Highland Spy
Page 18
Yes.
She may have even panted the word. She couldn’t be certain.
The heat of his mouth closed over her tender skin and she whimpered in husky pleasure.
She pulled him toward her, her hands gliding with greedy longing, sampling the rippled hard flesh beneath the léine.
Connor pulled away from her for a moment and jerked the clothing over his head. She saw him for a brief second, a flash of sculpted flesh in the low glow of the fire, before he had her in his arms once more.
The naked skin of his chest was warm against hers and the coarse hair there rasped against her sensitive nipples. Her hands roamed without thought, without shame, traveling over soft skin stretched taut over hard muscle.
Connor leaned over her and eased her back onto the ground. Ariana obeyed silently, her entire body alight.
More.
More.
More.
He lay on top of her, his strong body stretched over hers. She skimmed her fingers up his arms where he held himself up to avoid putting his full weight on her. Deep etches of beautiful muscle met the pads of her fingertips.
She curled her hands up his back and pulled him down to her. Evidence of his desire lay hard and heavy against her stomach. Her hips flexed toward him on instinct in a movement both foreign and natural all at once.
Connor gave another growling groan and eased a hand up her leg, pulling with it the fabric of her skirt.
Ariana’s mouth went dry. His fingers brushed over her inner thighs, easing higher, higher, to the source of her frantic hunger.
And stroked.
Heat and pleasure tightened through her and whet her appetite. Like the first bite of food when one is starving.
She eased her legs apart like a wanton woman and rolled her hips against his hand.
He watched her with a hot gaze and let his fingers glide against her slick yearning, over and over and over until Ariana’s body hummed as if it were going to explode.
And then she did.
The ball of pleasure drew tighter, tighter, until she felt she could take it no more, then pleasure tingled and burned through every part of her. Her own cries were loud in her ears, but she could no more help them than she could the press of her legs around Connor’s hand.
Her body went languid and she lay there a moment while the vestiges of bliss lapped through her.
She slowly opened her eyes, unsure when she’d even closed them, and found Connor still watching her. He wore his kilt still, but was naked from the waist up.
Naked and beautiful.
The firelight etched deep shadows into his muscled torso. He felt so strong beneath her fingertips, so powerful.
His desire jutted up from his kilt and a need thrummed through her once more, pulling her body from its lazy relaxation.
She got to her feet and slipped her overdress off, easing it from her hips into a pile on the ground. He stayed crouched on the ground, one arm casually slung atop his knee, his gaze intense.
The sark belled out around her in a blanket of shapeless fabric. She pulled the cord free of its bow, widening the neck until she could pull it over her head and let it flutter to the floor to join the dress.
Nervous excitement left her pulse ticking through her veins with almost enough energy to leave her trembling.
She was naked in front of Connor Grant.
Not as she’d been before, with her back to him while they both quickly dressed, but slowly, carefully. And with glorious intent.
Chapter 22
Ariana was even more beautiful in the nude than Connor had imagined.
And he’d imagined it many more times than he should have. Still, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
Hours of training had left a hint of muscle along her flat belly and her long legs. Her body was firm and supple all at once with the softness of a woman and the evident strength of her determination.
Never had anything been more exquisite than the beauty of Ariana Fitzroy.
Her cheeks flushed a deep red and her eyes sparkled with desire. The stubborn tilt of her chin remained, even in the absence of her clothing. As if she were daring him to find her anything but stunning.
Connor rose to his knees and caught her hands in his. Her fingers trembled, belying the facade of confidence she so defiantly wore.
Her skin was flawless in the low light and pulled him toward her with the temptation to run his palm over its silky surface.
He brushed his lips over her lower stomach, close to her sex, and breathed in the heady scent of her arousal. Its tantalizing lure made his mind swim and left everything hazy with lust.
He wanted to part her slick folds with his tongue and lose himself in her taste.
And he would.
In time.
For now, it’d been too long since he’d had a woman. Hearing the sultry cries of her climax again might very well undo him before he even had the chance to enter her.
It was all he could do to keep himself above the cloud of his lust. He circled her navel with the tip of his tongue and kissed higher and higher, while rising to his feet.
Ariana responded to his kisses with soft sighs of appreciation, minor mirrors of the husky sounds she’d made earlier.
He wanted to hear those again.
While inside her.
He rose completely to his feet, heedless now of how his cock pressed against her body. Nay, not heedless, for he reveled in it. The teasing pressure of her against the head, so swollen with want, it pained him. The coarse wool of his kilt rasped against the sensitive flesh like nails.
His hands moved to remove his belt and found hers already there. Her fingers jerked at the buckle, freeing it from the leather so it fell to the floor with an audible clank.
His kilt followed suit, though it made considerably less noise.
Or so he assumed.
In truth, he wasn’t paying much mind to sounds, only to the beautiful woman standing in front of him and the burning hot desire in her eyes.
She didn’t sit there and stare at him wide-eyed or suddenly become shy, as he’d heard most virgins were wont to do. Not his Ariana. She dragged her hand down the edge of his stomach, her touch so tantalizingly slow that his stomach instinctively flexed.
Her fingers still trembled, but evidence of any apprehension or nervousness was not apparent on her face. She leaned forward and kissed him. It was an aggressive kiss, with tongue and the slight grinding of teeth against lips amid heavy breathing.
Then, finally, her fingers wrapped around the length of him and squeezed.
Pleasure fired sharply and echoed through him like a pistol’s report.
He couldn’t think anymore, not when the only thing in him was want.
A sound rumbled low in his throat. He returned her passion with his own, echoing her need. His hands roamed over her body, all soft curves and lean lines, and pulled her gently to the floor.
He lay over her, his cock aimed toward the heat of her sex. She watched him with half-lidded eyes, her lips parted.
He shouldn’t do this.
She was one of his girls.
A maiden.
And too damn good for the likes of him.
The thought flashed through his mind before she flexed her hips toward him and brushed against the head of his cock.
All protests in his mind died away.
Ariana cradled his body between her legs and he carefully arched forward until the blunt edge of him nudged against the wet heat he so desperately sought.
“Yes,” she said. It was a whimper strained by the same longing he felt.
He needed no further encouragement. His mouth came down on hers and he kissed her deeply while he thrust into her, quick and sharp to pierce her maidenhead without drawing it out and making it more painful than it had to be.
She flinched, but made no sound.
She was so tight, the impossible pressure around him the most uncomfortable bliss he’d ever experienced.
He hadn’t meant it as a challenge, but her lips quirked to one side as if she had just accepted one. “I told you.” She arched her hips and slid them toward him once more. “I’m tougher than I look.”
The friction of movement made desire coil and knot inside him.
He shifted to position himself directly over her, and flexed his hips forward, penetrating her slowly.
Ariana’s lips parted and she gasped softly at the intimate contact.
She watched him through slitted eyes, her gaze so languid and erotic, he couldn’t make himself stop staring. He thrust again, and her lids fluttered with euphoria before her eyes opened and found his once more.
Her hips rocked up and down with his, hesitant at first, a student learning a new technique, and then faster, harder, with the same determined force of spirit she applied to all her training.
Her movements glided in time with his and the tension was building, greater and greater.
Tight.
She was too tight.
The friction was too much.
Connor grit his teeth against the pleasure, against the hot swollen throb of his body’s insistence.
He caught her hands in his fists and pushed them to the ground in an attempt to still her so he could enjoy her even longer.
Her breasts arched upward, and he slowed his pace, gliding in and out, teasing his climax back. She did not fight his restraint.
He flicked his tongue against one tempting nipple before closing his mouth over it. Her soft whimper of pleasure was more than he could take. His cock jerked in appreciation and he plunged harder, deeper into her, riding the wave he could no longer hold at bay.
Her cries were husky and loud in his ear and her hips quickened their pace with his. He held her hands tighter and lost himself to the force of his own undoing.
His energy exploded from him in a roar of pleasure so great, it left stars dancing in his vision. His heart thundered in his chest and every part of his body tingled with the effects of intense euphoria.
He stayed within her while they caught their breath, both panting, then finally slid himself from her.
She smiled up at him, a shy smile he was unused to seeing from her.
The warm hum of spent lust waned and was replaced with a chill.
He had taken her innocence.
He had nothing to offer Ariana, save the hope of an empty castle when he’d finally fulfilled his service to King James in seven years, that and a lot of failed dreams.
An uncomfortable moment of silence fell between them. Perhaps he ought to say something.
“I’m sorry,” he offered.
The languid expression on her face tightened to something else—disbelief? Anger?
Either way, it was not good.
“You’re sorry.” Her brows knit together.
She studied his face for a brief moment before turning away from him. He reached an arm over her. She did not resist his touch.
He hugged her to his body, and again she did not reject him.
She fit so well against him, better than he cared to admit. He could see himself like this every night too easily, his blood hot from their lovemaking, her body curled in the embrace of his.
And every morning he could wake to find her sweet face, rosy with slumber, before she woke and gave him one of her beautiful smiles.
But that couldn’t be.
He was sorry. Not for him, but for her.
She had her good name still, and her reputation, since they’d kept her cheating at cards silent. He had no idea if King James would ever release the women, but if he did, Ariana would have been able to find a place back at court.
Doing so would not be impossible, but she wouldn’t be able to wed now, not with the absence of her maidenhead.
The warm, lulling aftereffects of their coupling had long since cooled. He would not see her harmed further. Not after what she’d already been through with the man she killed.
Of one thing he knew for certain—he could not implicate her in MacAlister’s death.
Tomorrow, he would wake before her and he would kill MacAlister alone.
• • •
Ariana was awake long before she opened her eyes. The ground was hard beneath her and Connor was no longer there. She hadn’t expected him to stay.
Heat burned her cheeks and she wished she could clench her eyes tight enough to somehow make herself disappear. It’d been so special to her. So beautiful and passionate and the most incredible thing she’d ever experienced.
The soreness between her legs warmed at the thought, but she jerked her thoughts away from her enjoyment.
Connor had obviously regretted it. Knowing that left her feeling hollow.
And embarrassed.
How could she face him today knowing what they’d shared?
Should she act as if it hadn’t happened?
Her cheeks flamed hotter still.
She could not.
Her heart galloped in her chest. She needed to face this. Lying on the floor would solve none of her problems.
She opened her eyes and sat up, her body tense and ready for what she’d already spent too much time in dreaded anticipation of.
The chamber was empty.
She twisted around and surveyed the room.
Connor was not there.
Neither, she noticed, was his cloak, which had hung on the wall the night before.
Rage flared through her.
He had left her.
Again.
They had enough food after she’d shopped at the market the day before, and plenty of other supplies. There could be no reason for him to leave. And then she realized exactly where he’d likely gone.
Ariana dressed in a rush, purposefully ignoring the bloody clothes balled up in the corner of the room. A chill crept over her flesh. She could ignore the evidence all she wanted, but it would never make the memories go away.
Even after having saved Connor, he still left without her.
Once dressed as a servant, she made her way down the stairs, her feet slapping angrily against the smooth stone and ringing out on the circular walls surrounding her.
Too much had happened the previous night, and the memory of all of it settled like rocks in her stomach.
There would be no cowering against the reality of any of it. She would face it here and now.
Ire quickened her pace and made her arrival at Loch Manor come sooner than expected.
She’d left her blonde wig and held an empty basket propped on her hip. The guard was different than the previous day, and for that she was grateful.
“What’s yer business here?” he asked.
“Seein’ to the laundry,” Ariana answered in Gaelic with bored disinterest.
Inside, she was anything but bored or disinterested.
Looking at him reminded her of the man she’d killed. Had this guard known him? Did he know if there had been a family left to mourn? A wife and child who wondered if he’d ever return home?
Her heart crushed down into her stomach and she had to force herself to look away.
“Aye, go on then.” His attention fixed on someone behind her when she looked back toward him. She was no longer of interest to him.
Her pulse ticked a little faster.
She’d made it inside.
Now what?
The crowd of pressing solicitors disappeared behind her, as did the chatter of their many conversations. She entered a long, quiet hall made quieter still by the heavy roll of carpet muting her steps.
The furnishings were rich and stung her with the memory of having once lived such a life. A large manor, gilt-thread tapestries hanging in colorful arrays over the stonework, glossy masterpieces of carved wood chairs and tables throughout.
None of it had made her happy then, especially when she’d been so blissfully unaware of debt and its bite. But she knew for sure th
at none of it would make her happy now.
She found a side set of stairs and made her way up. If Connor was within the castle, no doubt he’d be inside the solar, or perhaps one of the upper chambers, finding whatever it was he sought from MacAlister.
Several doors met her at the top of the stairs. All closed.
She’d have to open each to discern what lay beyond. Then again, she doubted any conversation Connor might have with the laird or any of the servants would warrant an open door.
Thankfully, having dressed as a servant would keep her from appearing out of place.
She opened the first door and found a large bedchamber with several trunks and bags piled near the massive bed.
No one appeared to be inside.
She slipped out and closed the door.
“What are ye doin’?” A harsh female voice sounded behind her.
Ariana’s heart lurched into her throat. She spun around to find a large woman with a frown creasing deep grooves in a fleshy face, like an apple left to wither in the sun.
“I—I was gathering sheets to launder.” Stammering the statement like a young servant was an easy feat, what with the fright the older woman had given Ariana.
The woman’s small brown eyes squinted and she craned her head toward the basket Ariana held. “We collected them yesterday.”
Ariana gripped the handle of the basket tighter to keep her nerves from showing. The woven wood crackled against her palm. “I was told Laird MacAlister needed me to take his.”
The older woman’s scowl deepened and her thin mouth all but disappeared. “Ach, I canna say I’m surprised.” She muttered something under her breath. “But that isna Laird MacAlister’s room.”
Ariana ducked her head. “Forgive me, I’m new.”
“Aye, I havena seen ye before.” The woman jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “His room’s the last one on the right. Mind ye hurry up though. I’ve need of ye in the kitchens helping for the feast tonight.”
Ariana nodded.
The woman didn’t leave, though. Instead she leaned closer, enveloping Ariana in the mingled scents of soap and sweat. “Whatever ye find in there, ye keep it to yerself, aye?”
Ariana nodded again, this time in agreement to the whispered threat.
Apparently satisfied, the woman pulled out of Ariana’s personal space and bustled in the opposite direction.