by Emma Prince
In Kieran’s view, it was pure madness to leave her heart vulnerable after what d’Aubert had done to her. How could she still believe in courtly love and honor after what she’d been through? Why hadn’t she become like him after losing so much—withdrawn and alone, safe in his isolation from being hurt again?
She tilted her head so that she could fix him with her gaze. “I am no longer that naïve girl. I won’t make the same mistake in believing a man like Guy’s promises again. But what is the point in living without hope for a happy future?”
What indeed? Kieran swallowed hard. Here he was questioning Vivienne, when he hadn’t had the bollocks to allow himself to hope or trust in ten long years since Linette had died. He’d made his heart into a walled fortress, keeping everyone out.
But he’d gotten on well enough, hadn’t he? He was in the Bruce’s inner circle now, though other than Jerome, he didn’t truly know or trust any of the others. He didn’t need anyone besides himself.
She cleared her throat, interrupting his thoughts. “I cannot stop you from criticizing me for taking comfort in stories of honor and love—or for my error in trusting Guy, for that matter. But I would ask that you not share this information with anyone. I have worked hard to ensure that my place at court is not tainted by my past mistakes. My father’s wellbeing and my future depend on it. You may think less of me for throwing away my innocence, but—”
“Hold there,” he cut in. “Ye misunderstand me. I dinnae judge ye for no’ being innocent.”
She blinked in confusion. “But I saw the anger and disgust in your eyes.”
“Bloody hell,” Kieran breathed. “I wasnae mad at ye. Aye, I was out of my mind for a moment thinking that the d’Aubert bastard had hurt ye—and I still am, for the way he used ye. If he was before me now, I’d likely kill him. But I dinnae blame ye.”
Vivienne eyed him warily. “But now that you know the truth, you…you do not care that I am not innocent?”
“Hell and damnation, lass, nay. I’m no saint either, that’s for damn sure. I only care that he took advantage of ye.”
Her gaze softened with surprise and vulnerability. “Thank you.” She let a shuddering breath go, and suddenly he feared she would start crying. “It is just…” she said, her voice choked. “I have held on to that secret for so long that I thought the whole world would come crashing down when it got out.”
He couldn’t help it. He dragged her into his arms and held her in a fierce embrace. She stiffened for a moment, but then she melted against him, surrendering to his hold and the rocking of the ship.
She took a few gasping breaths, clearly fighting against tears that she’d held back for so long. Though he’d often taken pleasure in wheedling his way under her perfect exterior, now he found himself admiring how valiantly she fought to maintain her composure instead of simply falling apart. She was a damn strong woman.
When she’d reined in the threat of tears and her breaths came evenly once more, he eased her back onto the cot. Yet his thumb lingered on her jawline, tracing the velvety skin there.
“I didnae mean to bring ye pain by dredging up yer past, lass,” he murmured.
To his surprise, she laughed softly. “You promised to distract me, and that you have.”
Something in his gut twisted as the sound of her chuckle, sweet and low. God, how he wanted to take away all her hurts and sufferings—and not just the seasickness, but the ache he knew still lingered inside at d’Aubert’s cruel treatment.
“And ye’ve managed to keep the bread and whisky down as well. Will ye take more?”
“I cannot. I fear the whisky is already going to my head.”
He grinned. “I told ye getting a wee bit pickled might help.”
Instead of smiling back, a bonny blush rose up her neck and into her cheeks. “I’m not drunk yet, but I shouldn’t have any more. I…I fear what will happen if I lose my wits around you.”
Kieran froze, the pad of his thumb still resting on her warm cheek. Was she…was she saying what he thought? Was she admitting that she was dangerously close to losing control, as he was whenever they were near? “And what will happen, lass?”
“Please, don’t call me lass,” she murmured beseechingly.
His brows knit in confusion. They were back to that again? He’d thought they had dropped some of the pretenses between them, but if she was going to insist that he call her Lady Vivienne again—
“It has the same effect as the whisky,” she went on, cutting off his thoughts. “It makes me warm all over and soft in the head. I don’t trust myself when you call me that.”
Bloody hell and damnation. She was about to be his undoing.
“I am no’ Guy d’Aubert.”
She blinked at his abrupt words, but he continued before she could form a question.
“I am no’ one for flowery words or pledges. I’m a Highlander—when I make a promise, I keep it.” His voice dropped. “And if I cannae keep a promise, I dinnae make it.”
“What are you saying?” she murmured.
He swept her lovely features with his gaze, his pulse hammering in his ears. “I willnae make ye promises as d’Aubert did, nor deceive ye into thinking this can be something it cannae, Vivienne. I ken ye still dream of a life from one of yer romantic stories. I cannae give ye that.”
He swallowed hard, the old, dull ache rising in his chest. Nay, never again would he let himself hope for a deeper happiness. But the spark between them was undeniable.
“All I ken is that I want ye. I burn for ye, lass. And what I can promise is to give ye pleasure enough to chase away the pain for a time.”
Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes, dark and vast as a midnight sky, were unreadable. “You are suggesting that we…”
“…Surrender to what we both want, aye. It neednae be complicated.” Aye, it was simply lust, Kieran repeated to himself. He couldn’t let it be aught more.
A war waged on her delicate features. Beneath his thumb, he could feel her pulse pounding just under her jaw.
“If it is society’s judgment ye are worried about—”
“Non,” she cut in, surprising him. “I fear the moment I left court alone with you, any chance at remaining free from rumors was dashed. I can only hope that the Queen will take me back when this is all over, though I likely lost any chance with Thierry even before we departed.”
She gave her head a little shake as if to clear it. “But I do not wish to think of Thierry or court or society or any of it.”
“What do ye wish to think of then, lass?”
Her gaze locked with his, and suddenly he was drowning in the dark pools of her eyes, yet he’d lost the will to struggle free.
“I don’t want to think at all,” she breathed. “Only feel.”
She lifted a hand to his face, grazing her soft palm against the bristled growth on his cheek. The intoxicating fragrance of violets enveloped him, scattering his thoughts and making his pulse spike in anticipation.
“I am so tired. Tired of worrying and fighting and resisting this.”
He turned his head and pressed his lips into her palm. “I’ve wanted ye from the moment I saw ye all those months ago. And I’ve kept wanting ye with every day, every damn breath, that has passed since then.”
“As have I.”
Need surged hard in his veins at her admission. His heart thumping wildly in his chest, Kieran lowered his head and claimed her lips with his.
Chapter Eighteen
At the first touch of his lips against hers, the last of Vivienne’s control shattered.
She’d been strong for so long. She’d sealed herself from emotion and desire, fearing she would turn into the sixteen-year-old girl who’d nearly ruined everything with her recklessness.
But as Kieran had said, he wasn’t Guy d’Aubert. Giving herself to Guy had been based on the fanciful hope that all his pledges of love and devotion were true. Yet Kieran wasn’t making any promises. In his blunt, brash way, he was b
eing far more honest. They could share pleasure, and it needn’t be more than that.
But could Vivienne keep it so simple?
She wasn’t a naïve girl anymore. Though she still believed in the kind of love she read about in the stories of chivalry and courtly devotion, she knew now that the world was far more complicated than that. She was entering this moment with her eyes open.
Yet for all the rational explanations flying through her mind, some part of her knew they were just that—justifications for a need that defied all reason and logic.
From the moment she’d laid eyes on Kieran last summer, her heart had stuttered at his imposing, powerful form. He’d been all rough edges and untamed bluster amongst the refined, polished nobles at court. And every time he’d opened his mouth, she found herself ruffled by his plain, unapologetic speech.
He’d flat-out ordered her not to involve herself with William de Soules, but she hadn’t listened. His overprotectiveness even before the threat to her life arose had stirred something deep within her, a long-buried part of her that yearned for someone else to be the strong one, to take care of her for once.
And if he made no other promise to her, that was what Kieran had vowed to do. To protect her. To never let her come to harm. And to give her pleasure enough to drive away her fears, at least for a little while.
His kiss stole her breath and ratcheted her pulse until all she could hear was her own blood pounding in her ears. His tongue teased her lips, demanding entrance to the depths of her mouth. When she yielded, she was rewarded with the hot, wet velvet of his tongue caressing hers.
She dragged him closer as their mouths mated, threading her fingers through his hair. Her nails sank into his scalp and he growled low in his throat, a sound that was half-pleasure, half-feral hunger for more.
Suddenly his hands were everywhere—sliding down her arms, in her hair, on her waist. He wriggled his fingers underneath her back, furtively tugging at the ties on her gown. She arched to give him more room to work, all the while letting her own hands explore the strong column of his neck and the rock-hard contours of his shoulders.
Though she could feel her gown’s laces loosening, apparently the progress was too slow for Kieran’s liking, for he muttered a curse and simply yanked down the top of her bodice. He worked the wool dress lower over her waist, revealing her linen chemise beneath.
Suddenly as impatient as he to feel his skin upon hers, she clutched his shirt and pulled it from his belt. She dragged it over his head, exposing the muscle-corded expanse of his torso. The cabin’s lantern was behind him, casting him somewhat in shadows, but where the light touched, his taut, powerful form was outlined in gold.
He continued working her gown down the length of her body, easing it past her slim hips and over her legs. He tossed the green wool aside once it was free.
“Damn that chemise,” he rasped, glaring at the innocent garment. She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so consumed with desire, unable to concentrate on anything but the feel of his hands as he gripped the linen at her shoulders.
He began peeling away the chemise, and she hastily untied the ribbon at her chest to prevent it from ripping. She doubted he would care much if it did at the moment, for his eyes flickered with unguarded need where he traced her collarbone and her exposed décolletage.
The linen slid like a whisper down her body, making her nipples draw tight as it came away. The cool air of the cabin caressed her, but it was not enough to douse the burning of her skin under Kieran’s fierce gaze.
“Ye are…” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes devoured her. “Ye are so beautiful, lass.”
She’d been told that she was beautiful many times, and in far more extravagant terms as well, yet Kieran’s plain-spoken declaration stirred her like none other. It felt as though he was looking not just at her, but into her, beyond her exterior and to her very heart and soul.
He reached out tentatively, barely brushing his fingertips against her shoulders as if she were made of glass and he feared shattering her.
“I am only flesh and blood,” she murmured. “Touch me. Please.”
His eyes darkened hungrily at her plea. His work-roughened hands closed over her breasts. She arched and moaned, sensation shooting through her as his callused palms rasped against her taut nipples.
He captured her mouth in a kiss once more, but soon he began kissing a path across her cheek to her ear. He nuzzled her ear, then nipped the lobe, his tongue darting out to tease and flick there.
“I need to touch ye, taste ye—everywhere,” he growled.
Shivers of anticipation pricked across her skin. She nodded, unable to speak when his teeth claimed her earlobe again.
He slid down her body, the hard planes of his chest scraping against her already-needy breasts. His lips and tongue left a hot trail of kisses down her throat before he licked one of her pearled nipples.
Vivienne gasped and jerked, the sensation sending liquid need pooling between her legs. He laved first one breast and then the other until she was writhing and moaning beneath him, her fingernails turning to claws on his broad shoulders.
He kissed his way over her flat stomach, pausing to nip her ribs with his teeth. Then he was settling between her legs, his lips grazing the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
Her heart lurched. She’d never experienced what she knew he would do next, but she’d heard tell of it before. Though the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting were meant to be the court’s paragons of propriety, some were married and others had simply discreetly dabbled in the indulgences to be had at court. Vivienne had overheard the knowing whispers about this act, but never had Guy given her such a selfless pleasure.
When his tongue slid along the damp seam of her sex, she nigh jumped out of her skin. His fingers sank into her hips, pinning her to the cot as he licked her deeper, spreading her sex and finding that point of pure, blinding sensation.
As he teased and tasted her, her hands twisted in the bed linens, desperately seeking purchase. She could no longer tell the difference between the rolling of the ship on the storm-tossed waves and the undulation of her own hips as the pleasure began to mount and swell.
“Kieran,” she moaned, spiraling toward the heavens. “Mon Dieu, Kieran.”
She came apart, crying out his name again as ecstasy crashed over her and swept her away.
As the last shudders of her release ebbed, he sat back on his haunches, his eyes blazing on her.
“I need to be inside ye—now,” he hissed, unclasping his belt with shaking hands.
“Oui,” she breathed, desire still humming in her veins. The pleasure he’d just given her was indescribable, yet she was already greedy for more, desperate to join fully with him.
As his belt came free, his plaid slid from his hips and pooled at the foot of the cot where he crouched. Desire making her bold, her gaze trailed down the stacked muscles on his stomach to the rigid, thick length of his cock.
She was no maiden, yet her breath still caught in her throat at the sight of him. His cock matched the rest of his large, hard frame. The crown was ruddy and faintly damp with his own desire.
Instinctively, she spread her knees, beckoning him in. He lowered himself onto one elbow, taking his cock in his hand and guiding it to her entrance. She arched to meet him, shivering at the first graze of his manhood against her sex.
He entered her slowly, pushing inside her inch by inch with torturous restraint. He was so large that Vivienne felt like an innocent again, stretched nigh to the point of pain as she took his length. Yet her body knew intuitively what to do. Her legs parted even wider to accommodate his big form, her hips tilting to take all of him.
He panted next to her ear, and she realized his control was stretched far thinner than she’d first thought. He was being careful for her sake, she realized, moving with deliberate slowness to give her body time to adjust to his size.
Though she was grateful for his care, yearning kindled d
eep within her. She needed his untamed strength now.
She lifted her head and sank her teeth into his shoulder with a wordless moan, urging him on.
He growled in response, withdrawing slightly only to drive back into her with enough force to make her groan again. He began to move in earnest, delving in and out in a steady, hard rhythm. She clung to him, her breath catching with each thrust.
Yet just as pleasure began to coil tight within her, he snaked a hand under her back and flipped them both over. She found herself straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips and his cock still buried deep within her.
Another surprise. She had never experienced this before. She froze, uncertain what to do and feeling exposed propped atop Kieran, his hungry eyes feasting on her.
He gripped her hips, rolling them with his hands. The motion drew a moan from both of them.
“Move with the ship,” he rasped, showing her again by lifting her up and dragging her down once more. “With the waves. Aye, like that.”
She rocked against him, finding her rhythm. His hands skimmed over her, emboldening her motions. Her hair, which had come undone from its plait, cascaded over her shoulders and brushed against his chest.
He muttered something in Gaelic that sounded like a curse. One hand closed over her breast while the other slid to where they were joined. His thumb found that bud of pleasure above her opening, and suddenly she was shuddering and crying out as she shattered into a thousand pieces again.
Like lightning, he rolled her over so that he had her on her back once more. Even as she began to come down from her peak, Kieran grabbed her hips and thrust hard once, twice, thrice into her.
Oh, this was the wild Highlander who’d sent her heart pounding with just one look earlier that summer. Who’d stormed back into the palace a few sennights past and taken possession of her all over again. She yielded to this claiming, reveling in the unbridled power of his desire.
With a rough growl, he suddenly withdrew and spent his seed on the bed linens beside her. Panting, he collapsed over her, catching himself on one elbow so as not to crush her.