The Beast of Clan Kincaid (29 page)

“You're beautiful,” he said, slipping his hands between her legs. “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You're mine.”

He stroked her there, boldly from the start—yet slowly and gently, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Bending down, he kissed her deeply, with his tongue, in time with the movement of his hand. Soon, she seized handfuls of the bed linens, hips taking on the same rhythm.

“Niall,” she gasped into his mouth, as he slipped one finger, then two, inside her tight, slick heat.

Glancing down, he took in the beautiful display of her passion, her legs spread wide and her arched back. The uninhibited movements she made as she shared his pleasure. With each stroke, with each cry from her mouth, his cock reacted, jerking harder and larger with arousal until need crashed through his veins.

“I will hurt you,” he said, his voice sounding thick in his own ears.

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed and feverish.

Catching her face in his hands, staring into her beautiful eyes, he lowered his hips between her thighs. Kissing her long and sweetly, he moved his length against her, without entering her, teasing himself—and her—into a pleasing … erotic rhythm, capturing her sighs into his mouth.

Reaching the limits of his control, and feeling equal urgency in her movements, he reached between their bodies and gripped himself tight. His arms taut, his shoulders bunched, he grasped her hip and pressed the crown of his cock against soft, wet heat … easing slowly, a few torturous … blissful inches, into her virgin sheath. He had never known such pleasure. All along, somehow, he had known it would be like this.

She let out a moan—one that sounded half-pleasure and half-pain—and gripped his hips.

“Yes, Niall,” she murmured, her hands smoothing over his back. “Make me yours. I want to be yours.”

Desire, more consuming than any he had ever known, pricked at the back of his skull. With a low groan, he eased deeper inside her, his sex growing harder and thicker, and more needful the deeper he tested her tight warmth.

*   *   *

Elspeth cried out, her hands seizing Niall's shoulders, widening her legs, shifting to accept his large sex deeper inside her. Yes, there was pain, but also pleasure in making love to him at last, in joining with this warrior who would be her husband.

“Should I go slower?” he murmured against her cheek.

“No,” she answered, pressing a kiss to his neck, wanting this. Wanting more than anything to belong to him.

She could not stop looking at him—at his muscles as they flexed against her skin, at his handsome face tight and flushed with pleasure … at their bodies where they joined. She had never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of his rigid sex, in firelight, thrusting inside her. Above her, he went still in her arms.

“I want to go deeper, but I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'm not afraid of the pain,” she murmured. “Don't stop.”

Lowering his dark head, he caught her mouth and kissed her long and sweetly, stroking her breasts and nuzzling his face against her neck until she was drunk on him. Kissing her again, he bit her lip, exhaling raggedly, and moved his hips more urgently, thrusting deeper … and deeper inside her.

She moved her hips, desperate to accept more of him. Her hands moved over his shoulders and into his hair, seizing handfuls, frantic, her fingertips digging … her nails scoring his skin. She felt so unfinished … so incomplete and desperate for something more—

He grasped her knee, lifting her leg … widening her acceptance. With a hoarse cry, his toes dug into the bed and his hands seized her buttocks. She froze against him as a sharp fissure of
pain
seared through her womb.

“Perfect,” he murmured into her hair. “You're so lovely and tight. I can't stop, love. You feel so good, I have to move. Can you move with me?”

Seeking the same pleasure he felt, she moved her hips, matching her thrusts to his, and blessedly … amid the pain she found something else …

“Niall!”

“Yes, love.”

Yet the absolute fulfilment she sought eluded her, sweet and teasing.

“Now,” he urged, his hips moving faster, his hands twining with hers against the sheets. He groaned. “
Ah
. Now, yes.”

Pleasure streaked through her in jolts, so intense she screamed his name, and—

The world shifted. Her body disintegrated … and she experienced something mysterious and celestial, and so
perfect
she wanted to exist there forever, holding Niall close, and never let him go.

“Ah—
Elspeth
,” he cried, his voice deep and ragged, his head going back, his shoulders going hard and tight under her hands. His abdomen went rigid against hers. His sex throbbed powerfully, deep inside her.

He let out another sound, something close to anguish, and after a time of staring down at her, eyes dark and lips parted on his deep and gasping breaths, he slowly … eased away.

Falling to the side, he exhaled hard, and gathered her against his chest, so that her head rested on the solid swell of his upper arm. For a long time they lay there, limbs entwined, until at last he lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes a dark, unfathomable blue.

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder, her eyelids, her face. “Remember that,” he said with a fierce, fervent intensity. “Remember that always.”

He loved her
. His declaration reverberated in her ears, warming her through.

“And I love you,” she murmured against his skin, inhaling deeply of his scent. She had from that first moment, she thought, but had guarded her heart, afraid to confess the truth, even to herself. She wished she could stay here all night in his arms, until morning, but knew she must not. “You make me so happy.”

He sat up, and looked across the room, away from her.

“I will not always make you happy,” he answered in a quiet voice.

“And I will not always make
you
happy, I am sure,” she answered, charmed by his gravity. She sensed how seriously he took the matter of their impending marriage, and loved him more because of it. “But when we do not make each other happy, we will still love each other.”

He looked at her over his shoulder steadily, not speaking. She could only imagine he feared that he could not make her happy as she ought to be. That he was a mercenary, and that she could have chosen a “greater” man.

Couldn't he tell by looking in her eyes, that she not only loved but admired him? That there was no greater man than he in her estimation? Even more so now, seeing him like this. Marrying her … being made a leader in the MacClaren clan left him thoughtful, rather than arrogant and boastful. In her heart she knew he would be one of the greatest leaders the MacClarens had ever known.

“Stop worrying,” she said, tracing her fingertips over the tattoos of his shoulder, memorizing them, wanting to know them all. Where he had gotten each one, and if they had significance.

“By marrying you, I now have much more to worry about.” He bent to kiss her nose. “I have only ever worried for myself.”

There was something odd in his voice. Something that sounded of self-reproach.

She peered up at him. “Are you sorry?”

“No.”

She smiled. “Neither am I. And all that … that we did here, in your bed … I want to do that again. Many, many more times.” She pulled him down beside her and snuggled against him. “But I must go, else someone will come looking for me. So … after the wedding?”

She smiled mischievously, and kissed the underside of his chin, rolling atop him, loving the feel of his muscles flexing against her naked skin, his hardness against her soft. She was surprised to feel his sex jolt hard and ready against her thigh again.

He chuckled—a bit ruefully in tone, to her ears. “We'll see how you feel about that then.”

 

Chapter 21

The next morning, Elspeth was awakened far too early by her sisters.

“You are marrying the mercenary!” cried Mairi. “I still can't believe it.”

Her eyes flew open, remembering.
Yes. She was!
She would marry Niall today. She could hardly believe it herself. Her heart swelled—almost painfully—with love and happiness.

Cat planted an elbow in her stomach.

“Today!” And then her brow wrinkled. “Do you even like him?”

“I do!” she exclaimed. She loved his big, honorable heart—and every other virile, muscular inch of him, every scar and tattoo included. Very much so.

“I am
soooooo
envious,” moaned Derryth, stretching out beside her, and propping her face on her hand. “Have you kissed him?”

“Aye,” Elspeth whispered in a secretive tone. “More than once.”

“Bleah!” Cat shouted, wiping her lips.

Mairi, ran toward the window, pushing open the shutter. “You must look outside.”

“Why?” Elspeth groaned, wanting to stay beneath the covers a few moments more.

“Just come and see,” insisted Cat, following her elder sister and waving her arms.

“I'll stay here,” said Derryth, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Seeing it again will just make me more envious than I already am.” But her lips smiled.

Elspeth dragged the blanket with her, for the morning was cold, even with the fire Ina had arrived early to light.

She looked outside, over Cat's head. Surprise stole her breath … for spread across the valley, just below the castle walls, were men—some mounted, and some standing—all in precise, equally spaced rows. They continued almost as far as the eye could see, and behind them, a vast array of livestock and wagons.

“It is the mercenary's men,” Mairi explained.

Elspeth blinked. There were far more than one hundred warriors. By her estimation, there had to be at least three hundred.

“There is Niall!” cried Derryth, who had come to stand at the window after all. She pointed, but Elspeth had already spied him, riding before the first row of warriors, broad-shouldered and commanding, his cloak rippling on the wind behind him. Deargh and several other men she did not recognize followed along behind.

A blush rose to her cheeks, thinking of how passionately he had made love to her the night before, and kissed her so ardently before sending her inside the castle, to sleep alone in her bed, an unmarried woman for the last time.

“It is quite an impressive sight, is it not?” A woman's voice commented from behind them. Turning, Elspeth saw Bridget at the door, with a small chest in her hand. “The MacClaren is pleased, as you can imagine.”

At seeing her, the smiles on her sisters' faces faded.

Bridget stepped inside. “Young ladies, your maids are waiting to help you prepare for your sister's wedding. Hurry now, you don't want to keep them waiting.”

That left Elspeth alone with their stepmother, who set the chest on the table.

“I hope you don't mind, but I told your maid I would help you prepare for your wedding.”

“Of course I don't mind,” she answered, secretly wishing for Ina. “I am happy for your help.”

“That is very nice of you to say, when I have not always been very nice to you.” She smiled, and bit her lower lip. “I want to … apologize to you for that.”

Elspeth saw the sincerity in Bridget's manner, and it touched her deeply. “I know it was not easy for you to come here. That your marriage to my father was not a love match. That you are young, and he is old.”

Bridget closed her eyes. “That is no excuse for how I treated you. For how I treated your father, and your sisters. For the way I … behaved with Duncan.” She blushed. “I think I believed that if I acted terribly enough, your father might just send me home. However, I am not as wicked as you may suppose. Though it may be difficult to believe, after the way I have carried on with that man … I am still a virgin.”

Elspeth's eyes widened. “That
is
a surprise.”

Bridget shrugged—and made a funny face. “Perhaps I shall be one forever. Your father has been very kind, and patient, more like a father than a husband to me. More than my own father ever was. I regret very much being so cold to him. But we have grown closer, in those days when you were gone to the Cearcal. I realized then … I no longer want to go home. That
this
is my home. My family. I want things to be different now. I want to honor the MacClaren, and our marriage vows. I want to be a good wife to him—” Her voice softened. “If only to give him comfort in his illness.”

Tears welled in Elspeth's eyes. She rushed forward, and embraced the young woman, because she looked so alone, and in need of friendship and care.

“Thank you, Bridget.”

Bridget returned her embrace, and patted her lightly on the back. Pulling back, she looked at her, her eyes damp as well.

“And while I wish I could be a good mother to you, I really don't know how.” She grinned, and winced, biting her lip. “My own mother was not very tender or loving. Indeed, she was not a very nice woman at all. When she died, she was little more than a stranger to me. But perhaps you and I could grow to be something more like sisters.”

“I would like that,” answered Elspeth.

“I would like that too.” Bridget sighed, looking happy and relieved. “Did you see, I have brought something for you?” She tilted her head toward the chest.

“What is it?”

“I thought to bring you my own wedding dress, to see if you might wish to wear it. But then I thought—there might be another dress that would mean something more.”

“Another dress?” Elspeth repeated softly.

Bridget nodded. “I persuaded your father to allow me to look in your mother's things.”

Emotion struck Elspeth at the center of her chest, stealing her breath. Her eyes widened, and filled with tears. “It is my mother's … wedding dress?”