A Gift of Myrrh

by Jodi Lynn Copeland

  Her own juices.

  As if that knowledge spoke to a primal part of her, the part that could wait no longer, Kristiana gripped his shoulders and pulled him more tightly to her. The staccato beat of his heart leapt in time with her own, and she fixed on his gaze through the darkness. “I want you, Tavish. I want to feel you inside me.”

  “And I want you, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. But…”

  She forced herself to move past the sensations he built inside, to concentrate on the man and whatever it was that plagued him. “Aye? But what? ‘Tis meant to be.”

  “This is what you truly want? Me?”

  “Aye.” She wanted him for now and ever. If asked a sennight ago she would have thought it impossible to love the devil Englishman. But now she knew better. Now she knew he was no more English than she. Certainly not where his loyalties and heart lay. And he was no devil, no scoundrel. Had he been a scoundrel he would have taken her that afternoon on the snow, or again that night in his chamber. He’d turned her away for her own good, she knew that now, and loved him all the more for it.

  Aye, she loved him. And she couldn’t admit it if she had any chance of becoming and remaining his mistress. Not unless what the villagers said was true, and he returned her affections.

  Kristiana drew a courage fortifying breath and asked the question that had burned at her for many long hours. “Do you like me, Tavish?”

  He chuckled heartily as he pressed the weight he had held back against her center. His strong, thick shaft stroked her cleft and sent her internal fire burning anew. “I told you I want you. Can you not feel for yourself?”

  “Aye, I can feel. I meant care for me? Do you care for me?”

  He hesitated for a long moment, a moment where she held her breath for fear he would deny her, and then said, “You‘re family. How could I not?”

  Her guts curled with the accusation. It was far worse than saying he didn’t care at all. “Family?” she gasped, her voice rising an octave with each word. “We’re not family. We’re…”

  All amusement was gone, when he prompted, “What? What are we, Kristi?”

  “We’re lovers. Make me yours, Tavish. Please.”

  “Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked once more.

  She sighed out her answer. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.” And then her lips were fierce upon his, asking, taking. Demanding.

  Tavish had never tasted such wild abandon. He knew she gave him everything in that kiss, and he couldn’t stop himself from replying in turn. He wanted to be buried to the hilt, deep in her slippery cunt at this very moment. To grind his cock against her swollen pussy and show her all the things she’d gone so long without. He knew he needed to take things slowly this first time. For her. She deserved it.

  Petting her ass, he lowered his mouth to her firm, high breasts and caught an erect nipple in his lips. The flavor that had cloaked his senses the entire day exploded against his tongue yet again. The prose left his mouth before he could stop it. “A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts…”

  His fingers buried into her slick vulva as the words continued to pour out from a place he thought to have died long ago. He might have worried over the reopening of that particular spot—his deeply buried heart—were it not for the moisture that seeped from her body. “I thought you cared naught for my pretty words, Kristi. I can feel the effect they have on you. They make you so very wet.”

  She bucked against his hand, burying his questing fingers until they rubbed against her maidenhead. “Aye, sir. You make me wet. You make me unbearably hot. Please, Tavish, take me now. Make me yours.”

  She had begged him for the same two nights prior and that night he’d done the honorable thing and turned her away. Tonight he couldn’t honor her, but he would soon. Very soon, if she wished it so.

  Of course, Kristiana would want to be his bride. Though he had managed to convince himself such a thing was not possible, that a woman could not love without reason, without a grander goal in mind, she had made him believe to the contrary. She cared for him, of that he was certain. Did she love him? Yes or no, it was of no consequence, and still he could not stop from asking. “Do you care for me, Kristi?”

  She stilled and stared at him through the darkness. “What?”

  “You asked me if I cared for you, now I must know the same. Do you care for me?”

  Several long seconds passed, seconds that seemed a lifetime to Tavish and his only company was the hammering of his heart. Finally, she reached up and caressed his cheek. “Aye, my laird, I care. And not as a brother.”

  That place that had reopened moments before—that place he cared not to acknowledge as his heart—warmed with her response. Despite his vow to never again fall to the trappings of something as folly as emotion, he smiled and stroked her cheek in return. “I care for you too. But not as a strumpet.”

  Kristiana’s hand ceased and she drew a loud breath. “Tavish, I care more than you know. I…I…”

  He silenced her with his mouth before she could utter another word, the word he feared hearing more than any other. He would make her his wife, and he would care for her, but he wasn’t prepared for more than that. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

  Breaking the kiss, he rolled from her to divest himself of his breeches. He returned to her then, stroking his fingers against her still damp pussy until a new gathering of moisture grew dense against her nether lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and arched against his touch. “Now, Tavish. We wait no more.”

  No matter what they might disagree on later, with this he was in complete agreement. He’d waited too long to feel her long legs wrapped around his waist, her silky cunt parted around his shaft as he drove her to fulfillment. His cock throbbed even as he thought it, and he rose up to kiss her as he centered himself between her legs. Sucking on her full lower lip, he edged the head of his penis into her opening and was rewarded with her muscles contracting around him, striving to pull him in.

  “There will be pain,” he uttered, lifting her hips slightly.

  She shook her head and lifted her hips higher, to a point that would prove gratifying soon, but for now would cause her unnecessary anguish. “Nay, only pleasure. Don’t stop.”

  “We must go slowly,” he bit out as she gyrated against him, her drenched lips sliding back and forth over his throbbing tip, and bringing a growl deep into his throat.

  “Fast.”

  “Kristiana, be reasonable,” he all but begged.

  “On the morrow. On the morrow I will be reasonable. Tonight, I wish not to think.”

  She caught him off guard, swiftly kicking the mattress, and rolled them until he lay beneath her on the bed, and then she did something he never saw coming. She impaled herself on him. A muted gasp tore from her lips even as a cry of pleasure ripped from his. He reached for her, pulling her tight against his body, but she reared back and placed her hands upon his chest.

  “The pain is gone, my laird. Now I feel only pleasure.”

  There was no denying the lust deep in her throaty tone. Nor the wetness that seeped around his cock. And when she raised her hips, lifting herself up his rigid length then bringing herself soundly down, there was no denying his inability to go slow. He needed to go fast every bit as much as she did.

  Reaching between them he cupped her buttocks in his palms and lifted her into the pace she had already set. The tight muscles of her cunt contracted around him with each thrust of his shaft, her fingernails pinched into his flesh. Their breathing rent the silence of the night as the scent of their sex stole through the air. With every smack of his balls against her ass he drew closer to the brink, to a place he once believed he’d been many times before but now he wasn’t so sure. The need that churned through him was more than he’d ever felt, it was mystical and frightening and undeniable.

  Kristiana’s cry of ecstasy shook him from his reverie. “Oh my…I…I’m going
to…explode.”

  Holding tight to the reins of his control, he quickened his thrusts into her slick, tight pussy, pressing hard against her clitoris until her limbs trembled and her fingernails dug near painfully into the muscles of his chest. What he felt for her didn’t matter now. Nothing did but feeling her come apart in his arms.

  “That’s it, darling. Come for me, Kristi. Drench me with your juices.”

  And she did. As her hot come flowed over his cock, soaking his balls and the bed beneath them, his own release shook through him. The force of the orgasm shuddered though his limbs, blinding him in its strength until it was beyond him to guide her any longer. And then she took over for him, milking his shaft with her taut, quivering cunt as she drew up and down his rock solid length.

  “That’s it, darling. Come for me, Tavish,” she mimicked, her voice a throaty purr that spoke to him like no other. “Drench me with your juices.”

  And he did. With the force of a charging destrier he spilled his seed into her womb, making her his for eternity.

  With his cock still buried deeply inside her, she laid her head against his chest, her long hair fanning out in silken waves that tickled and enticed in accord. Her slender fingers curled within his, locking their hands. And, a very foolish part of him added, their hearts. It had to be a foolish part, because as much as he might care for her, he didn’t love her. Couldn’t love her. No matter if his heart lay open or closed, love was not possible. It was an emotion he was simply incapable of feeling.

  Yet he couldn’t stop from rising to place a kiss on her forehead and whispering, “Good night, my love,” as her soft, even breathing grew shallow with sleep.

  * * * * *

  Kristiana woke with a smile on her face that only grew bigger when she stared upon the man she loved. Sunlight burned through the large windows and, though it was winter outside, it was cozy in this chamber. Cozy and perfect. She could spend her entire day in bed with Tavish and not grow bored.

  She coasted her gaze down the length of him, taking in his hard, muscular body as she’d been unable to do in the darkness. She’d once compared him to a warrior. She’d been accurate. His face was strong and angular with a day’s growth of black beard shadowing its contours. His torso was rippled with thick muscle and his arms and thighs corded with the same. And his sex was thick, strong…and already awake.

  With a soft laugh she drew down to take his engorged shaft into her mouth, stilling when his scarred calf came into sight. She lowered on the bed to run her fingers over the uneven and broken skin. “What happened to you, my love?”

  “One of your bloody Englishmen.”

  She jerked upright in the bed and swiveled to stare at him. “You’re awake.”

  The crooked grin claimed his face and while she had always thought his black eyes soulless or at the very least sinful, they seemed to smile at her too. “Did you think I could sleep with you staring upon my cock as though to have it for breakfast?”

  She smiled back, realizing he had been awake during her inspection of his body. How much longer had he been awake? Had he looked upon her with such abandon? Heat swept through her and wetness gathered between her tingling thighs at the idea of him inspecting her so thoroughly.

  She rose up to his lips and brushed a soft kiss there. “Had you slept longer I may have done just that.”

  “Then perhaps I shall.”

  His eyes fell closed and for an instant she thought how sweet he looked like this, with his long, dark lashes framing his handsome face. Then his manhood prodded into her thigh and she knew better. As much as she wished to feel him inside her again, she longed to know the answer to her question more. “Tell me.”

  He opened his eyes and drew his arms around her back, pulling her tight against him. His shaft rubbed against her cleft and she bit back her moan. “Tell you what, my lady? How I delight in sliding my cock into the pretty pink folds of your pussy?”

  After last night and her own bold usage of bawdy terms, she was certain she was past blushing over his words, and still she couldn’t fight the sting that claimed her cheeks. “Nay, not that. About this Englishman of yours.”

  He stilled and his lips fell flat. “It’s not a pretty story. Certainly not near so pretty as the other I wished to tell.”

  “I wish to hear it all the same,” she pressed. “And if you tell it well enough, I’ll allow you to tell your other story next.”

  His grin returned with her words, but failed to reach his eyes. “It’s about Tomas.”

  Her heart squeezed with grief, hearing the sorrow in his words. While he’d not had the opportunity to know his brother well, it was clear he’d cared for the man. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  Tavish’s gaze narrowed. “My loss? He was your husband, Kristi. You never felt anything for him? Not even a little?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer his question. Did he wish to think she had cared for him? Regardless of what he wanted to hear, she wouldn’t lie. She never lied. At least she tried not to. “Aye. I cared for him…as a brother.”

  The smile returned to his eyes, and Kristiana’s heart exploded with the truth of his feelings. He loved her too. He truly felt those affections Mary spoke of. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then drawing a long breath, blurted, “I can’t wait any longer. I will quite simply burst if I don’t say it. I lo—”

  “Tomas was part of the group to flee with Prince Charles,” he cut her off in a rush. “I spotted them leaving by accident. No sooner had I seen them then a redcoat took after the pack. Tomas was in the rear.”

  He took a deep breath and stilled to look at her, as if she might want to continue what she had begun. She did want to, but now she wanted to hear his story more. They had an entire lifetime to share their love. She would speak the words soon enough.

  “It didn’t matter then what colors we wore,” he continued, “all I saw was my brother, my twin. I took off after him, but by the time I reached him it was too late to do anything more than drag his body into hiding.” His voice cracked and his tone went down a level. Her heart hurt for the pain he must have suffered that day. To think she’d blamed him for being a faithless Englishman, a devil no less. She’d been so wrong about him, so wrong about many things.

  “No matter his injuries, I hoped to save him, to spend the time together we’d been deprived of all those years, to know the man he‘d become.”

  “Was he alive then?” she had to ask, had to know something, anything to help her visualize what happened that day, how he’d felt. “Did you speak with him?”

  “He said one word, ‘brother’. He might have said more, but just then another soldier appeared. I don’t know how he found us in the brush, but he did and he spared no time in making his presence known. He got off a single shot before I could get his pistol away from him, and then he pulled a dirk.” His voice went grim as he pegged her with a chilly look. “My leg might look unfavorable, but I’m alive. I can’t say so much for your Englishman.”

  Kristiana shuddered involuntarily and curled closer, needing his heat, his strength in a way she couldn’t explain. “He wasyour Englishman. And I’m glad he’s no longer.”

  “And I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You are?”

  He nodded, his serious countenance slipping away to reveal an errant grin. “Yes. I find I have an obsession for newly-made strumpets in the morning.”

  She laughed then gasped as his fingers slid from her back to grasp her buttocks. They slid lower, until he pierced her mound from behind and strummed his long fingers against her swelling sex. She’d been sore upon first waking, but now that he stroked her damp inner folds, she knew nothing but ecstasy.

  Lowering to his mouth, she licked her tongue across the seam of his lips, dipping into their center for just an instant. “I find I have an obsession for you.”

  “I find I want to tell that other story now.”

  “I find myself growing wet just waiting.”

  * * *
* *

  Tavish whistled the entire ride down the mountain to Landon. It was foolish behavior reserved for smitten lads who knew no better and still he couldn’t stop himself. He could’ve easily spent the day in bed with Kristiana. Only he wouldn’t do her such an injustice. If they were to spend the day abed gossip would start, and he wouldn’t dishonor her so. Soon they would be wed, and then they would spend as many days in their bed as it so pleased them.

  Presuming she agreed.

  Of course she would agree, he told himself for the second time in the last twenty four hours. She cared for him deeply, were he to guess what she meant to tell him the night before and again this morning. Once they were wed she could speak those words and perhaps, though he would by no means hold his breath, there might come a time when he could repeat them and mean it.