With Iaen, she felt like a veritable virgin.
He was raw passion.
Dominating.
All encompassing.
She was the half of the whole who didn't hold to either great expectations or lofty aspirations. “Iaen, I'm not any good at sex.”
It was what a few of her boyfriends had admitted to after long, tense minutes of prodding. They, her exes, always professed to care about her like they did a sister or a close friend. When it came down to fucking, she wasn't the cat's meow. Hell, the cat didn't even purr. In her former lovers’ lives, she was no better than a stupid, plasticine blow-up doll.
“Lass, be still and calm thyself. I willnae hurt you,” he said from where he sat on the edge of the mattress. Instead of brushing her cheek against his calloused palm still cupping her face, she bowed away and nearly banged her forehead on his shoulder. That’s how close he was to her.
Yes, you will. You just don't know it yet. Her faith, like her hopes to find a permanent love interest, had dipped that low. She didn't know if she could handle another huge disaster after everything that had happened today.
Okay, look to the bright side. There has to be a silver lining in this nightmare.
Try as she might, she came up empty. She couldn't make the language barrier count, because she'd still see the disappointment on his handsome face. Her hands came up to ward him off when he leaned closer. The sensible part of her told her to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Her traitorous body had other ideas.
Winding her arms around his shoulders, a delicious bubble of warmth sparked in the pit of her belly. A tremor tripped up her thighs. The heat radiating off his body soaked through her thin nightgown to melt her bones. He pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.
It was a deep, drowning kiss, the kind that swept away all awareness of everything else but his warm lips pressed against hers, his tongue teasing hers, his arms holding her tightly against him. He cradled her head in his hand. The other was on her back, melding her less than stellar curves to his chest as he feathered kisses along her jaw. Desire rose in her, filling her with a decadent tension, overwhelming her fear-inducing past experiences and all her inhibitions.
She slid her hands over the cloth-covered roped muscles of his shoulders to grip his arms, pulling him closer still, pressing to him, and relishing the play of his fluid moves when he laid her down on the bed. Reclining beside him, she reveled in the feel of his erection, hot and hard against her thigh.
His mouth moved lower, painting a row of gentle kisses down her throat and along the neckline of her nightgown. Leaning his weight on his arm, he captured her attention with his blazing blue stare. His fingers tugged open the satin bow at the collar.
A shiver raked down her spine and raised goosebumps on her arms. His mouth followed his fingers down the front of her gown and cool air rushed across her feverish skin. A spurt of uncertainty asserted itself. “I can't do this.”
“Easy, lass.” His voice was thick with desire.
A tiny, nagging voice chided her for thinking she could take on a man of Iaen's attitude, but she pushed it aside. When he eased the neckline down to expose her breasts, she shook with a fresh tremor of lust.
“Yes,” she said on a sharp intake of air. The tension grew as his tongue swept over her nipple. She closed her eyes and sagged back into the softness of the bed.
He transferred his attention to her other breast, each movement of his mouth sent cascading waves of arousal through her.
Keeping a steady hand on her waist, he rose to his impressive height. Her breath caught in her throat when he pulled off his plaid, then unbelted his tunic. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. She watched him raise his tunic over his head.
The display of defined muscle about sent her running for the door. “You deserve better,” she thought out loud. He caught her before she'd made it two steps across the stone floor.
He held her firmly to him, kissing her shoulder, letting the fear subside as he drew her back into the passionate haze swirling around them. Tangled in the voluminous cloth of the nightgown, she was at his mercy and caving to the desire with each brush of his lips.
The words he spoke against her hair were lost beneath the myriad of sensations assaulting her. His erection throbbed against her. Her damp folds begged for his cock. “I want you.”
Since when have I ever wanted a man? Never. They wanted her to work off a hormonal edge or because they thought sex was part of a relationship.
“A moment, lass.” He pushed her gown down so it puddled around her feet. Keeping her in place with an arm around her waist, she felt him fumble with something behind her. His hand skimmed down her belly and he splayed his fingers above the thatch of curls at the juncture of her thighs.
Her knees dipped when he shifted his hand lower to cup her femininity. He teased and toyed with her clit until her legs quaked. Ready to demand sex from him, she let out a low moan when he eased a finger into her soaking vagina.
The crushing crescendo gripped her when he freed his penis. She gasped as he nestled his erection between her ass cheeks. His finger plunged into her. His lips never left her skin.
Then, when she was on the brink of a mind-blowing climax, the onslaught stopped. “No.” Ready to claw his eyes out for leaving her like this, she turned and wrapped her arms around him.
“Get thee to bed.”
Dazed, Jenny blinked several times. The pulsing throb in her core beat down to her toes. “Don't stop.”
She raised her eyes to meet his and the strength of his gaze reached inside of her, beyond mere lust to something much deeper. A primal need she'd never seen before stared back at her.
“Bed,” he said and pointed to mussed covers.
“Oh, sure.”
He didn't wait for her to obey, but picked her up and carried her to the same spot where they'd begun. She relaxed beneath him when he followed her down and covered her with his big body.
Easing her legs apart to accommodate his thighs, she exhaled as he entered her in a slow thrust.
“Hold onto me, lass.”
She did as he asked as her feminine muscles contracted around him. Her heart leaped to her throat at the sensation of being filled so fully. She clung to his shoulders.
He began to thrust, hard and deep, each movement shuddering through her, sending her spiraling upward. The throb turned to a lancing pulse.
She clutched him, surrendering to the onslaught, barely aware of his heavy, rasping breaths, the slickness of sweat beneath her hands, the muscles of his thighs knotting against her own taut flesh. She screamed as her climax rifled through her.
He was right behind her. His hot ejaculation filled her. The only thing that saved him from crushing her was his weight propped on his elbows.
“Jenny.”
The way he whispered her name against her lips was the best thing he could have done. It was perfect, just like the sex they'd shared. She gave him a long kiss. “Thank you,” she breathed, her heart still racing in her chest.
A bemused smile marred the chiseled planes of his face. Rolling off her, he carried her along. Tucked against his side, Jenny heaved a happy sigh. “That was great.”
Reality encroached on her as her heart slowed and her respirations returned to normal. The specter of future responsibility she'd basked beneath didn't change shape or purpose in the past. She needed to get back to her room, back to the starkness of her sad life, but the thought of leaving him made her heart ache. “I should leave.”
He didn't say anything when she exited the bed however; the feel of his gaze trailing her was unshakable. Tears stung at her eyes while she tossed on her nightgown. She quickly picked up his clothes, folded them and set them on top of a chest. “I don't know if I'll see you tomorrow. If I don't, have a good day.”
When he startled her at the door, she uttered a surprised, “Ah.” How a man as big as he could move so fast and silently was beyond her. “Really, I should get ba
ck to Lila. I'll be fine. I promise there'll be no more tears.” Yeah, right. Even before she turned the iron ring to open the door the wetness overflowed her eyes. An apology sat on the tip of her tongue, but for the life of her, she didn't know what she was sorry about. “Please, let me go.”
He dropped his bombshell in stilted French. “My wife sleeps with me.”
Spinning around, Jenny gaped at him. “Your...what?” Maybe she hadn't heard him right or he'd used the word 'wife' without really knowing what it meant. After all, Father Thomas had said there were only a few members of the clan who spoke broken French, Iaen amongst them. That had to be it. He'd confused the term. He couldn't possibly mean he wanted her for a wife.
“I asked you to trust me, lass.”
“Yes...but...but...you called me your wife. Girlfriend, you know, petite amie?”
“Trust me.” He took her lips in a searing kiss.
Chapter Four
Is it time for your medication or mine?
“It's about time you showed up,” Lila complained. “I'm going to dock your pay. That's what you deserve for leaving me alone with this bitch.”
Jenny sent Charlzie an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I don't have an alarm clock.” Which was a given. It was who had made her late that had her blushing to the roots of her hair. Iaen had woken her before dawn to make slow, sweet love to her. And, for the second time in her life, she hadn't had to fake an orgasm.
She'd fallen back to sleep in his arms. When she'd finally cracked her eyes, she'd met a kind young woman who explained in halting statements that the Laird had asked her to serve as Jenny's maid.
Meg was too cute for words since she littered her French sentences with Gaelic. She also couldn't conjugate a verb to save her soul, but that was beside the point. The combination came out as mumbo-jumbo. Twice Jenny had burst out laughing when Meg tried to act out the words. The youthful excitement exuded by the young maid was infectious. By the time she'd gotten Jenny into a long gown of cerulean blue wool, laced it up, and draped the long sash of Kincaid plaid over her shoulder, they were the best of friends. When she'd finished plaiting Jenny's hair, they'd managed to straighten out some of Jenny's Gaelic—a necessity, in her opinion.
A scarf of gossamer cloth covered the ornate plait and was held in place by a pretty silver circlet. Meg explained the circlet had belonged to Laird Kincaid's mother, and the markings were Norse Runes.
“Hey, why do you get to dress up like a queen when I have to wear rags?” Lila kicked at the gown lying on the bed. “I want a tiara.”
Jenny heaved a frustrated sigh. “Have you had breakfast?” she asked Charlzie.
“She won't let me out of her sight for more than a split second.” Charlzie moved out of range when Lila lashed out. Her long, silk-wrap manicured fingernails swiped at the air. Charlzie skirted around the bed in a wide arc until she stood beside Jenny. “Are you okay? I was worried about you when you weren't here.”
“Don't worry about me.” Jenny took in the gold-tone gown Charlzie wore. The color highlighted her stunning light blue eyes. She turned her attention to the drab brown one waiting for Lila to don. Time for a reality check, princess. Jenny mused, understanding Iaen was teaching Lila a lesson for throwing her mug at him yesterday. “Why don't you take a break, Charlzie? Elspeth has some bread and cheese on the table, and you look like you could use some tea.”
“Thanks, Jenny.” Charlzie grabbed her hand. “Are you sure you can handle her on your own? She's been hissing and spitting for the better part of an hour.”
Detecting a note of terror in her friend's voice, Jenny sympathized. “You want me to walk you downstairs?”
“If you wouldn't mind.” A pained expression crossed Charlzie's pixie features. “I've always had a fear of heights.”
“And without a railing, you feel even less safe.” Jenny nodded. She turned back to where Lila pouted. “You stay put. We're going to have a talk when I return.”
“I'm your boss.”
“If you haven't noticed, Lila, we're not in LA. Your days of bossing people around are over.” With that said, Jenny pulled Charlzie out of the room.
“Good morning, milady.”
Jenny nearly jumped out of her skin. What was it with these people and sneaking up on her? Putting her best foot forward, so to speak, she greeted the warrior. “Good morning.” She pasted a small smile on her face. No need to anger the aborigines, she decided as she walked Charlzie along the balcony. She'd just reached the top of the stairs when a loud rumble rose from below her.
It was then she noticed every person in the hall below had stood, including Iaen.
“What's going on?” Charlzie asked.
“I haven't a clue.” Gathering a handful of her gown so she wouldn't trip during her descent, she started to walk on Charlzie's left, the side open to the straight breakneck fall to the stone floor below. A communal gasp broke from the crowd of warriors. Her gaze met and locked with Iaen's.
Glad when he took control of the situation, she realized her mistake as he strode across the room and up the steps. He offered her his hand. She was placed on his right for the remainder of their journey. “I wasn't next to the wall.”
Charlzie must have come to the same conclusion. “Thanks,” she said to the young warrior walking her down the stairs. “Note to self, watch your step.”
Jenny quelled her giggle at Charlzie's pathetic attempt at humor. A new and terrifying shift occurred next. The warriors bowed to her. She peeked at Iaen for a prompt. His almost indiscernible ascent of his head gave her the answer. “Note to self, when in doubt, nod.”
“Gotcha,” Charlzie whispered.
Escorted onto the low platform, Jenny frowned when a young boy of perhaps eight or nine rushed forward to pull out a chair. She couldn't help but grin at him. He reminded her of Meg, youthful energy practically oozed from his every pore. “Thank you.”
Iaen cleared his throat.
“Sorry.” Jenny felt her blush heat her cheeks. By the time Father Thomas joined them, she thought her face might crack from all the smiling she was doing. “What’s going on?”
“He hasn't told you?” Father Thomas looked as if he'd just swallowed a whole jug of vinegar. “Milord, when you said....” He clamped his lips shut when Iaen threw a glare in his direction.
Jenny watched the silent exchange. “Can't we all just get along?”
Iaen said something in Gaelic that caused the crowd of warriors to break into a raucous cheer.
Not knowing whether or not to fear for her life, Jenny took a small step back. Iaen gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Would someone please tell me what the heck is going on?”
Finally taking her seat on Iaen's left, she gripped the arms of the chair until they ached. “This isn't that difficult. You speak,” she was about to point an accusing finger to Iaen when he grabbed her arm and laid a kiss to her wrist.
Again, the crowd roared.
“Father?”
“In a minute, milady.”
With no recourse but to sit there and wait for Iaen to get on with it or the floor to open up, which at the rate he was going was a possibility, she relaxed her death grip on the chair arms as Iaen poured a goblet of wine. She shook her head when he handed it to her. “I don't drink. Well, not that much,” she amended.
“Take a sip,” he prodded her.
Playing along, Jenny took a tiny taste. “That's quite good.” She gave the heavy silver goblet back to him. Stunned, she bit her lip to keep from laughing while he drained the contents. She was about to make another 'note to self' joke but was distracted when Iaen slammed the goblet down on the table.
The world stood still as he cradled her head in his hand. She'd been kissed by him before, but never like this. It was a slow exploration of her mouth. Damn, if she didn't feel as if she'd been stamped with a mark plainly telling everybody she was his territory.
She hated to admit it, but she was beyond starting to like how he kissed her.
�
�Congratulations, milady,” Father Thomas said.
Staring deep into Iaen’s luxurious blue gaze, a gaze she could lose her soul in, Jenny shook herself out of her stupor. “I'm sorry, Father, what did you say?”
“Congratulations on your marriage.” He clapped his hands together.
“My what?”
“You did agree,” Iaen informed her.
“Well, yeah, I agreed last night before we...I mean...oh, you know what I mean.” Giving herself a mental kick and forgetting the wedding scene from Brigadoon, Jenny didn't know if she should clobber Iaen over the head with the goblet or laugh at her own naivety. Granted, he'd struck when she was most vulnerable, but she wasn't some brainless bimbo. Hell, she knew what she was walking into even if she hadn't figured it out at the time. Leaning against him, she smiled at him. “You tricked me.”
“Aye.”
“I don't know how to curtsy.”
Father Thomas translated her statement of fact.
“You think I care?” Iaen challenged her.
He said something to Father Thomas. Jenny thought the priest might die from mortification. “What?”
“Milord wishes you to learn his language afore he needs to request my presence in his bedchamber. Milady, that will not happen unless I am delivering the Last Rites. You have my word.”
“Don't worry, Father, but if you could tell my sly husband something for me.” She waited for Father Thomas to agree. “Tell him, he doesn't need a translator in the bedroom. I understand him just fine when it comes to what happens there.”
She regretted putting Thomas on the spot, but he did as she asked.
Iaen threw his head back and laughed. “Aye, you did.” An arrogant grin crossed his lips.
“Do you think I'm always going to let you have the last word?”
Iaen listened to the translation before he brought her lips to his. “Aye.” He finished the discussion with a toe-curling kiss.
***
“What was that racket about and what took you so long?” Lila sniped the minute Jenny entered the room. “Don't people have any common courtesy anymore? I need my rest. I can't do that with people shouting down the rafters in this drafty hell hole.”
The Highlander's Time Page 4