A Gift of Myrrh

by Jodi Lynn Copeland

  He ground the thick, hot length of his cock against her pussy and she mewled like a hungry kitten in his ear. Growling his want, he slid a hand between them to seek out the lips of her cunt. His first touch on her damp, silken curls was pure deliverance. She had tried to convince him what happened earlier today was a mistake, that she didn’t want him. The truth of her lust was revealed to him in that sodden stroke. Her body’s juices soaked her inner thighs. His fingers burned to thrust past her curls into the heated cavern of her core, to plunge into its deepest recesses, far past the point he allowed himself entry earlier today. First he needed one thing. Her assent.

  Stroking his fingers at the edge of her swelled sex, Tavish lifted his gaze to her face. He could just make out her eyes in the candlelight. The darkest of blues, riddled with undeniable passion. Her insolent mouth was parted slightly and her bold tongue ran over her full lower lip. She looked insatiable, exquisite. And soon to be his.

  “You’ve agreed then?” he rasped.

  “Agreed?” Kristiana questioned breathlessly.

  “To be my mistress?”

  Her eyes edged wide. “Your mistress?”

  His fingers stilled at the stupefaction in her tone. “Is that not why you’re here? Do you not wish to feel my hands on you? My fingers petting your slick, swollen pussy?”

  She remained silent, their mingled breaths the only sound heard in the cool flood of night. He resumed his caress against her folds, stroking the edges of their dampness but going no farther. He would get the truth from her, were it the last thing he did.

  “Would you have me bury my fingers inside your tight, wet body, my lady?” He slipped one large, work-callused finger in, stopping to strum over her puffed up clitoris. “Would you have me take this delectable bud between my lips and feast upon it until your sweet come fills my mouth?”

  She arched against his touch, grinding her dripping cunt against his finger, taking him further into her parted flesh as her grip on his hair became nearly intolerable. “Aye. Oh…I want that.”

  Tavish heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, the truth.

  Drawing back on his knees, he lowered between her spread thighs and added another finger to the first. He separated the folds of her soaking pussy to reveal her distended clit. The sight of her glistening pink cunt splayed wide in the soft spray of light had his balls tightening and his cock clamoring for release.

  Grunting in the back of his throat, he caught her hips in his hands and lifted her mound to his mouth. The scent of her sex infiltrated his nostrils, sending his blood into a mad boil, and he urgently thrust his tongue against her slit. He lapped at her damp, shuddering pussy, devouring her juices all the while restraining himself from burying his tongue fully into her sweet center.

  With effort, he pulled back. “Do you want this, Kristiana? Do you want me?”

  “Please,” she cried, bucking up in search of his mouth. “Please…”

  He drew his thumb between her thighs and pressed it against her cleft, once more separating the passion engorged flesh of her cunt to reveal her clitoris. He blew on the deep red bud and it quivered with the need for fulfillment. His groin tightened in turn, his balls drawing fiercely against the buckskin. Bloody hell, he needed to be free of the sadistic breeches before he came inside them.

  “Please what, Kristiana?” he goaded, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the trembling, dewy nub.

  Her nails drove hard into his scalp. “Please…make…”

  “Make what?”

  “Make me yours.”

  Tavish could not stop his grin, for at this moment he believed sweeter words had never been spoken. Hastily, he moved from her and divested his breeches. Then he was over her again, throbbing with the need to plunge his cock into her pussy until his balls slapped a merciful tune against her ass.

  “Please hurry,” she wailed, reclaiming her grip on his hair. “’Tis almost an unbearable ache.”

  He knew the same agony, knew the need to come so badly his heart raced to what was surely a perilous limit. He petted her slick vulva once more, and then he plunged his fingers deep inside her. The thrill of her heat, her wetness, washed over him, firing his blood to a raging crescendo that died a sudden ugly, barely plausible death.

  He drew his shaking hand away from her body as the air in his lungs burned with his exertion. “What the bloody…”

  “Do not stop!” Kristiana implored, tugging fiercely at his hair.

  He tore free of her grip and reared back on the bed, shook his head in disbelief. He locked on her wide-eyed gaze against his will. Passion still clouded her eyes, but beyond that she looked dejected, as if his leaving her were some wicked sin. In truth, continuing would be an iniquity. At least, to his mind.

  “Tavish…please…”

  Before he could succumb to her husky pleading, he stumbled off the bed and jerked on his breeches. “How?” he demanded, his hands curled at his sides. “How is it possible you could still be a virgin? Tomas ruined you. He took your innocence!”

  She rose up on her knees and crawled across the bed to his side. Reaching out to him, she gripped his arm. Her long, red hair spilled wildly around her face, her breasts jiggled enticingly, and scent of her sweet, heady sex cloaked the air. He once more fought the urge to give in to her. “Nay. You did, sir. You took my innocence.”

  “I have done no such thing,” he denied, putting distance between them.

  He’d only come damned close to it. The air squeezed in his lungs all over again as he recalled the sensation of encountering her maidenhead.

  Kristiana nodded. “Aye, ‘tis the truth. I haven’t been innocent since the moment we kissed. I want you. And you want me. Make me your mistress, Tavish.”

  “Damn it.” Dragging his hand through his hair, he stalked to the window and looked out into the night. He saw no stars, no moon. He saw naught but her eyes beckoning him to come back to her and finish what they’d begun.

  He would not do it! He would not fuck an innocent for sheer pleasure.

  He looked back at her and sneered over his disreputable behavior. “I am not the scoundrel you have been led to believe, my lady. Never have I stolen a maiden’s virtue, whilst she was drunk from my kisses or sober as the day is long, and I will not start tonight. Now be gone from here.”

  She scrambled to her feet, crossed to him and set her chin as she said too boldly for a chit of such inexperience, “’Tis been said, my laird, that actions speak louder than words. I could tell how badly you wanted me the other night.” Without hesitation, she placed her palm on his shaft. “I can feel your hardness now. You are ready.”

  His cock leapt beneath her touch and his breeches strained too snugly to allow for proper circulation. Or, apparently, for proper judgment as well, as Tavish yearned to give in to her wanton demands. Holding tightly to the reins of common sense, he marched to the chamber door and threw it open.

  He forced a scowl into place though he burned to apologize for taunting her into coming here in the first place. Had he only known the truth… “What I am, my lady, is tired of these insipid games of yours. If I wanted to bed an awkward virgin, I would take a wife.” Unable to look upon the hurt that flooded her delicate features, he folded his arms over his chest and turned away. “Leave now. I am through with you.”

  The sound of Kristiana’s sniffle was almost his undoing. He dropped his arms to his sides and balled his hands to stop from turning back and pulling her into his embrace. The slightest of breezes lifted the hair at his nape as she hurried past, and then she was gone. The hollow slam of the door in her wake echoed the unexpected pang in his chest. The one that said he’d just lost something he’d never even realized he had.

  * * * * *

  The village of Landon rang with the sounds of the forthcoming Christmas. Yule logs had been gathered and lit in every home with hearths. The fire in the castle’s hearth flamed the highest of all. Two fat, thick logs—one of birch and another of ash to accommodate the diversity of the
castle’s inhabitants—burned the night through, as did the candles placed at each and every window.

  Happiness surrounded Kristiana and she couldn’t even force a smile. Ninny. Ninny. Ninny. Would the word never leave her? Or perhaps she was no longer a ninny. Perhaps, she had advanced to an outright fool.

  Two days had past since she had thrown herself at Tavish and he had denied her. Still she could not erase their encounter from her mind. Perhaps it was because she had so stupidly believed she saved him from choking to death, or perhaps it was more the ugly wounds that scarred his virile flesh. Whatever the reason, she’d felt so close to him, as if they’d understood each other, knew each other’s sorrow. Each other’s passions. Then he’d discovered her maidenhead and he had cast her away.

  She’d spent these last two days feeling ashamed, sorrowful, hiding out from the scorn of the devil’s dark gaze. No longer. He was the one who should feel badly. He was the liar here. The one who’d built a reputation around the skill of drugging maidens with his kiss. A skill he declared to not even possess!

  If she thought they had shared something special that night, she’d been mistaken. They had shared nothing but a moment of lust. Aye, she would feel no more shame, no more sorrow. The holiday season was upon them and there was much to celebrate. At least, in the villagers’ eyes.

  * * * * *

  Tavish pressed his mount up the steep hillside to Castle Wynderon. He’d worked the day through, mindless to the cold, mindless to the merriment of the villagers that surrounded him. Only one thing claimed his attention the past two days—a blue-eyed chit who knew no better than to ask to be ruined.

  He’d done his best to keep his distance from Kristiana—had even taken to sitting at opposite ends of the table during evening meal, but he couldn’t stop from looking, from wondering. From wanting.

  Bloody hell, he wanted her worse than ever. And he could not have her. Would not have her. He had no mind for a wife, certainly not one he wanted with such fierce longing, and Lady Kristiana deserved far more than to be made a man’s mistress.

  He would end this hunger coursing through his soul, distracting him to no end during the day and haunting his sleep at night. In a sennight, when the larger of the repairs were complete, he would ride to Inverness and find a strumpet to fuck.

  Once he rid himself of the lascivious cravings that claimed him day and night, he could forge a friendship with Kristiana. The familial relationship they should have had from the start. Only they wouldn’t be family, because she was not his sister-in-law. She was also not truly the lady of the castle. She had never been.

  What had happened with Tomas? Why the rumors? Why the feigned marriage?

  He had to know, for the sake of his sanity.

  * * * * *

  “Laird MacBain would like to see you in his study.”

  Unexpected heat rushed into Kristiana’s belly at the mention of Tavish. She scowled at the reaction. She must be coming down with a sickness for surely the warmth had naught to do with the devilish Englishman who shared her home and hearth.

  She turned to a slim, white-haired Tompkins, one of several servants who now resided at Castle Wynderon, and did her best to smile. She failed miserably.

  She spoke from between gritted teeth. “How nice for the laird.”

  “He asked for your immediate company.”

  “You can tell Laird MacBain to stick his quill pen up his¼“ She trailed off at the man’s raised eyebrows and flushed. Since she had decided to leave her joint feelings of shame and sorrow behind, her anger over Tavish’s rejection had grown. Still, it wasn’t right to take her temper out on anyone other than the man it was directed at. “I’m sorry, Tompkins. You’re only doing your duties. Tell his lairdship I will be with him shortly.”

  Of no mind to let her foul mood cool off when she could use it on the man it was meant for, she counted to thirty and then went to Tavish’s study.

  He pinned her with a dark look the moment she entered. “How?” he demanded.

  Pasting a wide smile on her face, she took a seat across the desk from him. “How what, my laird? How did I make it down here so quickly? How is it I can smile when looking upon your countenance? How can the sky be so blue on a day as cold as this one? I find a bit of clarification is necessary, sir.”

  For an instant, the crooked grin flirted with his lips, and then a scowl reclaimed his face. He drummed his fingers along the desk’s shiny mahogany surface. She fought the memory of where those long, elegant, wondrously callused fingers had been previously. Where she ached to feel them at this very moment. Stroking over her swollen feminine flesh, buried almost completely into her center.

  The heat that coiled in her belly moments before returned with renewed force. She crossed her legs in an attempt to curtail the unwanted desire dampening her thighs.

  She would not lust for this man. Nay, this derisive monster.

  “Do not toy with me, Kristiana,” Tavish said sharply, “I’m in no mood for your insolent disposition. Tell me the truth. Why did my brother marry you?”

  She dragged her gaze back to his face, thankful for the reprieve. Though, truthfully, staring upon his full, sensuous mouth and remembering the strength of his forceful tongue suckling at her engorged sex was no better than fantasizing over his fingers.

  Aye, it was far worse.

  She heaved a sigh at the unbidden wetness that gathered in her undergarments and uncrossed her legs, determined to forget the allure of her companion. “The truth is, sir, you do not want to know.”

  “Kristiana!”

  Resigned, she sank back in her seat. She had no longing to speak the truth on Tomas, but she had even less longing to continue to sit here and crave the one thing she knew better than to want—for him to bring an end to her salacious appetite. A hunger she swore she saw reflected in the heat of his potent gaze.

  As they continued to stare at one another, the intoxicating scent of sandalwood drifted across the massive desk. Kristiana inhaled deeply of the fine masculine scent. She had not noticed the fine smell before today. Why did he wear it now? Was he planning to entertain a lady this evening?

  A bolt of jealousy stiffened her spine and she pulled her gaze away, more determined than ever to be free of him. “Fine. I will tell you about Tomas. But might I suggest you help yourself to some whisky first?”

  His gaze narrowed. “What is it?”

  She drew a deep breath, preparing for the onslaught of temperament that would follow her admittance. “Your brother…he had unusual tastes.”

  Tavish banged his fist down upon the desk and growled. “I care not for his appetite, I want to know why he married you!”

  “I am trying to explain, you dolt!” Passion rifled through his gaze, and Kristiana held her tongue from further insult. Drawing a long breath, she continued, “Your brother favored…men.”

  He shook his head as if he had heard her wrong. “Hewhat ?”

  She nodded, relieved to finally have this dark secret off her chest. “’Tis the truth, my laird. My father, Rector Farleigh, caught Tomas unawares one day. He was in the barn with my brother, and they were…you know.”

  Once more, he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do.”

  “They were being promiscuous,” she bit out swiftly.

  His gaze narrowed farther and then his black eyebrows drew together in a heavy furrow. His lips compressed into a tight line. She knew at that moment he understood.

  “Hell and damnation, you mean to tell me my brother preferred to fuck men?”

  A sennight ago, his harshly spoken words would have caused her to stammer or blush. Today she merely nodded. “To put it bluntly, aye.”

  Tavish rose from his chair and secured the whisky she first suggested. He poured a glass and tossed the drink back. Still, he shook his head. “This can’t be.”

  Itwas difficult to believe a brother of the sensual man who stood before her, a twin brother at that, could hold such different tastes. All the same, it w
as the truth. “Aye, sir. That’s why Tomas married me. ‘Tis why my family lived in such a nice home whilst the rest of the villagers had so much less. My father made a deal to keep their…indiscretion quiet. If, and only if, he took my hand in marriage, as well as lining my father’s pockets with a good deal of coin, would the matter be forgotten.”