by D. K. Combs
“My lady,” he grated against her lips, threatening to shatter the illusion of safety and desire. “You—are married.”
She shook her head, holding his jaw tighter, demanding that he kiss her back. “No. He is gone, long gone, and never to return. Alec,” she hissed against his lips, meeting his eyes. “Just kiss me.”
He stared up at her through a narrow gaze, obviously seeking the truth to her words. Her jaw ticked, and then she pulled aside her shift to reveal the scar along her shoulder. It was tiny, and had never bothered her after it happened—but that didn’t mean it didn’t serve as a reminder of her past, of her first marriage.
That scar, while never brought to the forefront and always hidden in the back of her mind, was a small reminder as to why she would never—not ever—marry again, no matter how kind, powerful, and compassionate a man may be.
Alec was no different.
Then why are you baring your scares to him, you fool?
She ignored the voice as she watched the emotions fly across his face. First confusion, then realization. Then determination.
“He hurt you,” Alec murmured, his deep voice thick with pain. This man, this man who barely knew her, was feeling the same pain she had, without even knowing the full circumstances—circumstances she had no intention on sharing right this minute.
“He was a monster,” she corrected, tracing a finger over Alec’s jaw. A thought came to her, a dark thought, a liberating thought. Her only time with another man had been horrible. She’d had no fun, no pleasure. She had always been certain it would be that way with other men, until meeting Alec. Until tasting his kiss. Until he’d held her so tenderly yet firmly that she had no choice but to let her body submit to him.
Now, above Alec and feeling all the power in the world because of it, she whispered words to him that had never come from her before. Words that had weighed heavily inside of her for so long came out in a way that truly did liberate her—because right now, she had the power to make another man lose his mind.
“He never kissed me properly,” she whispered, lowering her lashes. Shy—she was shy, yes. She had every right to be. But Alec, the way his hand left her back to touch her neck, to tilt her head and place his lips upon hers, gave her strength.
“He never…he never held me properly.”
Alec rolled her over, still keeping his an arm around her, the other used to brace himself above her. His body was pressed flush against hers, every inch of their bodies in as much contact with the other as possible.
“He never—never undressed me properly.”
Alec sat up enough to reach for the hem of her shift with one hand, and her back arched, a small gasp leaving her lips when his fingers brushed against her bare skin, revealing herself fully to him.
For the first time in her life, she was bare. In front of a man. Completely; in more ways than even her husband had been privilege to. At least with her husband, he had kept the lights low. With Alec, and the light of the moon pouring through the lone window, she knew the blue glow highlighted the curves of her body as surely as they highlighted his.
Staring above her, heart in her throat and legs willingly open for the first time in her life, Blayne Shaw knew one thing—she was going to let Alec take her.
She just prayed she enjoyed it.
Alec stared down at her, mind whirling, confused, lost—and clouded by need.
It was a dangerous combination, but he couldn’t make himself step away from her. She was like an innocent, shy, yet demanding little creature underneath him, and he found himself needing to take her—no, dying to take her.
For the first time in his life, Alec was letting a woman get to him.
And not just any woman.
Blayne Shaw. The one woman who was everything wrong for him, the one woman he should be carting back to her father. It might be safer for her at his keep for the moment, but the second Alec started having these thoughts, he should have taken her back. It would have been the honorable thing, the reasonable, and practical thing.
Alec lowered his head to her neck, brushing his lips against her skin. Soft, delicate, marred by the stained memory of a man who should have protected her, not hurt her.
Reason and practicality ran away like a coward in the face of death.
With a groan, he fisted the sheets in his hand. The internal war within him was coming to an end, his senses stripped by the scent of his woman—no. Not his. Blayne was not his, would never be his. He would sooner die than ask Kane Shaw, a man he respected above all else, for his daughter’s hand—especially knowing the weight of memories she carried.
That was the one thing that made him pause.
Flashbacks to her eyes, to the lifeless gaze, came back to him. After he had kissed her the first time, she had not been impassioned. She had not been heated and filled with need. She had been desolate and distraught, a whole other woman he didn’t know existed.
“My lady,” he grated against her flesh, bowing his head. He wanted her, wanted this—but not at the cost of her anguish. “When I last kissed you—”
“I’m over it. Alec… Alec, I want you. Please—” If it weren’t for the fact that he could hear the desire in her voice, he would have pulled away completely.
But he heard it.
So he didn’t.
Groaning, he threaded his hand into the back of her hair and dragged her lips to his, pouring all of his desire for her into it. She clung to him, arms and legs wrapping around him, holding him tightly. He could feel her core pressing against his cock, and it was all he could do not to adjust himself and slam home.
He wanted her to enjoy this. He wanted her to relish their one time together—because any more than this would be tempting with fire. Alec would let the two of them lose control this once, but no more.
So this first time together…he wanted it to be perfect.
Alec nipped her lip gently, then kissed a trail down her jaw, to her neck. She moaned, arching against him, but he just went lower. To her collarbone. To the swell of her breast, until he was eye level with a cherry tip.
He looked up at her, saw her inhale sharply. He saw the excitement and confusion.
A grin spread across his face before he leaned down, taking her nipple into his mouth. At the first taste of her, they both moaned. Him, because of the sweet, delicate taste of her, and her, because he knew it had to feel good—just by the way she arched against him.
His tongue laved against her nipple, ringing moan after moan, until she was whimpering and gyrating against him, her body undulating in a way that told him she was desperate for him.
“Alec, my lord… Oh, God, please. I need you—”
He had had every intention of making this last, of getting as much out of her as he could, of relishing every second, every moan, every sigh, and every soft gasp of his name. But the second those words were out of her mouth, his resolve crumbled like a wall under siege.
Alec gave her breast one last gentle nip, then sat back, taking her by her knees and scooting her up.
“Is this your first—”
Black locks shook on the pillow.
No. His chest tightened at the thought, but it was quickly wiped away when he saw how desperately she was gazing up at him. Her body was open and willing, wet. He’d felt it against his cock when she had rubbed against him. As much as he wanted to slam home, he refused.
This would be different than his conquests before, and he would make sure that she enjoyed it.
Positioning himself at her core, Alec gingerly pressed forward, body straining with every movement. He wanted to enter her, but watching her face, watching the underlying uncertainty mix with pleasure, had him moving cautiously.
This would not be something for her to regret, he promised himself.
When most of his length was inside of her, her walls tightening and convulsing around him to adjust to his size, he pressed home, firmly pushing inside of her.
They both moaned.
; “Gods, lass, yer so wet around me,” he groaned, head dropping into the crook of her neck.
Her only response was a half laugh, half moan, and he took that as a sign to move. He pumped smoothly inside of her, their bodies acting like they were made for each other. For each push from him, he was met with a pull from her. They moved in a fluid, heated motion, and he never would have guessed the woman coming alive underneath him was the same one who had stared at him with a soulless gaze after a single kiss.
Alec thrust against her, nearly so entranced by her beauty that he almost forgot how to move. Her black hair was spread on the pillow like a silken sheet, and her cheeks were flushed, brushed with pink. The contrast was great against her pale skin, and he found it…beautiful.
She was beautiful.
Like a delicate, gorgeous goddess, she gave herself to him freely.
Wrong—it was all wrong. What they were doing, what he was thinking about this woman—it was wrong and forbidden and would surely start a war between two powerful clans.
But nothing about this felt wrong. Nothing felt forbidden. It all felt…right.
The thought was terrifying.
“Alec, I would like—like you to go faster,” she whimpered, turning her head into the pillow. Embarrassment twisted her features, as if she couldn’t believe she was asking for it.
He grinned.
“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he growled, pulling back to once again take her thighs. He didn’t stop in thrusting against her, and when her legs were laid up his shoulders with her ass bouncing against his thighs, he lost himself in the sensation.
“Oh, oh—Alec—” The squeal ended on a loud, beautiful, throaty moan as he started to pump himself inside of her in earnest. Just watching her face contort in overwhelming pleasure was enough to have his ballocks tightening with his release.
He pounded into her, their bodies slapping together, moans mixing into the air and echoing around the chamber, until he felt her walls start to convulse in a budding orgasm. He cursed, feeling his release overcome him, and dropped her legs, bending down to take her lips with his, hand covering her breast and gently twisting her nipple.
Her breath started to come in short gasps, and that’s when he knew it was starting. When her nails dug into his back, her core clenching like a vise around him, he groaned into the kiss—and that’s when they crested.
Blayne’s head pressed back into the pillow as her lips left his to cry out, arms tightening around him with more strength than he would have guessed.
“Alec,” she cried, trembling underneath him. “Alec, I—”
He came. Right then, with his name on her lips, he came and it lasted so long he swore he saw the heavens behind his lids. When he opened them, he was greeted to long lashes sweeping over pink cheeks—and a happiness he had never felt before filled him.
No words needed to be said between the two of them. All it took was her body relaxing into his as he rolled to his side, her arms curling around him.
“It never felt that good,” she whispered. “It never felt so…”
She trailed off, obviously at a loss for words.
“I ken,” he said, pulling her body flush against his. They laid on their side, her tucked firmly against his chest, ass tucked into his hips. If he hadn’t come hard enough to stop breathing, he would be rolling her over for another round.
But, alas, this was just as well.
Nay, more than well.
This was…heavenly.
“Did it feel as good for you?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Even without…hurting me?”
“Yes.”
“And you…finished?”
“Yes.”
“And—”
He chuckled, until he realized one horrible, terrifying thing.
He’d come.
Alec had come, within the lass. A lass who had never bore a child before, who was more than likely ripe for the picking, who was the daughter of a clan that would obliterate his.
Cold sweat broke out across his chest and he pulled back, chest heaving.
“Lass, we’ve—we’ve made a grave mistake,” he said, voice far away. “We’ve made a grave mistake and have doomed our clans to war.”
She tilted her head to the side, obviously not catching what was making him so sick.
Hand shaking, he touched her stomach.
“I’ve planted my seed within you,” he said slowly, trying to make sure she understood.
“What, like a gardener plants a potato patch?” She laughed, turning around to face him, the joy across her face making him ill.
He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “No, lass. Like a man plants a bairn in his woman.”
That sucked the laughter right out of her.
“You’re jesting,” she said. “Surely you’re jesting, my lord. I—we—bairns? That’s preposterous!”
“Nay,” he said, head falling back into the pillow, facing away from her. This would bring about the end. He had known to stay away from her, to send her back. He had known to avoid this at all costs; and yet his body had overwhelmed his mind—a feat that not even he had seen coming.
His mind was a powerful thing. He was one of the few people he knew that had the experience and will power to come to conclusions based purely on the facts presented around him—and to be right more times than not? Another feat. His mind rarely failed him, but this time…this time, he had been too weak to deny a beautiful woman with more depth than the loch beside his keep.
It was a terrifying thought.
Blayne…would carry his bastard child. His first born; a bastard.
Unless…
He glanced at Blayne, then sat up. There was one way to prevent a war and to keep the legitimacy of his child.
“We will marry,” he announced, pushing himself up from the bed.
Her head snapped up.
“Pardon?”
“Yes, we must. My first born child will no’ be a bastard, and I will no’ have yer father beheading me in my sleep for taking the innocence of his daughter.”
She slid from the bed, planting her hands on her hips—in all her beautiful, naked glory. No, he told himself, he would not succumb to her beauty, not again. Not until they were married!
“Let me understand this better, my lord. You—you think you’ve taken my innocence, and we are to have a child? And we have to marry?”
He nodded, reaching for his plaid. He would call upon the priest immediately, and then the messenger. He would send a script to her father, asking for her hand in marriage.
Alec paused. Would he have to tell him why?
Nay, he thought. That would surely bring about a war.
“My lord,” she said, taking his shoulder. He pulled out of her grip, hurriedly tying the plaid around him. When that didn’t work, she pushed at him, snapping, “Alec McGregor, you listen here!”
He blinked, looking down at her. Her hair was a wild mess of black locks, and her cheeks were flushed. Not with desire, but anger. He grimaced, backing away slightly.
“We are not to be married, do you understand that? Do not even think of sending for my father—”
“Are you daft? I would never send for him—I plan to send something to him, though—”
“And you did not steal my innocence! That was done by my first husband.”
“Yer first husband was a bloody arse. As far as I’m concerned, that’s your first time making love to—”
“And ‘planting your seed’ in me is a tad far fetched, don’t you think? It was one time! Women don’t get pregnant from one time, my lord! You’re being presumptuous.”
“I’d rather be presumptuous than have my first child born out of wedlock, lass,” he growled.
She pressed her lips. “How would we find out if I was pregnant?” she asked, putting a hand to her temple.
His brows lowered. “Well, I guess… We would have to wait and see. Wait for the vomiting and often piss
breaks. I believe that’s what my father warned me about. Vomit—vomit everywhere.”
Her eyes rolled back into her head and she groaned. “No, my lord. We wait for my monthly to come. If I have not had it in a month’s time, then there is cause to worry—but there will not be, I can assure you. I am not on my cycle!”
“Your cycle?”
“Yes, my lord. My cycle. The time of month where I am most…susceptible to having a plant grow from your seeding,” she said, covering a snicker behind her hand.
He scowled. “Do not laugh, Blayne. This is a very serious matter—a matter that could change the rest of our lives.”
“Oh, do not worry about that, my lord—” She cut off, eyes going wide, a hand flying to her mouth. Before he had time to react, she was retching off to the side.
“I told you!” he snapped, running to her side. He put a hand on her back, only to feel her shaking. Awkwardly, uncertainly, he patted her back as a way to soothe her. “Do not worry, my lady. We will get through the vomiting together, you and I.”
She looked at him from the corner of his eye, and it was only then that he realized the shaking was from laughing.
The daft woman was laughing at him.
“Oh, enough is enough,” he snarled, pulling himself away from her. “We are to be married, and that is that. This trickery of yours is cruel!”
He stalked to the door, leaving her in astonishment.
Miles away, the Burned man adjusted his position in the chair while the woman entered. Her skin was still marred from their last encounter, but that was expected. She was a wild woman, one that needed to be reared to do her work properly.
“Did you tell her?” he asked, his voice coming through as a croak. It hurt to speak, but he did not mind. The pain fueled him, encouraged him. It made him want to complete this task as if it were the utmost importance, and that’s because it was. His employer was waiting for him to deliver, and if he did not, there would be more hell to pay than having half of his skin charred.
He took the cloth off the bedside, gingerly wiping the puss that oozed from his arm. He was so used to the pain that it was only a minor nuisance at this point.