Devil in a Kilt (28 page)

He
pushed up to sit straddling her thighs, then stared down at her, devouring her
with his gaze. Never had a woman been better suited for a man's ardor.

Never
had a woman fired his passion more.

And
never had he felt more helpless, more victim to the pulsing heat at his fevered
loins.

Half-crazed
with wanting her, and the need to go slow, Duncan brought his fingers to his
lips and licked the middle finger of each hand, thoroughly wetting the ends of
each. As she watched him, her sweet lips parting in growing desire, Duncan
touched his moistened fingers to the hardened tips of her breasts.

A
sharp cry burst from her lips at the contact. Pleased beyond measure, Duncan
used the dampened tips of his middle fingers to lubricate her nipples with
slow, little circles. Idly, he toyed with them, plucking gently, or simply
grazing the tip of one finger back and forth over each taut peak until his
wife's hips lifted off the bed, her woman's mound instinctively seeking the
same aching pleasure he showered upon her aroused breasts.

Her
hips began moving in a gentle rocking motion, and consciously or unconsciously,
her thighs parted. When they opened wide enough for him to see all of her, the
very last dredges of his ridiculous vows of abstinence flew, scattered to the
four winds and swept away as thoroughly as if he'd tossed them into the full
force of a raging summer gale. With a deep groan that started in his very
bones, Duncan realized he was lost. Naught would keep him from having her.

Not
now, not with her sweetness spread open so invitingly beneath him.

She
was his wife.

He'd
already taken her virginity.

Why
should he deny himself pleasure? Or her?

Didn't
she seem to crave his attentions? To abstain was nonsense and would serve no
one.

The
saints knew, he'd favor her well.

And
teach her to favor him.

Theirs
would be a lusty and enjoyable union. Mayhap he'd keep her abed for a
sennight, pleasure her until she was limp with exhaustion and begged him to
cease.

He'd
give her his all... all except his love.

That,
he could give no one, for he did not believe in such fool emotions. But he
would give her pleasure.

Nights
and nights of pleasure.

She
tensed beneath him then, the rocking motion of her hips slowing, her legs
stretched taut. The warm, musky essence of her arousal drifted up from her as
she instinctively sought her release, the deep womanly scent nigh driving
Duncan wild. Then she moved again and the silken flesh of her thighs brushed
against his swollen sex. The contact, fleeting as it'd been, nearly caused him
to spill his seed.

"I'm
sorry, lass, I canna withhold myself much—" his words broke into a ragged
groan as his lady rested two fingers against his lips.

"‘Tis
as well, sir, for neither can I."

Locking
her gaze with his, she arched upward, boldly robbing herself against him, her
body leaving no doubt of what she, too, needed. She opened her thighs to him,
not quite fully, but in an invitation no man could deny.

Still,
Duncan paused before he urged them wider. He searched her eyes, looking for
fear and found none.

Only
desire.

"It
may hurt, once is not enough for a maid to accept a man without pain," he
cautioned, his voice deep with raw emotion and desire.

"It
does not matter. I will not shatter," Linnet encouraged, her gaze steady
on his. Then she closed her hand around the length of him, guiding him to her
sweetness, arching her hips up to welcome him.

Duncan's
control fled in an irretrievable rush at her touch, her show of complete and
utter acceptance. Unable to deny himself any longer, he plunged deep inside
her. Greedily, he took all she offered... including her virginity.

His
heated shout of passion froze on his lips, blending with her sharper cry of
pain even as he tore through the barrier he'd thought no longer existed.

But
it had, and they'd both been duped.

The
consummation of their marriage had ne'er taken place.

Until
now.

Hellfire
and damnation!

Duncan
remained poised above his lady wife, frozen in place, afraid to even breathe
lest he hurt her more.

Helplessly,
he watched several fat tears leak from beneath her tightly closed lashes and
roll down her cheeks, leaving silvery tracks in their wake.

"Sweeting,"
he breathed, his voice ragged. He stared down at her pulse, its rapid beat
clearly visible at the base of her throat and saw how her lower lip trembled
ever so slightly, the signs of her pain twisting his heart. "Linnet,
I—"

Her
eyes opened then, and she regarded him with a gaze the color of molten bronze.
"Dinna say you're sorry. Please."

As
tenderly as he could, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with the side of his
thumb. "‘Tis only sorry I am that I've hurt you. For the rest, and the
gift you've given me, ‘tis grateful and awed I am."

Lifting
her hand, she curled it around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.
"The pain is not so great."

By
the Rood, he'd meant to
seduce
her, not cause her pain no matter how
sharp or small. He'd wanted simply to win her over with the prowess he'd once
been so proud of.

And
what had he done?

Stormed
into her virginal sheath with all the finesse of a rutting stag!

In
one out-of-control moment, he'd proven himself no better than the wild beast
she seemed to hold him for at times.

"Lady,
I do not believe you," he murmured against her temple. "But I promise
you, ne'er shall you suffer the pain again. You wouldn't have this time, at
least not so acutely, had I been more gentle."

But,
saints have mercy on him, how could he have known?

He'd
truly thought he'd taken her in a hippocras-induced haze on their wedding
night.

Cautiously,
Duncan began easing his still-swollen shaft from the tight heat of her body.
His lady tensed at the movement, stiffening beneath him and the fleeting wince
she hadn't been able to hide lanced his conscience with the sting of a newly
sharpened sword.

Instantly,
he froze, the tip of his manhood still within her, the warm silkiness of her
woman's flesh intoxicating him, urging him to plunge back into the heated
softness of her core.

Instead
he swallowed an oath, remaining where he was, rigid and unmoving.

He
opened his mouth to tell her he wouldn't mount her again lest absolutely
certain she was ready for him, but she reached up to stroke his jaw, her
fingertips sliding lightly over his lips, silencing him. "You could not
have known, my husband. I, too, thought I was a maid no more."

A
maid ... a
virgin.

His
manhood throbbed, jerking at the very thought.

His
heart
melted.

Ne'er
had he been the first with any woman. Not with Cassandra and certainly not with
the paid bawds he'd used to assuage his need in recent years.

Truth
to tell, he'd doubted virgins existed, had not expected his new bride to be
one.

Hadn't
even cared.

Yet
now, as they lay joined together still, guilt at his clumsiness roiled through
him, twisting his gut even as an incredible feeling of joy coursed through his
veins.

A
feeling so powerful, he wanted to race to the battlements and cry out in
triumph.

Shout
his gladness for all to hear.

For
as surely as her virtue pleased him, the willingness she'd displayed in the
moments before he'd plunged into her meant more.

Much
more.

Her
welcoming acceptance filled him with such happiness he felt as if some great
hand had ripped aside a dark veil, allowing light to stream into the dark void
he carried within.

His
entire weight resting on his elbows, Duncan feasted his eyes on her. She lay as
if cut from marble, her beautiful eyes staring up at him, her full lips
slightly parted, her cheeks still pale and damp from her tears.

The
wan light seeping through the shutters cast a lustrous glow to her smooth skin,
and the dying fire reflecting in the tangled mass of hair spread across the
pillows, turning her tresses the color of dancing flames.

A
dusting of freckles stood out against the creaminess of her skin, and he ached
to kiss each and every one of them. He'd start with the ones sprinkled like
Stardust across the bridge of her nose and end with the ones adorning the swell
of her wonderfully full breasts.

Duncan
drew a deep, steadying breath, totally awed. Ne'er had he seen a more beautiful
sight.

Ne'er
had he desired a woman more.

And
ne'er would he have believed he'd come so close to loving again.

"On
my life, lady, I wouldn't have used you so roughly had I known," he
breathed, lowering his lips to the warm skin of her neck. "But I... I
thank you."

"‘Tis
I
who am grateful," his wife said, her voice so soft and low Duncan
doubted he'd heard her correctly.

Taking
his full weight onto his arms, he pushed himself up, easing his manhood
completely out of her. "What did you say?"

Rather
than answer him, Linnet used the tip of her tongue to wet her lips. She gave
him a shaky smile, then sighed and pressed her hand against his cheek. "
‘Twas naught I shall repeat, but I will ask why you pulled away." Her
words were barely audible above the din of the storm outside. "‘Tis a
wondrous feeling, this, and I would that it does not cease." She smiled
again, brighter this time. "I told you I would not shatter."

Deep
inside Duncan, something swelled and
did
shatter. Another great portion
of the wall around his heart. "You would that we go on?"

Her
gaze steady on his, she nodded, then moved against him. The feel of her damp,
intimate curls brushing against his shaft nearly drove him past the bounds of
restraint.

"I
must warn you, it will not stop hurting," he managed, his voice raw.
"Not this time."

"I
do not care," she said, the breathy sweetness of her voice undermining his
control. "Let us continue so we can bring this time to completion, then do
it again," she added, taking him by surprise. "For I should indeed
like to experience this ... this
joining
... without the pain."

Duncan's
passion surged anew, his shaft swelling and lengthening as he slowly eased
himself back inside her. She tensed, her fingers clutching his shoulders, her
soft moans urging him on.

But
still, he held back, not yet ready to guide her into the age-old rhythm her
untried hips instinctively sought to find.

"Relax,"
he coaxed, his hand sliding over her breast, gently kneading her fullness as he
spoke. "Let your knees fall farther apart and give yourself up to what
you're feeling. I'll try not to hurt you."

Linnet
did as he said, opening her thighs wider to accommodate him, trying
desperately to relax as he said she should, to will the tenseness from her
limbs.

She
wanted
to, for the sensations spreading through her were almost too exquisite to
bear, but doing so wasn't easy. It
did
hurt.

Much
more than she'd expected. Yet the searing discomfort was of scarce import
compared to the way he made her feel and the exaltation flooding through her
since she'd glimpsed the truth of his desire for her.

Indeed,
‘twas writ all o'er his face and in the tender way he moved within her.

"...
good, lass," she heard him say, his voice somehow distant, blurred by the
haze of passion swirling around her.

"Open
yourself a wee bit more," he urged, using his hands to gently ease her
thighs farther apart. "Dinna worry ... I'll withdraw immediately if you
but ask."

"That
I shall not do," she said, smoothing her hands over the broadness of his
shoulders, glorying in the feel of his hard muscles working beneath her
fingers. Faith, how could he think she'd want him to stop? She couldn't bear it
if he did. Not now, just when she was reveling in his acceptance of her as a
woman.

The
blatant need raging in the depths of his eyes, the urgency in his touch, the
huskiness of his deep voice, his concern for her comfort, all went straight to
her heart, fair overwhelming her with a powerful surge of emotion, the likes of
which she couldn't begin to comprehend.

‘Twas
a glorious feeling, and she wanted to savor each moment it lasted, relish each
touch, memorize the wondrous feel of him inside her.

Give
herself up to the heady sensations he awakened in her, enjoy the feel of his
magnificent body joined to hers.

Indulge
herself in the sheer intimacy of his maleness moving ever deeper into that most
secret part of her.