"I remember her so well, her expression on the day I left for battle. Little did I know that the brief kisses we shared would be our last. While I was gone, Jared's father fell ill. Jared was still off at court and had to journey home. In the meantime, my brother Morven took charge as laird of the MacLean clan." All the warmth left Liam's eyes and his jaw set.
This was the brother he didn't mourn and Devon couldn't stop herself from asking. "How did Morven die?"
His eyes flashed to her face, but his tone didn't change. "He was burned at the stake at Edinburgh Castle, but that comes a little later in my story."
He said it in a dull monotone, as if it were the most ordinary occurrence. "Burned at the stake," she echoed.
Liam inhaled sharply. His voice cracked with emotion when he continued. "My brother Morven had also lusted after Sarah. The night Jared's father died, Morven was made laird until Jared returned." Liam looked into her veiled face, his eyes glistening with tears. "Morven raped Sarah, claiming his right as Laird of Dunbocan to have any woman he chose."
"Oh dear God," Devon murmured, tears filling her own eyes. She could see the pain stabbing through Liam, his face contorting in the firelight.
"Jared arrived shortly after that, and Sarah begged for his protection."
"Did Jared have Morven killed?"
"Sarah never confided in anyone. When she asked Jared to keep me from her, he assumed she had changed her mind about the wedding."
"No one knew he raped her?"
Liam shook his head. "Shortly after I returned, Morven came to me and told me it was Jared who had taken Sarah to his bed."
"Was Jared sleeping with Sarah?"
"No, but when she refused to see me, I believed he was. I hated him bitterly for it, but I thought Sarah had gone to him willingly. Then a month later, she killed herself. And I blamed Jared."
Devon instinctively pulled his head down on her lap and stroked his hair. He gave out a little, anguished groan. "How did you discover the truth?"
"When Jared took Asilinn for his wife, I confided in Asilinn. I was attempting to warn her about the devious nature of the man I perceived to be my enemy, but she would hear none of it. Eventually I learned the truth. My own brother had done this terrible thing, and then used it to drive a wedge between Jared and me."
"Why? For sheer lust?"
"Morven planned to wind up as Laird of Dunbocan. He plotted to have Asilinn burned at the stake for witchcraft by claiming she had enchanted Jared with her evil. Luckily we uncovered the plot and it was my own brother who met that fate instead."
Devon bent over him, gently caressing his neck as she brushed the hair back. "Sarah must have loved you very much," she whispered.
Liam raised his head, his searching eyes penetrating her veil with their intensity. "Did she, or was she so afraid of coming to me defiled? She took her life to avoid me."
Devon grasped his head between her hands and gazed into his sorrowful eyes. "She was ashamed. She didna want to be responsible for you killing your brother. Sarah knew she would have to explain who had molested her, and she couldna pit brother against brother. 'Twas Morven's fault she took her life, not yours."
"Are you so sure?" he asked.
"Aye, I'm sure," she whispered, finding his lips with hers.
Devon gave all she could as her mouth pressed his. Her tongue slipped teasingly over his until the strength of his response set them both on fire.
Liam pulled her out of the chair and down onto the thick, bearskin rug by the fire. She could feel his hands moving over her, caressing her with such tenderness she never wanted him to stop. She was on her back now, his body hovering over her. He kept his full weight off her with his elbows. Devon raked her hands down across his chest, enjoying the feel of the hard muscles rippling beneath her fingers.
Their lips parted and he brushed her veil aside to plant a trail of flaming kisses down her neck. "Devon, oh Devon," he gasped. She pulled him closer. "Are you sure you want this?" he breathed.
Devon's hand moved between them to untie the belt of her robe. Supporting himself on one elbow, Liam moved his hand to help her. Her fingers ran up around his powerful shoulders—his chest teased her breasts. She wriggled beneath him, wantonly enjoying the feel of his body against hers. For the first time, there was no nagging fear to hold her back.
After an eternity of flirting rubbings, Liam moved his hot kisses lower to suckle one tender tip after the other, moving back and forth as if he could not decide which delicacy her preferred. Devon arched to him, totally lost in the blaze he created in her.
He pulled up on his knees between her legs, hastily unbuttoning his stock. She found her hands moving to aid his endeavor—caressing the engorged rod he exposed—feeling it with her hands. Liam moaned and discarded the last of his clothes, rolling on his side beside her so she had complete freedom of exploration.
There was an easy and unhurried intimacy in their mutual enjoyment of each other—the gentle touching made Devon feel more alive than she had ever been. His hand stroked the magic triangle between her thighs while she caressed his mighty member.
"The first time I saw you naked, your largeness terrified me," she confided in a throaty voice. "Tonight it excites me." His eyes had turned to limpid pools of passion. "Come to me now, I am ready," she breathed.
"I want you more than ready," he murmured.
Devon started to object, but he smiled and brushed the veil aside to find her lips. His fingers probed her depths, slipping in and out—in and out. She could feel the urgency building within her, but Liam lips left hers and made a soft trail down between the twin peaks of her breasts. His kisses moved lower, following the center line of her body to the pulsing heart of her womanhood.
"Oh," she gasped, her body racked with a wave of euphoric bliss.
Liam looked up at her with a satisfied grin. "Now you're ready," he said softly.
He rolled onto his back and dragged her over on top of him, her legs straddling his hips. The velvet robe slipped easily from her slim form, but she didn't care. All she wanted was Liam inside her—one with her. Skillfully he maneuvered her body, staking his claim to her with the bold entry of his steel rod.
Devon gasped and arched back to drive him deeper within her tight sheath. She felt his hands on her hips, guiding her to ride him as his body filled hers to overflowing with a burning heat—an inferno that drove her to frenzy. Instinct took possession of her—their bodies flaming in a perfectly choreographed euphoric dance of pleasure.
A whimper escaped from deep in her throat each time he thrust to her depths. He moaned and called her name as he burst inside her. At the same instant, her body exploded, tightening around his in short spasms. Exhausted by the blinding wave of perfection, Devon collapsed on his chest breathless. Liam chuckled and she could hear it rumble up from his depths.
"This is how it should always be," he whispered.
She giggled and propped herself up on his chest, starting to disengage herself from him. "No," he said urgently. "Not yet, I believe I have a little more to give you, my sweet."
"How?" she asked incredulously. As she asked, she could feel him swelling once more within her. She let out a quick gasp as he rolled them over as one and drove into her until she screamed in ecstasy. This time they both lay spent, unwilling to part, yet barely able to move.
It was Devon's inability to breathe beneath his weight that gradually eased them apart. Liam rolled off of her and she snuggled to his chest, contentedly stroking his chest. "I never dreamed it could be like this."
"There is still one imperfection we have to work out."
"What?"
His hand moved to the edges of her veil. "Let me see you, love. I need to see your face." His hand moved to caress her most intimate parts. "If all of this is mine, how can you still hold back that which I desire the most? Please let me see your face. I love you. No scars will ever change that."
Reluctantly she pulled away from their intimate position, sitting
up beside him and looking down at the perfection of his male form. "I canna, please dinna ask me. You've given me more pleasure than I dreamed could exist. I canna show you my imperfections, especially now, after such intimacy. 'Twould ruin the whole night."
She started to rise and he jerked her naked form back to his chest. "Devon, I promise I'll love you, whatever is behind that veil. It's part of you, and I love you without reserve, all of you!"
One hand held her pinned to his chest while the other moved to remove the obstacle to his view. Devon began to struggle violently against him. "Dinna do this," she begged. "Stop, please stop!"
There was something about the vulnerable tearfulness of her voice that stopped his quest. As soon as he let go of the veil, she relaxed against him. "Oh Devon, whatever am I going to do with you," he muttered. He released her and she got to her feet.
"Good night," she whispered, retreating to the loneliness of her room.
Liam stared after her for a long time, and then fell back on the bearskin. Devon brought him to new heights of awareness. She wasn't the only one who had never dreamed it could be that way. He supposed he spoiled it for her by making her feel threatened. If she still needed the veil, he would have to put up with it. Surely, one day soon she would take it away on her own.
In the meantime, if tonight were any indication, they would share an intimacy that knew no bounds. A smile settled on his face as he got up and got in bed.
***
Devon came slowly awake and stretched gingerly. A blush colored her face when she remembered the things she had done the night before. For the first time she had gone to bed naked. Now, staring down at her pale body, she was sure she could still see his mark on her—a slight whisker burn by her left nipple, a faint bruising on her neck where he had sucked her flesh while she screamed in delight with his every thrust.
What had she done? The memory embarrassed her and he would expect her to repeat her performance at his beck and call. To her surprise, her body wasn't sore from his liberal use of her. Not like a morning after a night with Frazer. She silently cursed herself for comparing the two men. They were as different as night and day. Frazer had never done anything to prepare her—just forced himself into her—ripping—tearing—thriving on giving her pain.
Shoving the covers aside, she looked over her lower body. No sign remained of the burning pleasure that took over her being so completely. Did she love Liam, or hate him for being able to make her scream for his attentions? Her face went redder at the thought. She begged him, her body desperately needing his fulfillment, and still that was not enough.
Liam wanted to see her face. Lifting her hair, she felt the red scar that ran up her neck. Her fingers ran over the rough ridge. Liam had caressed her there, right on top of it, as if it was invisible to him. It was fading under the care Asilinn had prescribed, but it was certainly not gone. Had he seen it, or was he so lost in his arousal he didn't notice? She wished she knew.
With a heavy sigh, she began a sponge bath. The scent of him still clung to her and she had no desire to wash it away, but she did. Her bath completed, she brushed the tangles from her auburn tresses. They caught the glow from the fire and lit up like a river of flame. Her hand ran over her face. What would Liam do if he saw all of her? Would his pleasures turn dark like Frazer’s did?
Devon grimaced and rummaged in her drawer to find a fresh under shift. Where was Moira anyway? She would need help lacing herself up. She tiptoed to the door to her chamber and opened the door a crack. Her wet clothes from the night before, including her undergarments lay strewn across Liam's floor. No wonder Moira hadn't come to help her dress. No doubt, she thought her mistress rested in the master's bed beside her husband.
In frustration, Devon selected an outfit and found the matching veil. She secured her underclothes, and then pulled the dress down over her head. The laces weren't going together right. She needed an extra hand. She fixed the veil over her face and tried to pull the gaping bodice of her gown closed. Hearing Moira rapping lightly at the door to the master's chamber, she hurried out the door just as the servant opened the outer portal and stared at the display on the floor.
A wide grin spread over Moira's face when she saw Devon stepping over her scattered clothing. Devon's scowl was lost on Moira. The lavender veil concealing her face obscured it.
"Be quiet, dinna wake Liam," Devon scolded. "Come to my chamber, I canna get this dress laced up properly."
Moira giggled. Liam poked his head out of the curtained bed and grinned at the maid's expression.
"I'll help Devon with her dress," Liam said. His deep voice wrapped around Devon making her heart lurch in her chest.
"Aye Milord," Moira said, suppressing an amused grin.
"That wilna be necessary," Devon objected. "I wouldna want to bother you with such triviality."
"I assure you, after last night, 'twould be my deepest pleasure," he cooed with a rakish grin.
"Must you announce to everyone that you pleasured me last night?"
"Nay Milady, I believe you just did that," Liam commented, looking toward the open door.
Devon followed his gaze. Claire Hartgrove stood gaping at them. Devon ran straight for the door, slamming it soundly in Claire's face.
"How could you… how could you find such amusement in my embarrassment?" Devon choked as his rich laugh filled the air.
"Leave us, Moira," Liam directed.
The servant scurried from the room just in time to avoid seeing her laird spring from the bed buck naked. Possessively he grabbed Devon to his chest. "I want everyone to know you're mine," he told her. "I want everyone to know how good you make me feel. I love you. Get used to it, my sweet. Enjoy it as you enjoyed me last night," he urged in a seductive whisper.
Devon's breath was coming in short gasps as he surrounded her with his nakedness. His lips found hers, hot and demanding, compelling her to answer his probing. She felt catapulted out of control. She tried to tell him he was frightening her, but his persistence wouldn't allow it.
He barely gave her time to catch her breath, spreading fire to every fiber of her being. Without knowing how, she realized he had exposed her full breasts for his caress. He lifted her easily, tasting her ripe fruit while his hands moved under her dress to bring her to the ready.
It was all happening too fast. Devon wanted to flee, but her heart hammered against her chest—her body shivered in anticipation. She was his. He lifted her skirts and backed her against the wall, entering her as his strong arms controlled her hips, impaling her insistently on his male member. She was on fire—crying out for him—clawing his shoulders as he gave her what she screamed for until the explosion within her loins left her limp from her exertion.
Her body crumpled in his arms, shivering with confused emotions. "I hate you!" she cried, backing away from him. "You take away all my control! You make me into a lusting whore, unable to resist your advances.
Liam looked at her, a startled expression on his passion-flushed face. "Devon, you screamed for me to continue. Now you admonish me for my effort."
"Get away from me!" she railed. "It has to be my choice! Do you understand? It has to be my choice…." Her voice broke as she turned away from him sobbing.
"Devon, darling," Liam whispered, coming up close behind her and grasping her quivering shoulders with his strong hands. "I never meant to upset you. Please, explain it to me. I'll try to understand."
She drew away sharply from his tender caress, not realizing the display she presented with her gown wide open to the waist. He gently fixed her dress. She stood stoically accepting his help, unable to tell him how she felt. He smoothed her skirt down over her nakedness.
"How could you do such a thing in broad daylight?" she asked in a tremulous voice.
"Devon, men and women partake of each other any time they wish. As long as they are alone, I see no difference whether it be night or day."
"You accosted me," she accused. "You forced me to your own base desires."
"You were not a bystander in what just occurred," he retorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "You wanted it as much as I did."
Angrily she brushed past him, turning back to face him when she reached the door. "The way you behaved, it was something Frazer would have done," she said shakily. "You are just like Frazer, except you give pleasure instead of pain," she announced. "I wilna be mauled by anyone, not ever again, not even you." Flipping around, she retreated out into the hallway and slammed the door behind her.
Liam stared after her in shock. He felt as if she stabbed him in the heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Liam finished bathing and slipped into a snug-fitting pair of fawn-colored britches. It was a curse. He knew it with certainty now. God sent Devon to punish him for whatever role he had in Sarah's death and she was succeeding.
There were footsteps in the hallway. Was Devon coming back? He sprang to the door. Flinging it open, he came face to face with Claire.
"Oh my darling," she cooed, pushing past him into the room. "You're married to a witch." She paused for effect and arched toward him bosom first, planting her slender hands on his bare torso. "Such a magnificent specimen should not be chastised for bringing his wife to the brink of insane desire."
"Claire!" Liam groaned. When he looked into her dancing, blue eyes, he turned away.
She followed his retreat across the room. "I heard her scream for you, then bite your head off because you made her lose all control. There are women who appreciate your talents in the bedroom. Why waste yourself on her?"
Back in front of him now, Claire's cleavage rose and fell in a heaving motion as her breath quickened. "Are you in the habit of listening outside doors?"
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