Ceit caught movement from the corner of her eye and looked up to see Tavish standing beside her. His bare body shone in the moonlight, and she had seen nothing like it. His body may as well have been hewn from stone. A master artisan would not have been able to make it more beautiful. Each muscle was finely chiseled and defined. She watched a shiver run over his skin as she stared at him. His legs and arms were more powerful than she realized even when he held her. His stomach was a series of peaks and valleys as he breathed in and out slowly. His chest called to her, and she stepped over to run her hands over the expanse. She looked down and got her first clear view of his cock. Her hand meandered down his front until her fingertips danced over his flesh. The opaque seed leaked from his tip, and she brought her fingertips to her mouth. She sucked her fingers into her mouth as her eyes drifted shut. Tavish was sure there had been nothing as erotic as the scene Ceit painted in the moonlight. She opened her eyes as her other hand wrapped around his length. Her strokes were slow, pure torture for Tavish. He tipped his head back, and Ceit watched the cords in his neck stand out as he struggled to maintain control of his body. She wanted anything but control in that moment, however, she saw the fresh cuts and bruises just as she saw the hewed muscles.
“Tavish, we must clean these wounds. Ye willna make for much of a groom if ye’re dead from infection.”
Tavish chuckled then it morphed into a full laugh.
“I dinna see what is so funny aboot ye dying, or is it the notion of being a groom?”
“Dinna buzz, mo sheillean beag. I dinna want to be stung. I laugh because I crave all of ye. Nae just yer body, but yer mind too. I find I am aroused even further by your practicality,” he dropped a kiss on her cheek, “and I rather like that ye fuss over me.”
Ceit was ready to say more, but when she saw tenderness in Tavish’s gaze, she relented.
“Mo dhìonair, I love ye. I dinna want to even consider more happening to ye. More that might take ye away from me. It scares me, then I—what did ye just say—buzz when I dinna have control.”
“I ken, ma ghaol. I ken, and I would have ye buzzing aboot me for the rest of our lives, if ye will have me.”
It was Ceit’s turn to laugh as she stroked him once again.
“Och, I intend to have ye.” She laughed again as she waded into the cold water.
It was enough to make her shiver but nowhere near as frigid as water in the Highlands. Tavish entered and stood behind her. His rod finding a home between her buttocks. It was an unusual sensation for Ceit, but not an unpleasant one. She pressed her hips back as Tavish pulled in breath between his teeth.
“Tav,” there was uncertainty in her own voice, but she forced herself to ask her question. “I ken this is the same way animals stand when they mate. Can people do it this way too?”
Tavish was sure he would lose the last thread of control at her innocent but arousing question. He took a breath as his hands rested over her belly. Her silky skin under his hand, the skin of a belly he hoped would one day carry their children, made his chest tighten with love, devotion, protectiveness, and a slew of other emotions he was not bothered to separate.
“We can,” he whispered back.
“Will ye show me?”
“Aye.”
Ceit pressed back harder, and when she looked over her shoulder, Tavish read the invitation. He steeled himself to turn her down. He had never wanted a woman as much as he did Ceit, but he also never wanted to cling to a woman as much as he did in that moment.
“I will show ye, Ceit, but it canna be now. Nae until we are married. I willna dishonor ye by taking what isnae mine to have.”
“And I’m sure I’d already made it clear it is mine to give.”
Tavish’s hands ran over her belly, and Ceit leaned back into his chest. The sensation gave her a deep sense of belonging just as much as the possessiveness flowing through Tavish. Ceit assumed she would rebel at the sense of ownership Tavish had. She had resented the control and the sense of being naught more than a trinket to the king and her uncle, but Tavish was different. She wanted to be his, but a small niggling idea took root as she was ready to give herself over to him.
I am ready to be his. But will he ever be just mine? His reputation speaks for itself. He has admitted his past. He has loved many women before me. What is to keep him from loving more after me?
Tavish sensed a change in Ceit and guessed he understood why.
She doesnae trust me. Or at least, she isnae sure I willna disappoint her. That cuts deeply, but I understand. Ma past doesnae speak vera well for me.
“Ceity, ye ken I dinna want anyone but ye.” He turned her to look at him, but he kept his hands over her womb. “Lass, we both ken I have a past. One I supremely wish I didna. But it is just that. Ma past. Ye are ma present and ma entire future. I love ye. I would have ye as ma wife this vera moment. And nae because someone arranged it for us, but because I am sure I canna draw another breath without ye at ma side. I dinna want to. Mo ghaol, I told ye already that I have pledged ma fidelity to ye, and I did so the moment I learned of the betrothal. I did so because it was the right and honorable thing to do. I am a Sinclair. We dinna ever stray from our women. I keep that pledge because I love ye, and I couldnae do aught less than remain true to ye. I always presumed we kept our promise of fidelity because it was just a matter of honor. I ken now that is only the smallest sliver of the reason. We keep our vow because we want to. We keep it because we canna imagine any other way. Ceity, ma past is behind me, and I pray ye can see that too. I pray that ye see only the two of us when I hold ye, when I make love to ye because it’s only ever been ye. I have never loved another woman, and so I have never made love to another woman. I have committed the act of coupling, but I have never felt, I mean truly felt, anything before I met ye. I never wanted to, but now it is all I want.”
Ceit listened to Tavish and forced herself to stand still when all she wanted was to cut off his words with a deluge of kisses, but she understood it was as important for him to make his confession as it was for her to listen to it.
“Will ye marry me, Ceity? I havenae properly asked ye yet.”
“I will marry ye, Tavish. It is all I want, too.”
Tavish led them into a deeper part of the river where the water came to their waists. He lifted her now seemingly weightless body, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, still mindful of his ribs. His cock rested between them, and her mound rubbed against it. Ceit ran the soap over his shoulders and back before leaning away to whirl it around his chest and down his stomach.
“Hold ye breath, lass.” At her nod, Tavish dunked them under the water.
They came up laughing as much as shivering. Ceit ran the soap through Tavish’s hair until it was sudsy. He closed his eyes and reveled in Ceit’s ministrations. He had never understood any man’s desire to have a woman bathe him. It always seemed pointless to have someone else do what he accomplished much more efficiently. Now he understood.
Ceit released his waist and stood on her own feet but laughed at his annoyed growl.
“Let me do ma job, then ye can have yer turn.” She gave him a saucy wink as she moved around to look at his back.
It took all her restraint not to gasp when she saw the livid bruises that covered him. There were small nicks from his recent attacks, but it was the deeper healed lines that drew her touch. She traced the deeper ones and feathered her fingers over the small white lines. She worked the soap over his broad shoulders and back, having to strain to reach the top of his shoulders. She washed his arms and beneath, then moved the soap to his waist and skimmed his skin as she moved across his ribs. Ceit hissed when he caught her hands and moved them below the surface of the water. She wrapped her hands over his cock, trapping the soap between them and washing him as she pleasured him. She let go with one hand and cupped his bollocks. She caressed until they tightened as she washed them and was fascinated with the way the skin changed as he grew more aroused.
Tavish wa
s sure he would explode if he let her keep touching him the way she did now. His climax crept through his body, and his cock begged for release. He did not doubt his body would be ready for another round the moment he was done spending. He refused to be the first one to find pleasure. As though reading his mind, Ceit’s pace quickened, and her hold tightened.
“Let me,” she murmured against his back.
Tavish let go of his control, but not before he pulled Ceit around to stand before him. His fingers found her entrance with one hand while the other held her leg. They watched one another as their hands moved, caressing, stroking, pumping until they both went rigid. Tavish savored the spasms as Ceit’s muscles locked his fingers within her core, and Ceit took pride in causing the pulses that spilled his seed into the flowing water. They sunk against each other and held on, neither wanting to end the moment.
It was only when the goosebumps on Ceit’s skin stood out that he decided they should not stand there much longer. He pried the soap from Ceit’s clenched fingers, and she giggled when she realized she mashed the soap into a small wad. Tavish skimmed the soap over her body and fought to control his resuming arousal. Ceit dipped under the water to wet her hair once again, and Tavish rubbed the soap between his palms until he had a lather he rubbed through her tresses. Ceit attempted to reach his hair too, but even at her height, it was not enough to grant her enough reach to wash it. Tavish lifted her and once again she wrapped her legs around him. She was coming to like this position and would not have minded staying that way all the time. They luxuriated in each other’s ministrations, and when Tavish finished, Ceit leaned back, his hands bracing her back, and allowed the current to rinse away the suds. Her upturned and exposed breasts were far too great a temptation for Tavish. He leaned forward and licked the puckered nipple of one breast before tugging the other with his lips. He alternated back and forth, sucking her turgid nipples and as much of her breast as he managed to draw into the hot recesses of his mouth. Her moans spurred him on as he increased the pressure. He slid one hand down to her bottom and reached beneath her to slide his finger into her sheath once again. Ceit glided in the water but floated as though she was high above them both. Her body was languid as he worked it to completion. She enjoyed Tavish’s touch so much more than she ever imagined possible. She was inexperienced, but she accepted it was not just the touch of a man she yearned for. It was Tavish. There had been other handsome men at court, even handsome men within her clan. Her mind even flashed a picture of Andrew. But none roused any interest. Only the image and sensation of Tavish caused any heat, and she was on fire despite the cold water. When her sated body was too limp to float, Tavish lifted her up and placed her back on her feet. He dunked his own head and washed the soap out.
“I would linger with ye forever, and I intend to share ma ablutions with ye countless times in the future, but ye are turning as blue as a berry. We canna light a fire, so we must get ye out and warmed up sharpish.”
Tavish led Ceit to the shore. He wanted to carry her in his arms, but even he admitted that was beyond him. There was no pain when he and Ceit were in the midst of their love play, but he would pay for his activity the moment they settled on dry land.
I wouldnae trade it for aught. I dinna care if ma ribs cracked in two if I can still hold her against me.
They reached their clothing, and Tavish wrapped his plaid around them both. He rubbed the wool over her skin and then held her against him. His heat soon warmed them both, but neither was eager to step apart despite no longer needing to share the plaid.
“Ye must dress, mo ghaol. Ye will catch a chill, and I havenae any skills in healing beyond cleaning out a wound and cauterizing. If ye are unwell, I willna ken what to do.” Tavish looked sheepish.
“Ye are a rather adorable mon.” She pecked his cheek and pulled on her clothes. “I should have washed this chemise while I had the chance.”
“Nay. Without a fire, it would never have dried by morning. I ken ye dinna want to put a dirty one back on, but it’s better than nae having enough layers to keep warm.”
“Aye. Though now I remember I have a spare in ma saddlebag. I would offer it to ye, but, well, I dinna imagine even one arm would fit through it.” She jerked her chin up and down to point out his broad body.
“Too big am I,” he pulled her close and gripped her backside.
“So it might seem, but I ken it will be just right.”
They looked into each other’s eyes, and the heat flared again. Neither missed the double entendre in their comments.
“I will make it just right, lass. When the time comes, I will make it just right for ye.”
Ceit nodded and swallowed. She was aware there would be pain the first time, but her ever increasing desire to explore his body and her own outweighed any trepidation.
They finished dressing, Tavish only having his plaid to put on before they moved back to Whisky. Tavish pulled his boots from the saddle horn and put them on. He had to admit he preferred having his feet covered from the cold, hard ground.
Ceit pulled dried beef from her bags and then looked for some berries in the nearby brush. She found only a couple handfuls of edible ones. There were others, but she was sure they would make them sick.
She handed them over to Tavish and watched as he tried to hold both the berries and beef in one hand. It was only then she noticed the odd bump in his arm. She took his massive hand in her tiny one and turned the arm back and forth. Tavish clenched his teeth to keep from grunting.
“Mo dhìonair, ye should have told me! Ye had nay business lifting me aboot. Och, ye need this setting. Ye may have done serious damage to it.”
Ceit’s look of anguish was enough to make Tavish wonder if he had erred in ignoring the injury. It was not the worst pain he had ever experienced and considered the fracture a minor injury.
“I must set this. It will hurt even more because ye have waited. I dinna want to cause ye pain, but with none of ma medicinals, I havenae much choice.”
“Do as ye must. I have had bones set in worse places and by much uglier men. I willna expire on the spot.”
Ceit ran her hands over the bump in Tavish’s arm, relieved that there was only a small disturbance to the bone. She might get away with not setting it after all.
“Can ye wiggle yer fingers for me? Aye, now flex yer hand.”
When Tavish accomplished each of her tasks, Ceit smiled.
“I dinna need to set it, but I need to immobilize it. Ye canna be using it. Ye must let it rest, so it will heal.”
Tavish pulled her between his thighs as he sat on a fallen log and cupped her bottom with both hands.
“But I have need of both arms.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
“And I have need of a mon who isnae so stubborn. I guess neither is getting what we want.” She danced away from him, but not before he gave her a playful spank on the backside.
Ceit looked for two stiff sticks she would use as a splint and brought them back to Tavish. He looked at them and then at her as if she had lost her senses.
“I dinna need sticks tied to ma arm. It will come right without them.”
“And if it doesnae? Then what? Ye fight with only one arm? That’s sure to get ye killed and leave me a widow before I have time to wear ye into the grave maself.” She pulled a dirk from her pocket and cut a strip from her chemise.
“Now ye have ruined a perfectly good undergown. I amnae wearing a splint, Ceit.”
“Ye are. Ye can be the warrior, and I can be the healer. Let’s pretend. That means ye will listen to the wisdom of someone who kens how to take care of ye.”
“I dinna need to pretend. Mo leannan, I ken ye want to care for me, and I ken ye are convinced ye are, but I must have both arms free. If someone attacks, then I need both arms free to fight. If ye’re still positive I need the splint when we reach the castle, then ye can tie whatever ye want to ma arm, but I willna risk being unprepared should danger come yer way.”
; Ceit desperately wanted to argue. She did not want to give in to him when she was right about treating his arm, but she also accepted he was right about being able to use his arm if needed. She would admit that she was not fully equipped to fight off every man she came across and that she had been extraordinarily lucky so far. The battle at Closeburn and seeing the damage done to Tavish, the strongest man she knew, was proof to her she was ill prepared to fight against a group of warriors. She nodded her head, conceding his point.
“I dinna like it.” She crossed her arms.
“I ken, ma ghaol.” He pulled her arms loose knowing she encircled herself as a protective stance rather than one of defiance. He was coming to understand her desire to control situations and how off kilter she became when she was not. “I appreciate yer determination to heal me, but I am just as determined to protect ye. Neither of us always wants what the other if offering, but I count ma blessings I have a woman like ye to tend me.”
“I love ye, Tavish. I dinna like kenning ye’re hurt, and I especially dinna like kenning there is naught I can do when I am the reason for yer injury.”
“Lass, ye arenae the reason for this. Yer uncle was a brute who paid men to do what he couldnae or wouldnae. It was the men he hired who did this. Nae ye.”
“And none of this would have happened if it werenae for me. Ye only became involved with this mess because the king said ye had to marry me.”
“Let me be clear aboot something, Ceit. The king may have told me I was to marry ye, but I chose to spend time with ye, to be near ye because I want ye. I could have vera easily ignored ye until the day the king ordered us to wed. I didna want to do that. It was, and is, ma choice.”
She watched him as he spoke and saw a resolve there that made her understand why he was so fearsome on the battlefield. It was an unwavering determination, and it humbled her that she was now a reason for it.
His Highland Surprise (The Clan Sinclair Book 1) Page 18
