“This isnae a planned seduction, Mirabelle,” he spoke her name as if it held gold. The rough softness of his tone weakened her knees.
The look on his face…
Her eyes started burning again just seeing the adoration there, and the other, more fierce expression that she didn’t dare hope to decipher.
“No deliberate attempt to scandalize you.” He leaned close to say that, lowering his voice so no one else would hear. “A man doesnae bring shame to the woman he loves.”
“Oh!” Mirabelle jolted, the heat in her eyes spilling free, rolling down her face. She dashed at her eyes, swiped a hand across her cheek. “What are you saying?”
“Only what should be obvious, you precious minx.” Sorley grinned, using the side of his calloused thumb to wipe away her tears, “I didnae come here tonight to cause a stir. I’m here to claim you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sorley and Mirabelle approached her guest chamber just as muted laughter, and other highly suspicious noises, drifted into the corridor from the lavish confines of the nearby Rose Room. The sounds hinted that they weren’t the only ones to have left the hall’s feasting at its most lively, raucous hour. He glanced at Mirabelle beside him, aware that waiting any longer would’ve been impossible.
Hadn’t he spent a lifetime yearning for her?
“Sweet lass, hear me well before we enter this room.” He put all the love he felt for her into the endearment as he set his hand on her door latch. He didn’t open it. “No one below will doubt that you are mine. Leastways, everyone in the hall now kens that I want you.” He let his gaze flick to his MacKenzie stag’s-head brooch, pinned so proudly to her gown. “Men have seen that my intentions are honorable and earnest. Even so, I will leave you here, to your night’s rest, if you wish.”
“You know what I want.” She looked up at him, her lustrous hair spilling around her shoulders, gleaming in the light of a wall sconce. Her cheeks were flushed, Sorley hoped with pleasure and excitement. Her eyes sparkled like sapphires, lovelier than ever and filled with an emotion that humbled him, or would have if he weren’t so damned proud to see it there.
“I’ll not change my mind.” Her voice was strong, clear. “Not this night, not ever.” She touched his face, his beard. “This is about more than my asking you to ruin me for Sir John, it always has been.”
“So I have hoped.” Sorley still didn’t open the door.
“I believe you know my feelings.” She held his gaze, her courage as beguiling as her beauty. “I did not hide them in the hall, nor ever.”
Sorley lifted a brow, almost reminding her that once, long ago, she had indeed done so.
Or so he’d come to believe.
Not that it mattered.
Past deeds might make someone who they were, even marking them, but what truly counted was the path stretching ahead, the tomorrows to come, and he meant to spend every one of his with the woman he loved.
“If I cross this threshold, there’ll be no going back. No restraint.” He gave her a final chance. “I will ravish you in there, as I have e’er dreamt of doing. Thoroughly, completely, and until we are both so replete, so sated, that we cannae move. Then we shall begin again.”
“And I shall see my most fervent desire fulfilled.” She placed her hand atop his on the latch, pressing down so they opened the door, together.
A fire burned low on the grate, casting the room in a rosy glow. Someone had lit a brazier in the corner, its small flame and warmth having drawn her kitten, who slept curled before it, the sight of the kitten’s ease making Sorley more glad than ever that he’d fetched the wee creature. Mirabelle was watching the mite, the look on her face enough to send him out to rescue every poor cat in the land.
Indeed, he might—if she asked it of him.
He set a hand on her waist, turning her back to him, intending to kiss her, then remove her clothes, bit by bit, until everything she wore slid down her lush body and pooled on the floor around her feet.
As if she knew, she glanced at his hand, and then met his gaze, her beautiful eyes shimmering with happiness. With great care, almost reverence, she unclasped his brooch and moved away to place it on the table. The way she handled it, as if the pin was crafted not of somewhat-battered, age-worn bronze, but costliest jewels, did terrible things to a place deep inside his soul.
Indeed, if he’d ever known love could beset a man so roundly, he might never have crossed that crowded hall at her uncle’s feast all those years ago. For truth, emotion rode him so hard, he could feel his eyes misting, so powerful were his feelings for her.
“Lass…” His voice was rough, his chest tight. “Come here, I would hold you, kiss you.”
“More, I hope,” she spoke boldly. “We have waited overlong, I think.” She glanced at his brooch again, a smile playing about her lips. “I’d have you know that you won my heart years ago, at my uncle’s celebration. It never mattered to me that you couldn’t name your parents. I left you because my father’s guard was a brutal man. A clan champion who, back then, would’ve loved nothing more than taking you out into the courtyard and—”
“I ken that, sweet.” He did, the surety of it having come to him in recent days. He did know women, and Mirabelle’s heart aye shone in her eyes. “Though I vow I would’ve put a few bruises on him, even then.”
He flashed his best smile, striding toward her, not wanting to speak of that distant night. “He matters no more, my heart. Naught else is of importance, but that we—”
“Well…” She came to him and slid her arms around his waist, leaning into him. “It is a grand thing that you’ve learned who your mother was, and that you’ll meet your father when you ride north with Grim. I hope you’ll take me with you.” She lifted up on her toes and kissed him, lightly, expectantly. “That would be wonderful.”
“You are wonderful, lass.” He stepped back then, knowing she wouldn’t like what he was about to say. Setting his hands on her shoulders, he spoke plainly. “I dinnae think you’d enjoy journeying with me. You wouldnae be pleased by what happens when I meet the man who sired me. I’ve waited long for the day, and there is much that must be said to him. My words willnae be kind.” He stroked the curve of her cheek, using his knuckles to soften her frown. “There is no place in my world for a man who caused such grief, especially to my mother.”
Mirabelle’s chin came up. “He will be older now, and surely regrets the past. He’ll want—”
“I want you.” Pushing Archibald MacNab from his mind, Sorley’s need for her raged. His blood heated, his restraint gone.
She surely sensed the change in him with a woman’s sensual instinct, for she placed a hand to her breast as she watched him. The return of her smile, a tremulous, excited one, stirred him more than if she’d reached out and seized his aching hardness.
“You know I yearn for the same, for you, Sorley, only you.” Her words sealed their future.
He’d never let her go. Not for her father, the King, or even a greater power.
“May I?” He flicked a glance at her gown, sharply aware that he’d never in his life asked a woman’s permission to unclothe her.
Nor had he ever felt a need to prolong the pleasure, removing garments slowly, for the pure joy of savoring each new inch of bared skin.
He wanted to do more than savor Mirabelle.
He intended to worship her.
“You may do anything,” she spoke softly, her acquiescence setting him like granite.
“Sweet lass, you dinnae ken what you do to me.” He began untying her bodice laces, his need flaring even more when her breath caught and a tremor rippled through her. His fingers brushed the top swells of her breasts, their soft, smooth warmth making him mad for her. “I may no’ last until I’ve undressed you.”
“Then I should warn you that we’ll be done here anon, for you shan’t need long to do so.” She smiled as he loosened the ties and her gown began to slide down, freeing her breasts, her hips. “I am naked beneath.”
> “By all the gods!” Sorley’s entire body tightened, his pulse roaring, as the gown fell to her feet and she kicked it aside to stand fully unclothed and proud before him, her back straight, and the rest of her…
“You will be my end, lass.” He could hardly speak, scarce heard his own words for the blood pounding at his ears. Other parts of him throbbed in a worse way, but he used all his strength to ignore the fire raging at his loins, the rampant desire that made the hard length of him strain against its confinement.
He gripped her chin, lifting her face to his, looking deep into her eyes. “Never have I desired another woman more than you, Mirabelle. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, those many years ago. My need for you hasnae diminished in all that time. If anything, it’s worsened, consuming me so that I hoped for nothing else than to someday claim you, to make you mine at last.”
He thrust a hand into her hair, lifting it back from her face, twining the thick, glossy strands through his fingers. “I just ne’er thought the day would come, ne’er would’ve believed such a blessing.”
“No, that is you, Sorley.” She held his gaze, the truth ringing in her words making his heart thunder.
Sure no gift under the heavens could be greater, he scooped up her gown and draped it over a chair. When he turned back to her, she hadn’t moved, made no attempt to conceal her nakedness.
How glorious she was!
He let his gaze glide over her, appreciatively. He looked his fill, loving the smooth sleekness of her skin, almost rosy in the firelight. She stood perfectly still, proud and beautiful. Her wild flame-bright curls were delightfully tousled, temptingly framing her lovely face and shoulders, a skein of wonder tumbling to her hips. Other curls, of a deeper bronze, beckoned at the top of her shapely thighs. She was graced with the most exquisite breasts he’d ever seen. Full, round, and creamy, their lushness made his jaw clench and his manhood burn even hotter.
When her already-pert nipples tightened beneath his gaze, he could withhold himself no more.
“You are more beautiful even than I imagined.” He swept an arm around her, pulling her to him. He touched his free hand to her shoulder, brushed back her hair. “I would ravish you, lass. I must.”
“Then do,” she urged, her eyes darkening as she slid her arms around him, holding fast to his sword-belt as if she’ll fall otherwise.
Sorley needed no further encouragement. “I would kiss every inch of you,” he vowed, cupping her breast, kneading and squeezing her ripe curves, loving how responsively her nipples pebbled beneath his palm. His need blazing, he lowered his head and captured one of them with his lips, drawing deep, circling the puckered tip with his tongue. He licked and suckled, again and again until he could feel her melting against him.
She gasped and swayed, as if her knees buckled. He tightened his arm about her waist, still suckling her, swirling his tongue around and over her luscious nipple.
“Dear saints.” Mirabelle clung to him, gripping his belt as she stared at his dark head, his shining black hair swinging across his plaid-draped shoulder as he kissed and licked her breasts.
Sensations spiraled inside her, racing everywhere like rivers of tingling, molten fire. The secret place between her thighs pulsed and warmed, feeling heavy and aching, deliciously. Never had she felt such unrestrained bliss, need and desire so intense that she bit down on her lip, so hard she almost tasted blood.
Sorley pulled back, his gaze locking on hers as he smoothed his hand down from her breasts, across her belly, and then right between her legs. He cupped her there, the firm pressure of his palm against her hot and needy female flesh almost too wondrous to bear.
“What are you doing?” She knew, but even daring as she believed herself, she couldn’t put words to how his questing fingers stroked her so intimately, rubbing her oh-so-gently. How could such a light touch make her feel as if she would shatter any moment?
“Such a caress is only the beginning.” He drew one finger along the center of her slick, swollen flesh, his gaze wicked, burning. “The pleasure will spike when I do this…” He let the promise hang in the air, touching the tip of his finger to a tiny, highly sensitive spot, circling with slow deliberation, driving her wild.
She gasped, half frustrated, straining toward something she could feel spinning to a brilliant, dazzling conclusion, while the other half of her hoped the whirl of heady sensation wouldn’t stop.
“Open to me, let me see all of you.” His voice was rough and deep, the purpose of his words sending another floodtide of lush, languid heat streaming across her most womanly place.
“Spread your legs, wider. Let me see more, so lovely are you.” He knelt before her, steadying her by placing his hands on her hips. “That’s my lass…” He coaxed her, his finger still circling, the slow, sensual rubbing good beyond anything she’d ever felt. She started rocking her hips, running her fingers through his hair, pushing herself against his bliss-spending hand. “More, lass, I cannae see enough.”
“I vow you can.” She glanced aside, sure she was about to hurtle over a glittering, looming precipice. Liquid tingles, hot and urgent, pooled at her core, delicious quivers rippling all through her, the pleasure searing. “You are seeing more of me than anyone ever has.”
“Nor shall any other man enjoy such a privilege,” he returned, his stroking fingers more insistent now, skilled and possessive. “Only a bit wider, sweet, for ease…”
Mirabelle dug her hand in his hair and felt her world dipping, spinning away from her.
“Open to me,” he urged again, using the edge of his thumb to circle her now, his other fingers teasing the soft skin of her inner thighs.
“Aye, just so,” he sounded pleased when she did as he bid.
She stood with her legs parted, too swept away by desire to feel shame at the intimacies bared to him, his breath even warming her there.
“Oh!” She looked down again, sure he wouldn’t put his mouth on her.
He was watching her, his roguish smile, the hunger in his eyes, chasing the last shred of her modesty. “Dinnae refuse me this pleasure, lass.” His breath tickled her again, stirring her intimate curls. “You are tastier than any delicacy at the King’s most lavishly spread table. I could feast on you for hours, even days, and still want more. So ravenous am I for you.” Proving it, he leaned forward and dragged his mouth across her belly, nuzzled his face against her damp curls, inhaling as he did. “Your scent sets me afire. So rich, so good…”
Mirabelle shivered at the provocative appreciation in his low, deep voice. Flames of her own licked across her skin, melting her inside.
Then he did what she’d known he would, kissing her there where she burned the hottest, tingled so maddeningly. He opened his mouth over her, licking her most lasciviously. And still, he circled the pad of his thumb over that one spot that seemed the center of all pleasure.
Her heart raced, everything in her tightening as he kissed and licked her, ravishing her indeed. He looked up at her as he did so, his dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. His gaze held passion and want, raw desire that made what he was doing to her an even headier delight.
Or so she thought until he replaced his circling thumb with his tongue, flicking its tip back and forth over her tingling, pulsing flesh, the tiny nub that quivered with such intense sensation it was unbearable.
“Relax.” He slid a hand behind her, splaying his fingers across the curve of her bottom, holding her steady. “Let me give you this, show you how much I want you.”
“You are.” She couldn’t say more. She was breathless, falling into an abyss, the room darkening as his tongue lashed at her, licking the length of her, swirling over that one maddening spot.
Then he stopped there, taking that place into his mouth, drawing on her, gently. She cried out, her entire body trembling with her release, the unexpected rush of such intense, all-consuming bliss.
Sensation swept her, endless waves of dizzying pleasure. She felt her hips arching, knew she
was pushing herself against him. As if from a great distance, she heard a sound, almost a deep, dark growl, purely masculine. It was hard to tell because she was melting into him, disappearing as surely as morning sun banishes mist.
As she floated, she was vaguely aware of him scooping her into his arms and carrying her across the room, where he lowered her carefully onto the bed. Half sure she was dreaming, she opened her eyes to see him standing a few feet away, undoing the shoulder clasp that held his plaid.
He was looking right at her, his gaze dark and fierce.
Mirabelle’s heart started pounding again, her blood heating anew. As long as she could remember, or so it seemed, she’d dreamed of this moment. Seeing Sorley before her now, his magnificence limned by the firelight, so much passion and love on his face, was almost more than she could bear. She trembled, her breath quickening as he pulled off his plaid and let it fall to the floor. His shirt followed, disappearing in an eye-blink. His eagerness to be naked with her excited her so much that the hot tingling between her thighs returned, the sensations almost overpowering. She shifted on the bed, so in love, so impatient to be in his arms. She burned for him to make her his at last, in all ways.
“I dinnae do this lightly, lass.” He set his hand on the wolf’s-head buckle of his sword-belt. “You ken I have ne’er lain with a virgin, ne’er despoiled a highborn lady.” He unhooked his belt, threw it aside, coming forward to stand right before the bed’s edge.
“I’m no’ ruining a lady now either.” He shoved down his hose, stepped out of them. “I am claiming you, Mirabelle. I am taking what is mine and what I’ve wanted for so long. There is no shame, no scandal in what we are about to do. You shall be my bride, my lady wife for the rest of our days. All that is happening now is that I’m about to show you how much I love and desire you, as I have always done.”
“Oh, Sorley, you know I lost my heart to you that long-ago night.” Mirabelle pressed a hand to her mouth, unable to say more. Her throat was too thick, her joy too great. She opened her arms to him, awed to see how ready he was to do as he’d vowed.
To Love a Highlander Page 28