The blatant desire in her voice, and slight smile on her lips, ignited him into stepping so close, that neither his linen shirt, nor his heavy wool kilt, could insulate him from the soft roundness of her breasts. She trembled to her toes, which he felt from his groin to his knees. She smelled heavenly. Would she taste as sweet?
When she lowered her eyelashes, a tiny moan rang warning bells in his head. His hands didn’t listen.
“ ‘Twas foretold a sudden change would happen between us.”
He hesitated for a heartbeat, at her words. Was magic the reason he wanted to bury himself inside her and watch her come?
Shaking away the worry of manipulation, he grabbed her in a tight embrace, and lowered his head. Nuzzling her neck, he saw no reason not to take their renewed relationship to a more adult level. She was no longer the seventeen-year-old child he briefly knew. She was all woman.
Her body shifted, as he nibbled his way down. She was so small, her breasts a simple handful, but he wasn’t complaining.
A woman of this era wouldn’t stand in her bedroom, kissing a man. Why was Skye Gunn letting him kiss her, touch her, and nibble the creamy skin along her neck?
Keeping his thoughts to himself, with his senses on high alert, he ached for wanting more; to feel alive. With a woman in his arms, and a bed behind her, an idea rose as quickly as his straining erection. Backing her slowly toward the mattress, he kissed his way from her neck to the slight swell of her breasts.
Her sigh echoed through the room.
“Skye…”
“Aye…”
He hooked a finger under the bit of material and slipped it off her left shoulder. Reaching back, he loosened the single braid, then pulled some strands and draped them over the front of her nightgown. When she didn’t protest, he slipped the rest of her gown down until the rounded tops of her breasts were revealed.
Her skin, pale and creamy in the light that peeked through the window slits, was soft and smooth beneath his lips. When he tugged her dress lower, exposing two perfect berry-red nipples, he hungrily covered one with his mouth, and suckled.
Her moans intensified, and her fingers swept along his brow. Too many clothes separated them. As if reading his thoughts, she untied the laces at his neck.
How far would she let him go?
CHAPTER 21
Women of this time period lived under a different set of rules. Women of the Highlands had more freedom, but would she make love with him? Kissing her was no longer enough. The pull to feast upon her was too strong.
Skye pulled back, gazing up into his face. “ ‘Tis an odd look ye have upon yer face, Jake. Softer, calmer than the man I thought I knew.”
“You don’t know me.” Growling low and deep, he dug his fingers into her waist. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not after turning him to stone, with her flavor bursting in his mouth. He bent and plundered her nipple, ignoring her protests. How dare she think she knew him? Aching with need, but too excited to release the tender bud between his lips, he continued licking and sucking. When he raised his head to move to the other breast, her whining protest made him smile.
“Are ye laughing at me, blacksmith?”
At least she’d given up calling him a Highlander. She wasn’t really upset. As he exhaled, her excitement was evident in the way her nipple hardened. The pinkish skin circling it pebbled, and Jake’s arousal throbbed painfully. Wrapping his hands around her, he pulled her close. Skye’s swift intake of breath made a rumble of laughter threaten to escape his lips.
“Ye bastard, I doona’ like—”
Lifting his head, he kissed her on the mouth. A scream would bring others. Why was she protesting? Hadn’t she let him into her room? She could have shoved him aside, with her magical hands, but she didn’t. He forgot all about their little feud the longer he kissed her, and tasted her sweetness. When she relaxed into his embrace, he released her lips and gazed down at her. She was so small, and fragile.
He slid his hand to her right side and said, “Are you healing?”
“If ye keep kissing me like ye do, I willna’ feel a thing.”
“Ha! I want you to feel everything I do to you, just not pain.” Could she understand the double meaning? If she was a virgin, making love would hurt her. He hated seeing her hurting. When she had appeared in Bull’s arms, damp and bloody, he had nearly died.
“Do ye think to make love to me, Highlander?”
Why she switched to calling him a Highlander was beyond him. He was an American of Scottish descent.
That’s all.
“You sound like a broken record, woman.”
“A broken what?” Waiting for an answer, Skye’s eyes widened.
“Never mind, and don’t call me that!” They had argued about the moniker several times. His first instinct was to release her, turn, and march far away.
Instead, he lowered her to the bed.
“What are ye doing?” She struggled, and shoved against his chest.
“Removing your clothing.” He pulled her dress and chemise down, and off. Her slippers fell to the floor with a gentle thud. Since she had yet to pull on stockings or any other undergarments, Skye was naked beneath him. Sunlight streamed in through the window, and a breeze caused her hair to cover her breasts like a shroud.
“Jake, ‘tis not right.” Her words, sluggish and just above a whisper, were a vague attempt at innocence. She knew what he planned to do. If she fought back, he’d stop. He’d take it slow, even though he hadn’t been with a woman in…months…years?
I can’t remember.
Kneeling on the bed by her uninjured side, he twisted a few strands of her silky hair in his fingers, and raised it to his nose.
“You smell like sunshine,” he whispered.
Raising up, she pulled the leather tie from his hair. “That ‘tis better. We be equals.”
He smiled at the gesture, but couldn’t stop the laughter.
When her petite, slender fingers slipped lower, and untied his shirt strings, the sound died in his throat. Closing his eyes, he let his body feel. Euphoria made him weightless, the urge to splay naked along her petite form fueling him to keep kneeling.
When she loosened the ties, he yanked the shirt over his head, then sat back and kicked off his boots. Clad only in his borrowed kilt, he stared down at her creamy skin. Valleys and curves beckoned him. Heat sizzled deep in his belly, and smoke seeped from his lips.
“Hell’s fire!” he said, then clapped a hand over his mouth.
When Skye laughed, he smiled. She didn’t care about his abnormality. She had never shown fear toward him, except when he surprised her with kisses.
He loved kissing her. A mouth like hers was a dream, and he raised an eyebrow when an image of her kneeling in front of him, taking him in her mouth, interrupted.
Jake coughed, recalling how she had used his quirky ability to blackmail him into helping. He would have helped, once she explained it all, but she had kept most of the particulars to herself.
“I shall miss this,” Skye whispered.
“Going somewhere?” he asked. Standing, he unwrapped his kilt, until he stood before her, naked and totally aroused.
“The sorcerer must die.”
“I agree,” he said, and joined her on the bed. Taking care not to jar her bandage, he cradled her to his chest. When he peppered kisses over her forehead and cheeks, she sighed. Her breath washed over his neck, warming him more than his own inner flames.
His fingers roamed along the curve of her breast, and slid along her hip, while her tiny thatch of black hair cradled his erection. Her skin radiated sexual heat that warmed him where their bodies touched. Her fragrance scented the bedroom, making his erection stiff as an iron pike.
When he cupped her mound of silky curls, she let out a tiny squeak. He kissed her again, to quiet her, but she nipped his bottom lip. Control evaporated.
Tangled in the small cluster of curls, he found her damp with arousal. He inserted a digit inside her wet she
ath, and growled. Skye was slick and ready, but tight. Jake hesitated, until she mewed like a well-fed cat.
Jake loved cats.
Adding a second finger, his thumb circled the throbbing nub hidden in her delicate folds, and her long, pleasure-filled sigh was his reward. As if on cue, Skye spread her thighs, welcoming him. With care, her injury still fresh in his mind, he rolled on top of her. His tongue licked the seam between her lips until she opened her mouth.
As he tasted the sweet succulence that was Skye, with his mouth and tongue, Jake entered her slick heat in one, long thrust.
She whimpered slightly. Was it from pain? Or pleasure? He pulled back from both entrances. “Am I am hurting you?”
She slapped his shoulder, then cupped his chin. “Nothing ye do has ever hurt me. ‘Tis a dream to have ye in my bed.”
“Sure doesn’t feel like a dream,” he said. He had hoped he hadn’t caused her pain or discomfort, because the urge to slam his hard length inside her, over and over, took hold.
His nostrils flared, inhaling the womanly scent of her arousal. He slid inside, then withdrew until barely an inch of his swollen length remained inside. Heat built at the base of his spine. He had never thought sex could be like this.
“Lift your legs, love,” he said, his voice shaking. She did as he demanded, which in itself surprised him, but she acted eager to try anything.
“You are a gift,” he said. Thrusting forward, her slick core shuddered, then clasped tight around him. As her orgasm rippled through her, she opened her mouth in a silent scream. In case the silence didn’t last, he covered her mouth, and plunged to the hilt, hurrying his body to a spectacular release.
Breathing was impossible until his body floated back to earth. Slipping off, reducing the weight pressing down on her tiny form, he wheezed. “Dragon’s teeth!”
Skye laughed.
“Why are you laughing at me?”
“ ‘Tis yer words. Ye remind me of Lady Haven, Kirk’s woman, before she learned to curse in Gaelic.” Skye’s smile broadened, lighting up the room.
Collapsing flat on his back beside her, he pulled her lazily onto his chest.
“You’re right. I forgot she liked that saying. I’ve missed her, but the memories are still up here.” He pointed to his temple, then brushed hair from his eyes. “I do have a rather large vocabulary, but you don’t deserve a curse. How about this… ‘Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.’”
She cupped his chin, turning him to meet her gaze. “ ‘Tis poetry?”
“Robert Frost, actually, from one of my favorite poems called Fire and Ice.”
“Ye be the fire, and ye think me made of ice?”
“Not in a million years,” Jake said. Her gaze followed his hand, as it trekked over her hip, and slipped below her belly button. The moisture coating his fingers, just above her silky curls, was the evidence of his nearly uncontrolled lust. He had managed to pull out in time.
She sniffed.
“Are you going to cry? I did hurt you!”
“Nay, Highlander. ‘Tis a feeling too sweet to put into words. Yer words touch my heart, and I have never felt my body come apart in such a way.”
Had she never experienced an orgasm before? She was no virgin, which meant some man had let her down.
Her stomach growled, and she laughed. “I have grown too comfortable in yer presence. We are from different worlds.”
“Is that so bad?”
She shook her head. A nod would have eased his guilty thoughts, but one thought will get him back in her good graces.
“Let’s get you fed.” Jake jumped to his feet, threw on his shirt, and threw Skye’s chemise on the bed. “Get dressed.”
Skye’s skin tingled, and her legs felt heavy. The pleasure Jake had given her had surprised her with its intensity. Lethan had stirred her body and heightened her senses, but her body never exploded like lightning toppling a tree.
Flames burst inside her chest even before his fingers dipped inside. When her womb clenched, and her sex shattered, she had hoped—for a moment—that he had given her a babe.
Such a dream was doomed when the evidence damped her stomach.
He had pulled out, releasing his seed outside her body. She had no cause to complain. Her mission stood in her way, and the outcome was grim. Death for her, as well as the evil Andreas Borthwick, seemed inevitable. A child would be a complication.
Jake was another oddity.
She thought he hated her, and she most certainly had earned his condemnation. Had she not forced him to help five years ago by threatening to reveal his secret? Had he not laughed at her in her cousin, Cameron’s presence? She allowed her emotions to overcome commonsense. She had returned him to his time, before he had the chance to help his friends, and her kin.
“You’re staring at me,” he said, as he wrapped the plaid around his hips. He scooped up his leather tie and bound his hair at his nape.
“I have wondered what ye were doing. How ye lived.” Who he loved.
“I’ve kept busy.”
Their joining was nothing more than a moment’s indiscretion, but the pleasure that resonated through every limb was worth it.
She stepped into her gown. Warm fingers slid over her shoulders then to the back of her dress. His assistance with such a feminine chore brought a smile to her lips. It tugged at the corner of her mouth, then was covered by his lips.
He kissed her, and tingles sped through her, to her heart. He stepped away, and she slipped her feet into her doeskin slippers, and braided her hair.
“Why do you wear it this way? You used to wear it loose.”
“This plait ‘tis normal for a woman of my rank and age. I have seen more than two and twenty summers, ye recall.”
Jake chuckled. He adjusted his leather belt, and smoothed his plaid. When he sat on the bed to pull on his boots, she stood beside him and gripped his shoulder.
“I am a grown woman, and a Highlander. Things be different, here.”
“In this time period, you mean.”
She nodded. When a cacophony of noise rose from the hall, she turned toward the closed door. Her fingers gripped his forearm.
“They must not find ye in my bed chamber.”
Jake removed her hand, then held it as he headed toward the door. She struggled, but he patted her hand as if calming a two-year old bairn.
He must have heard the disturbance. High-pitched shouts, and voices filled with fear, grew in volume. They walked closer, and Jake’s stride never faltered as he threw open her bed chamber door. They stepped into the hall. Luckily, the hall was empty.
“What is happening? Can ye tell?” Skye asked.
He shook his head “I better check it out. If the sorcerer has returned—”
“Nay, ‘tis something else.”
Jake sniffed the air, then growled. “I smell smoke.”
“Are ye sure it is not ye?” she said, nuzzling his neck.
“Cut that out. Your brother is right there, racing from his bedroom,” he said, pointing to the large man at the end of the hall, heading away from them, and down the stairs.
“He is following the smell of breakfast fires, ‘tis all. Let us find out what the commotion is all about. I need to eat.”
Jake’s eyebrow wavered. Had she said something wanton? His future world was different in many ways, and when she did not understand his words, she felt foolish.
His concerned expression made her heart leap, even as her right side ached. Their bedchamber activities strained muscles not used to lovemaking. Vigorous lovemaking. Lethan had loved her slowly, and with little finesse, she now realized. Jake had made her body quiver and break into a million tiny pieces on an apex of pleasure. She succumbed to the urge to touch him, and laid her hand on his chest.
He released her other hand, and followed after her brother. She missed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, and the way his hand had crad
led hers.
Her fingers tingled with the memory of releasing his black hair from its bindings. He had loved her fully and completely. Turning away, she would take a few minutes to rest, then head down to the great room to break her fast.
To await Jake’s return, with an explanation, she collapsed on her uninjured side on top of the bed clothes, and kicked off her slippers. The urge to close her eyes and sleep was short-lived, because Jake returned.
Wordlessly, he pressed a knee onto the mattress. He lowered his face and kissed her brow. She playfully pushed him away. “Did ye discover the cause of the commotion?”
“No. Your brother disappeared into the bailey. There’s men shouting, so the sorcerer might be near. I came back to tell you to stay here.” He rose to his feet as if to leave.
“In bed?” She leaned up on one elbow, and surprised herself with the tremor in her voice.
“Yes. Do what I ask, for once.”
“I shall stay because I want to, no’ because ye order me about.” She rested lazily on her back, “I shall contemplate what to do with ye in my bed, as soon as ye return with any news.”
Jake’s eyes widened, and his plaid tented. “You’ll be the death of me, wench.”
She sat up, and threw a pillow at his head, but he had turned and disappeared out the door, again.
When the shouts grew in volume and the odor of smoke drifted through the window slit, she slipped off the bed.
‘Tis not right. ‘Tis more than the breakfast fires a’burning.
A scratch at the door made her turn.
“What is it?” she asked the servant. The odor floating through the window grew thick and ominous. A vision rose, and her knees gave way. She clutched at the door frame, as orange flames rose at her feet.
“My Lady?”
“I be fine,” Skye said. The vision faded, and her strength returned.
“The Gunn laird begs ye come quick. ‘Tis a fire in the bailey.”
“Warn the others.” When the servant left, she hurried to finish her loosened braid, and brushed the wrinkles from her gown. She had chosen a different dress; a gown of midnight blue wool, and wondered why.
Highland Games Through Time Page 73