My Fair Highlander

by Mary Wine

  “Welcome, my lord.”

  He chuckled, the sound warm and promising. “How very innocent that was.”

  “I am innocent.”

  She moved away from him, but he followed her with slow steps that were a chase of sorts.

  “Nae that innocent, lass.”

  Her cheeks burned, but her lips remained curved, only this time her smile was a wicked one and he wore one that was its reflection. She wove her steps in an uneven line, unsure why she was moving away from him. Her body certainly wanted to be closer, not farther away. But she kept walking, looking back over her shoulder to watch the way he followed. His keen eyes roamed over her, watching the sway of her hips and the way her unbound hair flowed. She moved deeper into the shadows, and her highlander pursued her.

  “Are ye ready to be caught?”

  Her throat felt tight, anticipation making her breathless. She nodded, and he quickened his stride. His arms slid around her, bringing her into contact with his body. One hand cupped the back of her head, and he lowered his face to press a kiss against her mouth. This one was sweet but full of budding passion. It built in a steady increase of heat, the tip of his tongue teasing her lower lip before he demanded she open her mouth for a deeper taste. His tongue thrust down to stroke across her own only once before he broke away from the kiss and offered her a cocksure grin.

  He bent and lifted her off her feet. “I could say something sweet, but I confess that the truth is, I plan to take ye to me bed and have my way with ye.”

  “Oh, wait.”

  His arms tightened around her and his expression told her he had no liking for her words. Jemma placed a hand on his frown, smoothing it with her fingers. He shivered, a barely noticeable response but it shook her to her heart.

  “I mustn’t leave my gift behind.”

  He lowered her feet to the floor, and she went back toward the fireplace where the sprig of heather lay near her brush. She closed her hand around it gently for it was a treasure, brought to her by a hand that should have crushed it. Instead he had controlled his strength to bring something of little value but great importance.

  It was a token of his affection.

  “Now I am ready.”

  “What is that?” Jemma wasn’t sure how she might have missed such a thing. It was huge.

  “A bathing tub.” Her husband encircled her waist with one of his thickly muscled arms, pulling her back against his body. Her head brushed beneath his chin, feeling as though she had been molded perfectly to fit next to him. The tub in front of her was like three tubs all placed side by side. Only it was a single tub and someone had already filled it with water. The window near it was open, displaying glimpses of the moon that the clouds allowed through. Coal baskets placed beneath the tub brought gently steaming water.

  “It’s far too large.”

  “Well now, lass, I’ve heard that before, but I do assure ye that ye’ll find the size to yer liking.” He was teasing her, and her cheeks turned red when she realized he was insinuating something else entirely. She jabbed one of her elbows back into his ribs.

  “I wasn’t talking about that, sir.”

  “Ah but ye were thinking about me cock.”

  “I was not.”

  He nuzzled against her neck, placing a kiss against the tender skin. Pleasure rippled down her skin, making her smile just because he was near. The warmth of his body was so pleasing she would have been content to remain standing so long as he was there.

  “Considering how we parted, my mind has been returning to the very moment I heard those cursed bells ringing. Can I not hope ye were thinking about it, too? Dare I admit that the idea of hearing ye confess that would bring me much happiness?”

  “I was thinking about you.” The words rushed right out of her mouth with no consideration at all. What was there to think about? He made her happy, why should she deny him the same?

  His arm tightened, and he pressed a harder kiss against her throat and then several more. “Sweet English wildcat, come share a bath with me.”

  “Share?”

  He released her and pulled his shirt over his head, baring his body. There was an arrogant look on his face, one that spoke of experience she discovered she was jealous of.

  Jemma crossed her arms over her chest. “Not if you invited Anyon into that tub.”

  He laughed, and she felt her temper simmer. “I mean what I say, Gordon. I’ll not be the next in line for your riding.”

  He closed his lips to contain his amusement, but his eyes were still filled with mischief. “Ye’re jealous, Jemma.”

  “You may be certain that I am, sir. Why is it I am forced to stand bare while every inch of my body is inspected and the bed, too, all for the sake of proving that I am innocent, yet my groom is allowed to ride often?”

  His eyes darkened. “ ’Tis unfair, I agree, but I suppose it is a matter that men kill over jealousy, lass, and I swear that I feel like I’d gladly choke the life out of any man who touched ye.”

  “Barbarian.” She sniffed at him. “Take your bath alone.”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “I swear to ye, Jemma, I never had another woman in this tub.”

  “On your honor?”

  His voice had turned somber. “Aye, lass. Now take yer dressing robe off. I want to see if me memory is playing tricks on me or if ye are more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever met.”

  His gaze was fashioned on her, unwavering and completely devoted. Excitement flowed through her, waking from where she had thrust it down when fate had taken him from her. Reaching down, she pulled the single tie that held the dressing robe closed. Rolling her shoulders sent the heavy garment slipping down her arms, past the curve of her hips, and down her legs.

  Gordon watched her intently, his keen eyes following the fabric as it bared each new part of her.

  “Ye are stunning, Jemma, and ye are mine.” His raised his attention back to her face. “And I enjoy that fact, lass, more than I can tell ye.”

  He swept her off her feet, cradling her against his chest, and carried her to the tub. He lowered her gently to make sure the water wasn’t too hot. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and he chuckled.

  “Aye, it’s a fine thing, isn’t it?”

  He knelt down to move one of the coal baskets out from beneath the tub.

  “Where did you find such a thing?”

  He lifted one leg over the edge and then the other, sinking down into the water next to her. The water level rose as he displaced a large portion of it. The tub wasn’t just wide, it was deeper than any other she had ever seen, but she realized why when Gordon leaned against the back of it. The side of the tub rose high enough to support his back. He sighed and offered her a satisfied look.

  “’Twas made here by one of my own blacksmiths. I read about one in a book brought back from the holy land.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “It told a tale of a sultan who had one of these for traveling. It seems the man liked his concubines to attend him at all moments.”

  “Right in his bath?” Her voice had turned husky and low, but she couldn’t help but be captivated by the forbidden topic. Gordon reached down and grasped his cock.

  “Aye, lass. Those Moors teach their concubines that men can nae experience pleasure unless the female rides him to it.”

  “You are toying with me . . .” But the idea was exciting her. Her passage was alive with need and her clitoris begging for the chance to try what he was suggesting.

  “Ye’re sitting in the tub, are ye not, lass?” He reached out and captured one of her feet. “That book had many suggestions, Frenching a woman among them.”

  He began to rub her foot, working over her arch with small kneading motions.

  “And it also mentioned pressure points that build passion in a woman.”

  “On her foot?”

  “Aye.” His fingers worked some more. “Here I believe.”

  He pressed and rubbed and sensation shot up her legs. It tingled and awakened feeling
s that twisted through her.

  “Such a book must be forbidden by the Church.”

  “Ye can be sure of that.” He reached for her other foot and treated it to the same massage. Her body was growing warmer, the water suddenly becoming too hot for her taste.

  “But ye want to know what else was in it, don’t ye?”

  “Yes,” Jemma answered quickly, drawing a cocky smile from him.

  “Ah well, the book mentioned a few things about nipples.”

  He pulled her forward and right up onto his lap. She squealed because the hard length of his cock pressed against her slit, the folds of her flesh opening to lie on either side of his thick member.

  “Now put yer hands behind ye so that yer sweet breasts are thrust forward to please me like a good concubine.”

  “That would be brazen.”

  “Aye, and ye sound breathless with the idea, wife.”

  She was. Hunger was flooding her, and her own thoughts were helping to drive it. He grasped her arms and gently folded them behind her back. Her breasts did thrust out toward him.

  “Ah, the perfect picture of submission. Ye know those Moors insist on their concubines being slaves to their every desire. Will ye stay there, waiting for my touch with yer little pearl pressed against my cock?”

  His hands cupped her breasts, the water making it a delightful sensation. His fingers smoothed over her skin, and he lifted his fingers to drip water on the top of her breasts where the skin was still dry. She made a low sound of approval, and he offered her a male one in return.

  “Sweet, sweet wife. I am looking forward to the winter.”

  She laughed. A single sound but her cheeks brightened once more. She felt pretty. It wasn’t due to flowery words or thoughtful gifts, but the feeling stemmed from the look in his eyes and the way his attention was focused on her breasts. He was still happily toying with her breasts, thumbing her hard nipples and spreading his fingers out around the tender mounds. Soft arousal continued to build inside her, making her more and more aware of the hard flesh pressing against her clitoris. It became an effort to remain still, her hips wanted to twitch and move. She bit her lower lip but lost the battle to remain still.

  “Aye, I could nae agree with ye more, lass. A bit of action is called for.”

  He moved his hands down to her hips, cupping her curves with his hands and pressing her down onto him harder. He thrust his hips up in soft, tiny motions that moved his cock against her slit.

  “Gordon . . .” She was truly breathless now, the motions of his hips rubbing against her clitoris. The pressure from his hold on her hips kept his member against his body and away from the opening to her passage. By thrusting up and holding her steady, his hard flesh worked against her slit, rubbing back and forth. Pleasure spiked up into her. The water splashed against her breasts and nipples while he continued to thrust. She couldn’t maintain her position and reached for him as need began to force a moan past her lips.

  “Gordon . . . stop . . . before—”

  “Take yer pleasure, Jemma, I want to see ye cry with it.”

  There really was no choice. She was powerless to hold it back. Her thighs grasped his hips, making sure that their bodies were even tighter against one another. He thrust faster, and she felt her fingers clawing into his shoulders. The cry he desired broke from her lips as pleasure tore through her. It raced into her, where it became a glowing knot of tension that held for one blinding moment and then broke apart into tongues of white-hot flame touching every part of her. She gasped, and her head lowered onto his shoulder. Her heart was beating too fast, and the hands holding her hips were almost too tight, but they held her steady while she drew in rapid breaths and felt her sanity return.

  He cupped her chin and raised it to meet his eyes. They were full of bright need that made the water feel cold.

  “I enjoy pleasuring ye, but the next time ye cry out, I am going to be deep inside ye, Jemma.” He leaned forward to press a hard kiss against her mouth, his hands raising her up so that his cock sprang up to position itself for entry into her body.

  “Not yet.”

  She reached forward and clasped his cock while scooting down to sit on his thighs. The water made it easy to work her hand up and down the thick staff. His face tightened as she moved her hand faster. His cock grew harder, and his hands gripped the sides of the tub until the knuckles turned white.

  He suddenly caught her hand, forcing her to stop. “Enough, Jemma. I want to be inside ye.”

  His eyes were bright with need, the same hunger that was coiled up inside her belly.

  “Not here. We need to go back to the bed.”

  She stood up and stepped out of the tub before he realized her intention.

  “Come back here, wife. I’ve waited too long to claim ye.” His voice was strained, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

  “No. In the bed.” The frustration on his face drew a soft laugh from her.

  “It’s not comical, wife. The moment is now.”

  Jemma tried to compose herself, but failed. His demands reminded her too much of how need made her feel. She enjoyed knowing that he was just as susceptible to passion for her; in truth she was proud of her ability to push him to that edge. It fortified her confidence and made her bold enough to stand completely nude in front of him. He liked her in such a way, and she enjoyed seeing his enjoyment.

  Her husband growled.

  “Admit it, Gordon.” She plucked up a length of toweling and wrapped it around her nude body to prod him into following her. Her action drew a fresh round of snarls from her companion.

  “With all your boasting of how much riding you do, it is amusing to consider how difficult it has proven for you to . . . gain the saddle . . . in this instant . . .”

  She laughed again but backed up when he rose from the tub. His body was magnificent. His chest was thick with muscle that continued down to a lean belly and thighs that were defined with ridges. He reached down and grasped his own cock, his fingers stroking it and drawing her gaze to the swollen flesh.

  “Now, lass, it is not only the stallion that wants to cover a mare. The mare leads him on a merry chase to fire up his appetite before allowing him to mount her.” He climbed over the side of the tub and didn’t bother to use the toweling set out for his pleasure. The water streamed down his legs, the candlelight making him glisten.

  “Ah . . . the chase . . . well then . . .” She unwrapped the toweling and tossed it aside. Gordon’s face split with a smile. He spread his arms out wide and bent slightly at the knees. The man was ready to lunge at her. The knowledge sent a crazy twist of excitement through her that was rooted deep inside her feminine nature. She turned and ran.

  She heard his wet feet slapping against the floor, but they dried too quickly, leaving her no way to gauge how close he was. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she couldn’t control the need to look back over her shoulder.

  Gordon’s face was a mask of savage pleasure. He offered her a growl moments before he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed, but he laughed heartily and spread one large hand over her bare bottom. He turned and covered the space to the bed with quick strides. She bounced in a tangle of limbs when he tossed her onto the sheets. His body rising up over hers looked impossibly hard and demanding. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as nervousness invaded her. He placed a knee on the bed, crawling up to join her.

  “Do nae lose yer trust in me now, lass. That would wound me more surely than an arrow.”

  He placed one solid knee between her thighs, and she flinched in spite of every bit of confidence he had built in her. His expression tightened, his eyes filling with concern.

  “I do have faith in you, Gordon.” Jemma lifted her hands, reaching for him. He lowered his weight, spreading her thighs with gentle motions of his hands before allowing his body to settle on top of hers. A soft murmur of enjoyment crossed her lips. There was something intensely satisfying about having his w
eight on top of her, something that she had never expected.

  “’Tis something I treasure, lass.”

  He framed her face in his hands and pressed a kiss against her lips. It began as a slow motion of his mouth against hers, but his passion burned too hot to maintain the slow pace. His kiss became harder, more demanding, and she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to penetrate. Her body ached for the same thing, and her thighs rose up to clasp his hips in invitation.

  She felt the head of his cock nudging at the opening to her passage again. Her hands tightened on his shoulders as he began to move forward. It was slow but steady, his hard flesh tunneling into her softer core. Her head arched back as pain began to burn along her passage, hundreds of pinpoints of pain where the skin was refusing to stretch.

  “Easy, lass, ye can take me. ’Tis the way ye were made, to take my length.”

  His words were soothing, but her body still hurt. His hips pulled back and thrust into her once again. This time his cock split her, burrowing into her in spite of the resistance her body offered him. His flesh was harder and it pressed onward, opening her passage with a slow thrust that sent the breath rushing out of her lungs. He withdrew again, offering her relief from the worst of the pain, and she dragged a deep breath in but it went rushing back out when he thrust smoothly into her again. This time his cock traveled deep, the hard flesh lodging itself all the way inside her. The bed beneath her back kept her in place, making it impossible to move away. She was forced to endure the burning pain while her passage adjusted to being penetrated.

  Yet the pain subsided fast. Jemma opened her eyes when she realized that there was naught but a dull ache remaining.

  “Aye, lass, that’s the worst of it.” He pulled his length free and then thrust forward again. This time, without the burning pain, she was free to feel his hard member stroking along her clitoris. It produced a spark of delight that traveled to where her passage echoed it when his flesh was once more deep inside her.

  “And now, I’ll introduce ye to the best of it.”

  He began to thrust in slow motions, but there was still a hard edge to each stroke. Jemma heard herself moan, and she couldn’t have controlled the sound if she had tried. Her body was completely focused on the hard flesh tunneling into it, her passage eagerly taking him now while her hips lifted to ensure that he penetrated deeply each time. There was no reason to think or even keep her eyes open. She wanted to sink back into the pool of sensations produced by the action of their bodies moving together.