The Bride Quest II Boxed Set

by Claire Delacroix

  And neither, it seemed, did Eglantine. Her slender hands were in his own hair, her fingertips running over his face, her tongue between his teeth. ’Twas as though a storm had been unleashed, the passion he had glimpsed afore compelling her to seize her share of pleasure.

  Duncan was only too happy to aid in that pursuit. His blood was thundering, his body was hard. And ’twas no lie that he desired this woman. He kissed Eglantine’s cheek, her eyelids, her temple, her ear, anxious to sample her everywhere. He nuzzled her throat, kissing her in that achingly soft place beneath her ear and the lady moaned. Eglantine twisted her tongue in Duncan’s ear, her breathless gasp of his name enough to drive him wild.

  With only one thought, he swept her into his arms and made for the crumbling structure that had been his destination. “The horses,” she whispered, but he shook his head.

  “They are not stupid enough to flee.” He smiled crookedly for her. “And if they are, you are better without them.”

  “What is this place?”

  “A chapel built by a hermit monk, some five centuries ago.” He ducked beneath the low sill of the stone doorway, blinking at the darkness within. “’Tis dry here and sheltered from the wind.” The ceiling was low, compelling him to crouch as he balanced Eglantine on his knees. ’Twas no bigger than a noble’s bed within, but ’twould more than do.

  He smiled. “’Tis unfortunate the pelt of the wolf is not yet cured.”

  “’Tis but squirrel,” she said huskily, loosening her cloak and revealing the fur lining. “But perhaps ’twill do.”

  The confirmation of her willingness was more than he expected. Duncan caught Eglantine’s nape in one hand, holding her close, his fingers buried in the soft shimmer of her hair. His other hand caressed the length of her, her curves pressed against him from shoulder to toe. She made a cry in her throat when he found her nipple and arched when he rolled that peak between his finger and thumb.

  Her lips parted and her lashes fluttered against his cheek as he cupped her breast in his hand. He bent and grazed his teeth across the peak, and she shivered, his touch clearly penetrating the wool of her kirtle.

  ’Twas not enough.

  He broke his kiss to study Eglantine, noting her shining eyes, reddened lips and flushed cheeks. He caught his breath that her gaze was fixed wonderingly upon him and indeed, he wondered what she saw that filled her eyes with marvel. Her breath came quickly and she held his gaze as he coaxed that nipple to a tighter peak with finger and thumb.

  He drew back to watch her and was astounded only now that she had permitted him such familiarity. Desire coursed thick and hot through Duncan’s veins. He would be the next between her thighs, of that he was certain.

  Though the lady would agree to it first.

  “You lied to me, Eglantine,” he murmured.

  “Nay,” she insisted, her gaze unswerving.

  “Aye.” Duncan whispered. “In this moment, you do indeed owe me aye or nay.”

  It nigh killed him to wait, to feel her softness beneath him, to know that he could coax her with his touch to submit, to be convinced that without consent, she was not his to take.

  But wait, Duncan did.

  But the lady had already labeled him a savage and he would not prove her aright. He would not take more than she offered. His thumb did move persuasively across her taut nipple, ’twas true, as though his touch alone would coax her to cede all. Her breathing caught and Duncan was not above using all advantage to his side.

  Eglantine studied him for a moment that seemed to stretch through eternity, her pulse pounding beneath his hand.

  Then she abruptly gripped his neck and pulled him closer, offering her lips and the sweet curve of her throat. Characteristically, the lady made her choice and did not linger over the decision.

  “Aye,” she whispered hoarsely against his flesh. “God help me for my weakness, but I can say naught else.”

  Duncan claimed her lips, even as awe flooded through him. He had asked her for honesty, but never expected this much.

  He had no intent of giving Eglantine the opportunity to reconsider.

  * * *

  Eglantine told herself that ceding to Duncan was the only way to ensure his surrender of Kinbeath. Aye, he had but one interest, the interest of a man seeking conquest, and once he had sated his desire, he would be gone.

  She did not truly believe it. She did not want to consider her own weakness, her own burden of desire, certainly not her growing sense that her life was wrought of responsibility alone.

  Nay, she wanted to feel. Duncan seemed intent on ensuring she did precisely that. The lace at the neck of her kirtle was already loosed, the tie of her chemise similarly undone. Eglantine shivered as Duncan pushed the unwelcome cloth aside, exposing her breasts to the cool air. She saw heat flicker in his eyes and felt a surge of nigh-forgotten feminine pride.

  Then his lips closed over her nipple and she forgot all but sensation. His tongue flicked the peak, urging it to tighten further, his touch sending a surge of heat straight to her toes. The warmth of his hand closed over her knee and eased over her garter, the touch of his palm upon her bare thigh more delicious than she could have believed.

  Eglantine’s heart was thundering, her mouth was dry. She wanted as she had never wanted before. She pushed her hands into the thickness of Duncan’s unruly hair, letting the thick waves wrap around her fingers. She gripped the back of his neck as his teeth grazed her nipple and arched against his strength, wanting only more.

  His questing hand slipped through the hair at the top of her thighs as he lifted his head and met her gaze. His fingers parted her, his hand landing with a surety that made her jump. And he smiled at the wetness he found.

  “Tell me what you desire, Eglantine,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming as his fingers worked. Eglantine writhed, certain she had never burned with a lust of such vigor before. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging deep, her nipples taut. His hand closed around her waist possessively, his lips grazed her chin, her earlobe. “Tell me,” he urged.

  “You know the truth of it.”

  She felt his smile against her flesh and nigh swooned when he licked her earlobe. “Aye, I could guess, but I would have the tale from your lips.” His tongue rolled in her ear, his persuasive fingers made her moan. “Tell me, Eglantine.”

  “I want pleasure.”

  Duncan chuckled, his breath warm against her neck. “No more than that?” He rolled his hips against her, letting her feel the fullness of his erection. “How would you be pleasured, Eglantine?”

  “’Tis vulgar to converse in this moment,” she charged, breathlessness stealing any indignation from her tone.

  Duncan laughed and drew back to watch her. “But I am a barbarian, am I not?” He had that unpredictable look about him, but Eglantine only had a moment to recognize the fact of it before his heat was suddenly gone.

  He slid beneath her skirts, cupped her buttocks in his hands and closed his mouth over her.

  Eglantine moaned, powerless to keep silent, and lifted herself against him like a wanton. She had never felt such an intimate kiss—and she did not want it to cease anytime soon.

  Duncan’s tongue rolled against her, exploring, teasing, coaxing her ardor to a crescendo. He held her fast in those great strong hands, though Eglantine writhed and twisted. She felt the brush of his teeth, his nose, the roughness of the whiskers on his chin, but all served only to further enflame her.

  And his tongue, oh, his tongue had a wicked skill.

  Her desire rose to heights previously unscaled, there was an inferno blazing unchecked beneath her flesh, and her hips began to buck of their own accord. She gripped the breadth of Duncan’s shoulders and heard herself cry out as pleasure washed over her in a sudden wave.

  Before she could catch her breath, he was crawling over her, his eyes burning with his own desire. He laced his fingers through hers and stretched her arms over her head, bending to suckle her breast anew. Eglantine found h
erself moaning, her fingers gripping his tightly as her desire roared once more. He sampled one breast then the other, gazing upon her with satisfaction when the nipples were drawn to peaks.

  Then his gaze locked with hers and his weight settled between her thighs. She caught her breath at the size of him, the hardness of him, pressed against her, and she wanted.

  “Your eyes are telling tales again. Eglantine,” he murmured, with no small measure of pride. He smiled and rolled his hips against her. “But tell me what you desire.”

  “You,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

  Duncan arched his dark brow, tempting her to surprise him in turn.

  “You, your heat inside me, filling me as none other has ever done,” she declared, her pulse racing at her own boldness. “Take me, Duncan, and please me again while I am wrapped around you.”

  His eyes flashed as he bent to kiss her and nigh devoured her in his urgency. He caught her hands in one of his now, his other hand fairly tearing cloth in his haste to have it out of the way. Eglantine returned his kiss hungrily, greedily, barely aware of the bareness of her thighs before he was atop her again. She felt the rough tickle of the hair upon his legs, then parted her own, arching against him as she offered what they both desired.

  He eased within her, filling her completely. He gave a ragged sigh, his gaze dark as it locked with her own. “Eglantine,” he whispered, the single word filled with wonder. His fingertips eased the hair from her brow, his erection swelled within her.

  And Eglantine felt more powerful than she had in all her days and nights. This man who had granted her pleasure fit to melt her bones, this rough man who could seize any trinket he desired, wanted a gift of pleasure that only she could give. She smiled and lifted her hips against him in silent demand.

  He grinned, his teeth flashing suddenly. “Do you not ask what I want?”

  Eglantine chuckled despite herself. “I know what you want.”

  But Duncan’s eyes filled with mischief. “Do you?”

  Eglantine considered him for a moment, then decided to indulge him. She gripped the back of his neck and drew him closer, deliberately echoing his pose and question. “Tell me what you desire, Duncan,” she whispered, then flicked her tongue across his ear.

  He shivered in a most satisfactory fashion and eased deeper within her. “Pleasure,” he acknowledged, his voice strained.

  Eglantine slipped her hands beneath his chemise, liking the smooth heat of his flesh beneath her hands. “What else?” she demanded, nipping the corded strength of his neck with her teeth. “Tell me.”

  Duncan began to move, his rhythm coaxing the embers of Eglantine’s own desire to burn anew. When he looked at her, his eyes had darkened to the hue of slate.

  “Your eyes tell tales,” she teased, then ran a possessive hand through his hair. “Tell me what you desire, Duncan.”

  His eyes flashed and he gripped her buttocks tightly once more. “You,” he declared. “And you know it well, my lady Eglantine. I want you wrapped around me, I want to scream with your release. I would have you claw my back and fair devour me. I would have you sated in my embrace.”

  He eased within her to the hilt, his shoulders trembling with the force of his control. He watched her closely, as though he feared he had moved too deep too fast—though Eglantine gasped at the size of him, his heat was welcome indeed. “And I would have you sate me, in turn.”

  Eglantine smiled up at him and watched relief filter into his expression. She reached up, pushed an errant curl from his brow, and framed his face in her hands. “I want all you have to give,” she whispered, liking the flame that lit in his eyes. “And Duncan, I want it now.”

  He laughed suddenly, as though she had surprised him, then braced himself over her on his elbows. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with new intensity even as he moved within her. And Eglantine writhed anew, loving the heat of him within her, the weight of his hand upon her breast, the fervor of his kisses.

  “I want you and I to find pleasure together,” Duncan whispered against her temple. His hand slipped between them, his thumb seeking the bead of her desire and soon Eglantine arched against him once more. She could feel him shaking with the effort of pacing himself and was touched beyond all else at his concern.

  Then again, his touch obliterated all thought. Eglantine rose against him, she gripped his shoulders, she writhed and moaned. She nipped at his neck with her teeth and twined her legs around his waist, bucking against him in silent demand.

  Duncan moaned, he moved with increasing speed, he held her fast. ’Twas a ride unlike any other Eglantine had shared and truly, she did not recognize her own unrestrained response. But it felt absolutely right. They moved together as though they had loved a thousand nights before. Their gazes locked and Eglantine watched the storm gather in Duncan’s eyes. She saw the heat rise in him and felt an answering heat within herself. He drove deeper and moved faster, she twisted against him and moaned aloud.

  And a heartbeat later, they crested the peak as one. Her breath caught as her name slipped over Duncan’s lips.

  “Mine,” he whispered against her throat, he rained kisses along her throat. “Eglantine is all mine.”

  Far from arguing with the possessive claim, Eglantine found curious pleasure in it. She closed her eyes and fell back, holding Duncan fast against her chest, the thunder of his pulse indistinguishable from her own. She smiled at the realization that she was warm to her toes for the first time in months.

  Then she found the wits to wonder what she had done. Eglantine stared at his dark hair curled between her fingers, felt his breath upon her throat and stared at the marks of her teeth upon his flesh. Horror coiled cold in her belly.

  What manner of savage had she become?

  Chapter Eight

  Duncan had tasted paradise and was loath to move. Indeed, he could have fallen asleep readily here, cosseted in Eglantine’s soft fur-lined cloak and her even softer embrace. His eyes drifted closed, he breathed deeply of the perfume of her flesh and he let himself ease toward slumber.

  Eglantine, however, had markedly different ideas.

  “Get up,” she said abruptly, her words more crisp than Duncan might have thought appropriate. He frowned and snuggled deeper.

  Aye, the woman was softer than silk and her hair smelled like flowers in summer sunlight. He smiled against her flesh, his lips finding the ripe curve of her breast. He kissed her, cupping her fullness in his hand, then licked the tightening nipple.

  Another mating of the ilk of that first one would not be all bad, to Duncan’s thinking.

  But Eglantine shoved his shoulder and made a growl of frustration. “Get up and get off of me.”

  This was the woman with whom he had just shared such pleasure? Duncan could not believe his ears. He pushed his weight to his elbows and regarded her warily.

  She looked like the woman who had pulled him closer. Her hair was a tousle the hue of wild honey, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were ruddy.

  Her words though were harsh.

  “Off!” she insisted, squirming in a way that did naught to encourage him to leave. She glared at him, those green eyes snapping with something other than passion. “’Tis time enough you departed—and make no mistake, you will not be welcomed within my camp again.”

  Duncan felt his eyes narrow, and he did not move. “Forgive me, but did you see another woman in this chapel? I could have sworn the woman in my embrace found sufficient pleasure that she would not be in any haste to see me gone.”

  If Eglantine’s cheeks had been flushed before, now they burned scarlet. “The wanton in your embrace is what you mean. The woman so lacking in moral fiber that she could not turn you aside. She turns you aside now!” She moved her knee in a very definite and unwelcome fashion.

  For the sake of personal protection, Duncan rolled away, then stood. He was not, however, prepared to leave.

  Not without an explanation.

  Eglan
tine hauled down her skirts and laced her bodice with shaking fingers, hastening to stand as well. She granted him a wide berth and marched out into the thin sunlight, leaving him glowering behind her.

  “What nonsense is this?” he demanded impatiently. “You were pleased, I ensured as much.”

  “Aye, and so were you!” She turned to face him, her gaze flicking over his disheveled garb before she averted her face. Duncan realized his chest was nigh bare and his tartan less than well wrapped, but did not care.

  There were more important issues to be resolved.

  “I did not argue the truth of it. We both were pleased, or so I believed.” He stepped after her, intending to cajole her with his touch.

  But Eglantine danced away. Her gaze met his in challenge.

  “What game is this?” he asked with a frown. “’Twas you who said you desired me within you, was it not? ’Twas you who wished to be filled with my heat.”

  Though he might not have believed it possible, her cheeks turned yet a deeper red. “But a month among barbarians and I become one as well! What does this place do to civilized souls?”

  She was embarrassed at her own passion, no more than that. Duncan heaved a sigh of relief. Fortunately, he shared no similar qualms. He had heard tales of women regretting their passion, though he would never have expected Eglantine to be so shy.

  Duncan smiled, and took a step closer, disliking how the lady still shrank from his touch. “This place awakens our true nature,” he suggested, then ran one finger down her arm. “It grants all souls the chance to display their true colors, to wear their passion, to be honest with one another.”

  Eglantine shivered so elaborately that he suspected her show of distaste was feigned. “It makes barbarians of us all. You have wrought a barbarian of me.” She grimaced, her gaze flicking to the chapel, then away. “Truly, dogs show more restraint in satisfying their desires.”

  “And of what value is restraint?” Duncan demanded. He caught her shoulders in his hands before she could step away. She trembled in his grip, but did not flinch. “What possible evil is there in what we just shared, Eglantine? We desired each other, we confessed as much, and we chose to indulge that desire. ’Tis healthy.”