The Highlander's Forbidden Bride (17 page)

R
onan went down on the bed with her, and she sighed with the pleasure of his body covering hers. And though he felt so very good, and it felt so very right for him to be there with her this way, a nagging voice warned her against it.

“Ronan—”

He captured her mouth with his and kissed her senseless. It took her a few minutes to gather her wits, and the moment she did, he kissed her again, leaving her breathless.

“We need to talk,” she said quickly before he stole another kiss.

“No,” he said, and claimed her mouth again.

When he finished, she caught her breath, and said sternly, “Enough, we must talk.”

He was off her in a flash, but not before she caught a hint of anger in his eyes. She didn’t have to wonder over it. She knew what had caused it. He had recognized Carissa in her commanding tone.

He turned his back to her when he had stood and had yet to turn around and face her. No doubt he attempted to compose himself, but it didn’t truly
matter. Even though it was for a brief moment, she had clearly seen anger in his eyes where only moments before she had seen love.

That brief flare of anger was sparked by the hatred he felt for Carissa, and she wondered if he could ever truly love her as she was.

He finally turned around, and she sat up on the bed.

“What else is there to say?” Ronan asked.

She stood and placed her hand to his chest and with a soft, kind voice said, “There is much for us to say.”

He smiled, and his eyes brightened. Gone was the doubt and anger, replaced by sheer joy, and he wrapped her in his arms. “Let’s love first and talk later.”

She would have loved to do just that, but she needed to know if what she had seen in his eyes lay dormant and would rear its ugly head whenever Carissa spoke.

“Do you truly love me?” she asked snappishly.

There it was again, that flare of anger that seemed to deepen the color of his green eyes. And was that tightness around his mouth? And where was his response? Stuck in his throat? Or was it the truth that he simply could not love Carissa?

The thought hurt her terribly, but then she had been a fool. How could she think that he would love her? His love was all for Hope, not a shred of it was for her.

“No answer?” she asked softly.

Again his anger dissipated, and he cupped her
face in his hands, warm, tender hands that sent shivers racing through her.

“I love you.” He kissed her gently. “Only you.”

“Is that Hope or Carissa you speak of?” she asked, her tone reflecting Carissa.

She was relieved he simply frowned and that no anger flared in his eyes.

“I wish the answer was that easy, but it’s not,” he admitted truthfully.

“Isn’t it?” She walked away from him, making certain the table separated them.

Ronan rubbed at the back of his neck and seemed reluctant to speak.

“Talk to me,
Carissa
,” she demanded.

He fisted his hand and shook it at her, his green eyes blazing with anger. “I’ve hated you for two years. And that hatred grew when I believed you killed the woman I loved. When I hear that familiar tone and recall her—” He stopped and dropped his fist to his side releasing his tightly curled fingers and shaking his head. “You can’t expect me not to react to Carissa’s voice. I’m still trying to make sense of it all.”

He turned away from her for a moment, then swiftly turned around, throwing his arms wide. “I loved Hope more than anything in this world. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have searched so hard for her. I would have returned to my family, my home. But all I could think about was saving Hope and building a life with her.” His anger returned though not as bitterly. “And what of you? You could have told me the truth.”

Carissa laughed. “And what would your response have been?” She answered for him. “You would have never believed that Carissa could have a heart. You had known only her cruelty. And like your brother, you would have believed it all a ruse, a plan of mine to learn more about the Sinclares and eventually destroy them. After all,” she said defiantly, “I am my father’s daughter.”

“Then where did Hope come from?”

“From you,” she snapped.

He lunged forward, and though the table separated them, she stepped back, for his face raged red, though his words startled her.

“No, love created Hope,” he said, pointing a finger at her, “your love and mine.”

She stared at him, bewildered.

“Somehow,” he implored, “somehow in the melee of anger and hate, love was born, our love. And if we don’t fight against all odds to save it, hatred will win, and love will have lost.”

“Father warned that love never lasted.”

“Help me prove him wrong,” he said. “Love me, no matter what. Love me as I will you. Love me until there is nothing left between us but love. Hatred will have no choice but to vanish forever.”

“You believe love can do that?” she asked, hoping he was right.

“I believe
our
love can do that,” he said, slowly walking around the table. “I already love Hope with all my heart. Give me a chance to love Carissa.”

“You don’t fear as your brother does that it’s a trap?”

A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth as he got closer to her. “How do you know I’m not trying to ensnare you?”

She could tell by the glint in his eyes that he teased her. She reached out and took hold of his shirt and drew him closer. “You already have.”

He brought his head down, bringing his lips close to hers. “I’m glad you realize that, since I’m never”—he kissed her—“ever”—he kissed her again—“going to”—he grabbed her around the waist and held her tight as he kissed her again, then whispered hotly in her ear—“let you go.”

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body hard against his, and their lips found each others yet again, and they feasted.

Breathless when the kiss ended, she pressed her cheek to his and after a moment, said, “I want to make love with you.”

He grabbed her chin and wore a wicked grin that only served to excite her more.

“Who do I make love to, Carissa or Hope?” he asked with a devilish glint.

“Can you handle Carissa?” she challenged.

He chortled and lifted her up to plop her down on the edge of the table. “The question should be, can she handle me?”

Carissa grinned and slipped her hand beneath his plaid to stroke the hard length of him and damn if he didn’t feel like velvet in her hand. “You appear
the right size, Highlander, but…” She paused, and her grin grew. “We’ll have to see if you have the stamina.”

“That’s a challenge, my love, I’m definitely up to.”

He tossed up her skirt and she pushed his plaid aside and when he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her forward, he slid into her with ease.

He rested his brow to hers. “Perfect fit.”

“I agree,” she said, and she slipped her arms around his neck. “Now let’s see how much stamina you have.”

He laughed, dropped his hands to her bottom, and lifted her just enough for him to move in a motion that had her moaning and groaning with pleasure in no time. And when she thought she would climax, he stopped and altered his rhythm, whether long or short strokes, it didn’t matter, for it quickened her passion and her moans grew louder.

“Now,” she begged after what seemed like forever.

“No, not yet,” he whispered, and carried her to the bed, still inside her.

“Strip us,” he whispered as he nibbled at her ear.

She did with haste, and he lowered them to the bed, where he proceeded to drive in and out of her with such exquisite torture that it wasn’t long before she was begging him for release.

And he gave it to her with a forceful suddenness that had her screaming his name. But he wouldn’t let it end there. When she thought it was done, the ripples past, they started all over again. He raised
her legs so they rested on his shoulders and drove even deeper into her, igniting her passion all over again.

It was as if he had set her soul to burning, and only he could extinguish the never-ending flames. The heat poured through her and her body sparked and she wanted nothing, absolutely nothing, but him inside of her stoking, firing, and finally bursting until the fire completely consumed her.

She cried out when the burst came upon her, and it spread in ripples of pleasure as he made sure she enjoyed each and every one. Then she felt him burst and moan with pleasure, and she smiled.

She thought they would sleep the night, but their bodies thought differently, and she woke to his hand teasing her nub, already wet with the want of him. But he took his time, hardening her nipples with his flickering tongue, kissing down the center of her until his tongue replaced his hand, and she arched from the thrill that raced through her.

She was ready to climax in no time and he didn’t stop her, though when she was almost finished, he entered her and caught up her ripples once again and drove her to another climax, in which he joined.

She snuggled in his arms afterward, feeling more content and complete than ever before. But that wasn’t the end of it. Dawn had yet to arrive when she woke to him gently stroking her body, soft and subtle as if he barely touched her, and yet his faint touch created magic. It teased and tempted and made her shiver with desire. And when he was done with the front of her, he rolled her over and
went to work there and she buried her face in the mattress to stifle her loud moans.

She heard him laugh, and as she turned to confront him, he wrapped his arm around her waist, swung her completely around, kissed her, then entered her slowly and with a damn grin.

She rose up to meet him, but he held back.

“Tell me you want me,” he teased.

“You know I do.”

“Tell me,” he said, and eased out of her, though not completely.

“Don’t make me beg,” she snapped.

“Ah, my sweet Carissa,” he said, his green eyes intent. “Tell me, Carissa, tell me you want me.”

He had called her Carissa, and there was no anger in his eyes, so without hesitation she said, “I want you, Highlander, I want you so very badly.”

“Damn if I don’t feel the same about you,” he growled as he set them in motion and within minutes sent them both reeling from the explosive release that left them breathless and completely spent.

The next time they woke they both lay exhausted wrapped around each other.

“I’m tired,” she said on a yawn.

“So am I”—he grinned—“but it’s a sweet exhaustion that I savor.”

She smiled. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

“We should sleep more,” he said with a yawn.

“Again I agree,” she said, as her eyes closed.

The final time they woke it was to be startled out of sleep by a vicious pounding on the door.

“Ronan, get out here,” Cavan yelled from outside the door.

Carissa had no intention of letting Ronan face his brother alone. She was just as guilty as he, though Cavan probably thought her more guilty. He probably assumed she had seduced Ronan.

“What are you doing?” Ronan asked as he wrapped his plaid across his chest to tuck in at his waist.

She tucked her blouse in her skirt and stuck her chin up. “I will face your brother with you.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he ordered. “This is between Cavan and me.”

She stopped herself from protesting, realizing that it was as Ronan said, something that could only be solved between brothers.

“You’re right,” she said. “I will wait here for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, and kissed her, then smiled. “You have to admit. I do have stamina.”

She chuckled. “And glad I am for it, Highlander.”

“Ronan, get out here, or I’m coming in,” Cavan shouted.

“I’m coming,” he yelled back.

“You will not fight your brother, will you?” she asked, worried.

He laughed. “It may be what we need.” He kissed her then, and said, “Make me some apple buns while I see to my brother?”

She nodded. “I’ll have them waiting.”

As soon as Ronan walked out the door, she hur
ried to the window and peered out. She was disappointed to see that they took their argument to the keep. With nothing left for her to do but wait, she hurriedly washed her face with water she heated at the hearth and tied her hair back with a strip of cloth.

She then got busy with the apple buns and just as she set them to cool a knock sounded at the door, and she sighed with relief, though she wondered why Ronan didn’t just enter.

But it wasn’t Ronan at the door. It was Dykar.

“Don’t tell me, more bad news,” she said after closing the door behind him.

“Septimus received a message that Cregan wishes to speak with you.”

“Well that sounds promising,” she said. “I can tell him face-to-face that I have no intentions of honoring any agreements my father made with him.”

“I hope it’s that simple.”

“Is there some reason you don’t believe it will be?” she asked.

Dykar shrugged. “Why didn’t he come for you right after your father died? Why did he wait?”

“I’ll find out,” she said. “When does he wish to meet?”

“He won’t be here for at least a week, and he asks that you choose where and when.”

“He seems to be accommodating.”

“Too accommodating,” Dykar complained. “And I still think it would be wise to inform the Sinclares about his approach.”

“If I can handle this without them knowing anything about it, it just might be better for all.”

“And what if they find out about his approach and think you have planned something with him?” Dykar asked.

“You do have a point,” she said. “No doubt they will discover his approach when he draws near enough.”

“And then it will be too late, and you will appear guilty.”

“You’ve always looked out for me when possible,” she said with a smile

“That’s especially important now since you’ve gone and fallen in love,” he said, grinning wide.

“I have, Dykar,” she said joyfully. “I have truly fallen in love.”

Just as they threw their arms around each other and hugged tight, the door flew open and in walked Ronan.