A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  Mentally she implored him to look her way so that she could give him a hint to stop and thereby prevent her sister’s attempt at matchmaking. But to no avail. Everyone else in the room was practically staring in her direction, but Craig? No. He was too busy applauding himself for his stamina. Only when the song ended and people clapped him on his back with congratulations, explaining once again the nature of tonight’s sword dance, did his expression reflect one of true understanding.

  Meriel watched as he briefly studied her and then shifted his gaze to the real culprit—her sister. However, Meriel suspected that Laurel might also have been involved. Raelynd was capable of an idea such as this, but its execution? That needed a more experienced hand. Only Lady McTiernay could imperceptibly move throughout tonight’s crowd, giving instructions without Meriel or Craig wising up that something was being planned.

  And now she was stuck, being forced to do the one thing she had promised herself never to do—kiss her best friend. Oh, she could refuse, but in her sister’s and most of the clans’ minds it would only prove that Craig and she did feel something more for each other than they claimed. And it would be not just difficult, but near impossible to change their minds again. No, they were destined to kiss this evening, but fate in the form of her meddlesome sister had not dictated what kind. Would the crowd see a sweet, brief touch upon the lips? Or something that would shock all?

  Having decided a few years ago that while marriage was not something she was interested in, for many reasons, Meriel was not about to periodically forsake the pleasant diversions men offered. She knew Craig to be of a similar opinion about marriage, but because he was tall, dark-haired, and had bright blue eyes that sparkled with enormous charm, she also suspected that the rumors of his experience with the ladies were based more on fact than fiction. It was therefore not an unnatural leap to assume he was a good kisser. Besides, she had entered tonight’s competition with a certain goal and, as the winner, she was entitled to a kiss. Fortunately for her, Craig understood her cryptic message and seemed to agree.

  What she wanted was some passion, something to remind her that she was a woman, and an attractive one. She should have realized the moment Craig’s fingers buried themselves in the softness of her hair, that no number of encounters she had had with other men had prepared her for what was about to happen.

  True to her request that he embrace her in a way that would end all rumors, Craig pulled her close and then twirled her in his arms so that she was practically lying in his hands, depending solely on his strength to keep her from falling. Determined to be just as dramatic in her pursuit to end speculation about them, Meriel let her arms steal around his neck and returned the embrace with a surge of exasperation and enthusiasm.

  His tongue began to trace her lips and instinctively she opened her mouth to welcome him in, glad to realize she had been right—Craig was a good kisser. A very good one.

  He invaded the sweet, vulnerable warmth behind her lips with an intimate aggression that seared her senses. Her fingers clenched his shoulders, and then one of them groaned. While Meriel would have sworn it was Craig, her body was starting to respond as if it had a mind of its own. She felt as if she were melting, hot clay in his hands as they slid slowly up her spine while his mouth drank heavily from her lips.

  And then, just as suddenly as the sensual onslaught began, it changed. Craig’s voracious mouth became tender, inquisitive, almost reverent. One hand moved to cup her cheek as he kissed her long and soft and deep. The gentle embrace, if possible, was even more consuming and passionate, as his teeth lightly bit at her bottom lip before capturing her tongue and drawing it into his own mouth. It wrenched her soul.

  Meriel could only clutch at him, overwhelmed and aroused and unable to understand what was happening. This was Craig. Her friend, her best friend, but he was kissing her with a low, inviting passion that took her breath away. It was getting harder and harder to remember that the sparks igniting between them were part of an act to end the baseless suspicion people had of their mutual attraction.

  She reminded herself that she had received many kisses, but in most of those circumstances she had been the aggressor. It had been natural, as the men too often became timid the moment they realized they were alone with Laird Schellden’s daughter. But this was different. Craig was dictating the speed and intensity of their kiss and all she could do, all she wanted to do, was get closer to him and follow his lead.

  Returning his bold strokes inside her mouth, Meriel knew she should signal to end the embrace, but she could not muster the will to stop the passionate assault upon her senses. At least not yet. Until now, she had not known what was missing, but this—being with Craig, touching, kissing—for the first time it felt right.

  The hot, tantalizing kiss suffused her body with an aching need for more. With a soft, low groan, Craig increased the urgency, and their embrace became darker, more demanding, and far more blatantly erotic. No longer could she pretend she was enjoying a pleasurable activity with a friend. This was something far more meaningful. Meriel was sharing a piece of herself, as he was with her, proved by the mutual ripple of need running through them.

  Suddenly she was back on her feet and the cool air on her lips shocked her into remembering that they were not alone but in the midst of a crowd. A crowd buzzing with half whispers.

  “Now all in this room must agree that the kiss you just witnessed would ignite a spark of passion—if there was one,” Craig’s voice boomed, capturing her attention. He stretched his arms out wide and grinned infectiously, winning over the stunned mass. Then, with a pompous show of male superiority, he threw one arm over her shoulders and hugged Meriel against him. “And that, good women and lads, should end all doubt about what Meriel and I are to each other. We are friends and nothing more.”

  Feeling physically trapped, Meriel elbowed his side and gave him a forceful, angry shove. Craig immediately let her go and playfully doubled over in an exaggerated bow. The throng of people surrounding them laughed and began to return to whatever they had been doing before the sword dance had been called. Only then did Meriel realize Craig’s overbearing actions had been designed to elicit such a violent response from her. She was the one who had made his speech believable. A woman in love typically did not assault the man who had just kissed her with incredible tenderness and passion.

  Unable to keep her eyes from following him, Meriel watched as Craig casually sauntered away from her, laughing and romping across the floor with his fellow soldiers as they headed toward the hall’s exit. Meriel should have been filled with relief. Didn’t her reaction prove that she was not in love with Craig? Didn’t his?

  “I must admit to being surprised. I really thought you two cared for each other.”

  Meriel briefly glanced back as her sister walked up to her side before returning her gaze to Craig. “We do care for each other.”

  “You know how I mean. The first time Crevan kissed me like that I wanted to tear his clothes off, and I can assure you the feeling was mutual.” Raelynd waved her hand at Craig’s departing figure. “That man is not acting like someone who just experienced an incredibly sensual kiss. But then, neither are you,” she finished, looking both perplexed and disappointed.

  Meriel swallowed at the implication. Fact was, she wasn’t acting like it, but inwardly her senses were reeling. Outwardly she forced herself to appear calm, but she felt as if she had been ravaged, and worse—she craved more. Maybe Craig was also hiding his reaction to what happened. His overly jocular departure was atypically dramatic, even for him. The more she thought about it the more Meriel was convinced. Craig McTiernay was definitely covering up some kind of emotional response to what had occurred between them. But what? Then again, what was her response?

  Meriel bit the inside of her cheek and made a decision. Until she was able to comprehend her own emotional state, she was not going to tackle the onerous work of guessing at Craig’s. Usually the man paraded his feelings for all to see an
d hear. He kept them private only when they were raw, undefined, extremely personal, and involved someone he loved. During those rare times, to keep people from detecting his true thoughts, Craig tended to become excessively cheerful, just like he had tonight.

  Raelynd grasped her arm and swung her around to head back to the main table. “Tomorrow you can admonish me severely, but tonight we are celebrating Marymass, and soon Father will be offering the first bread. Come and think on nothing else but this year’s harvest and all the good things that are to follow.”

  Meriel let her sister direct her back to the main table. Tonight she would enjoy the upcoming activities to honor the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Tomorrow, however, she would give earnest thought about what had just happened between her and Craig.

  “Don’t deny it. You were part of that display of lust we just witnessed,” Conor McTiernay growled at his wife.

  Laurel licked her lips and refused to look into her husband’s accusing silver eyes. “Perhaps marginally.”

  She was doing it again. Flicking her pale gold hair behind her shoulder to catch his eye. Moistening her lips with her tongue. Taking a deep breath so that her chest swelled, giving him a delicious view—all in an effort to distract him from knowing her true focus. And it was working.

  As the eldest of the McTiernay brothers, Conor had spent years studying the behavior of his clansmen in an effort to become a better chieftain. He prided himself on being able to predict most of his people’s needs, anticipate their reactions to certain events, and prevent problems before they arose. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not transfer such knowledge and power to better his understanding of his own wife. He was just glad that he was starting to be able to tell when she was in the middle of a plan so he could carefully extricate himself from it.

  He let himself enjoy the sights for a few more seconds before pushing for more information—an absolute requirement for knowing just how to duck and avoid getting caught in whatever trap she was weaving. “And did you get the outcome you were looking for?”

  Laurel was not sure how to answer as she studied the scene. Craig was cleverly making his exit while Raelynd was talking to Meriel absent-mindedly.

  When Raelynd revealed her plan to have the two winners of the sword dance kiss, Laurel had been quick to realize that the idea was rather ingenious, but highly improbable. Aye, both Craig and Meriel were competitive and likely to win, but not if they suspected a setup. And despite Laurel’s quick intervention—persuading the other participating men and women to voluntarily lose—it almost did not happen. Meriel had quickly grasped the situation and almost quit before the last woman could drop out. But it had worked, and Craig and Meriel had definitely kissed as planned. But if that kiss had changed anything in their attitudes toward each other, Laurel could not discern it.

  The fact that the two of them were in love was not in question. Most were not sure, but Laurel had no doubts. It came down to whether the long and passionate kiss that all had witnessed tonight would prompt two of the most stubborn people in Scotland to admit it. Not to the their family and clansmen . . . but to themselves.

  “You should feel ashamed, forcing them to prove their friendship in such a way,” Conor admonished halfheartedly.

  “Why? Either way it serves their purpose. If there was more between them, they would have been thankful for the act of kindness. If not, then Raelynd and I gave them the opportunity to end all rumors otherwise.”

  “I give up.” Conor sighed, grabbing a mug of ale and downing it. “Just make sure that your efforts to find and foster a love match for my brother don’t affect me.”

  “They shouldn’t,” Laurel said and then added under her breath, “but no promises.”

  The kiss Craig and Meriel shared had practically heated up the room, confirming what she knew to be true. Raelynd had believed her sister might be falling for Craig and that Meriel was too afraid to admit her feelings. But Raelynd had been wrong. Meriel and Craig had fallen in love long before, soon after they had first met. Unfortunately, both of them were so savvy to the ways of love and how to avoid it, they had been able to avoid it with each other. Laurel abhorred the idea of an arranged marriage or forcing two people together, but Craig and Meriel had already been together a year, and she felt she had no choice but to agree to help Raelynd execute her plan.

  But Conor’s question troubled her. Had she secured the outcome she was looking for? With any normal couple, a kiss like that would have resulted in a wedding. But getting a Schellden, let alone a McTiernay, to admit their feelings? That took patience.

  It had happened once, between their siblings Raelynd and Crevan, but both Craig and Meriel were unbelievably strong willed and stubborn. And for some reason they each felt incredibly resolute about keeping their friendship only as a friendship. If what transpired tonight did not convince either of them otherwise, Laurel was not sure any outside influence could. It would take far more than patience to change their minds.

  It would take a miracle.

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  Copyright © 2012 by C. Michele Peach

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  ISBN: 978-1-4201-2854-3