She was far, far above him. She was the laird’s half sister, about to be promised to a Lowland noble. The Mackenzie had sent Niall here to fetch her, to accompany her to his castle as her protector, not to fuck her. To touch her would be to betray his oath to the laird.
There would be no way to hide his arousal when she undressed him. He would shame himself. His wayward body would scream his base desire, and she would be appalled.
As her deft fingers worked the laces on his shoes, he tried to think of something else, something that would make him forget the vision of her pink folds spread wide before him, of feasting upon her until she was plump and red and glistening with lust. He tried not to dwell on the mewling sounds she might make or the flush of passion that would rise on her ivory cheeks.
She moved behind him, and with skilled precision untied his belt, which she placed on the table beside the bed. Niall helped her to lift off his mail shirt and unwrap his plaid. Her fingertips skimmed over his buttocks as she worked it off him. Was the movement deliberate? An invitation?
Of course it wasn’t. Niall clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
The mail shirt and plaid dropped to the planked floor. Still hidden behind his shirt, his cock bobbed free. He fought the mad urge to grasp himself, to press his shaft against his skin, to stroke it while she watched.
Still standing behind him, she reached down to clasp the bottom of his shirt. In one motion, she pulled it over his head.
He stood naked, his raging, throbbing cock painfully thrust out.
Thankfully, she didn’t move from behind him.
“You must be weary from the long journey, Niall,” she said. “One of your men told me how hard you rode from Ellandonan. I…” Her voice caught. “Please,” she whispered. “The bath is ready.”
Chapter Two
Niall MacRae had the most beautiful arse Aileen had ever seen, smooth, toned and hollowed on either side beneath narrow hips. As she raised his tunic, it had taken all of her self-control not to lick one of those taut cheeks, to nip it with her teeth.
Appalled by her immoral thoughts, Aileen stared at the floor, battling the tremors coursing through her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him climb gracefully into the wooden tub. He gave a low groan as he lowered his muscled body into the hot water.
Whatever had possessed her? His restrained, polite behavior showed that he had great pride in his position, that he took his duty to the laird very seriously. Revealing her depraved imaginings would shame him and all he stood for.
She would bathe him and then she would leave.
A stolen glance revealed Niall’s head tipped back against the edge of the bath. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with regular, deep breaths. For a moment she wondered if he had fallen asleep, but then he cracked his eyes open and smiled at her.
“The water feels different,” he murmured. “Smooth.”
“It is a special mixture of herbs my grandmother created,” she told him as she took the soap and ladle from the table and moved beside him, diligently keeping her gaze on the parts of him remaining above water. “This concoction is to ease the strains of the day.”
His eyes drifted shut once again but the smile didn’t fade. “Your grandmother is still alive?”
“Aye, and in good health.”
“I remember her.” He chuckled. “A clever woman.”
“She is indeed.” Aileen scooped a ladleful of water. “Keep your eyes closed.”
The water streamed over his head. Rivulets flowed past his jaw and down his chest. His small nipples hardened into glistening pearls.
With her lip caught between her teeth, Aileen soaped her hands and slipped them into his hair.
It was just as she’d imagined, soft and silky. She sifted the strands between her fingers. This might be her only chance to touch him, ever. She would make the most of it.
For some unfathomable reason, she felt safe with him close. Safe from the laird, safe from Gilbert Dunbar…even safe from the memory of her husband. She hadn’t felt safe for many years, not since she was a child and her grandmother lived at Dornoch.
If only they could stay in this room forever. If only she never had to pass beyond its threshold, he would keep her safe.
She began to apply gentle pressure to his scalp, rubbing soap into every strand of hair. The more thorough she was, the longer she could stay near him. Gradually, she moved her hands to either side of Niall’s head, watching his face. His eyes were still closed, but he was clenching his teeth. Despite her grandmother’s soothing bath oils and her own gentle ministrations, his body quivered with tension.
Leaning over the edge of the tub, she traced the shell of his ear with soapy fingertips. First one ear, then the other. As she slid her finger down the rim of the second ear, he raised his hand out of the water and captured her wrist.
“Aileen.”
His low voice wrapped around her like a blanket. All she wanted was to sink herself into it, into him, to let herself go.
He had never called her by her first name before.
She blinked, he dropped her hand, and the moment was broken.
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
Aileen held her wrist before her, slowly turning it over. A pink band ringed her flesh where he had grasped her. Pearly beads of water dripped from her skin. A soapy stream trickled down her forearm.
Beyond her extended arm, firelight glinted off the rippling surface. Submerged, warping in and out of focus in the undulating currents, Niall’s erect cock stood out from his body in blatant invitation.
Instantly, Aileen’s center flushed and tingled in response. She lowered her arm and gripped the rim of the tub.
Becoming involved with Niall would lead to embarrassment and heartbreak, possibly worse. Certainly this warrior couldn’t be the key to her freedom. In the grand scheme of things, she must marry someone with land and power, and Niall had neither.
Impossible.
“I just remembered—” Her voice was low, breathless. She wrenched her gaze to his face. Golden flames reflected off the deep blue of his eyes. She struggled to find some lie, some excuse. She had to leave before she did something she would regret forever. “I…I am needed in the kitchens. I am so sorry, Niall.”
A long delay preceded his answer.
Oh God, she wanted him. She wanted to throw her clothes off, straddle him and ride him so hard and fast, water would splash over the edges of the tub. She wanted him to stand so she could lick the water from every inch of his rippled, masculine body. She wanted him to shove that long, hard cock inside her so deep that he branded himself within her. She wanted him to make her cry and scream, not in misery, like Walter had, but in rapture.
Walter. His name brought her back to her senses. Her husband had died not a month past.
“Of course, my lady.” His voice was gentle, but his skin was flushed, his muscles drawn tight. He was a man with needs. Perhaps it had nothing to do with her, perhaps he had simply been too long separated from female companionship. Maybe she should send Niall one of Walter’s whores.
The thought of him bedding one of those women—any woman other than herself—made her skin crawl. Never.
Sweat broke out across Aileen’s brow. She was burning. This wasn’t right. John would punish her if Niall touched her, and Niall’s fate would be far worse.
She had to get away from him.
“I will send up a servant—”
He waved his hand, flinging a droplet to her lip. Her tongue darted out to capture the bead of water. The essence of Niall drifted across her tongue. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.
“Please don’t bother the servants on my account. I can manage by myself.”
“Very well.” Slowly, she rose and dragged herself across the room. Leaving him hurt. It didn’t make any sense, but it felt like she left part of herself behind.
At the door, she paused. “Good night, Niall.”
His look was indecipherable. �
��Good night, my lady.”
It seemed to take forever for her to escape from the room into the dark hallway beyond. Once the door was firmly shut, she slumped against it, letting out a ragged, sobbing breath.
She didn’t know what had happened. She had never felt like that in a man’s presence before. Never.
Even now, erotic images fluttered through her mind. She pictured herself bending over the lip of the tub, naked, her bare bottom tilted high. Niall stood with his chest pressed to her back, his big hands on the cheeks of her behind, pumping his cock deep into her body. A contraction fluttered through her core, and Aileen’s knees went watery.
“Stop,” she whispered to herself. This was madness. She was no wanton harlot.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
She straightened to her full height and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. Being so close to him after not having seen a male body in its prime for years—she’d experienced a moment of weakness.
The past month had been so draining, what with Walter’s sudden death, his funeral and burial. And now she was summoned to the laird’s castle to learn her fate—a fate she knew she wouldn’t like.
That explained it. She was overwrought.
A few feet down the hall, a chamber door was cracked open. Aileen began to push it shut, but the gentle sound of splashing water came from within and she remembered that this room adjoined Niall’s.
The tinkling noises reeled her in like a lure. If she went inside, she could peek at him one more time, take her fill of that finely sculpted body. She’d look, drink him into her memory, then be satisfied enough to spend her time planning her trip to Ellandonan rather than fantasizing about a man she could never have.
Aileen tiptoed into the empty bedchamber. The door between the two chambers was open halfway. Gripping the edge, she peered around it.
Niall was still in the bath, his back at a slight angle to her. From this perspective, Aileen could see every detail of his long body sprawled in the water. Lazily, with his eyes closed, Niall reached up to the table and felt around until his fingers collided with the soap. He took it in his hand then plunged it underwater, pressing his cock against his belly.
Aileen stared, riveted.
Slowly, leisurely, he slid the soap down the underside of his cock, then lower, gently washing his ballocks. With his free hand, he grasped himself and jerked upward. Water slapped against the edges of the tub.
Clutching the side of the door, Aileen felt her lips part. Her mouth went dry. She had never seen a man pleasure himself before. As she watched, his shaft grew darker underwater, now a deep plum color, a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin everywhere else.
The soap fell through his fingers and thudded to the bottom of the tub. Niall gripped himself. Hand over hand, he pumped his fists from the base of his shaft to the head. The water rippled in concentric circles from his movements. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.
Aileen had never seen anything so arousing. She imagined her own hands, mouth, and sheath filled with that cock. She bunched the fabric of her dress at her waist. It would be so easy to pull it up, reach down and rub herself in the place that begged to be touched.
Every nerve in her body pricked with desire, confusion, excitement. She had never explored herself with her fingers, never had the desire. She left the barbaric, lustful thoughts to her husband, who came in, used her and then left. Walter never made her feel like this. He never made her want.
Niall’s breath was ragged now. Each pull on his cock met with a harsh exhalation. Aileen fisted the fabric of her skirt tighter and watched a crimson flush spread from Niall’s neck to his ears and down his chest.
Still staring at the ceiling, he spoke, the word coming out as a half whisper, half groan. “Aileen.”
Aileen bit back a whimper. He was thinking of her, fantasizing about her. He desired her, perhaps as much as she desired him.
She wanted to go to him so badly, wanted to offer herself to him, wanted to ask him to take her in whatever way he pleased.
She couldn’t. It would be wrong, so wrong in so many ways. She needed to heed her duty to her clan. Within the month, she’d be betrothed to another man.
Niall’s muscles stood out in stark relief all over his body, rippling with exertion. The bronze glow from the fire made the sweat covering his chest and arms sparkle. With a final harsh grunt, Niall released his seed into the water. Aileen watched, fascinated, mad with lust, terrified, as the filmy cloud appeared.
All at once, Niall slumped. “Aileen,” he said again, but this time her name sounded like a mournful whisper.
Aileen fled.
She ran down the long passageway, straight to her bedchamber on its opposite end. Flying inside, she slammed the door shut behind her. Jannet, who had been waiting for her in a chair beside the fire, rose in alarm.
“Is something wrong, lady?”
Aileen put one hand flat on the door to steady herself. “It is nothing.”
“Are you sure? I could summon—”
Aileen rounded on her. “Summon no one, do you hear?”
Jannet’s face crumpled. “Aye, lady.”
Aileen immediately softened. She had given Jannet the esteemed position of lady’s maid only a few months ago, and she sometimes forgot how young the lass was. Barely thirteen and quite softhearted. Aileen had never lost her temper with her before.
“Shh…it is all right. Just comb out my hair, then you can sleep with your mother and sisters tonight,” she said gently. Jannet usually slept on the pallet beside Aileen’s bed, but tonight she wanted to be alone.
Jannet curtsied and fetched the hairbrush. Thankfully, she kept silent as she helped Aileen undress and combed out her hair. After she left, Aileen lay under the covers, shivering, staring at the top of her embroidered canopy.
She didn’t understand what had happened tonight. Why had Niall MacRae’s presence affected her so strongly?
All she knew was that she wanted him desperately. And he wanted her too.
How could it be? How could this happen so quickly, and with such force? He had just arrived at Dornoch this morning.
She had always liked, Niall. She’d always respected his strength and his deeply honorable nature. In those first days of her marriage, however, she was struggling with surviving with her husband in her new life. Niall was young and focused on his training. They might have shared an attraction if life hadn’t been in their way.
Now, she was no longer married. She was free.
Nay, she admonished herself. She was not free—she was bound to her half brother the laird and her clan. Ever since she was a child, she’d been used as a tool. Her marriage to Walter was nothing more than a political move involving a shuffling of lands and loyalties.
Aileen squeezed her eyes shut. What she wouldn’t give to be free. Just for one day. To be who and what she wanted to be. To be with Niall.
Niall. Aileen shuddered, remembering how the cords on his neck had tightened as he neared his completion. The bead of sweat sliding down his cheek…
How she wished she’d been free to join him in the bath. She would have been naked. He would have touched her. His big hands would completely engulf her breasts.
She pinched her nipples through her shift. How much better it would feel if he held them instead of her. He would be gentle with her, she knew—gentle yet firm. He would roll her nipples between his broad fingers…
He would teach her things she’d never dreamed of.
She pulled up the edge of her nightshift and cupped her mons. She’d wanted to do this while she’d watched him, but she’d been too panicked, too overwhelmed. Now, in the darkness of her chamber, it didn’t seem nearly so daunting.
She thrust her hips upward, pressing her mound into her hand. The motion sent a thrill of pleasure ricocheting through her.
Spreading her legs, Aileen burrowed her fingers between her folds. She was so hot down there. So hot and sensitive and slic
k. Niall would feel this when he touched her.
Oh, and it felt so good. Why had she never thought of exploring herself before?
She circled her entrance with her fingertips and thought of Niall’s cock head nuzzling against her. What would it feel like when he pushed inside her the first time? Would he thrust hard or would he take it slowly, relishing every moment as she took him deeper and deeper into her body?
Slowly, she slipped a finger inside. Her sheath tightened around it. But Niall was so much bigger. Would he hurt her? She pulled out and pushed two fingers in, tilting her hips so she could go deep, feeling how her body conformed.
Oh, it was delicious. She thrust them again, imagining the bigger, harder, smoother shape of Niall’s sex replacing her fingers. She could accommodate him, she was sure of it. It might hurt, but only at first. Then she would feel only pleasure as he invaded her body over and over. As he hovered over her, she’d stroke his muscled chest, the curve of his biceps. He’d whisper her name through clenched teeth, his voice so low and seductive, like he’d spoken in the bath. Aileen. Aileen. Aileen.
Gasping, Aileen removed her fingers and brushed them over the sensitive tissue between the lips of her sex. “Oh…Lord,” she murmured. Just above her channel was an area so swollen and so sensitive, she could hardly touch it. Instead she circled around it. Tension built within her body and between her legs. Everywhere she touched was so wet. She could feel the juices of her lust dripping down the cleft of her behind. The muscles in her legs and buttocks and stomach clenched involuntarily.
Now she imagined Niall slamming into her. Sweat beaded on his temples, but his blue eyes were open, watching her, taking in her pleasure. Aileen pinched her nipple hard with her free hand. Her fingers flicked across her sensitive bud. She cried out. And then everything released. Like the flooding of a dam, it swept over her in long waves of pleasure, relaxing her clenched muscles. The waves rushed through her, each one smaller than the last.
When it was finally over, she lay still for a long while, stunned, listening to the dwindling sound of her harsh breaths. It was the first time anything like that had happened to her body.
Sins of the Highlander (A Highland Erotic Romance) Page 2