Beyond the Highland Myst(299)
"I think we demonstrated the true extent of our need for each other, lass," he said softly, stroking her hair. "Sometimes need can be a violent thing."
"But what was all the darkness I was getting from you?" she pressed.
"What did it feel like, lass?" he asked carefully.
"Like you were furious with something or someone, and almost like you thought I wouldn't be here tomorrow."
He sighed against her hair. His arms tightened around her and she felt his throat work as he swallowed. "Time is too short, love. That's all you felt. That no matter how long I might have with you, it would never be enough."
"We have a whole lifetime, Circenn," she reassured him, kissing him. "You have all of my life."
"I know," he said sadly. "I know. All of yours."
"There's something you're not saying, Circenn."
"It's still not enough," he replied. "I begin to fear that only forever will satisfy me."
"Then I'm yours forever," she said easily.
"Be careful what you promise, lass." His eyes were dark. "I may hold you to it."
Lisa pressed her cheek against his chest, weary from the outburst of emotion and confused by his strange words. She sensed some dark threat there that she wasn't certain she wished to understand.
* * *
"Tell me everything about your life, lass," he demanded later, as they lay in his bed. He shifted inside her and rocked.
"Everything?" Her breathing was rapid and shallow. God, but he knew how to touch her. She had never understood being touched, until this Highlander had placed his hands on her body.
"Everything. Did you ever know a woman's pleasure before I made you mine?"
"Do you mean did I ever have an orgasm? That's what we call them in my time. A climax or an orgasm."
"Aye. Did you?"
Lisa blushed. "Yes," she said softly. His fingers tensed on her hips, and he buried his face in her thighs, lapping gently.
"When?" he growled. The vibration was exquisite.
"This is really rather personal," she protested weakly, arching against him.
"Yes,'this is really rather personal,' " he mocked. "And you think to withhold mere words when I'm doing this to you?"
"I was curious. I… touched myself a time or two."
"And?"
"And I found a most unusual sensation. So I bought a book that explained it all."
"And?"
"And what?" she said, feeling embarrassed.
"Did it feel like this?" He slipped a finger inside her.
"Nothing feels like you," she whispered, arching against his hand.
"Did you touch yourself like this?" He drew back so she could see him. One hand palmed her mound, the heel of it exerting gentle friction; the other he wrapped around himself.
She lost her breath, mesmerized by the sight of his hand holding his heavy shaft. Jealous of his hand being where hers longed to be. She reached out and knocked his hand away and he laughed.
"Mine," she said roughly.
"Ah, yes."
* * *
Later he began again. "Tell me everything about your life. Tell me about the wreck and what's wrong with your mother and what you missed and what you longed for." He quickly tried to mask his feelings, ashamed of what he was thinking. He must have been successful at hiding his emotions, for she confided readily, teaching him many new words as they went along.
A dangerous thought had formed in the back of his mind, and he pressed against it, trying to force it into submission.
But he knew well the danger of seeds once sown.
* * *
CHAPTER 22
"galan, we've done it," duncan said smugly. the two brothers were leaning against a stone column near the entrance of the Greathall, observing the revelry. Circenn was teaching Lisa one of their less complicated Highland dances. Engrossed in watching her feet, every few moments she tossed back her head and laughed at him. She was adorable, Duncan decided.
The villagers had finally gotten their feast, thanks to Galan, Duncan, and the enthusiastic castle staff who had planned it without awaiting further input or permission. While Circenn and Lisa had wandered about, oblivious and infatuated, the residents of Castle Brodie had finalized the plans, simply informing the couple when the celebration would be. The laird's blossoming romance with his lady had infused the estate with good humor.
Duncan conceded that they'd done an astonishing job; the staff had devoted loving care to transforming Castle Brodie for the festivities. Brilliantly lit by hundreds of rushlights, the hall was warm, the atmosphere most conducive to romance. Rippling banners of crimson and black Brodie tartan decked the walls. Thirty long tables formed a rectangle around the room, each laden with a sumptuous feast. The musicians gathered behind the laird's table at the head of the hall, while in the center of the rectangle, on the floor cleared for dancing, couples, children, even an occasional wolfhound indulged the fierce Scot penchant for celebrating. In such a war-torn land, any cause was reason to feast as if there was no tomorrow, because there might not be. The musicians were playing a sprightly, edgy tune and the dancers faced the challenge with relish. As feet flew, the tempo increased, and ripples of laughter broke out as they kept pace with the frenetic beat.