A Promise of Love (21 page)

He lifted her easily in the water, until her breasts were exposed. The chill dawn air puckered her wet nipples even further. It only required a tiny movement on his part to bend his head and capture one pink nub in his mouth. How had he restrained himself all this time? Her taste was uniquely Judith; he wanted to burrow his nose into her flesh and inhale her.

His lips were warm; his mouth was hot. Judith looked down, her hands fastened on his shoulders, frozen into immobility by the sight of his mouth fastened on one breast. His lips and teeth created a shiver of sensation, nothing more. Not a taming, not even a taunting, but something else. He glanced up at her, tiny golden lights warming his eyes, as he changed breasts, leaving the nipple he’d suckled traitorously craving further attention. She flushed and looked away, as if the sight of him feasting on her flesh was not emblazoned on her eyelids.

With a calm far in excess of what he was feeling, Alisdair placed the flat of his tongue against one nipple. Only that. A soft inducement, a sweet benediction, an unbearable torture. His tongue was hot, her nipple struggled against it like a proud warrior, rising firm and stiff against its gentle abrasion. Only when she felt the prickling of it, the odd sensation of a thousand stinging pins, did he raise his eyes to hers again. She bit her lower lip, he made a cavern of his mouth and sucked the nipple within its hot depths, all the while watching her. It was as if he were waiting for something, some reaction from her, some movement, some sound.

He lowered her into the water again, until her breasts were nearly covered, only, she discovered, that he might bend his head and whisper more naughtiness into her ear.

“It felt so right, Eve, to have you in my mouth. Strange and welcome feelings have coursed through my body at the taste of you. Shall I show you where?”

She licked her lips, but remained silent.

Her breasts had always been an embarrassment to her, her too full bosom an object of scorn from her sisters, and one of ribald comments from Anthony. Even here, in the cove, with her breasts being washed by the sea and Alisdair’s lips, she would just as soon they were near to invisible. Yet, he seemed to enjoy the touch of them, their plumpness, suckling her like he was a babe. He feasted, plumping up one breast with a free hand as if he wished to devour the whole of her into his mouth. He nibbled and licked and groaned when she moved suddenly under the unbearable pressure of it. Her nipples felt swollen and oddly warm, not uncomfortably so, merely a different sensation.

He raised her higher in the water, slid a hot and wet tongue under one breast. "Oh, Eve, I should sing hosannas to our differences." he said, his smile enticing, filled with devilment. He removed one hand from her waist and captured the breast his mouth had just left. His fingers plucked her flesh, causing shivers of sensation where they touched.

The shivers were from the cold, not from his touch.

He smiled and licked the space between her neck and shoulder. She tasted of the morning sea and Judith, woman and nature, as heady a combination as he could ever wish. He felt himself swelling even further. His hands cupped her buttocks, the tender flesh, the inviting cleft.

“Your bottom is so sweetly curved, Eve, it could be a pillow for my lips, a sweetmeat for my teeth.”

Her eyes opened wide at the meaning of that, and she splashed the smile from his lips with one flattened hand against the surface of the water.

"That’s enough, MacLeod. Just let me go."

He did, and she sank. He pulled her up by one arm, sputtering, holding her within the safety of his arms.

"You see, Judith,” he said, grinning, “I will always do as you request. All you have to do is ask me."

"Take me back to Tynan," she said, glaring at him. One hand wiped her face dry, but moisture still sparkled on her lashes, gleaned on her cheeks, wet her lips. Alisdair thought he’d never seen such a beauty as his English wife at this moment.

The fact that she was physically
safe
, whether or not she was conscious of it, had begun to alter the way Judith responded to the world. She was unaware that she walked with long-legged grace, her hips swinging with unpracticed and unconscious seduction, not the jerky movements of only weeks before as if her legs impelled her in directions she was unwilling to go. Nor did she hunch over herself, rounding her shoulders and bringing her arms close in to her sides, as if protecting herself, but stood tall, her height and slenderness enhancing the curves of her womanly body.

And at this moment, with the sun rising above the horizon, with her deep blue eyes shooting lightning bolts of irritation, anger and something akin to frustration at him, Alisdair MacLeod realized that his wife was more than simply pretty, she was beautiful the way Scotland was majestic. Not a common beauty, but something unique, made precious by its rarity.

"I will, sweet. But in a moment," he murmured, concentrating on the sensitive tip of one breast again. It puckered still tighter at his delicate touch, as if it remembered and sought further attention. He stroked the skin beneath one breast with a patient finger, feeling the texture of her flesh, memorizing it and the soft gasp which accompanied his touch.

Her knee brushed against something unbelievably long and hard. Her eyes widened and he smiled.

"Kiss me, Eve," he said, lowering his mouth to hers.

She did, a short, darting kiss, which was about as passionate as a snowflake. He grinned. She was so damned stubborn. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with endless weeks of hunger. His lips were both hard and soft and tasted of the sea. They molded to hers, opening them wider for the assault of his tongue. She could only hang onto his shoulders and hope she didn't drown. After a moment, Judith felt as though she were drowning anyway. How hot his mouth was, and how deep and dark.

She did not fear him; she had weeks in which to study him, gauge his measure. Nor did she fear this act he played at with such devilment. She was very much afraid she was immune to what the MacLeod called passion, as if each tender spot in her mind and body had been cauterized by fire itself. There was nothing left to feel.

Yet, she shuddered again as his tongue licked the outline of her lips, lapping the droplets of water from her skin. She buried her face in the nape of his neck, and shivered. She was so cold and so hot at the same time.

"Our mouths will be swollen from our kisses, Eve. Is that what a tongue is for? To soothe and anoint?” His voice was husky and low. Alisdair placed one hand beneath her chin and led her mouth once more to his. His tongue dueled with hers, touched the molten warmth of her inner lips and the cavern of her mouth.

He pulled her close to him, the buoyancy of the water bringing her effortlessly near the apex of his thighs and to the evidence of his desire for her.

"You are so beautiful, Eve," he said in a hushed voice. "A perfect creation on this first morning." He bent and kissed her again.

She made a small noise next to his skin, and could not resist the lure of it. Her tongue licked where her mouth rested, and she tasted salt, and the warmth of his golden flesh. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and closed her eyes with the feeling of it.

He nudged her closer, wrapped her fallen hair around her shoulders and played with the ends of it. He wound its wet length around one fist and pulled her head back so that he could reach her lips. Again, he pillaged her mouth, robbing her of her last defenses in the whirling heat of his tongue.

His hand descended from her breast, and smoothed its way down past her waist to her hips and lower, until he touched her intimately at the top of her thighs. She flinched, but he pulled her closer into his embrace, soothing her, gentling her as his fingers invaded her warmth and found the spot he sought. She was hot, and wet, slick with a moisture that did not come solely from the sea. He lifted her slightly and eased a finger inside, slowly slipping in and out, as his mouth sought her breasts. His thumb slid through the folds of her flesh, and rotated slightly.

“The most perfect difference of all, sweet Eve.”

They were floating on the slight current. He, supported by his feet touching the rocky bottom, she, bolstered only by the touch of his hands and his mouth.

He lifted her slowly, brought her closer, and in one smooth stroke, entered her.

“This is the most magnificent of all the Creator’s gifts, sweet Eve, that we come together in effortless match, drugged with pleasure, each needing the other.” Alisdair gripped her shoulders, bending her gently back so that he could see her face.

He filled her completely. Judith felt stretched by his width and by his length, but not painfully so. When her eyes closed, he stilled his movements until they opened again. She was impaled by the swollen heat of him, and by his look, somber, serious, lit by the dawn sun and by passion and intent.

He moved slightly, spreading his feet.

God, she was hot and she clung to him as though he were life itself. He moved again and a slight sound emerged from her parted lips. He bent and kissed those lips again, his tongue playing on hers, at the same time his fingers delved, again, into that secret, slippery place.

He grit his teeth against the feeling of her gripping him. She sank against him, her mouth, swollen and open, resting against his neck. The little gasps she uttered aroused him further.

He tried to think about the shearing still to be done, the mending of harness, and a million other unnecessary and calming thoughts. Instead, all he could thing about was Judith. Her arms were loosely draped about his shoulders, one hand tangled in the length of his hair at his nape. Her mouth was warm and wet against his collarbone. Occasionally, her tongue would dart out and touch his skin. The water was icy, but Judith was fire. Teasing flames of gold red hair and the hot promise of shadowed eyes. Flushed cheeks and taunting nipples, and the silken feel of her surrounding him.

He had not wanted to spill inside of her yet. She, on the other hand, had other ideas. He was hanging onto the last vestiges of his mental and physical stamina when she moved. It was an innocent action, of instinct rather than skill, but her legs locked around his calves and brought him deeper still.

She stroked his lips with one wet finger and he wanted to kiss her again. He did, and once more she moved, a gentle bobbing that made him explode. He groaned into her mouth as he filled her. She took the sound and changed it into her own slight moan.

When he could breathe again, he shifted his weight slowly, moving back so that her feet finally rested on the rocks below.

She leaned her head against his chest, shivering in the chill. It had not hurt, this mating with the MacLeod. It had been different, a game of sensations and silliness she’d not thought him capable of, ending in a emptiness which made her feel oddly cross. Judith did not think, however, that she could ever look at the cove again without blushing.

He sighed against her, knowing that he had not brought her to fulfillment. Damn, but the woman was a living contradiction. She had the body of a siren and the innocence of a child. Nor had their first experience together abruptly altered that state.

She looked at him as though she was surprised at his sudden fatigue, and then looked beyond his shoulder. He watched the expression on her face change from bemusement to horror.

He turned to see what would cause her such consternation.

There, on the shore, stood what looked to be the entire clan.

CHAPTER 19

Judith was beyond humiliation.

Alisdair only grinned.

He emerged from the water with her draped in his arms as if he were Adam and she a humiliated Eve. The people on the shore, especially the men, winked their approval. The women only glared.

"Do they have nothing to do but gape?" Judith hissed, burying her face against his chest. She tried to pretend that she did not hear Malcolm's curt greeting, or the MacLeod's jaunty response.

"Good morning, Granmere," he said, responding to his grandmother's shaking head with a broad smile. Judith groaned something that sounded suspiciously like, "Oh, God," and buried her head further into his armpit. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pretend that she would awake in a few moments, in her own bed.

Sophie smiled, watching her naked grandson carry his equally naked wife up the stairs. Judith's past had resulted, not in disaster, but in the final impetus to bring these two together.

The MacLeod released her and Judith bounced upon the bed, grabbed the covers, burrowing into them until she had at least two layers of cloth around her.

"You are a barbarian, MacLeod," she said angrily.

"So I might be, Judith," he agreed complacently.

"Must we have relations in broad daylight, though, MacLeod? And in front of others?"

"If I'd not been so carried away by you, Judith, I would have noticed the others. I refuse to accept all of the blame. Neither of us were paying much attention to the shore, were we?" He turned, that stupid grin still playing about his mouth, and began to wash, not affected by the chill water in the ewer. "Besides, Judith, we did not have relations," he added, turning to face her, "we made love."

He walked back to the bed, sat on the edge of it, and hauled her close to him. "Daylight or dark, Judith, there is nothing to be ashamed of."