Undressing provided some outlet for her anger as she flung her clothing across the room. Yanking on her night rail, she hurled herself onto the bed and glared at the ceiling. With intense relish she imagined all manner of gruesome ends and torments for Tavis MacLagan. It always ended with his begging her forgiveness and her grandly allowing him to have it before he gasped his last. She savored the vision.
Storm knew she had as much pride as any man and Tavis had sorely bruised it with his abrupt dismissal of her. His coldness had also hurt her deeply, but she would never reveal that to him. She had little left to her save her pride and dignity, and he had tried to strip those from her in that brief confrontation. There would have to be a great deal explained before she could forgive that. It had been an unnecessary set-down.
Tavis hesitated as he reached her door. "What mood was she in, Angus?"
"It wasnae pretty. She was saying things in that Irish gibberish and 'tis glad I am I couldnae understand it. She isnae going tae be greeting ye with a smile and open arms," Angus added as he walked away.
For a moment Tavis regretted his actions, for he liked the way she always welcomed him to her bed. It would be the first time they had shared the room with bad feeling between them. Then he recalled how she had been seated so close to Alex, letting him touch her and listening to plans to leave him. He entered the room with his temper renewed, slamming the door after him with a force that reverberated through the room.
"Come to have a talk with your prisoner, sir?" Storm asked coolly as she sat up in bed.
"Nay, I have come to have a wee bit of what ye were offering Alexander MacDubh," he hissed as he approached the bed. "Did ye think ye would have enough strength to service us both?"
The increasing thickness of his accent told her the depth of his anger, but his words infuriated her too much to exercise any caution. "You bastard!" She leapt to her feet and stood upon the bed. "Just who do ye think ye are to talk to me so, to make such accusations?"
"I am the fool that stood watching ye cuddle and plot with that cursed Adonis."
"Cuddle and plot? Cuddle and plot?" She stomped across the bed to glare at him. "I was doing no such thing, ye great fool."
"Nay? Did he nay ask ye to come and stay at his keep?"
"Aye, he asked me." Storm hopped off the bed, moved to the table that served as her vanity and began to brush her hair, an action she favored when she was in a temper. "He asked and I said nay, thank ye very much. There is your plot."
Making a mocking noise, Tavis sat on the bed. "And of course ye gave it nay a thought."
"Oh, aye, I fancy a change," she snapped, furious over his distrust. " 'Tis my aim in life to hop from bed to bed. I have decided to follow in my stepmother's footsteps. After all, what is a little whoring to a woman already dishonored? I think I will see if I can outdo Lady Mary in number and variety. There is a fine goal to set for myself."
"God's teeth, dinnae act the offended one with me," he snarled, sent further into rage by the way she was talking. "Everyone there saw how he couldnae keep his hands off ye and how ye didnae stop him."
"He kissed my palm. I have had my hand kissed before. It means naught and well ye know it."
"And touched your hair as weel as caressed your face. There is nay a common practice."
"Nay, 'tis the act of a practiced seducer. Do not tell me ye did not recognize it," she sneered.
"Aye, I recognized it and I recognized how ye were melting for the rogue as weel. I saw the glaze in your eyes as if ye had been knocked half conscious. Sitting so close and listening to all his pretty lies. Staring into each other's eyes like a pair o' mooncalves. 'Tis nay love he offers ye, lass. The man just wants atween your legs," he snapped. "He wants to ride ye as he has half the lasses in Scotland."
"Do ye think I do not know that?" she asked calmly. "I am not stupid. I know exactly what he wanted."
As Tavis had ranted, Storm had felt her anger leave her. Recalling the story Alex had told her of Tavis's first love, she began to understand his distrust. She also began to see something behind all his anger. For a brief instant, when she had caught his eye in the mirror, she had seen a vulnerable boy.
It was almost laughable to her that Tavis MacLagan, a man as important to her as breathing, was unsure of his ability to hold on to a woman. As she thought on it, she realized that his first love's falseness had probably only been the start, that women had pursued him not just as a man but as the heir of Caraidland. There had always been some motive of greed behind their attentions. It was now perhaps a little difficult for him to believe that a woman could want him only for his worth as a man and be satisfied.
Her problem would be to convince him that such was the case with her without revealing all that she felt for him. Storm saw his vulnerability as a result of wounded pride and a crippled sense of self-worth, but nothing concerning her personally, or the fact that she talked with Alex. Her love for him made her want to help him, but her own pride kept her not wanting him to discover why she wanted only him. She decided physical need was the route to follow.
That brought her to the intricate problem of how to accomplish that. Although she had made no attempts to hide her pleasure in their lovemaking, she was always the relatively passive partner. Her contribution to the act was the gift of her passion. He initiated the loving, directed and controlled it. Mayhaps the only way to prove to him that he was all she desired was to take the lead, to be bold for a change and to make love to him.
Still new at the game, she was unsure of how to do that. Suddenly she felt she knew how. She would simply do to him as he did to her. She would caress him, be as thorough in her explorations as he was. For once she would not let modesty and maidenly shyness hold her back. She was either going to thoroughly disgust him or convince him that it was him alone she appreciated and who could stir her passions.
"The same thing ye wanted quick enough," he groused. "I could see weel enough that ye wanted him."
Moving to stand before him, she said quietly, "Alexander MacDubh is a man to stir any woman's blood."
Tavis scowled, so caught up in his anger that he paid no attention to the way she was undoing his tunic. "Did ye fancy spending the night romping with the lad?"
"There is no denying that he is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen." She unlaced his shirt.
He frowned absently as he watched her. "Would ye have me believe ye felt naught for him?"
"Nay. Ye would not believe me an I said so." She felt him tense beneath her hands. "That man is so perfectly beautiful that he stuns a person. Everything about him is perfectly suited for the seduction of a woman. Soft, beguiling eyes, perfection of face and form, a voice that caresses like the most skillful hands."
"What are ye about?" he snapped as she bent to remove his shoes, piqued at the way she spoke so fulsomely of Alex.
"I am undressing ye, you silly man," she said calmly.
Grabbing her by the arm, he growled, "Are ye verra sure ye are undressing the right man?"
Letting her free hand roam over his bared torso, she murmured, "I was a little tempted to see if he had all he should have as his outward perfection of appearance quickly bred some skepticism."
Releasing her arm, he ran his hand through his hair. "Curse ye, I ken what I saw. Ye wanted him."
Bending closer, she traced his frowning lips with her tongue. Her fingers hesitated before unlacing her gown, for she had never boldly revealed herself to him. He always undressed her. There was also far more light in the room than there usually was. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she strengthened her resolve. She brushed light kisses over his face as she eased off her night rail.
Tavis's breath caught in his throat. It was the first time he had been freely shown her lovely form. He briefly forgot Alexander MacDubh and the jealousy he refused to recognize as he looked his fill at her supple figure. His hands began to reach for her when he recalled what they had been talking about, and he hesitated.
&nb
sp; "Ye would go to bed with him. They all do," he grumbled huskily as her lips explored his throat.
"Only if ye tossed me aside and he was there to pick me up. Only an I still had no kin to seek shelter with and had to go to his keep. Aye, Tavis." Her kisses moved to his chest as her fingers unlaced his braes. "I would most like end up in his bed. I have no doubt that he knows how to pleasure a woman as well as ye do."
A groan escaped him when her tongue flicked over the hard nubs of his nipples. His hands buried themselves in her hair when she gently suckled. He was so caught up in that new pleasure that he gave no thought to how she removed his braes, merely lifted his hips to aid her. It was the same when she slid off his leggings, for her lips and tongue were playing over his taut stomach.
Out of all the ladies he had bedded in his life, Katerine had been the most skilled in pleasuring a man, knowing where and how to touch. Never had a lady made use of her mouth. That was a skill usually employed only by the high-priced courtesan. Only once had his frugal soul allowed him to pay out the coin for that pleasure, yet it had not set him on fire as the tiny English lady was now doing. Disgust or shock at her boldness was the very last thing on his mind. He simply wondered how bold she would be. "Do ye think to convince me that ye had no interest in Alex?" he rasped.
"Nay, Tavis. I mean to show ye that until ye turn me away, 'tis only your bed I wish to share no matter whose beauty I might appreciate with my eyes." She took his hand to her mouth, kissing the palms before tracing each finger with her tongue, repeating the gesture on the other hand as she spoke. "These are the only hands I wish to know my secrets, the only ones I want upon my skin." She kissed him. "This is the only mouth I wish upon mine. The only lips I want to taste me." She moved her kisses to his chest. "This is the only pillow I need for my head." She let her tongue play around his navel. "Here is the only belly I want to press against mine, move against it in the most intimate of rhythms." Her teeth nipped gently at his thighs. "These are the only legs I wish entwined with mine, pushing my thighs apart so that this can find its way within me to fill me, satisfy for the moment a hunger that seems to always be with me and drive me to that paradise only ye can take me to."
Tavis gasped, bending over as her tongue teased the length of his manhood. His breath came in ragged gasps as her tongue curled around him, stroked and teased, leaving none of the intimate area unexplored. He doubted she would perform that final intimacy, but cared little at the moment, for his control was already strained near to the breaking point.
Suddenly Storm was grasped beneath her arms and jerked to her feet. To her surprise they did not lie down upon the bed, but he pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him as she knelt facing him. A gasp that was a mixture of shock and pleasure escaped her as he eased their bodies together.
His hands cupping her buttocks, he directed her movements until she caught on. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging deeply as his hands moved over her. When he could tear his eyes from the way her lithe form moved upon him or the passion so evident upon her face, his lips feasted upon her breasts. As she cried out, her tremors indicating her release, he grasped her hips to hold her to him, but there was no need. She pressed down upon him, her slim hips rotating gently, increasing the intensity of his own release. Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in her breasts and rocked gently as pleasure washed over him and he slowly returned to normalcy.
"God, so good. 'Twas so good." He felt her inner muscles flex and murmured with pleasure. "Nice. Ye are the best I have e'er enjoyed." His gaze settling upon the point where they were still joined, his hands gently rotated her hips, and he felt himself grow taut with a renewed passion. "Ye were made for this, for pleasuring a man."
Storm was surprised by how quickly he was ready to enjoy her again. She was equally surprised at how ready she was to enjoy him as well. With a throaty laugh, she gave herself over to the mutual greed.
* * * * *
The gray light of dawn was filtering into the room when Tavis suddenly found himself awake. A tautness in his loins told him why. Lifting his head from the satiny breast it was pillowed against, he stared thoughtfully at the sleeping Storm as his need grew steadily.
He had no more worries about Alexander MacDubh. She had convinced him that, as long as he still wanted her, she would share no other man's bed. Tavis felt a definite sense of male pride.
It was replaced by an angry regret. Here was a woman he would feel no qualms about taking to wife. Not only would he have no fears of being cuckolded, but he would not need to seek out another woman, go through all the trouble and expense of seduction and tokens of appreciation. Storm's passion and lack of inhibition in the bedroom would be enough to keep him faithful. There was not the greed, dishonesty or hardness in her that had driven him from one woman to another. It was all for naught, however, for there could never be such a connection between their families.
Shaking off a sudden pain-ridden sense of depression, he eased the covers off of her, letting his gaze linger as he pleased, where he pleased. At last his gaze settled upon the juncture of her slim thighs and, rising, he parted her legs slightly and knelt between them.
There was one thing he had long wanted to do, but had held back in respect for her innocence, increasing the intimacies he took gradually. It was an act that he had rarely performed, but had ached to do so since he had first made love to her. He realized with a start that one reason was because he was assured of her cleanliness. Although he had not consciously noted it, a number of the women he had bedded over the years were plainly not all that fond of soap and water. Many truly believed it unhealthy to immerse oneself in water or to bathe with any regularity. Storm washed daily, and he liked that.
Bending, he saluted her breasts, watching as the nipples hardened in response to his tongue's ministrations. She murmured sleepily and stirred, but her eyes did not open as he made his way slowly down her body. His hand went to the heart of her and his eyes went from his fingers, where they tangled in the copper curls, to her face to watch as she and her passion slowly awakened. Suckling gently at her breasts, he let his fingers probe and caress her with a boldness she had not allowed before. When he judged her nearly awake, struggling to sort dream from reality, his gaze returned to the treasures his hands were fully enjoying, watching for a moment as his fingers continued their play. With caressing hands upon her thighs, he spread her legs wider and touched his lips to the center of her passion. When she did not flinch away as once before he knew his unorthodox methods had gained him his prize, and he proceeded to fully savor the sweetness of her.
Storm had sensed his touch early on in the game. Even as she had continued to wake up, her passion gaining strength, she had enjoyed the sense of being in a dream world. It had allowed her to luxuriate in caresses that were bolder than he had made before. When his lips first touched her so intimately the sense of being in a dream kept her from tensing, allowing her to enjoy the pleasure her reticence had denied her. By the time she realized he was lingering as he had never done before, she was already caught in a nearly overwhelming passion, needing the hands that kneaded her backside, holding her steady, as she writhed beneath his intimate caresses.
Again and again he brought her to the very brink of release until she clutched at his shoulders in near desperation. "Please, acushla, no more. I need ye, my fona." She shuddered with pleasured relief as he slowly possessed her. "Cushlamochree."
She clung to him as he sent her spiraling into that land only lovers discover. Her name broke from his lips as he drove deeply to find his own release while she was still in the tight grip of hers. It was awhile before he had the energy to break off their intimate embrace, turn onto his back and pull her into his arms. His fingers traced the newly healed wound on her shoulder, which had kept him in her bed but out of her arms and had added to his current greed for her. Briefly he thought about apologizing for his accusations about Alexander, but he fell into a sated sleep before he could get the words out.
"I love ye, Tavis," Storm whispered, knowing he could not hear her, smiled at her foolishness and, snuggling up to him, joined him in sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Tavis heartily wished that he had not agreed to Storm's plan as he looked at her. The lad's outfit she now wore showed her soft curves far too plainly. His men would enjoy themselves, and he was not fond of that knowledge at all. He recognized his possessiveness but told himself that any man would feel so about a woman who gave him so much pleasure in the night and had never done so with any other man. It was a natural feeling that sprang from being the first and the only.
"Ye are looking at me most strangely, Tavis," Storm commented as she tied back her hair.
"I was just thinking that, for a skinny lass, ye are showing a muckle lot of curves."
Storm fought down a blush. " 'Tis a bit snug, but it will serve. I so long for a ride."
"Are ye sure your shoulder is up to it?"
He grabbed her by the hair, gently tugging her into his arms.
"Ye did not seem concerned about it last night. Nay, nor this morning."
His lips twitched. "Aye, weel, mayhaps I think ye have done enough riding and need a wee rest."
Pulling free of his hold, Storm started out of the room, remarking haughtily, "Ye are a very vulgar man, Tavis MacLagan. Ye have no concept of how to speak to a lady."
"Show me a lady and my gallantry will ken no bounds," he retorted from a safe distance behind her , and met the glare she shot him over her shoulder with a wide grin.
It was not to his liking to watch the looks the men gave Storm as she strolled out to the stables. Even his dark visage as he strolled beside her did not stop them, only made them look amused or all too knowing. Despite it all, Tavis could not help but feel some pride in the fact that the woman who shared his bed was plainly desirable to a number of men. He also knew that their interest was not all of a carnal nature, but of respectful curiosity about a person who had proven herself, winning people to her side despite the fact that she was an Eldon and English.
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