Highlander in Her Dreams (19 page)

Turning away, she dipped her hand in the bathwater, twirling her fingers in it as cheerily as she could. “The water's still warm,” she said, risking a glance at him. “If you don't mind sharing, it just occurred to me that maybe you'd like a bath, too?”

His smile faded. “I had a quick wash at a spring when I collected your heather. It was enough.”

“You might enjoy a real bath more.”

He seized her water-swirling hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “You know well what I'd enjoy. What I need.”

She jerked back her hand and scooted around the tub. “Still, I think—”

“God's bones!” He was on her in a heartbeat, swooping her off her feet and carrying her across the room. “Have done with such nonsense,” he said, lowering her onto his bed. “You ought to know how much I desire you.”

Kira pulled a pillow on top of her belly. “I do know…” She trailed off, remembering how he'd almost worshipped her curves in their dreams, calling her
lush
and claiming that her
soft, warm body
would fire his blood on even the coldest Highland nights. How he'd smoothed his hands all over her as he said the words, kissing her everywhere. Even so, this was now and no dream, and her belly was definitely a tad too soft.

Angry that she hadn't taken better care of herself, she dug her fingers into the pillow, holding it firmly in place.

“What is bothering you, Kee-
rah
?” He glanced at the table, then back at her. “Shall I bring you an armful of heather next time? I will if a few sprigs weren't enough to properly woo you.”

Her heart dipped. “I loved your heather. One sprig would've melted me. It isn't that.” She paused, struggling to find the right words. “It's that I've gained a bit of weight since the last time we
dreamt together
.”

His brows shot upward. “Saints! Think you I'd want a stick-woman in my bed?”

“No, but—”

“Ne'er have I desired another woman more than you.” His gaze slid across her breasts and her pillow-padded belly, then swept down her thankfully good legs. “Alas,” he added, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand, “it would seem I must prove it to you.”

He stepped closer, pure male heat pouring off him.

Her pulse jumping, Kira watched as he pried her fingers from the pillow. He set it carefully aside, then stood back and folded his arms.

“Now the drying cloth.” He waited, every fierce, muscled inch of him daring her to defy him.

No, every fierce, muscled,
scarred
inch, for standing this close and beneath the blaze of a well-burning wall torch, she could see a scoring of faint, silvery scars winking from his hips and thighs. A rather fresh one slashed the side of his left arm. Sword marks, Kira knew. Battle tokens that she'd not noticed in their dreams. Not surprisingly, they only made him look all the more irresistible.

Dark, dangerous, and bearing marks of medieval warfare.

Kira swallowed, the notion making her pulse quicken. She looked up at him, her tummy roll forgotten. “Your sca—”

“My battle scars are no' near as interesting as the sweetness beneath that drying cloth,” he said, his burr thicker than ever before. “Have done with it—I would see you naked.”

With trembling fingers, Kira obliged. She untied the knot and yanked the thing from beneath her, letting it fall to the floor. Cold air swept her, bringing gooseflesh and tightening her nipples, but she resisted the urge to reach for the covers. She couldn't have moved if her life depended on it. Not with him looking at her as if he wanted to devour her whole.

He was
not
looking at her as if tummy rolls mattered to him.

“You take my breath,” he said, proving it. “Every luscious curve of you. Your breasts”—he paused, his gaze latching onto them—“are magnificent.” He reached for them, lightly caressing her nipples, then splaying his fingers across her fullness, palming and squeezing. “I will ne'er get enough of you,” he vowed, the words sending delicious shivers spilling all through her.

Especially there where he hadn't yet looked.

Tingling flames of pleasure danced and pulsed between her legs, the fiery ache making her burn for more. She writhed on the bed, rocking her hips and biting back her cries, not wanting to rush the moment, the sweet savoring of this first real joining. Then a single whimper escaped her and something flared in his eyes. Something primal and untamed, and so arousing she nearly choked on her need.

“That's my Kee-
rah
,” he praised, gliding one hand over her belly, then tracing a finger right down the center of her, the intimacy of his touch electrifying her, shattering her control.

“I
am
yours,” she cried, bending her legs and opening her knees, all reservations fleeing.

“Jesu God!” He looked down at her, his nostrils flaring as he swept his hands beneath her buttocks, his grip firm and demanding. “You, lass, ought e'er be clothed in naught but your skin and moon glow,” he breathed, his fingers digging into her smooth, plump flesh.

“And you—I've ached for you since the first moment I saw you,” she confessed, her throat getting thick again. “I dreamt of you even before our dreams began.”

“Och, sweetness, if you only knew how I longed for you, too. How I searched for you.” He leaned down to kiss her. A ravenous openmouthed kiss so incredible it was all she could do not to drag him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around his hips and then plunging her hand between them, closing her fingers around him and guiding him home.

There, where she needed him so badly.

Instead, he pulled back to rain kisses down the side of her neck. He nuzzled his face against her breasts, rubbing back and forth, losing himself in her scent and warmth, the smooth, satiny feel of her. “Lass,” he breathed, teasing at her nipples with light, barely-there touches before he shoved his hair out of the way and drew one peak deep into his mouth, tasting and savoring her. Losing his soul. Each sweet suckling pull enflamed him more, the blaze of his need rivaling anything he'd ever felt in their dream-passions.

Dream-lust.

Nay,
love
, a bold voice shouted in his head.

He groaned and sucked harder on her nipple, grazing it with his teeth, the immensity of his need for her almost stopping his heart. Whate'er it was, love, lust, or both, it filled him now. A great roaring hunger inside him, all-consuming and out of control, its fury blinding him to all else. Only the naked woman on his bed mattered. His need to make her his scorching him to the bone.

“This is how I need you.” He looked up, locking gazes with her. “Just so,” he vowed, smoothing a hand down her hip, then tracing light circles across her abdomen, his fingers just brushing the lush, flame red curls of her sex. “Naught but skin and pleasure between us.”

She gasped, her body quivering beneath him. “Yes, just skin to skin,” she agreed, lifting her hips until his fingers were on her sleek, damp heat, the silky-soft feel of her breaking his restraint.

“Och, lass, you shouldna done that,” he warned, his mouth curving in just the kind of smile he knew would make her burn. “See you, now that I'm touching you with my fingers”—he slid his middle one right inside her—“I've a powerful need to feel you with all o' me.”

“I want all of you.” She writhed on the bed, her breath hitching. “Love me for real this time. I told you, I've ached for that since the first time I saw you.”

He looked at her for a long moment, not missing the flush of arousal staining her breasts or the brilliance of her eyes. Her kiss-swollen lips and the way she kept rocking her hips, pressing against his hand.

“You truly want this?” He had to ask. “There will be no regrets?”

“Yes! And no!” she cried. “No regrets ever.”

Something inside him wound tight on her words, a hot-spinning fire that set him hard as granite. “Then so be it,” he breathed, stretching his fingers across her slick heat, cupping her intimately. He rubbed with just enough pressure, circling his thumb over her most sensitive spot.

“O-o-oh!” She arched her back, nearly shooting off the bed.

Exultation flashed through him, making him even hotter and harder than before. “Now, sweetness, you will see just how
real
I am,” he promised, straddling her. “A more real man ne'er walked and breathed. Nor one who desires you more.”

He smoothed her hair back, wanting to see her face as he touched her. “You are mine.” He made the words an oath, his voice roughened by passion. “Now, and for all days to come. I will ne'er let you go.”

“I don't want to go anywhere.” She peered up at him, her gaze slipping right inside him. “Not anymore.”

“The only place we're going is where we've already been in our dreams.” He wound his fingers in her hair and claimed her lips in a deep, slaking kiss.

She pulled away, her face troubled. “But our dreams are over,” she protested. “What if—”

“A MacDonald doesn't allow what ifs.” He looked at her, willing her to believe him. “We've already walked a long path together. Now, this night, we join at the meeting of our destiny.”

Certain of it, he lowered his head to her breasts again, swirling his tongue over first one nipple, then the other. He needed the taste, feel, and scent of her, couldn't live without drinking her in.

She was his destiny.

His life.

His heart fell wide with the knowledge. Everything about her felt so familiar. He couldn't remember having ever felt this way about a woman before. It was an intimacy deeper than their dreams, almost as if he'd spent lifetimes holding her. And this was one he wasn't going to let pass without her.

No matter what keeping her might cost him.

Need and longing filling him, he rained soft kisses across the swell of her breasts, her shoulders, and neck. He wanted to savor her so fully that he would forever carry her scent, wouldn't be able to breathe without the essence of her flooding his senses.

A husky moan rumbled low in his chest. A strangled sound some might call capitulation. Maybe even surrender. It mattered not. Only that he never again blink or waken and find her gone, his bed cold and his arms empty.

“Dinna e'er say what if again.” He breathed the words against her skin. “Our joining is writ across our souls. Ignoring such a truth would be like trying to stem the tide with one's bare hands.”

“Oh, I believe.” She locked her arms around him, holding him close. “I think I always have.”

“Then let me love you, lass. Now.” He reached down between them, nudging her thighs wider as he covered her body with his.
“Mine,”
he vowed, his throat too thick for anything else, his vitals so tight he half feared he'd burst before he could thrust into her.

But then she arched her hips and did some reaching of her own, curling her fingers around him and angling him closer. So close that her slick female heat pulsed hotly against him, the silky-slippery wetness too tempting to resist.

He plunged into her, his soul splitting when she cried his name. Again and again, he kissed her, matching the strokes of his tongue to their mating, riding her harder and deeper and faster until she screamed and tossed beneath him, her nails scoring his shoulders. A woman on fire, she clung to him, her every gasp of pleasure a deeper satisfaction than his own spilling seed.

The room tilted and whirled, the little flames of the oil lamps and the glow from the hearth fire blending into a crazed blur of fast-wheeling stars until his heart slowed and his breath came easier.

Even then, his body still shuddered and her tight, female heat kept convulsing around him, the mingled scent of their pleasure a heady, intoxicating proof of the realness of their loving.

As was her soft, quiet breathing as she nestled close, her warmth and the damp, sated feel of her as reassuring as the solidness of his bedchamber's walls. The sturdy thick-timbered frame of his great curtained bed and the familiar night darkness filling the tall arched windows. All was as it should have been.

He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until he felt a persistent tapping on his shoulder.

He rolled off the bed and leapt to his feet, groping for his sword until he spied the still-bolted door. Relief flooding him, he wheeled around—and knew instantly why he'd been having such sweet dreams.

She
sat peering at him from the middle of the bed, beautifully naked and tempting, her hair sleep-tousled and her every curve limned by moonlight and shadow. The shadows prevailed, but there was enough silvery light to catch tantalizing glimpses. Now fully awake, he swept her lush breasts and pouty nipples with his gaze, dipping briefly to her fine legs, curled sweetly beneath her, before settling on the tangle of red curls between her thighs.

He drew a sharp breath, instantly hard.