This was why she loved him. She ventured an unsteady step, then without a conscious decision, she threw herself forward at a run.
Only to land in his embrace. He’d come halfway.
His arms closed hard around her, warm, familiar, powerful. She tipped her face up for his kiss. How she wanted him.
His mouth was hard, too. He ruthlessly claimed her as his, and she stopped pretending she had any argument with that. Instead, she parted her lips for the hot invasion of his tongue, and her hands ran over him, discovering the intriguing secrets of his body. The hard pads of muscle. The smooth golden skin. The silky hair scattered across his chest.
Ewan gathered her closer, and his kiss intensified. Lightning streaked through her, left her restless, hungry, desperate. She’d never felt like this before, even when he’d kissed her last night. He raised his head to stare down at her with blazing eyes, and her breath escaped on a sob.
“You’ll marry me,” he said in a rough voice. If they hadn’t just kissed as if the world ended, she’d think he was angry.
She tipped her chin up and spoke defiantly. “Yes.”
Charlotte waited for him to say he was pleased, but he still looked as if he poised on the edge of a cliff. A cliff with hungry crocodiles snapping below.
“Soon?” he growled.
“Tomorrow if I could.”
“Good.”
He grabbed her old-fashioned round gown at the hips and crushed the material in his hands. “I want you naked,” he said, voice edged.
She loved his fierceness. It stemmed from need. She wanted him to need her. When she laid her hand on his heaving chest, he was as hot as a furnace. At her touch, he bit back a groan.
Today she’d been impressed with his urbanity under trying circumstances. This lack of control now told her more than anything else could that if she yielded to this passion, he yielded, too. They were equals in desire.
“This dress lifts right off,” she said. It was why she’d worn it. She saw his eyes flare sapphire, then a cloud of cotton blinded her as he whisked the gown over her head.
Under the dress, she was naked. She straightened and stood before him, offering him everything she was. It was frightening to leave herself so open—trust was never easy for her. But as she read the wonder in his expression, she recognized that this time, her allegiance wasn’t misplaced.
“You’re so beautiful.” The awe in his voice brushed across her bare skin like a warm breeze. Emotion thickened his accent. He no longer sounded as if he meant to devour her in two snaps of those straight white teeth.
With a gentleness that made her tremble, he drew her against him until her breasts met his bare chest. Instinctively she moved closer to all that heat and power, making him groan again.
The universe was hot and dark, and brimming with sensual discovery. He held her face in the curve of his shoulder. With sight denied, other senses sharpened. She stood in his arms, as their breath eased into the same rhythm. His musky scent was the air she breathed, and his heart pounded like hammer blows against her. She was overwhelmingly conscious of his potent masculinity.
The communication was too profound for speech. Soon he’d join her in the bed she’d never shared with another person. He’d invade her body, and she’d be a virgin no more. But this serene interval marked the beginning of their true union.
After a universe of time, he began to touch her, hands skimming across her naked skin in glancing exploration. Her heart kicked into a gallop, and she arched closer.
He smoothed her wild mane of hair until she felt like purring. Then his hands slid greedily over shoulders and back and flanks. He dipped to shape the curve of her hips and the swell of her buttocks. Her skin came alive under his exploration. His touch made her head swim, turned her legs weak. The wonder left her clinging to his shoulders.
So close to him, she knew he trembled, too, with long, quaking shivers that combed through him like waves crashing toward the shore. She turned her head and kissed his warm, male flesh. His taste flooded her senses. His busy hands stilled, and she heard his breath catch.
She shook her hair back from her face and stared up at him. This sensual man tugged so powerfully at her desire. His expression was intent, and his lips were full and dark. His eyelids were heavy. He looked like he was lost in a drugged paradise.
“I don’t know how to please you,” she whispered.
For the first time since he’d burst into her room, tenderness softened his smile. Her blood melted to syrup as those strong hands rose to cradle her head.
“You don’t have to do anything, mo chridhe. Your mere presence pleases me more than I can say.” He paused, then spoke with more emphasis, in case she misunderstood. “You please me.”
The mad swoop of her heart left her dizzy. He kissed her again, and she sank into sweetness. When he lowered her to the bed, the sheets were cool under her back.
Ewan stood beside the bed, staring at her. She bit back a whimper and shifted. Lying before him, naked and vulnerable, aroused a needy, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. A deep pulse pounded between her legs. She shifted again, but the brush of bedding on her skin only heightened the barrage of sensations.
In a leisurely inspection, his gaze drifted down her body, lingering on her breasts, the feathery, dark gold curls that covered her mound, her legs. Although his hands remained loose at his sides, she felt like he touched her.
When she’d decided to give herself to Ewan, she’d resolved to be bold. What point hesitating, when she’d chosen so decisively to fall?
But his detailed scrutiny of her body, a body she’d never revealed to a man, tested her courage. She bore it as long as she could, before she placed a shaking hand over her sex.
“You’re glorious, Charlotte.” That sweet smile still hovered around his lips. “There’s no need to be shy.”
Her cheeks were hot, and that throbbing, insistent demand between her thighs threatened to send her insane. Shamefully, the touch of her hand made her imagine Ewan stroking her.
“I’ve never done this before,” she stammered, struggling to revive the audacious girl who had invited him to come to her.
But that girl hadn’t been spread out on a bed like a sacrifice. Charlotte sucked in a shaky breath and noticed how his eyes fixed on the rise of her breasts. Her nipples pearled in longing, and heat flooded her.
“I know how privileged I am.”
“Then why are you so far away?” she asked, almost on a wail.
Self-deprecation tinged his smile. “Because I want you too much, mo leannan.”
He sounded more Scots than ever. She’d noticed that his brogue thickened when his emotions were engaged. He curled one hand around the bedpost, knuckles turning white as he strove for control. His breath was unsteady, and a muscle jerked in one lean cheek.
“Can…can you want me too much?”
“I want to give you pleasure.”
She swallowed as heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m sure wanting…me is no barrier to that.”
“I fear losing my head.” He paused, then spoke more roughly. “I fear frightening you.”
“I want you so much, it hurts,” she admitted.
“Oh, my love,” he said, stepping forward. “You shouldn’t say such things. They make me forget I’m a gentleman.”
At last she found the confidence to smile. “You’re a man as well as a gentleman, Ewan.” Mustering all her nerve, she raised her hand and extended it toward him.
Desire flared in his eyes. A few deft movements and he stood naked before her. All the moisture dried from Charlotte’s mouth, and she swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. She regarded him with curiosity and awe. And trepidation. How on earth would that fit inside her?
“Oh.” The sound emerged as a squeak. Her muscles tightened, the heat between her legs turned liquid. She squirmed and clenched her hands in the sheets.
For the first time tonight, he laughed. “I’ve never seen you stuck for words befo
re, lassie.”
The gentle teasing shattered her paralysis. She pushed up against the pillows, unable to take her eyes off him. “You steal my breath away. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
His face expressed elation, and excitement. And something that she thought might be love, although he’d never said the words.
A thrill rippled through her, and a deep certainty that they were meant to come together like this. A great wave of love washed away her quibbling.
He leaned one knee on the bed. “I want you so much.”
“I want you, too,” she said in a broken voice.
“Charlotte…” Ewan seized her in his arms, dragging her up for a ferocious, explosive kiss that turned the world to fire.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
Lyle reveled in Charlotte’s eager response. When he first saw her naked body, she’d seemed too perfect to be real. Creamy skin. Tumbling hair. High breasts tipped with rose. A symphony of curves. Hips, waist, tender stomach. Long, graceful legs—he’d always suspected his sweet Cinderella might have lovely legs. But the woman in his arms now was all alluring human warmth.
His hands conducted a feverish exploration, up, down, across, above, below. Loving the catch in her breath at every caress, the broken moan when at last he cupped those magnificent breasts. He took one beaded peak between his lips, feeling her start of surprise.
“Oh, Ewan,” she sighed, when he drew on the sensitive nipple. Her hands tangled in his hair, bringing him closer.
He turned his attention to her other breast. She offered a banquet of endless pleasure. He felt torn between the urge to possess and the urge to cherish. She was a virgin and deserved his care. She stirred his passion as no woman ever had, and her ardent welcome stoked the fire inside him.
When her breath emerged in irregular gasps, he trailed his hand down that soft feminine belly to the dark gold curls between her thighs. He placed his palm over her mound, and she tilted her hips toward him.
He rose over her, resting on one elbow. There would be another more powerful claiming later, but he wanted to give her a taste of pleasure first.
With slow concentration, he stroked that silky hair, glistening with arousal. She made a soft sound of enjoyment deep in her throat, and her thighs relaxed.
He kissed her softly, reverently. His tongue traced the seam of her lips as he discovered her satiny folds. She was hot and wet, and when his thumb brushed her center, she gave another of those delicious murmurs. He began to build her response, and was gratified when her shining amber eyes turned startled, then cloudy.
“Oh, Ewan,” she said again. “That’s…that’s wicked.”
He smiled and brushed another kiss over her lips. She moved under his hand with a subtle, mysterious rhythm that set his blood pumping. “There’s more.”
“I’m ready,” she said, still watching him with that adorably unfocused gaze.
The scent of her skin drove him mad. Madder again with those quavery sighs and the way she moved to encourage him. But when he slid one long finger inside her, he felt her body’s natural resistance. However strong her desire, he’d hurt her if he took her now.
He’d face flaying before he hurt this miraculous creature.
Gently he began to move his finger in and out, until she rolled toward him. “Please. Now.”
“Not yet,” he said, forcing the words out.
“I want you,” she cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders. Tomorrow his body would bear her mark. His heart would bear her mark forever.
He kissed her, drawing her lower lip between his teeth for a gentle nip. “Trust me.”
“I do,” she said helplessly, straining up until those luscious breasts brushed his chest.
He closed his eyes and prayed for strength. He tested her with two fingers. Then when she was gasping and restless, he slipped down the bed and with sudden ruthlessness tugged her thighs apart.
He placed his mouth on her, seeking her hot honey with his tongue. She gave a sharp cry, and another when he drew hard.
She’d trembled close to the edge for so long. Now she flew over the brink into a shuddering climax. For uncountable moments, he lingered between her straining thighs, relishing her body’s wild quaking.
Her hands were buried in his hair. At her peak, they’d tightened to the point of pain. Now they fell loose, combing through the damp strands with a tenderness that sliced at his heart.
He lapped at her, bringing her down as the tremors subsided. His hands framed her hips. Eventually he raised his head. He’d intended to watch her first ecstasy, but the need to taste her had overcome him.
Her face was flushed. Her eyes were heavy. She lay sprawled in voluptuous abandon against the rumpled sheets. “Ewan, that…”
Charlotte licked her lips, and the sheen of excitement on her skin shot another bolt of arousal through him. He slid up her body to kiss her wildly, deeply, succulently. Her bent knees cradled his hips in silent invitation.
Lyle lifted his head and stared into those opaque eyes. With exquisite care, in denial of imperious need, he pressed into her body. Delectable resistance. Even more delectable yielding.
When she made a faint sound of discomfort, he stopped, panting and desperate. Then her hands curled around his shoulders, and she bowed up to meet him. “Keep going.”
Her bravery made his heart expand. He was overwhelmingly conscious of her body’s grip. The craving to plunge threatened to master him.
“It will get better,” he said, hoping to Hades he spoke the truth.
She pressed her mouth to his. “I can bear it.”
“Och, Charlotte,” he said helplessly. “It’s not a test of endurance. You’re meant to enjoy it.”
The curve of those lush lips in her strained, pale face made him commend her gallantry yet again. “Then you’d better make sure I do.”
“My bonny darling,” he whispered, and kissed her with all the unspoken love in his heart.
As the kiss lengthened, she relaxed beneath him. He loved the piquant taste of her mouth. He loved the snug clasp of her body. Hell, he just loved her.
He raised his head and edged ahead. She gave a soft cry. In his extremity, he couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain.
For a long moment, he lay unmoving, feeling her body flower around him. He pressed his cheek to hers and closed his eyes on a prayer of gratitude for interfering fathers, and bad weather, and gorgeous, brave, clever lassies.
From the first, he’d recognized Charlotte as the other half of his soul. But this profound emotion as he joined his body to hers exceeded anything he’d known. Buried deep inside her, he could swear they breathed as one.
He loved Charlotte Warren with a purity and steadfastness that nothing could shake. He would wed her and claim her as his with every bond of church and state. But their true marriage started at this moment.
The transcendent glow receded under carnal demand. He lay in the arms of the woman he wanted more than life. And the urge to possess her was invincible.
Her eyes were closed, and her hands stroked up and down his back. He did his best not to crush her, but he must be heavy. He rose on his hands and began to move with sensual purpose.
As he slid back, her eyes opened. Earlier, she’d looked tested, uncertain. Now the unalloyed surrender in her expression filled him with relief.
Her fingers dug into his biceps. “Don’t go.”
His laugh wasn’t much more than a grunt. “I’m not going anywhere, lassie.”
Charlotte tilted her head back and exhaled in leisurely pleasure as he shifted forward. Easier this time. Wonder slammed through him, as he felt again that unparalleled sense of welcome. They were a perfect fit.
The next time, she angled up to meet him. He groaned, need surging like an ocean. His thrusts became less controlled. Through his urgency, he sensed her rising towards another climax. Her breath emerged in sobbing gusts, and she met every stroke with a sigh of greeting.
Bu
t he reached a point where his own need became paramount. Since he’d met her, hunger had seethed inside him. Now it transformed into a primitive storm, blocking out all but the drive to completion.
When his release came, it started in the soles of his feet and rushed up through straining legs. It burned through his buttocks and loins, and squeezed his lungs to pain. Light flared behind his eyes. His mind turned black and turbulent. His balls tightened to agony, and as he thrust hard into her for the final time, everything blasted to incandescent flame.
Through the wild tempest, he heard her cry out in astonished joy. Then there was only hot, blind, throbbing ecstasy.
Exhausted, emptied, elated, he caught her up against him and rolled to his side. She was shaking. So was he.
Lyle lifted leaden lids to discover a world that might look the same but had changed forever. Charlotte’s disheveled blond head was buried in his chest. It took him too long, floating in the blissful aftermath, to realize that she was crying.
Horror blasted his satisfaction to ash. He reared back and placed his hands on either side of her head, forcing her face up until he could see her eyes.
“Mo leannan, mo chridhe, I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry. I tried to be gentle, but you were like fire in my arms. I acted like a damn barbarian. Will you ever forgive me?”
She regarded him with drenched eyes as a frown drew her brows together. “Ewan, what on earth are you talking about?”
He dug his fingers into her thick, warm hair. “You’re crying,” he said flatly, sick with guilt.
Her lips turned down in disapproval. “I suppose you expect me to tell you why.”
“For God’s sake, just tell me I didn’t hurt you.” He leaned forward and traced kisses across her brow and down her temple where he felt the deep beat of her blood.
“You didn’t.” Her hands encircled his wrists. “Well, a little. At first. But then…”
“Thank heaven,” he breathed, kissing the salty moisture from her fluttering eyelashes.
Under his wandering lips, he felt warmth flood her cheeks. “Then it was wonderful.”
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