon. Be careful, she’d wanted to say, but suddenly the words sounded tedious and redundant inside her head. Arran rode into danger almost every day of his life, the last thing he needed or wanted was a fretful woman waving him off with pleas to return safely.

  She pressed a smile to her lips instead. “I intend to commission Thomas to make a third armchair to replace the one you shattered in the hall last night.”

  His brow went up. “Since when do we have armchairs in the hall?”

  “You didn’t even notice the beautiful creation you smashed into?”

  “I was a little busy.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Thomas delivered the first of a pair, now he’ll have to start all over again.”

  “Which Thomas are we speaking of?”

  “Gardie’s Thomas.”

  “Since when does—” Arran shook his head. “Never mind, I’ll instruct Bryan to pay the lad accordingly for the extra chair.”

  She opened her mouth to explain the payment terms they’d agreed upon didn’t include coin, then shut it right back and smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Breghan pulled on her clothes, humming all the while as she straightened the bed covers and then went through to her own chamber. She took the flaxen bag containing Magellan’s herbs from the bottom of her wardrobe and stood there, twirling a finger around the pink ribbon.

  Having Arran’s child would bind them irrevocably, but the notion of this life being permanent no longer terrified her. She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t ever want to give Arran up.

  Then she remembered how Arran had ended their lovemaking.

  A black tide swept away the euphoria lingering in her blood. She might have changed her heart, but Arran was as resolute as ever, even after all they had shared. He didn’t want to keep her.

  He’d spilled his seed outside her womb to prevent the risk of impregnating her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Smoking the fox from his hole turned out to be more complicated than Arran had predicted. They’d ridden out every afternoon for two weeks and each day returned empty-handed in the small hours of morning.

  “Armstrong’s a canny bastard,” Arran drawled, stretching his legs out before the hearth in his bedchamber.

  “Do you think he knows the location of his meeting place has been compromised?” Breghan asked. The nights were growing increasingly colder and she remained standing in front of the fire so she could spread her hands out over the flames.

  “’Tis more likely he alternates holes up and down the dale. I’ve set a guard to keep watch while the rest of us go back to normal patrol.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you were back in time for supper this evening.”

  Arran reached over and pulled her into his lap. “I haven’t been neglecting you.”

  Her arms slipped naturally around his waist. “If by that you mean claiming your rights on a daily basis, no, you haven’t.”

  He slid his knuckles beneath her chin, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Is that all we were doing?” A grin came out to split a dimple in his jaw. The amusement in his eyes faded as he looked into her eyes, his head lowering inch by mesmerising inch. “I could swear we were doing much…much—” his lips brushed over her, firm, insistent, “—more.”

  “Arran,” she protested, “I’m not sure…”

  He immediately took advantage of her parted lips to plunge inside and taste his full. The familiar heat started low in her belly and Breghan felt her bones melting.

  When his hand dipped below the hem of her gown and slid up her leg, she tried to resist one last time, bringing her hands around from his back to push against his chest. “We must talk.”

  “So we shall,” he murmured, then went on to strip her breath with deep, plunging kisses while his fingers worked nimbly to strip her clothes. As soon as her breasts were bared, his mouth moved down, suckling and licking as he set her on her feet and tugged down her gown and undergarments.

  The cool air touched her bared skin for only a moment before she was back on his lap and folded in his warmth. His hands were all over her, trailing sparks down her spine, cupping her buttocks, massaging circles in the small hollow just above.

  He brought one hand between her thighs and murmured at her ear, “Open for me.”

  Breghan’s entire body was alive and on fire, flames licking just beneath her skin and molten silver running through her blood. She leaned slightly back to look into his dark gaze and at the same time spread her thighs upon his lap. His hand slid over the satin softness of her inner thigh and all the way up to her centre.r />
  Breghan cupped her palms around his jaw, felt the familiar strain there around the edges that she now knew to be ragged desire, her eyes never leaving his as he pushed a finger deep inside her core. She moaned and squirmed in his lap, and his shaft hardened and lengthened against one cheek of her buttocks.

  She dropped her hand to his chest and pulled at the buttons of his linen shirt. His lips found hers again, his tongue mimicking the actions of his finger, stirring her blood into a fury of desire. She had his shirt completely open and, finally, she could press her breasts into the rock slab of his naked chest, her sensitive nipples scrubbing through the short curls there.

  Arran didn’t release her lips and she had to swallow his grunt of pleasure. She brought one hand between their bodies. Her palm brushed over the bulge in his breeches and Arran leapt up, his hold on her loose but firm enough to guide her to her feet.

  She smiled up at him as her fingers went to the buckle of his belt. “Allow me.”

  The heat building inside her almost overflowed with the burst of excitement at her daring. She’d never been this brave before, but this time more than curiosity drove her. She was determined to push Arran beyond the limit of his endurance.

  She rolled the waist of his breeches down his hips and released the rigid length of his shaft pressed flat to his stomach. Her fingers curled around him and Arran’s jaw strained until the tanned skin turned completely white.

  His grip on her arms tightened. “Bree,” he whispered hoarsely, “what are you doing?”

  She put on an innocent pout. “You don’t like it?”

  “Ah, Jesu…”

  His eyes closed and she rolled her thumb around the folded skin of his tip. His eyes shot open.

  He’d gotten rid of his breeches and had her flat on the bed before she could blink.

  They were both fully aroused and impatient.

  As she went down, Breghan opened her legs and Arran entered her in one movement as he came down over her.

  They made love furiously, passionately, Breghan clawing his back and Arran sucking her breasts hard enough to leave bruises. He devoured her with his eyes, his hands, his kisses. He moved inside her with a rhythm designed to ease her down just before she reached the edge, again and again, sending her higher and higher until, finally, taking her to that place of ultimate pleasure.

 

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