by June Francis
He wrinkled his nose and she drew back, but he reached out a hand and took hold of her chin. ‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ he murmured.
Without waiting for a reply, he brought her face close to his and kissed her with a depth of hunger that caused her to respond in like manner. She felt a stirring against the fabric covering her abdomen and a tiny pulse throbbed between her legs. The colour rushed to her cheeks as she felt him pleat the fabric of her best silk night rail, shortening it little by little until he lifted it over her head. He dropped the garment on the floor and drew her close to him and whispered against her mouth. ‘There’s naught to fear, lass. Trust me.’
She laughed. As if by now she did not know he was to be trusted. He kissed her gently and then rolled her over so that she was flat on her back. Then lowering his head, he began to caress her skin with his lips—face, throat, shoulders—before burrowing his face between her breasts whilst his fingertips caressed her nipples with a gentle stroking movement. Such sweet seduction was sweeping her on to a plain of feeling that she was familiar with by now. His mouth replaced his fingers, stepping up the pleasure so that tiny sighs escaped her. She would have had him keep his lips to her breast by holding him captive by his chestnut hair for longer, only he broke free and turned her over. She gasped as he ran his tongue down her spine, caressing her buttocks before darting between her thighs, at which point she protested.
He caught her wavering hand and then came a flicker and a fluttering like that of a butterfly diving into the heart of a flower in search of nectar and she gasped again. Her embarrassment at his kissing her in such a spot was drowned by her need for him to continue and he did so with a gentleness that made her sigh. Moments later such pleasure exploded inside her that she could not contain its reaction. She arched her back, uttering his name in a throaty whisper. ‘To think that once I never knew such bodily bliss existed.’ Her voice was deep and husky. ‘Now you take your reward as my father wished.’
And he did. Within moments he was inside her and it only took seconds for her to catch his rhythm. Waves of pleasure rippled through her again and again; she felt fulfilled as he came inside her. ‘I love you,’ he said, ‘body and soul and with all my heart.’
‘Oh, Mackillin,’ she breathed.
‘Do you not think it is time you dropped the Mackillin and called me Rory, my love?’
‘Rory.’ Her tongue and lips felt as if tasting the word. ‘What does it mean?’ she asked.
‘It means Red King and most likely was brought to Scotland by the Norsemen who invaded our country in the dark times.’
‘So you are named for a red-haired barbarian,’ she teased.
‘Without doubt, and you are named for a saint. In the past many a saintly woman tamed a barbarian king. Alliances were forged that brought peace in place of war.’ His hazel eyes twinkled down into her blue ones.
‘So you believe that a wife’s task is to influence her husband and bring out the more gentle side to his nature?’ she asked.
‘Aye.’
She smiled and, reaching up for him, said, ‘It is also her role to provide him with children.’
He stilled and gazed at her with a wondering expression in his eyes. ‘Are you saying…?’
‘Aye. I am with child. God willing it will be an heir for Killin. If not, then we must try again,’ she said with a mischievous expression on her lovely face.
Rory gave a whoop of delight and brought her so close to him that not a feather could slip between them. ‘Oh, my heart, you are all that I want in a mate. You provide me with all that I need in life.’
‘I am pleased to hear it. You are all I want, too.’ She kissed him on the mouth and murmured in a teasing voice, ‘So, take me again, my barbarian, and let me tame you with my love.’
ISBN: 978-1-408-93172-1
Tamed by the Barbarian
© June Francis 2007
First Published in Great Britain in 2008
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