Mhàiri instinctively arched herself against him as his hand moved across her stomach to the curve of her hip. He heard himself utter a thick, husky groan. “You are so beautiful,” he muttered, awed.
Mhàiri felt her whole body respond to the heavy, sensual weight of his eyes on her. She wanted to live in this moment forever. Conan wanted her. He had not yet promised her marriage and commitment. But that was something she would worry about later. Right now, she was solely focused on the massive male doing his best to make her breathless. She moaned as her body heated to his touch, and the sound of his answering groan filled her with ecstasy.
He needed to claim her now. Unable to bear not touching her skin to skin, he stood up and removed his clothes.
Mhàiri had a few seconds to collect herself while he was in the process of removing his shirt. She was beginning to comprehend that she was naked in Conan’s bed when he whipped off his leine and the sight of his muscular chest distracted her thoughts once again. Massively built, with thick, corded muscles, Conan was impressive. She wondered if the rest of him matched his size and girth.
He jerked his tartan off, baring all to her, and her light green eyes watched him with rapt fascination. Kneeling on the bed, Conan braced a massive arm on either side of her head, pausing before he sank down for another passionate kiss.
Mhàiri reached up as if to trace the hard lines of the muscles on his abdomen, hesitating before she made contact.
“Touch me, Mhàiri,” he said, part command, part plea. He had to hold back a groan when her hands softly began to stroke over his skin. His body felt hot, tight with tension. He was so hard, he feared he might burst.
Reaching out, Conan cupped one of her breasts in his hand so her nipple poked at the very center of his palm. “You are lovely, Mhàiri. You are so much more than I even dreamed.”
He was determined to make Mhàiri his. To seal her to him with passion and so much pleasure that thoughts of any other man would be impossible. Slamming his lips down on hers, he ravaged her mouth. He kept kissing her until he could not hold back any longer.
Mhàiri’s heart fluttered as she felt Conan stretch out beside her, his larger, heavier frame dwarfing hers. His lips felt so good she could barely think of anything else. She wanted to touch, to taste, to feel every inch of him, but she didn’t know what to do. She tried to grab on to him, and he took both of her hands in one of his and raised them over her head.
Conan pulled away from her lips, his hot mouth trailing down to her neck. A whimper of need escaped her parted lips as he nipped at her earlobe, so he immediately repeated the action.
With his free hand, he ran one finger along the swell of one breast. “So soft,” he murmured as his fingers stroked over her skin.
Mhàiri jerked in surprise, but he caught her gasp in his mouth as he kissed her again.
Mhàiri’s heart thudded in her chest, and her blood roared in her ears as his eyes met hers, blazing with a hunger that made it hard for her to breathe. Shifting lower, he captured the nipple of her right breast in his mouth, tugging lightly at the peak with his teeth.
“Oh my God, that feels so good,” she moaned.
He hummed as he curled his tongue and drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling deeper. When Mhàiri shuddered, Conan moved to the other breast, kissing a soft line to the pink nub, flicking it carefully with his hot, wet tongue, pulling it fully into his mouth.
Mhàiri was on fire; she had never felt like this. Her entire life, logic had ruled her actions. Everything was thought out and calculated. Sensation had never superseded control. But Conan’s touch was overwhelming. She was not a master of her reactions. She needed more, and Conan was the only one who could give it to her. She arched into his touch, desperate to feel his lips glide further down her body.
Conan switched to the other nipple, freeing her hands so he could slowly work his fingers down to her core and stroke her silken folds.
He trailed a single finger softly over her slit and then moved his finger inside her ever so slightly while stroking her outer flesh with a careful thumb, watching her melt. He could not remember wanting anything more than this. Mhàiri was giving herself to him, body and soul, in this one timely siege.
Mhàiri began undulating her hips to his rocking finger. His lips returned to her breast as his fingers made slow, maddening movements. The pressure began to build. Then he delved another finger inside her. She cried out as it overwhelmed her, making her breaths short and fast, and her heart pound against the wall of her chest. She squeaked out a moan and opened wider for him. The power he had over her was amazing. Her brain was usually a constant haze of thoughts and ideas, but when Conan touched her, there was nothing but him.
Tremors began in her belly, her muscles tightening, and then, without warning, her body shattered into a million tiny pieces. The only thing holding her together was him.
Conan let out a low growl as he watched sheer pleasure wash over her as her tight sheath clenched around him. He wanted her to scream his name, to tell him that she was his. He needed her to be as desperate for him as he was for her, and he damn well wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. The sounds of her moans were like the sweetest music, making him determined to drive her up again.
Hooking his hands beneath her knees, he slid her body down to the end of the bed, then knelt between her parted thighs. Hungry for her, he leaned forward and used his tongue to lick at her juices. He heard her cry out in shock, but didn’t stop. He pushed one of his fingers into her and found her warm and slick. He groaned while she sucked in a sharp breath. He loved her reactions. He parted her tender folds with two of his fingers, once again stretching her to be ready for him, for she was so tight he knew he would lose his mind as soon as he was inside her.
Mhàiri arched off the bed, her back bowed as he drove her to another climax.
“It’s too much!” He drank down her passionate cry and felt her nails score his back.
Conan wanted to say that she was wrong, but he was past the ability to speak. He had already waited too long to have her. He was throbbing painfully. Pulling his fingers from her, he rose to his feet. He reached for her waist and moved her back on the bed so she was lying in the center. He moved over her, covering her perfect body with his.
Entering her, he found she was even smaller and tighter than he had thought, but oh so hot and so wet. His massive arms started to quiver. He did not want to hurt her.
Mhàiri groaned. Her eyes had darkened to emeralds and were glazing over. Her hips circled, wanting more.
“Easy,” Conan groaned, sweat beginning to slick his chest from the strain of holding back. “We need to go slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”
But Mhàiri was past all thought; only need ruled. She had felt what his fingers could give her, but she needed more. “Conan,” she whispered and pulled him down into a blinding kiss that had her tongue devouring his.
Conan’s hips jerked, thrusting deep. He closed his eyes as her tightness surrounded his thick shaft. Mhàiri threw her head back with a stunned cry. “Conan!”
Freezing, he held her still. “Did I hurt you?”
Her parted lips were swollen from their kisses, and her eyes were glazed with passion as she shook her head. “No, it’s . . . I feel full.”
He closed his eyes as he fought the need to pull out and thrust again. “Tight. You feel tight.”
“It’s so good. You feel so good. I never—”
Watching her face, he let himself sink deeper, sliding the full length of him into her. She gasped and instinctively raised her legs up to wrap around him. Then, without warning, she screamed, “More! Oh, God, please more!”
He let out a groan against her mouth as he pulled back, then started thrusting inside her using a slow, steady rhythm. Mhàiri’s nails dug into his shoulders. Her soft moans were driving him crazy. He lost control when she tilted her hips up to meet his, grinding against him, building the tension to an unbearable level. He pulled back, then slamm
ed into her, repeating the motion over and over again, lost in the pleasure of feeling her wrapped around him.
“Conan!” she cried out again.
He could hear the fear in her voice and understood, for he too was frightened by what he was feeling. His own release was building with an intensity that he had never experienced before, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And he wouldn’t even if he could.
“Come, Mhàiri. Come and take me with you.”
He didn’t give her a choice. Pounding into her, he pushed her further toward the edge, needing her to find her release before he gave in to his own pleasure.
Mhàiri held on to him, her arms wrapped around his neck tightly. She let out a wild cry as the unbearable tension finally snapped. Shudders racked her body as she came, and he couldn’t stop himself from coming when she clenched down around him. His muscles tensed as his own release tore through him. He let out a loud roar as he exploded inside her.
He rested his forehead on hers as he tried to regain his breath. He had never experienced a release like that and feared his lack of control had harmed her.
Conan held her close. He didn’t want to leave the haven of her body, but he worried that he might be crushing her. Wanting to ask if she was okay, he lifted his head, but when he saw her face, he just smiled.
Mhàiri knew she was right where she belonged, safe and secure in his arms. And she was determined to stay there . . . forever.
“I love you, Conan. There will never be another man for me but you.”
Love. It occurred to him he did not like the word. It was too vague, too imprecise, too shallow to capture what he felt. Mhàiri was his soul mate. A ghrà mo chroì. Never had another occupied his heart, and another never would. His heart was Mhàiri’s and hers alone.
But he could not tell her. Tonight was what they had, and it was all that they would have. So he did the only thing he could. He brought her pleasure over and over again, and each time her responses became more impetuous, more fevered, loosening his own tightly held reins. He made love to her as if consumed by a ravenous need, for tonight had to be enough to quench his thirst for her for life.
* * *
Mhàiri snuggled against him as their legs intertwined. “Are you happy?”
Conan nuzzled her hair. Training would start soon and he needed to get out to the fields, but after last night’s revelry, he knew that he would not be the only one arriving late. So, instead, he held Mhàiri tight as though he never wanted to let go. “Aye, more than I have a right to be.”
He knew he should regret what had happened between them. But he never would. He could live forever and he knew there would never be another woman for him.
Mhàiri placed her hands on his chest as his arms wound their way around her back of their own accord. “That’s not true, Conan. You have a right to happiness, and so do I. That’s what I realized. Why I came here to you.” She rose up on an elbow and looked down at him. “Traveling with my father was a way to avoid the misery of maintaining a home, but it would not have made me happy. I want more than not being miserable. Nor is it enough to be merely satisfied when you just showed me more pleasure than I ever knew possible. So why is it wrong for us to want to continue to know and experience that joy?”
The fingers stroking her back stilled. Tonight had been beyond words, but they both knew that their coming together changed nothing. “It is not wrong to seek happiness as long as that doesn’t include me.”
Mhàiri’s gaze grew in intensity. “But it does. I know you and I together are not what either of us had planned, but we could be happy together. Surely you see that. I’m willing to change and—”
“But I am not. I will not give up what I have worked for all my life.”
Mhàiri pushed herself up to a sitting position. “And I’m not asking you to. I’m only asking you to include me in your dreams. I can draw the detailed sketches, and you can focus on all the math and measuring to ensure what is captured is accurate. We will go where you wish, but we will be together.”
Conan did not want to have this conversation, especially with her sitting in front of him, exposing her perfect breasts to his touch. Forcing himself to turn away, he threw his legs to the side of the bed and sat up. “You might be happy at first, but I eventually sour the fondest woman’s feelings. Even my own brothers would attest to that. Out there is someone who would nourish your love. Find him and the happiness you deserve. The best thing I can give you is to leave immediately. It would make it easier on you.” Make it easier on him.
Mhàiri sat still, unable to move. Conan was not just denying her, but denying her of a future she now very much wanted. He had given her a passion for drawing things of meaning and value. And with Conan, she would have both love and a life—a combination she had always secretly wanted but never thought possible.
“I did find him and the happiness I deserve. It is you,” Mhàiri said to his back. She would not let his fear of change rob them both of what they could have. “And you deserve happiness too, which is why we are going to wait until spring to marry so my father can be there.”
“Mhàiri . . .” he said, twisting around.
“Nay, Conan!” Mhàiri said, standing up. She went and found her chemise and bliaut and started yanking them on. “You tell me that I would be miserable, but you cannot speak for me. We could be married for thirty years and you would still not be able to read my heart and mind enough to tell me what to feel and think.”
Conan had to admit that, based on some of the fights Conor and Laurel had, Mhàiri was probably right, for Conor was still clueless about his wife.
“So, unless you can give me a real reason why we cannot be together, we are leaving in the spring and we are leaving together.”
Conan jabbed a finger in her direction. “That’s one problem right there. Everything you stated included the word we,” he said, grabbing his leine. “Not only would we wear on each other’s nerves, when I did have to leave your side from time to time, you would be left unprotected. I will not be bringing soldiers or guards. You would be alone.”
“If that is your objection, let me put your fears aside. I can protect myself, Conan.” He arched a brow in disbelief. “I did for two weeks until you and Father Lanaghly arrived,” she reminded him and began to tie one side of her bliaut. “My father feared the same thing and made sure that my sister and I were able to handle any situation that might arise.”
“And what about bathing? Your father has a large wagon in which to tote his belongings as well as his goods. I will be living off the land, bathing in rivers, hunting for dinner each night, eating over a fire, and sleeping on ground that is often cold and wet.”
“I love to bathe in the river. I enjoy the feel of the water as it goes over my skin. And I think campfires are romantic. Besides, you and I both know that the majority of your nights will be spent in a bed just like this one. You are traveling on orders of your king. Doors will open to you for however long you need. For those nights that we are in between shelter, we will sleep in a cart, like merchants do, when it is too cold and wet to sleep on the ground.”
“But I’m not bringing a cart,” Conan countered.
“Of course we are,” Mhàiri replied, tossing his plaid at him. “How else do you plan on keeping everything protected? I agree it shouldn’t be a large one, just one big enough to tote our belongings and carry all my books of hemp paper.”
“Now you are trying to bribe me,” he huffed and began to fold the plaid around his waist.
“I already did that when I threw myself into your arms this evening. And lucky for us both, you accepted it.” She held on to the side of a bookcase and pulled on one slipper. “I need to speak to Maegan. I spoke somewhat harshly to her and need to apologize since she is going to help me prepare for a wedding!”
Conan dropped his sword. Snatching it up again, he jammed it into the sheath on his belt. He took ten deep breaths. How had a fantastic night and morning making memories he
would treasure turned into this nightmare? “You can say all the nonsense you want, but it will not work.”
Mhàiri went over to stand right in front of him. “You love me.”
“I do not recall ever telling you that.”
Mhàiri smiled, still sure that this would end with them together. She knew he loved her. Of that, she had no doubt. “Good thing I don’t need all the flowery and passion-filled words then, isn’t it? Besides, you not saying it doesn’t make it less true.”
Conan stepped around her. “What if I do love you?” he asked, whipping around now that she was no longer in kissing distance. “You knew since we met that my future plans did not include a wife, and I have never wavered on the idea of going alone. You attempting to change that is the same as you trying to change me. And I am not changing for anyone!” he decreed, stabbing his thumb into his chest.
Mhàiri fought the compulsion to roll her eyes. “What a ridiculous thing to say. Of course change is happening. Life happens and we change because of it. You and I had plans. Then we met. The moment that happened, things began to change. It just took a few months, several fights, and last night to figure out how, but now that we have, to pretend otherwise . . . is . . . well, it’s ridiculous!”
“Ridiculous or not, I’m not changing.”
“I don’t believe you. You are too smart to mean what you are saying. That you would rather go alone, with a fraction of the resources, and novice abilities to draw. That you would forgo potential happiness rather than travel with me at your side, when I would help you conquer all your dreams and so much more. Together, we would be the ultimate team, and deep down you know it.”
Conan faced her without expression, without moving a muscle. “What about children? What happens to this ultimate team you are envisioning when you get pregnant and we have to suddenly settle down into the static life you and I both dread.”
The Most Eligible Highlander in Scotland Page 26