The MacKinnon’s Bride(86)

And he wanted to give it... craved the release she could give him. But he didn’t dare.

Still she seduced him... nearer to the edge, closer to his release, wooing his body with too little effort. When she closed her eyes, he closed his own, summoning every last shred of will he possessed.

Damn, but he wasn’t going to allow himself this. Wanted her to experience it—but God help him, she cajoled him so sweetly with her soft moans and her uninhibited responses. He knew by her rhythm she was nearing completion, and the very thought nearly lost him his control. He opened his eyes to watch her face, wanting to see her at her moment of release, and the intensity of her expression nearly unmanned him.

She struggled to capture it, he knew.

His heart hammered fiercely. “D’ ye feel it?” he whispered softly. The muscles flexed in his legs and arms as he vied for control of his body. “D’ ye feel it?” he asked her urgently.

Her answering moan sent his pulses leaping and his body into carnal oblivion. He bucked beneath her, groaning in torment, losing himself, losing restraint.

God help him, he was losing control.

Iain squeezed his eyes shut and thought of his horse. Damn, but a vision of mating animals suddenly came to mind. Mentally eradicating the image, his mind searched for a safer device—bloody hell, but he couldn’t do it!

Couldn’t hold back!

His hands grasped her hips. “Seize it!” he demanded, groaning, his body moving against his will, convulsing. “Seize it,” he urged her. “Now before I canna... ahhh, God!” he cried, when her body tightened about him. “Bluidy hell!” It was almost too late for him, he felt himself begin, and tried to lift her at once from atop him.

“Nay!” she cried out, resisting him.

His hands trembling, his body stilling at once, Iain told her, his breath labored and his voice harsh, “Ye dinna understand!” He could scarce focus upon her, his eyes were so glazed.

“I do,” she whispered fiercely, shuddering and moving once more atop him, stubbornly disobeying. “I do!”

Iain’s climax was immediate and violent. “Ah,

Christ!” he cried out, and bucked against her, driving his seed within her womb. He clutched her to him with quivering hands, and still she moved atop him, milking every last drop from his body.

Gratitude washed over him first, a fierce satisfaction that he’d never in his life experienced—and close upon its heels an overwhelming, blinding emotion he’d never known could possibly exist within his long-jaded heart.

In his instant of gratification, he loved intensely and without restraint.

She fell forward, crying out softly, and he clutched her against his thundering heart. Stroking her hair, he vowed with all his soul and his might that he’d please her always and keep her safe. That, he vowed with his life.

And God have mercy upon his wretched soul if she ever looked upon him with such loathing as Mairi had that last morn.

Needing her embrace even more than he had her loving, he held her fast against him, not allowing her to rise when she tried.

They drifted to sleep just so.





chapter 27





Always the room precipitated the dream.

It began in that half-conscious state, once the room fell to darkness—in that surreal moment when, after he’d eluded sleep so long, the candle at last guttered. With the final hiss of the extinguishing flame came the disorienting glow from the hall. First, merely a flicker, one that urged him to crawl from beneath his covers and spy into the corridor.

He didn’t go.

Then came the wails, the woman’s shrieks and entreaties for mercy.

He clung to the blankets as a procession of voices passed his room. A flurry of torchlight. Rushing feet.

And he was a bairn once more... a child of no more than two... though he couldn’t be certain... whether it was a dream... or a long-buried memory.

In his dream, the pleas were his mother’s.

Beyond the doorway, the light shone brightly, a beacon in the darkness of the corridor, and he lay beneath the blankets, sweating and afeared to move.

The screaming intensified.

At the end of the hall, the door slammed shut, casting the hall, along with his chamber, in total darkness. The boy he was squeezed his eyes shut and wished the screams to end. He wished with all his might. Wished. Wished.

Silence descended.

Irrevocable silence.

And suddenly he was a babe in arms, cooing as he peered up into blue eyes.

Hush ye, my bairnie, my bonny wee dearie, the voice crooned, sleep, come and close eyes so heavy and weary... Closed are ye eyes, an’ rest ye are takin’... Sound be your sleepin’, and bright be your wakin’...

Iain shuddered awake, his eyes flying open, his lashes damp. Though the room was cool, sweat drenched his brow.