Aster knew what she wanted, and it was here and now.
She wanted this man and this night.
“Lilly and John had a summer that endured in their hearts for the rest of their lives. All I ask of you, Hamish, is for one night, freely given, with no promises or expectations. None of us knows what the rise of tomorrow’s sun will bring and I do not want to waste a moment with you.” She searched his gaze as she laid her heart open. “One night, to cast warmth over the dark days to come.”
“Oh, Aster.” He slid a hand through her hair. “I could not take advantage of you in your grief and you do not know what you ask of me. Nor of the implications for you.”
She snorted. “Do you think I am lacking in intelligence? I am fully aware of what I ask. No—of what I offer. I am no noble girl saving herself for a gilded marriage. I am just a woman who wishes to feel the warmth of the sun while it is before her.”
His thumb stroked over her cheekbone. “You are grieving for your father. Now is not the time.”
She laced her hands behind his neck. “I am neither hysterical nor insensate with grief. Tomorrow I assume we plunge back into danger and I do not want to die before I have truly lived.”
He blew out a sigh. “Are you sure this is truly what you want?”
She turned her head and kissed his hand. “Freely given, Hamish. I do not want any promises or any more words. I want to enjoy what time we have before we must return to London.”
He growled deep in his throat and then drew her into his arms, kissing her while at the same time lifting her into his embrace. She would give him everything, with no regrets. He picked her up and carried her into the cottage. Her blood thrummed in her ears as she yielded herself to him, placing her trust and pleasure in his hands. Only when her feet touched the ground did Hamish release her mouth and begin to undress her.
The small range radiated warmth, but even if its steel tummy were cold, Aster would still have been heated. Hamish’s gaze washed over her skin like hot water, and his touch ignited a fire within her she did not think could be contained. Piece by piece her clothing was removed and dropped to the floor, until she stood in just her shift. His hand traced her collarbone, and his fingers picked up the gold chain. He pulled it from under the fabric, to reveal the brass button at the end. His somewhat incredulous gaze flicked to her face.
“You kept my button.” He said the words as if he could not believe the evidence in his hand.
“Of course I did. It has been my talisman and strength to carry on when I thought all was lost. And besides, you said that if I kept it, you would return to me.” That was the part that had kept hope alive in her heart. If she clung to the button tightly enough, the man would find her. Her faith had been rewarded, for here he was, her knight come to rescue her.
His hand wound in her hair, and he kissed her. He grazed her lips as though she were something precious, his kiss gentle and tender but so powerful it made her heart ache. He let her go with a teasing nip and laid his hands on her shoulder. It wasn’t enough. She moaned in building frustration, and he chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through her body and made her clench her thighs. Then he dropped one hand to brush over her breast, and her frustration turned incredulous as liquid heat stabbed through her core.
“More,” she whispered.
“Patience,” he murmured as his hand drifted lower, to trace around her waist.
At that point she decided it was time to even the score. She was rather proud that she managed to tackle the buttons on Hamish’s shirt without betraying the tremble running through her body.
“What do you think you are doing?” Hamish whispered as he leaned close and kissed her throat, his teeth grazing her skin and drawing another soft moan from her.
“You have me at a disadvantage, and I intend to remedy the situation.” She struggled with one button as the shaking took hold of her fingers. Her body quivered as tension built within her, and each time she squeezed her thighs a gasp ghosted over her lips. She was melting already, and neither of them was completely naked yet.
“Oh?” His lips traced down her throat, and his tongue dipped and flicked over her skin.
Her knees buckled as her body reacted to his touch. His arm tightened around her waist to stop her from falling. A quiet moan broke free from her, and a silent chuckle rumbled through his torso again. He whispered against her skin, first in Gaelic and then in English, quiet words to soothe her overwhelmed senses. He held her and stilled his roaming hands until the shudders through her body lessened.
She wondered if she could rip his shirt open; she was certain her fingers had stopped obeying her brain. “I am quite sure I am not your first naked woman, but you are my first naked man. I wish to see you. All of you.” The words sounded brave in her head, but less brave when said aloud. Her voice broke on the word ‘naked’.
“Like inspecting a horse at market before you decide to purchase?” He chuckled and released his grip on her, solving her button dilemma by stripping his shirt off over his head and adding it to the pile of her clothing.
“Oh.” She exhaled the single syllable. The chance to explore Hamish allowed her time to regain her breath, and a small measure of calm flowed back through her. She ran her hands over his chest and the smattering of dark hairs there. She traced over his shoulders and down his biceps, feeling the muscles flex under her fingertips. Her roving hands found solid muscle beneath his skin and little fat. This was a man of action, not a soft noble who lifted nothing heavier than his port at the club. She ran a hand further down, following the dip of muscle to his bellybutton.
Then she traced a puckered scar on his side. “How did you come by this?”
He huffed a short laugh. “I wish I could tell you a story of bravery in battle, but it is more the idiocy of youth.”
“Oh? I need to know, now.” She ran a finger back and forth over the ridge, and was amazed when his muscles contracted under her touch, as if she affected him as much as he affected her. Her keen mind noted the fact and a ripple of feminine power radiated from her centre.
“When Alick and I were ten years old we decided we were ready for real swords and not wooden ones. We stole two claymores from the castle and did battle. Unfortunately, they were too heavy for us to wield. Alick toppled over and skewered me.”
She tried not to laugh—the wound could have been fatal on a young boy, but she couldn’t imagine Alick as a gangly lad struggling to lift a sword. “You were lucky.” She bent closer and licked the scar, curious to taste him. Salt and sweat mingled on her tongue.
He sucked in a breath and buried one hand in her hair to pull her head back to meet his gaze. “Do I meet with your approval?”
“Well, I’ve not seen all of you yet,” she murmured with downcast eyes. “Nor do I have any basis of comparison.”
“You don’t need anything to compare me to. I am all you will ever need.” He walked her backward until her knees bumped against the bed. On reflex she sat, and he went with her, down to his knees on the floor.
He pulled her head to him for another breath-stealing kiss as his hand slid up her legs, pulling the delicate shift out of the way as he went. He swallowed her gasp as his warm hands caressed the skin on her thighs. Releasing her lips, he kissed his way down her body. Her mind flew as sensation overwhelmed her. She wound her fingers in Hamish’s auburn hair to anchor herself as his touch made her soar. One word beat over and over against her skull: More.
Hamish continued his descent, and when his lips grazed over a nipple, she curled her nails into his scalp and cried out. Through the thin cotton of her shift he licked and sucked, turning her body into something molten, until she thought she must soon combust. There was no outside world; the only thing that existed was Hamish. Her mind was dominated by the exquisite sensations he wrought with his tongue and hands.
When his head dropped between her legs and his tongue took its first pass over her hot flesh, the world contracted and then exploded. She never k
new such a thing was possible between a man and a woman. She could no longer control her cries, and her back arched off the bed as she sobbed his name. One hand clutched at the quilt, the other holding his head in place as she reached a precipice and crashed over the other side. Tumbling, her body was weightless as her spirit soared and Hamish caught her. Her breath came in gasps as he slid his hands up her body, and removed the shift.
From under heavy lids she watched him shed his trousers. The light outside had faded, and only the flicker of a lone candle danced over his skin. He was magnificent, even in her limited experience, and she couldn’t imagine ever wanting another man to make a comparison.
His gaze travelled over her naked body and even that invisible caress made desire flare anew along her form. Then, with one arm around her waist, he drew her further up the bed. She held her arms open, and her body ached to welcome all of him. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and shadowed over her, taking his weight on his elbows and caging her beneath him. His skin lay against hers. His arousal grazed over sensitised flesh and she sighed, arching up to press closer to him. His weight felt delicious, like a forbidden treat, and like a greedy child, she wanted more.
“More.” She voiced her desire and ran her hands over his back and down to his firm buttocks. He was the only thing she needed as the world crumbled around her. She needed more of Hamish, more of his touch and his body.
“I don’t want to hurt you, my star,” he whispered as he sucked at the base of her throat. His hand skated over her ribs to caress her breast.
Her senses reeled, and every fibre of her body ached even as an emptiness grew. She moaned and rubbed against him. She knew what was to come and she desired it with a desperate hunger. “The only thing hurting me is this ache for you.”
He kissed her again, teasing and playing as he sank into her body. She cried out against his mouth, thinking her body would split. Hamish stilled, his hands caressing her while he rained kisses over her face and neck, waiting for her body to adjust to the unfamiliar invasion. Then the wave washed over her, and she moaned, the need for more wiping away any trace of pain. Her mind tumbled through a world of pleasure as he thrust into her body over and over. He taught her an ancient rhythm that threw her need higher, while whispering a promise of greater ecstasy to come. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders and scratching down his back, as her release triggered his. She stepped over the edge, and Hamish caught her and held her tight to him as they both fell through an endless starry sky.
An eternity later, he rolled to his side and tucked her next to him.
Her racing heart thudded in her chest and then began to slow as she drifted back to earth.
He kissed her forehead. “Sleep, my star.”
22
Hamish
* * *
Hamish tried to sleep, but found the slumbering woman with her back to his chest quite the distraction. He didn’t want to wake her, yet at the same time he fought a restless urge to trace every inch of her skin. His hand caught the chain around her neck, and he pulled the button away from her body. With a finger he outlined the wolf’s head. Giving her the button had been an impulsive move; he had never expected her to keep it. He’d wanted to do something to show his growing affection for her, even if he couldn’t say the words out loud. It seemed daft at the time, explaining how lovers would take a button from their man’s uniform, and now his heart swelled to overflowing to find the token around her neck.
Aster might not want to hear any promises, but he would wrap her in them. He whispered the words and they were echoed deep in his soul by the wolf. Her name was carved into his heart. Aster Simmons was a rare woman of intelligence and passion. She gave everything and expected nothing in return. Hamish had no intention of letting her go. He simply couldn’t. She was his, and he would bind her to him. He would take all she offered, except for those blasted tinted glasses. If he found the things he would crush them under his heel, before flinging the broken pieces into the ocean.
They had this night, and they then must return to London. A plan formed in his mind, and would soon dominate his attention. She was right about one thing; they needed to wring every second from this one evening.
His hand skimmed her thighs and over the curve of her hip. She wasn’t a large creature, but it delighted him to find her softly rounded where a woman should be. A few months at his mother’s hearth, and she would have curves to rival the undulating hills of the Scottish highlands. His hand rested in the dip of her waist, and he stroked the silken skin before he moved around and higher, to cup a breast.
She stirred and breathed out a soft moan as he continued his exploration. He stilled. This was a covert mission and he didn’t want his reconnaissance to be detected, although it gratified him that she responded to his touch even in her sleep. It was as though their souls had always known each other and even in the embrace of sleep, she recognised and welcomed him. He waited for her to resettle, and then continued his advancement. He drew swoops and swirls over her flesh, guided by the soft hitch in her breathing to find the most sensitive spots.
The noises she made nearly unhinged him, his own arousal pressed against the soft behind nestled to him. An ache built deep inside him, and she was the only thing that would satisfy him. But not yet. He needed her to desire him just as much, if not more. He drew her hair out of the way and feathered kisses along the curve of her neck, to her shoulder. At the same time, his hand continued its caress. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and her sighs turned to moans.
She opened sleepy lids and a smile parted her lips as she turned to look at him. “Is it still night?”
“Yes,” he whispered, as he thumbed the sensitive peak again.
She arched into him and shuddered. “Good, then our time is not yet over.”
He lifted her thigh so that her knee rested on his, and then pulled her hips closer to his. “We have some hours to fill yet.”
He made love to her slowly, with the leisure of time to explore each other. It was only when her need grew desperate, and he could no longer resist her pleas, that he claimed her with steady strokes. When she tumbled to her release, she drew him after her. With a satisfied sigh, sleep reclaimed her.
How could he ever be mollified by just one night? Already he wanted to start all over. He could spend a lifetime learning every line and curve of her body. A lifetime to find each tiny spot that made her gasp. A lifetime just to lavish on her feet and watch the pleasure she could derive from a stroke over the arch. No, one night was not enough. He had embarked on this campaign and would see it through to a victory.
Her mind challenged him, her body aroused him, and her soul was the mate for his wolf. Aster Simmons would be his in all ways. Only one doubt troubled him. Would she accept a wolf—and possibly a penniless one at that? Parliament still debated the terms of the Unnatural Act and one swipe of a pen could see him cast into the midden pit with all the other refuse.
He lay awake with the only woman he would ever desire in his arms, and he brooded. If he had no rights, he could never inherit or marry. He would be the mangy dog living on scraps and castoffs. How could he drag her down with him? A weight settled in his heart. Would it be better for Aster if he let her go to find happiness elsewhere?
Her head lifted and she peered at him as though sensing his restlessness.
“I know about you and your men,” she whispered, cutting to the core of his worry. Then she laid her head back down on his chest.
His hand rested in the small of her back. What did that mean and how much did she know? He opted for a non-committal noise to draw her on. “Oh?”
As she spoke, her breath glided over his skin. “The War Office had me compiling a register of Unnaturals. I was given twelve names to add to that register, all men of the Highland Wolves. I assume you are afflicted with lycanthropy? Hidden in plain sight as it were, given the name of your unit.”
“Yes.” Hamish let out a long breath. Well, that resolved
one question pressing on his mind. Now his affliction was out in the open, but how did she feel about giving herself to a wolf? His hand resumed gentle strokes over her back.
“How did the army gather so many of you? Is it a common Highland affliction?” She shifted position to rest a hand under her cheek, the better to look up at him.
He could practically hear the cogs in her mind whirring as she pieced everything together. “We were made. Twenty of us volunteered for a highly confidential mission to become the Wolves.”
“Twenty?” She fell silent for a moment, the only sound gentle snores rising from Dougal. “What happened to the other eight?”
“Some did not survive the initial change. Others have been lost on missions as the army tests us.” He found it easy to talk to her about it. Maybe the blanket of darkness helped, or perhaps he had grown tired of lurking in the shadows and needed someone to know about his men.
“Would you show me, please?” She pushed herself away from him and sat up.
The candle had long ago guttered out, but moonlight shone through the high window and washed the room in pale silvery light. Fitting, he thought as he slipped from the bed and stood in a shaft of moonlight.
“Will you not be frightened?” he asked.
She rubbed her hands over her upper arms, as though to dispel a chill. “Will it still be you?”
Whatever his form, he could never harm her. He would protect her to the last breath drawn into his lungs. And even then he might come back as a wolf shade to watch over her. “Yes. It is like we are two sides of the same coin. This is one form; toss the coin and I am the other, but always me at the heart.”
Secrets to Reveal Page 21