The Renegade's Heart (32 page)

A new heat spread through Isabella from that
tender point, surging along her veins and feeding her desire. She
felt warm. She felt that her body was afire, that some pleasure
simmered deep within her belly. She had never felt such a keen
awareness of her body – or been so intent upon the touch of
another.

And Murdoch knew as much. He breathed against
her. He laved her. He suckled her and Isabella could only hold on.
She feared she would lose her balance and fall, but remembered
Murdoch’s promise. Indeed, she was secure in his grip, braced in
the position he had chosen. She could see that the muscles in his
shoulders and arms were taut, holding her captive to his
embrace.

She smiled at the dark tangle of his hair,
the leisure of his caress, as if he would make this moment stretch
through all eternity. Each time the passion rose high within her,
so high that she thought she would feel that release again, he
paused then moved more gently again. He drove her higher with each
assault, until she was aching with desire and yearning for
more.

When she thought she could bear his torment
no longer, his tongue touched her secret heat with a new insistence
that made her moan aloud. She wanted to know all that was possible,
and she trusted Murdoch on this path. Isabella parted her legs more
widely, inviting his touch, and cast her head back, surrendering to
his lesson.

She stretched her hands toward the ceiling
and arched her back, tipping her head back and closing her eyes in
wanton surrender. She welcomed all he would give her, and knew only
that she would reciprocate in kind. The tide rose hot and furious
within her, driven onward by Murdoch’s tongue and Isabella bucked
her hips to coax him further. This time he did not halt.

She had one chance to save Murdoch, and
Isabella would not compromise. She would willingly surrender her
all.

* * *

Isabella was more enticing than he could have
imagined. It was her trust as much as her beauty that made Murdoch
determined to woo her and to win her. She was strong and lithe in
his grasp, and so responsive that he feared he could not last.

When she leaned back, trusting him to hold
her securely, he thought he might explode. He stole an upward
glance and caught his breath at the sight of her breasts, those
nipples rosy and taut, those breasts so ripe and creamy. Her hair
cascaded down her back, snaring the firelight and gleaming like
hammered copper. She was perfection. She moaned and he wanted to
bury himself within her, claiming her this night for all time.

But slowly. He would take it slowly.

Even if the deed killed him.

Isabella was wet and hot, the scent and taste
of her arousal driving him to distraction. He was throbbing and
hard himself, his erection straining against the laces on his
chausses. Every move she made simply enflamed him further. He felt
her shiver in delight. He heard her catch her breath. He felt the
skip of her pulse and he sensed the quiver that began deep within
her as he steadily coaxed her response. She trembled more
vehemently, her flesh heating even beneath his hands. She became
wetter and hotter, and still he would see her more so. He ate of
her fruit and drank of her juices and knew there was no better
feast in the world.

He heard the low moan begin in Isabella’s
throat and felt her clitoris become harder. He let his tongue move
more vehemently against her, liking that Isabella did not flinch
from the pleasure he would give her. He alternated gentleness with
demand, urging her to greater heights. When her pulse leapt and her
hips began to buck of their own accord, he knew she was close to
finding her release.

When her fingers dug deeply into his
shoulders and she whispered his name, it was all he could do to
remember his plan to ensure that she remembered this night
always.

Murdoch deliberately drove Isabella over the
edge with one last potent stroke of his tongue. The lady shouted
his name and trembled from head to toe as she found her release.
The tempest lasted longer than he might have expected. He blew upon
her and succeeding in making her release surge forth again. Murdoch
held fast, feeling a greater sense of triumph in this than in any
deed ever.

When she looked down at him, her cheeks
flushed and her eyes sparkling, Murdoch could not keep from
grinning at her.

“Murdoch!” She said his name in an exhalation
of wonder that had his erection straining even more against his
chausses. She knelt down before him then and kissed him with ardor.
Her breasts brushed against his chest, and she was in his arms, her
passionate kiss making it hard for him to remember his intent to
move slowly. “I had no idea,” she whispered.

“That was the point.” He cupped one of her
breasts in his hand, liking how it filled his grasp perfectly. “As
if we were made each for the other,” he said and she smiled.
Murdoch bent to kiss that inviting nipple. Isabella sighed
contentment, then her hand fell to the lace of his chausses.

“This is not fair,” she said, untying the
knot with busy fingers. “You, too, must find your pleasure.” Her
eyes danced as she looked at him. “Should I torment you in the same
way?”

Murdoch knew he would not last such a caress,
not now when he burned with desire. Just the notion made him
perilously close to losing control. “Not yet,” he said, his words
uncommonly husky.

Isabella smiled and ran one fingertip down
the length of the laced front of his chausses. Murdoch gritted his
teeth and caught his breath at her caress, well aware that she
watched him avidly. “You like this,” she said softly.

“A caress given willingly is nigh
irresistible,” he managed to say and she smiled.

Then she looked down at him and sobered. “I
have never looked upon a man before,” she confessed. As if she had
made a choice, her fingers began to make quick work of the lace.
“Let me look upon you.”

Before Murdoch could decide whether he should
halt her or not, Isabella had parted the front of his chausses,
freeing his erection. She considered him for a moment, biting her
lip, and he wondered whether the deed ahead frightened her. What
had she been told?

Nothing that daunted this lady, it was clear.
For Isabella’s warm hands slid beneath the cloth and over Murdoch’s
hips, easing the garment from his body with an efficiency he
associated with her. She gripped his buttocks just as he had seized
hers, the touch of her small hands upon him making Murdoch
dizzy.

She bent to take him within her mouth, but
Murdoch would not survive if she touched him.

Murdoch caught her shoulders in his hands and
kissed her, drawing her to her feet as he stood before her. Then he
kicked his chausses aside, lifting his hands to invite her to look
upon him. “And here is your chance to look,” he said, keeping his
tone light. Murdoch turned before her, finding uncertainty in her
eyes when he faced her once again. She looked only upon one part of
him, a part of him that responded with vigor to her perusal. There
was amusement in her eyes when he faced her again.

“Will it fit?” she asked.

Murdoch smiled. “It seems that we are each
made for the other,” he said quietly.

Isabella nodded. “And if that is so, you will
fit.”

“What have you been told of this deed?”

“That a maiden bleeds, at least the first
time, which would seem to indicate that the fit is not always an
easy one.” Isabella met his gaze, her own shining. “I know nothing
of what you just did, and it seems a marked omission.”

Murdoch grinned.

Isabella sobered then. “Also that if a man
finds his release while so buried within a lady, a child may
result.”

“Is this what troubles you? A child?” Murdoch
knew that he would do whatsoever was necessary to reassure her,
even deny himself on this night. He felt suddenly that the shadow
of the Elphine Queen was too close. If Isabella bore his child and
he was lost, she would be shamed in truth.

And he would leave his lady with a poor
legacy.

“No!” Isabella stepped closer. “Murdoch, I
would proudly bear your child. Do not imagine otherwise.”

He shoved a hand through his hair, unable to
think clearly when she appealed to him, so nude and so beautiful.
“But Isabella, I would do you no disservice...”

“For you are your father’s son,” she said,
catching his face in her hands and compelling him to look at her
again. “Show me, Murdoch. I will have no man but you in all my
days, so this is your chance to show me this.” She smiled with
mischief. “Otherwise I shall die in ignorance and I have no
admiration of ignorance.”

When Isabella stretched to kiss him, her
breasts colliding with his chest, Murdoch could not deny her. He
caught her closer, his resistance melting like snow in
springtime.

“We ease its way,” he promised long moments
later, then swept her into his arms and returned to the pallet by
the fire, kissing her all the while. To his relief, her passion
rose again beneath the assault of his kisses. He laid beside her
and smiled down at her, liking that she preened for him, instead of
covering her nudity with her hands.

He slid one hand down the length of her, then
slipped his hand between her thighs. He touched her then, his
fingers more bold than his tongue had been. Isabella sighed with
pleasure and reached up to kiss him. Murdoch locked his other arm
around her waist, holding her fast against him.

He felt the slick heat gather more quickly
and could feel her heart pounding against his chest. Isabella
writhed against him in a most enticing way, the scent and the feel
of her feeding his own desire. He moved his fingers with greater
insistence, feeling the crescendo rise within her. He liked his
growing awareness of her rhythms and knew that if they spent a
lifetime loving each other, the deed would only become more
satisfying.

Just before Isabella might have found her
release, he rolled to his back, carrying her with him. She sprawled
atop him and Murdoch smiled as he tugged her knees so that she
straddled him.

“This way, you take me as quickly or as
slowly as you desire,” he said softly. He moved so that he was
barely inside her and caught his breath when her heat closed around
him even that much.

Isabella swallowed, her hands braced upon
Murdoch’s shoulders.

“Too big?” he asked, fearful of hurting
her.

Isabella smiled at him then. “I am fond of a
challenge.” She took a breath, then eased lower to take another
increment of him inside her. The sensation was exquisite. Murdoch
thought he might explode with the pleasure. Isabella was so tight
that he had to close his eyes and struggle for control.

“Slowly,” Isabella said, her voice a little
husky. “You said slowly was best.”

Murdoch could only nod, because his bold
maiden took another measure of him. He gritted his teeth, his hands
clenching and unclenching as he fought to withhold the tide that
grew within him.

She clearly mistook his reaction, for she
leaned over him with concern. “Does it hurt you?”

“No! I but endeavor to proceed slowly and
that may kill me.” He looked at her and found her smiling. “And
you?”

“No.” Isabella wriggled her hips in a way
that prompted Murdoch to catch his breath. “I feel filled in a most
curious way, but it does not hurt.” She rolled her hips again,
exploring the sensation and Murdoch was certain he would die of
pleasure.

“Good,” Murdoch managed to say, although he
scarce recognized his own voice. When she moved again, he locked
his hands around her waist, uncertain he would be able to endure
her welcome torment.

When he was almost fully inside her, Isabella
leaned forward, her hair spilling on to his chest like silk. “I
think you do not truly like this,” she said and it took Murdoch a
moment to realize she teased him. “You look to be a man in
pain.”

Murdoch slanted a glance at her. “I think you
know you torture me.”

She smiled, looking so playful that he was
enchanted all over again. “It is not unpleasant to know that I can
hold you in thrall,” she said. “A knight and a renegade, a man so
much more powerful than me, yet–” Isabella swiveled her hips,
leaving Murdoch gasping “–yet, you are my captive in this
moment.”

“I am not without resource,” he said, then
slid one hand between them to caress her anew. That secret pearl
was still engorged and slick, the slow movement of his fingertip
making Isabella’s lips part with pleasure. He knew then that he
would watch her find her release while she sat atop him, that he
would somehow hold out until she had another orgasm.

“You tease me overmuch,” she protested.

“I would please you overmuch.” He moved his
finger with surety and Isabella’s eyes flashed. She sat down
abruptly then, taking all of him inside her with a speed that left
him gasping. “Isabella!”

“You are right,” she said, her eyes
glimmering with satisfaction. “You do fit.”

“I told you to trust me.”

“And so I shall. But how shall we ensure your
pleasure?”

Murdoch did not think it would take long to
achieve that. He moved inside her and Isabella inhaled. She moved
then of her own volition, the tightness of her driving him to
distraction. She rolled her hips as he caressed her, stretching her
arms high over her head as she moved, and presenting Murdoch with a
most enticing vision.

He knew then that he would never have enough
of this woman. Isabella had an allure beyond all others he had
known. He wanted to see her laugh and watch her find her pleasure –
over and over again. He wanted to fill her, to possess her, to
claim her and to live his life with her. He wanted to have children
with her, to awaken to find her slumbering beside him every morning
of his life, to take her hand in his every night when he retired.
He wanted the soft silk of her hair tangled in his fingers and the
sound of her laughter in his ear.