One Night with the Laird

by Nicola Cornick

  She walked slowly across to the bed and lay back against her pillows, allowing her wrap to fall open, parting her legs, slipping a hand between her folds, stroking. She had been alone for so many years, forever really, since she and Archie had had no physical relationship. Sometimes this had given her release. She thought of Jack, imagining him teasing her nipples with his fingers and his tongue and his teeth, running his hands down her body, driving her to extremes of pleasure. The delicious ache started to build inside her, taking the latent arousal and spinning it into something stronger.

  She opened her eyes, raised her gaze to the mirror. Her hair was tumbled over her bare breasts and her legs were splayed. She looked lewd and it was exciting. Then her gaze focused on the rest of the reflection and she almost screamed. In the mirror she could see Jack, standing in the dressing room doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame, watching her. For a second she thought he must be a fantasy, conjured by her wicked thoughts. Then he spoke.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you forgot to lock the door.”

  He prowled forward into the room. His gaze was all over her, hot and smothering. She could barely breathe. She felt extraordinarily embarrassed and at the same time excited almost out of her skin to have been caught like this by him.

  He came toward her until he was no more than a few feet away. His gaze raked her, lingering on her tousled hair, her flushed face, the open robe, the parted thighs.

  “Were you thinking of me?” he asked softly.

  Shame swept through her. She did not want to have to admit that even though she had walked away from him, she still wanted him.

  He leaned down and braced a hand on either side of her against the bed head.

  “Well?” he said. He dropped his hands to her shoulders. She was still wearing the robe and his touch was hot through it.

  “Yes,” Mairi whispered, and saw the flare of triumph in his eyes and heat, and hunger.

  “Marry me, then,” he said.

  She raised her chin a notch. “No,” she said.

  She saw a flash of brilliant amusement in his eyes. “You need to learn to surrender control,” he said.

  He pulled her toward him, running a hand into her hair to hold her still as he kissed her again, long and deep, plundering her mouth. It was delicious and as carnal as she could ever have desired, his fingers teasing the sensitive tips of her breasts as a tight knot of lust pulled in her belly. She wanted to tell him to leave, but at the same time she could not bear to be cheated of her pleasure again.

  When she could not stand the friction any longer, she made a sharp noise in her throat and Jack pushed her back against the bed, drawing the robe farther apart. He pressed kisses against the hot skin of her stomach and she shuddered with need. He came back to kiss her again, his mouth slanting over hers more gently this time but still with ravenous demand. He bit down softly on her bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue. Mairi was trembling, waiting for him to shed his clothes and join her on the bed. There was such a fierce ache inside her now.

  She reached for him, wanting to touch him too, but frustratingly he withdrew from her. The bed creaked as he stood. She rolled over, suddenly frantic that he was about to leave her as unsatisfied as she had been earlier.

  He walked over to her discarded pile of clothes by the dresser, picking up the thin, battered leather belt she had borrowed from Frazer to anchor her riding breeches. She had had to tie a knot in it because it had been too long. Jack looked at it, head bent as he weighed it in his hands. Then his gaze came up.

  Mairi’s heart turned over at what she saw in his eyes. Her heart started to thump.

  “Stand up.”

  The rough order made her tremble.

  “Drop the robe.”

  Mairi hesitated. She saw him smile faintly. There was a mocking edge to it. “Scared?” he asked.

  She was but she was impossibly excited, as well. This was a game that would take her well out of her depth, but she was too aroused to back down now. The thin silk slithered down her body like a caress as it fell to pool at her feet.

  For one long moment she was aware of nothing but the heavy air of the chamber, the light and the shadows thrown by the lamp, the wood scent of the fire. She refused to meet Jack’s eyes as she stood naked before him.

  He moved in front of her. His hands smoothed over her shoulders and down her bare arms to hold her lightly. She quivered as he pulled her arms forward and with slow, deliberate movements wrapped the belt about her wrists.

  Again he waited. There was a silence. Mairi was trembling so much she thought her legs might give way. This time he moved behind her. She could feel his breath hot and fast against her back. His tongue touched her spine, tracing the line of it all the way down to the curve of her buttocks. She shivered as the goose bumps spread over her skin.

  “Very nice.” His voice was a little rough. She looked down at her wrists, tested the bonds. They were not chafing, but they were firm enough to hold her. She had wondered when he had first picked up the belt if he was going to beat her. She had heard of such practices, but they did not appeal to her. She had already learned that her body responded to pleasure that was just short of pain, but she did not want more than that. Or so she thought. She had so little experience, knew so little, really, of her body’s reactions, that she could not be completely sure.

  But she was about to learn.

  The thought made her shake all the more.

  “Walk through the dressing room and into my chamber,” Jack said.

  Mairi cast him one swift glance, but his face was impassive now. She walked ahead of him; it was not far but she felt very vulnerable and exposed, naked while he was fully clothed.

  Jack’s room was a match for hers in style and design, it even had a mirror in the same position, but it looked very different, a masculine room with the faint scent of sandalwood and leather.

  There was one other significant difference. Where she had a pair of pretty matching cottager chairs with embroidered cushions, Jack had one large leather armchair. He led her across to this one now.

  “Lean over,” he said. One hand low down on the small of her back emphasized the order. Mairi bent over the side of the chair. Her groin now rested on the padded leather arm. She was so aroused that the pressure was a torment. She put her palms flat on the leather seat, expecting Jack to release her hands from the captivity of the belt now, but then she saw that he was kneeling down, tugging on the end of the strap to draw it down and fasten it beneath the heavy wooden leg of the chair. He pulled her gently into place; the leather bit into Mairi’s wrists, obliging her to lean a little farther, arms extended across the other armrest now, legs spread wide to balance her. The tips of her breasts just touched the leather seat where a moment ago her hands had rested. Her hair fell forward, cloaking her bare shoulders.

  She caught her breath, feeling hopelessly prone, shaken, acutely vulnerable. This was wicked indeed.

  “Is this my punishment for refusing your proposal,” she said breathlessly, “or is it some sort of inducement to persuade me to marry you?”

  Jack sat back on his heels. The light was in his eyes, bright and feral.

  “It can be whatever you want it to be, darling,” he said softly. “It’s no punishment when it will be so pleasurable.”

  Her heart tumbled at the endearment. She trusted him not to hurt her and she was so aroused now that she could hardly bear it.

  “I won’t marry you,” she said stubbornly, just in case he had not taken the point.

  He smiled. “But you love me,” he said with so much smugness that she would have slapped his handsome face if her hands had been free.

  “I wish I had not told you,” she said furiously. “I am sure my feelings will be of short duration.”

  Jack laughed. “Unlike your ple
asure,” he said. “I intend to make this last as long as I can.” He stood up, the slow, heated way in which he appraised her bound body making her all the hotter and all the more furious.

  “Even nicer,” he said softly. Then: “Are you sure you really want to surrender control? This is your last chance to change your mind.”

  Mairi closed her eyes. Damn her perfidious body. She would just about explode if he stopped now. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

  Jack reached up, cupped her face in his hands and kissed with infinite sweetness, his mouth lingering on hers, parting her lips, his tongue touching hers softly. He ran his hands over her breasts, a possessive gesture that made her quiver and her body jerk in its bonds.

  When he moved behind her she closed her eyes again. He adjusted her legs a little farther apart so that she was almost on tiptoe. This felt even more wicked, even more difficult to endure. Cold air touched her cleft. Her thighs trembled. Her body felt too taut to bear, already on the edge of orgasm.

  Jack’s hands brushed over her shoulders again, moving her hair away from the nape of her neck, tracing the path they had followed before in a soft caress down her spine, then along her sides to the flare of her waist. They paused there. She felt him move and waited in urgent, unbearable anticipation to feel him inside her.

  Instead she felt something else, something silken and light, tickle the skin of her neck and the dip between her shoulder blades, following the line of her spine. She could not see what it was, a feather, perhaps. Her skin was so sensitized that the slightest flick made her tingle unbearably. The heavy scent of leather filled her nostrils, the smell so strong she felt almost drunk on it. She bowed her head between her spread arms.

  She felt the silken caress again, this time against the side of her breasts where they pressed against the leather seat. It skipped over the sensitive skin, causing her to writhe; it dipped beneath her, teasing her nipples, making her groan now in frustration.

  There was a flick across her cleft that had her jerking again in her bonds. This was fiercer than the caress of the feather, sharp, only a shade away from pain but so intense that it was almost but not quite enough to bring her to climax. She gritted her teeth and waited, aware of nothing but the thrum of need between her thighs and the hard beat of her heart.

  A second passed, two. Still she waited, her body screaming for release. She felt a stroke across her buttocks, like tongues of fire. The sensation was extraordinary. Mairi’s skin felt as though it were lifting to the touch, stinging with the most delicious mingling of pain and pleasure. She felt another stroke that was hot and sharp and in that moment she realized it was a whip, a cat-o’-nine-tails with the softest leather strands.

  Shock splintered through her. She barely had time to think before she felt another light stroke and found herself pressing her groin down hard against the arm of the chair in a vain attempt to force her body to orgasm. She had to find surcease from the desperate need that spiraled inside her, and yet it seemed impossible. Each time the whip fell it took her closer to the edge and then left her hanging there helplessly.

  She heard a sound, felt another blow that was gentle yet with a smart that made her body twitch and throb. She realized that she was on tiptoe, trying to spread her legs even wider in blatant appeal as she desperately sought fulfillment.

  She heard Jack laugh. “You are as deliciously responsive to this as I suspected you would be.”

  There was another flick, this time across her cleft, a slither of sensation that made her cry out her need. The whip danced along the vulnerable skin of her inner thighs, the caress of it both sharp and sweet. Again Mairi hung on the edge of orgasm for one long unendurable minute, waiting, wanting to beg. Then the sensation of pleasure faded just a fraction, taking her a step back from climax. She could have cried with frustration.

  Jack came back round in front of her, kneeling down. He put a hand under her chin, raising it so that she met his eyes. His own were dazzlingly bright with arousal.

  He kissed her, slowly, deeply, ran his hands all over her body, pinching her nipples lightly so that she could not help jolting against the bonds.

  “Just a little more,” he said softly. “You can take a little more.”

  Mairi was not sure that she could but she was damned if she was going to ask him to stop. She had never dreamed of such wicked, carnal pleasures.

  Jack walked away. This time Mairi turned her head to watch the reflection in the mirror, drinking it in greedily, all shame and all restraint forgotten. She shook at what she saw there, her body bound and arched over the chair, Jack with the whip in his hand.

  He came to stand behind her once more. She watched him in the mirror, waiting, nerves stretched, her body so taut it trembled. She watched as the whip fell; she saw her body rock in response to the blow, felt the bite through a haze of sensual delight.

  The tip of the whip touched the hot damp skin at the nape of her neck, then slithered all the way down her spine, feathering over her ribs, stroking her buttocks. It danced across the soft skin of her inner thighs again and brushed her cleft, curling for one unbearable moment against her nub.

  Mairi’s stomach tumbled. She let out a keening cry and felt her body rock on the very edge of orgasm. Then, as she shuddered and burned, she saw Jack reverse the whip. A second later the cold, hard wooden handle parted her folds and pressed against her nub, rubbing back and forth against her slick core in sinful caress.

  She lost all control then and tumbled over the edge of orgasm, her head filled with blinding light, the pleasure so intense she almost fainted. Her body pulled against the tug of the belt that still held her pinioned. The whip handle pressed harder against her pulsing body and she thought she would scream from the inescapable sensations, and then the head of the whip slipped deep inside her and she came again, the sensation violent and crystal-sharp, her cries muffled against the arm of the chair.

  She heard the thud as the whip hit the carpet and then Jack was filling her, taking her in long, hard strokes. She was exhausted, drained with the intensity of the experience, and in this position she could do nothing to anchor herself; her body moved helplessly to the rhythm of his as he held her hips and spread her wider and thrust deeper, harder, using her unashamedly to slake his lust this time until he too came fiercely. She felt so weak with ecstasy that when he freed her from the belt she simply slumped in his arms, eyes closed, and felt him lift her, kiss her gently, and lay her down in his bed. His arms enfolded her. His lips touched her cheek.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  “Oh yes,” Mairi said. Overwhelmed, sated, she wanted only to sleep.

  “Open your eyes,” Jack said, as he had once said to her before when they made love, and she could hear the amusement that laced his voice. It was inordinately difficult to force her eyelids to lift. They felt weighted by pure satiation.

  “Will you marry me?” he whispered as she opened her eyes a tiny bit and forced herself to focus on his face. He was smiling, his fingers tangling gently with her hair, and there was so much tenderness in his eyes that she wanted to cry out against the unfairness of it. It undermined her. He showed her everything but love.

  “No,” she said. “No, thank you.”

  “So polite.” He was looking at her with the same gentleness and suddenly Mairi could feel her heart cracking. Much more of this and she would agree to his proposal, against her better judgment, against all common sense. And that would be a disaster.

  Suddenly she felt wide awake, fear chasing away her exhaustion. She sat up. “Jack,” she said. “Don’t do this. It’s over.”

  There was sheer stupefaction in his eyes. “Is this because of what just happened?” he said. “I know I pushed you hard—”

  Mairi silenced him with her fingers pressed against his lips. “It’s nothing to do with that,” she said. “I enjoyed it.
”

  She felt him relax. “Then there is no need for us to part, ” he said. “We could continue to see each other when we return to Edinburgh—”

  Mairi shook her head. “No,” she said again.

  “If I asked you to change your mind,” Jack said. “If I tried to persuade you...” He moved to take her in his arms, but she held up a hand to ward him off.

  “Please,” she said. “Please don’t try to persuade me. I don’t want to live my life hoping against hope that one day you will learn how to love again.”

  She sat up, looking for her clothes, realizing that she had none since she had walked into the room completely naked. She certainly did not have the bravado to walk out again in the same way. This was awkward. Sliding from the bed, she grabbed Jack’s linen shirt and quickly slid it over her head. It was a mistake to borrow it; it smelled of Jack and her heart clenched with pain.

  She realized that she was waiting for him to say something and as the silence unrolled she felt hope flicker within her and knew that it would always be like this. She would wait and hope and each time the disappointment would destroy her a little more.

  “Goodbye, Jack,” she said softly. She knew that the following day they would make a public goodbye in front of everyone, but this one was just for them. She leaned down and kissed his cheek and when he still said nothing, she left.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THERE WAS A bitter little wind from the north as Mairi stood on the top of the steps at Methven waiting for the carriage to be brought round. She shivered; her summer spencer seemed too light for the chill. But perhaps the chill was inside her.

  Lucy was looking worried. “I wish you would stay a few more days,” she said anxiously. “I don’t like to think of you traveling on your own.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Mairi said. She could not wait to be away, to be alone. “You know how heavily armed Frazer and the boys are. And so am I.”