My Brave Highlander(82)

Unable to resist, she removed her smock, threw it aside and slid back into bed beside him. She kissed his shoulder and his chest. With a moan, he dragged her atop him to lie on his rigid shaft then captured her lips.

"Insatiable wench," he muttered with a grin.

He was right. She couldn't get enough of his kisses or his powerful body. While she flicked her tongue into his mouth, he slid his hands over her backside, then parted her thighs.

"Ride me," he whispered.

She wasn't sure what he meant. But his hand moved down between their bodies and he positioned himself at her entrance. Slowly, he pushed in.

Pain stabbed through her tender, torn flesh. She sucked in a hissing breath and forced herself not to let him know of her discomfort.

"You do it, lass."

She sat on her knees and drew him inside. He growled with each inch he slid deeper.

"Aye, that's it. Ride me."

Leveraging herself upward she moved so that he slid out a bit, then pushed down on him again. He easily matched her rhythm and his hips rose to meet her. She was afraid this would hurt worse, but it didn't. With each moment that passed, each withdrawal and thrust, her pleasure increased and she could easily see how someone could become addicted to this.

He ate at her mouth, flicking his tongue in the same rhythm. His hands framed her hips, and then he slid his hand over her mound. With his wet thumb, he rubbed an especially sensitive spot that drove her mad. He covered her mouth with his, catching her cries as the pleasure again magnified and became larger than life, causing her body to latch onto his and squeeze. He thrust harder, driving up into her depths, then held himself there, growling deep in his throat.

"Damnation," he muttered and, after a moment, lay back, breathing hard. "You trying to kill me?"

She giggled. "I think you know better than that."

"Hmm." The sound was between a laugh and a happy hum. "Sleepy," he mumbled.

"Aye. Go to sleep."

He grunted and lay still.

***

"What the hell happened last night, Isobel?" the yell startled her awake.

She jumped and opened her eyes to find Dirk standing before the bed glaring at her. Naked. Heavens, he was magnificently naked. Her gaze dropped to his erect shaft, but he quickly grabbed his plaid to cover himself. She giggled. Too late, she'd already seen his delightful appendage and felt what it could do.

"You were rather frisky last night," she said.

"Me?" he blasted.

"Stop yelling at me!"

"Damnation, Isobel," he growled, but kept his voice low. "Did we… hell, I know we did."

"Do you not remember?" Her stomach sank.

"I thought it was a dream." He muttered several shocking curses in Gaelic. "Why did you allow me to… do this?"

Because it was what she'd wanted too. But, as a woman, was she allowed to say that? Or would he see her as scandalous? He deserved the truth. "I wanted it as much as you did. I thought you were aware of what you were doing."

"How many times?" he questioned.

"Two."

His eyes rolled back in his head as if he were killed on the spot.

The plaid enticingly low around his hips, he paced back and forth before the bed. "Are you mad? What if I… what if you…?" Shaking his head, he muttered more curses.

She recalled the explosive joy of what they'd done. The unbelievable pleasure. How could he possibly not remember it? Certainly it had been ill advised and reckless, but she had been unable to resist. 'Haps she was an immoral wanton, but it had been one of the best experiences of her life. For him not to feel the same humiliated her. She knew his honor was at stake, but to her, what they shared was far greater than honor. She wanted him to be the center of her life.

I love him. Oh, saints! She did; she loved him. She couldn't have given herself to him so completely otherwise. Their lovemaking had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with the emotions growing between them.

"I don't understand," he said, frowning as if greatly troubled. "You were not a virgin, yet there's a blood stain on the sheets." He pointed to the middle of the bed. "Did I hurt you? Tell me I didn't force you."

"You didn't. I wanted to do it."

"Why is there a blood stain?"

"The truth is… I was a virgin."





Chapter Seventeen





A virgin?

What the devil? Standing beside the bed, Dirk stared down at Isobel, wearing only a sheet and still lying temptingly in his bed. He struggled to wrap his mind around this bit of information that didn't fit with anything else.

"You said you were married! A widow! Is that a lie?"

"Stop yelling! I did not lie." Her glare remained on him but her voice softened. "My husband was unable to perform in the bedchamber. He was ill most of the time I knew him."