by Mary Wine
Ailis’s cheeks flamed. “Sweet Christ, everyone is going to think ye carried me off to…to…”
“To ravish ye?” he supplied with a mocking grin.
She propped her hands on her hips again. “Ye have no right! I am nae your wife.”
The words were spoken before she realized she was challenging him. She witnessed it flash through his blue eyes before his lips thinned.
“Do nae let yer pride become involved again.”
He shook his head. “Ye are something worth being proud of, Ailis.” His gaze lowered to her cleavage. “A woman of character.” His lips suddenly curved into a rakish grin. “Ye’re a fine-looking woman too.”
“And a Robertson.”
His eyes narrowed. “Aye. Ye’re that. Yet, as ye brought to my attention, yer blood has advantages.”
There was a promise in his tone now, one that made her shiver. The urge to flee filled her again, but her pride rebelled. She didn’t want him to label her a coward.
If she ran, there would be no doubt she was scared of him.
She had to admit to being curious as to what might happen if she stayed.
But that left her facing him, watching him move closer, each step increasing the intensity of the moment. All of her senses felt keener, sharper. Time itself felt frozen, the seconds feeling like hours in which she was able to notice all the tiny details she might have normally missed.
He reached out and stroked her cheek. It was such a simple touch, but her senses were so heightened, she wasn’t sure she could have endured anything else. The moment his skin connected with hers, sensation exploded inside her. She jumped, unable to contain it all.
“As I said, Ailis, there is passion between us.” He wasn’t mocking her any longer. His tone was deep and almost compassionate. It sounded as if he were just as bewildered as she.
He reached back and slid his hand along the side of her jaw. Her breath caught as delight spread across her skin. She was mesmerized, intoxicated by him. He didn’t stop until he’d threaded his fingers into her hair. The gentleness of the touch transformed into a firm hold that kept her steady as he took the last step between them.
“Ye smell sweet.” He didn’t kiss her, but leaned down and inhaled her scent. “Touch me, Ailis. I see the desire in yer eyes.”
He’d stopped with just inches between them. Her breath was rapid, drawing in the scent of his skin as she felt his body heat teasing the bare skin of her chest. Temptation was drawing her in.
She was reaching for him before she could think about it. His words rang in her ears, combining with the need churning inside her. His skin was smooth, beckoning her.
He drew in a sharp breath when she touched him. The response stunned her but quickly transformed into confidence.
She wielded the same power over him.
It was a prideful thought, but one that filled her with boldness. She flattened her hands against his chest, unleashing a surge of excitement inside herself.
It was astonishing and exhilarating.
“Look at me.” His tone was harder, more demanding.
She lifted her chin, locking gazes with him, and felt as though he could see right into her soul.
“Now kiss me.”
“Me?” Her tone was so breathless, she wasn’t sure he heard her.
But he did, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Aye.” He massaged her head, sending little ripples of delight across her scalp. “Kiss me. Reach for what ye crave, Ailis.”
She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to crave him. It was a demanding word, but it suited the feelings swirling inside her too well. She slid her hands up his chest, savoring the feel of his skin beneath her palms and fingertips. Kissing him was harder than she’d thought it might be. She’d kissed him back, but now, she had to stretch up, and even on her toes she wasn’t tall enough. So she slid her hands along the strong column of his neck and gently pulled him toward her.
He bent down, allowing her to press her lips against his. She trembled, the sensations overwhelming. She felt as if she were spinning around, but didn’t really care if she dropped to the ground in a dead faint.
All that mattered was kissing him.
She craved the taste of his mouth and moved her lips against his. Her grip wasn’t firm enough, so she reached up to lock her fingers behind his neck, trying to secure him, control him.
He groaned, using his hands to tilt her head so their lips met together more completely. He was losing patience, his mouth beginning to move against hers. But she wanted to kiss him. The urge pounded through her, overriding everything else.
She tried to remember how he’d kissed her, moving her lips in what she thought was the right way. She increased the pressure and opened her mouth.
He growled and took command. There was no missing the moment when he stopped allowing her free rein. The kiss he pressed on her wiped all thoughts aside as delight took over. It didn’t matter how they kissed, only that they did. She felt as though she might perish if she didn’t get a deeper taste of him.
He teased her lips, tasting them before sweeping across her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. She shivered again, the touch more intimate than anything she’d ever experienced. It set off a throbbing between the folds of her sex.
She pulled back, startled by the hunger gnawing at her insides. She understood with shocking clarity that she wanted him deep inside her. So carnal. So blunt.
“Do nae be alarmed, I’ll nae ravish ye, Ailis.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.” She snapped her mouth shut when she realized she’d spoken aloud. “I did nae mean that!”
He cupped her chin and made her look into his eyes. They were ablaze with hunger, mirroring the yearning burning inside her.
“Ye did,” he assured her. “Ye simply do nae know how to enjoy it yet.”
He scooped her up, stunning her with his strength. He controlled it so well, it was simple to forget how strong he was.
That knowledge made her tremble. He lowered her to the forest floor, the scent of grass rising up, wrapping her in the moment of new growth.
“It is going to be me pleasure to teach ye, Ailis.”
“But…the annulment…”
He settled beside her and bent one of his knees so he might place it over her thigh. She thrust her hands out to keep him back, but once again, the feeling of his firm chest distracted her from everything else.
It simply felt so right. The sensation was intoxicating.
“Are ye enjoying me touch?”
He leaned down and kissed her throat, the soft pressing of his lips taking her further into bliss. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she stretched her chin up to expose more of her neck.
“Honestly, lass, ye do nae want me to stop any more than I want to.” His words were a whisper against her ear.
It was so tempting to just let him do as he pleased.
It felt so good.
Nothing had ever felt so intense before.
The knot of her bodice loosened. She opened her eyes, but he’d pulled the lace through the first few eyelets before she turned to look at his face.
His expression sent a shudder through her.
“Ye are more than comely, lass.”
She blushed.
His lips curved into a possessive grin. It was presumptuous, but it also made her feel attractive in a way she never had before.
He pulled the lace through a few more eyelets, until he could open her bodice. She was in her simplest dress, one that didn’t have a set of long stays behind the bodice. The only thing shielding her breasts was the thin linen of her chemise. Excitement twisted through her. She felt pinned to the spot, caught in the moment as she waited to see what he’d do next.
What was the next step? She wanted to know
.
Now.
“Ye have no doubt haunted the dreams of more than one man.” He cupped one breast through her chemise, sending a bolt of excitement into her core.
She twisted, the sensation too great. “No…no one thinks about…me…parts.”
She was trying to think, because it gave her stability. Bhaic brushed his thumb across her nipple and shattered every last bit of conscious thought she had.
“I do,” he whispered next to her ear. “I think about ye more than I like. I have never been jealous of a man like I was just now of Lye Rob.”
He lifted his head and let her see his eyes. They were full of possessiveness.
“I was just dancing.”
Bhaic slid his hand beneath her chemise, his fingertips teasing the skin between her breasts and setting off an ache to be touched in both mounds.
“Nae, lass, he was getting close to ye because he wanted to do exactly what I am doing now.” He cupped her breast, closing his fingers around one tender mound as victory shown in his expression.
“I would nae have let him…touch me.”
He massaged the globe of her breast, setting off a renewed throbbing at the top of her sex. It was harder now, more insistent. Keeping her thighs together felt awkward and uncomfortable, so she let herself relax.
“But ye’ll welcome me.”
“I—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. Bhaic leaned down and licked her nipple. It had already puckered but drew tighter as she arched up to offer it to him. A soft moan escaped her lips, the sound renewing the blush stinging her cheeks.
“It gets better, lass.”
He cupped her breast, holding the soft mound still before closing his lips around the puckered tip.
She cried out this time, the heat from his mouth flowing down to the apex of her thighs. Something was throbbing incessantly, making her lift her hips in a quest.
He sucked harder on the point and slid his other hand across her belly. Her passage gave a desperate twist as she reached for him and held him to her breast. She wasn’t close enough. Wasn’t pressed against him tightly enough.
Her damned dress was too heavy against her legs.
“So sweet…” He kissed his way to her other breast and teased her with soft licks along its side before he claimed the nipple. She arched and lifted her hips. He slid his hand lower across her belly, grabbing a handful of her skirts and jerking it up.
She sighed as cool air reached her legs. It was invigorating, and she reached for him, no longer content to just be touched. She wanted to stroke him too.
Ailis flattened a foot on the ground and used her leg to push her body up. She rolled into him, pushing him back as she sought out one of his flat nipples. She licked it, purring as she tasted a faint salty tang left behind from his sweat.
He rolled back, letting her have her way, and it filled her with confidence.
“That’s it, lass, ravish me in return.”
“I will.”
She wasn’t sure why she sounded so bold. She kissed one of the ridges on his chest and then another. He gathered up her hair when it settled around them and pulled it out of her way. Teasing motions were no longer enough.
He slid his hand along her thigh, lifting her skirts higher. She was too hot, but the contact between their flesh felt perfect.
She reached for his neck, purring as she detected the steady throb of his pulse beneath the soft skin. He was strength incarnate, yet smooth and soft too.
It felt as though she was made to fit against him. She wanted to melt until she fused with him completely.
Her skirt went flying above her waist. One powerful motion of his wrist had sent it up to bare her lower body.
She gasped, startled by the sense of vulnerability sweeping through her. It conflicted with the sweet intoxication holding her hostage.
Bhaic didn’t let her senses recover. He cupped the side of her face and leaned over her, the heat from his body pushing aside her modesty. He kissed her, restoring her to the perfection of the moment. She pushed her hands through his hair, delighting in the feeling of the threads sliding between her fingers. There were so many tiny details she had never thought might be so enjoyable. Little things she did every day, but when Bhaic did them, sensation surged through her. She was sinking deeper and eager to experience more.
Bhaic didn’t disappoint her. He settled his hand on her thigh again, his grip possessive but filling her with a sense of satisfaction.
It also unleashed a sense of anticipation that left her breathless.
Remaining still was impossible. She reached for him, boldly seeking out what she craved. His thighs were just as hard as his chest, the muscles clearly defined and covered in more smooth, hot skin.
“I swear I’ve never enjoyed a woman’s hands on me like I do yers.”
The admission was torn from him in a harsh tone. She detected the protest from his pride and found companionship in it.
At least she was not alone in the madness.
She slid her hand higher, seeking what she’d only had a teasing glimpse of on their wedding night. She was frustrated by that fact, irritated that she didn’t yet understand completely what it was she craved.
She was empty and wanted to know what he had to fill her.
Someone cleared their throat.
Someone male.
Bhaic growled but gathered up her chemise and covered her breasts while shielding her with his body.
“Go to hell, Symon.”
The tone of his voice cut through the intoxication dimming her wits. It was like waking up from a dream, and her body protested the return to reality. She wasn’t ready to come back yet.
“I figured ye might say something like that.”
Ailis looked past Bhaic to see a huge man wearing the Grant colors in his kilt. He was looking away from them, but her cheeks burned with shame all the same. She scrambled to push her skirts down and sit up.
“Someone better be dying,” Bhaic warned as he pushed to his feet with remarkable ease. He reached down to hook her upper arm and lift her.
The man’s strength was amazing.
“So who’s dying?” Bhaic demanded, his frustration plain.
“Yer father and hers,” Symon responded as he turned to face them. “It seems they are trying to kill each other over the pair of ye disappearing into the woods for a tryst.”
“We were nae—” She stopped when Symon’s gaze lowered to her open bodice. Bhaic reached out and cupped her shoulder to turn her away from his friend’s view.
“Cover yerself, Ailis, and do nae deny what is plain.”
She grasped the ends of the tie that had closed her bodice and shot Bhaic a hard look.
But what she saw stopped her. His blue eyes were lit with a hunger that fascinated her almost as much as it frightened her.
She turned around before he read the fear on her face. He was so confident, so full of determination, she didn’t want him to witness her reaction.
She could not give him that power over her.
But her hands shook as she tried to thread the lace through the eyelets to close her bodice. The fact that both men were waiting while she adjusted her breasts sent her temper sizzling.
Her breasts were no man’s concern.
But ye enjoyed what Bhaic did with them, sure enough.
She yanked on the lace and tied a firm knot. It took another few moments for her to adjust herself before she was fit to turn around.
Symon’s topaz eyes were brimming with amusement when she met them.
Bhaic slapped him on the shoulder. “Now what was the urgent need that sent ye after us?”
“Well now, there are urgent needs and urgent needs, it would seem.”
Bha
ic growled, earning a smirk from Symon. But the man pointed at the fair they’d left behind. “Yer father claims she enticed ye into the woods—”
“I did nae—” Ailis said.
Bhaic reached out and curled a hand around her face to cover her mouth. In one swift motion she was trapped against his side, his fingers smothering her retort.
Symon nearly choked on his laughter. Ailis lifted her foot and kicked him in the shin.
He yelped and jumped back, out of her range.
“Feisty,” Symon observed before shrugging. “And her father is demanding satisfaction for the slight of labeling his daughter a harlot. The pair of goats are fixing to ruin May Day with a melee.”
Ailis bent her knees and twisted free of Bhaic’s hold. “They loathe each other. We have to stop them.”
She grabbed the front of her skirts and began running.
“Ailis!”
She froze, Bhaic’s tone ringing with authority. It sent a shiver down her back—she understood now just what gave him the fierce reputation she’d heard about near the hearth during the winter months.
“Ye’ll stay away from the fighting.” He was shrugging into his doublet.
He passed by her, moving with purpose toward the edge of the forest. The longer length of his kilt in the back swayed with his motions as Symon joined him, forming a wall she was stuck behind. Their longer strides made her run to keep up.
But the quiet beyond the forest made her double her efforts.
The musicians had stopped playing, some of the merchants quickly pulled their wares off the counters of their booths. Women were herding the children away from the massing members of her clan and the MacPhersons.
The Grants and Gordons were doing their best to keep the two separated, but the expressions of her clansmen warned her that their tempers were short.
And not likely to last much longer.