The Laird's Captive Wife(78)

‘Ashlynn, I beg you…’

‘All in good time, my lord.’

Bending forward she brought her mouth down on his, taking the kiss at leisure before resuming where she’d left off before, moving against him with deliberate and teasing slowness, fanning the flames. Iain’s breath caught in his throat as another wave of pleasure hit him.

‘Have mercy, lass.’

She heard him groan and smiled again, a very wicked and provocative smile that did not go unnoticed. Iain gritted his teeth.

‘I warn you, my sweet, I intend to have my own back for this.’

‘Revenge again, my lord?’

‘Don’t be in any doubt about it.’

He moved deeper into her and this time she made no reply save for a long and shuddering intake of breath. Then she was moving with him, building the tempo until it ended a little later in a mutual protracted climax.

Afterwards, they lay together beneath her cloak, sharing their warmth. Ashlynn snuggled close drowsing, her head against his shoulder. He bent to kiss her forehead and tightened his arms about her, still finding it hard to believe what had passed or the extent of the pleasure he had experienced. In truth he had not thought to find this again with any woman; had not thought to feel this way again about any woman. Yet somehow it had happened and he could no longer deny it. Nor could he deny the fascination she held for him. Each time he thought he was nearer to knowing her she surprised him anew. If this was a foretaste of what was to come…It led his mind along new and delightful paths and he felt his groin grow warm again.

Ashlynn was roused from her doze a short time later by a kiss, gentle and lingering at first but becoming deeper as she roused to consciousness. His hands drew her skirt and shift upwards. Ashlynn opened her eyes, regarding him quizzically.

‘My lord?’

The dark eyes gleamed and he smiled, a deeply disturbing smile that sent a thrill of excitement the length of her body.

‘I did warn you, lass.’

‘About what?’

‘That I intended to get my own back.’

* * *

By the time they returned to the tower it was dark and the smells from the kitchen indicated that the evening meal was about to be served.

‘Now that was good timing,’ he observed with a grin.

‘Is food all you men think of?’ she replied.

‘Not all.’ He drew her hard against him for another kiss.

‘No more, my lord. I must go and change. Anyone seeing me now would think I’d been for a tryst in a hayloft.’

He shook his head. ‘Shocking how people always think the worst. Heaven knows where they get such scandalous ideas.’

She smiled. ‘I cannot imagine.’

They made their way up the stairs and, by sheer good fortune, reached the top floor unnoticed. There she left him and went to her own chamber to bathe and change her attire. Her body still burned with his love-making and every limb ached from that delicious and protracted revenge. Recalling the details she smiled to herself. Then, having hastily stripped off her clothing, she washed and donned a fresh shift and gown. With Morag’s help she combed and braided her hair with matching gold ribbons. By the time she had finished no vestige remained of the tousled wanton and in her place was the elegant and gracious hostess.

* * *

Iain noted the change and grinned as she took her place beside him at table. For a moment or two he let his gaze linger on the curvy figure beneath the golden gown, letting his memory dwell on what lay beneath. It also recalled what had passed that afternoon. When in the early days of their marriage he had dreamed of her surrender he could never have guessed that her passion would equal his own, or that she would have the power to arouse him so far.

Aware of that penetrating gaze Ashlynn kept her attention first on the food and then on her guests lest with one glance she revealed the thoughts going through her mind. However, much of the talk that evening was about hunting and, since it had actually stopped raining outside, the tone was optimistic.

‘If the cloud breaks up we might get a day yet,’ said Duncan.

‘Aye, we might.’ Iain looked at Ashlynn. ‘Do you still wish to come?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ she replied. ‘Besides, I think some fresh venison would be most welcome among our guests.’

He turned to his brother-in-law. ‘What say you to some hunting, Ban?’

‘I’d like nothing better, my lord.’

‘That's settled then.’ Iain smiled. ‘We’re due for some sport.’

‘A hart of ten?’

‘With any luck. If the weather holds up we’ll send Sim out early with his lymer and see what it can find for us. There’s not a dog with a keener nose for miles around.’