by Cait London
Regina had never seen a man’s body unclothed. His lines were fluid and beautiful, the muscles shifting beneath his dark skin as he rolled his wounded shoulder slowly. There was whipcord strength beneath his skin, his stomach flat and hard. She found herself wanting to touch the muscles there, probe them.
She shivered, angry with herself. She’d just been mauled by three men and this one wanted her, too. “You haven’t a stitch on, MacGregor. Cover yourself.”
“I want you.” MacGregor’s deep rasp slid across her damp skin as he rose and padded slowly toward her.
The firelight cast orange ribbons across his tall body, lashing at the width of his shoulders and streaming down the narrow length of his hips. Aroused and walking toward her, MacGregor did not shield his need.
“You can’t have me!” Regina backed away a step and instantly realized her mistake. MacGregor’s tall body had forced her into a drafty corner. Desire throbbed out of him, burning her flesh.
In the cramped space she couldn’t move, her breath tight in her chest. MacGregor loomed over her in the shadows.
“I don’t intend to debate the matter, ma’am. You’re my woman from now on. We’ll be married as soon as we can. But until then, we’ll just have to make things do. Later there’ll be time for knowing, but not now,” he said rawly, his gaze shooting down her unbuttoned shirt. “I’ll be easy, but I intend to stake my claim.”
Gathering the shirt against her, she muttered, “Of all the nerve.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed easily, taking a step nearer. “Won’t take a minute, and then we can be on our way.”
Her eyebrows lifted sharply. “You are an oaf! You actually expect me to submit to your animal urges?”
His finger reached out suddenly and skimmed a warm trail down her throat to a point between her breasts. “Yes, ma’am. Plenty of deals are made on the blanket. This is an honest one by my way of thinking. I like to stake my claim on what’s mine and keep it.”
“Oh! You’re talking about me as though I were a horse needing branding!”
His broad palm slid down the front of the shirt, catching the hem and tugging it gently aside, despite her fists wrapped in the fabric. “I’m wanting my woman. It’s as simple as that,” he said quietly, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to his pallet.
MacGregor’s weight trapped her beneath him before she could slip away. He quickly stripped away the shirt and tossed it aside, then held both her wrists in one hand.
She wanted to scream, to fight him and the other men who had pawed her. But MacGregor’s size and strength easily captured her. He thrust intimately against her inner thigh, a sheathed blend of silk and steel. When she bucked against him, trying to dislodge his grip, MacGregor’s harsh breath swept across her hot cheek.
Fear went slithering through her like a snake; a brief memory of the smell of rotted teeth and unwashed bodies swept over her, and she shuddered.
Breathing quietly, she brought herself back from those men and their hurting hands. Lying beneath him, she struggled for control, accepting his greater strength.... MacGregor had not hurt her. His scent was of wood smoke and soap. His hair had caught the fragrance of the mountain pines and cold, crisp air.
His desire ran between them, hot and terrifying. He couldn’t know how frightened she was of being taken, the forced submission more costly than his intrusion into her body.
“I am bloody well angry with you, MacGregor,” she said between her teeth, breathing heavily.
Easing his weight slightly away from her, MacGregor rested on his elbows, his hard thighs clamping hers still. His desire beat upon her like hot waves, his face harsh with the passionate need.
His heart thudded against her breasts, the rough hair covering his chest brushed her intimately. His hips rested against hers, the hardness probing her thighs gently. He was taut, holding himself from entering her, his eyes glistening with the primitive need.
“What do you want?” he asked harshly, brushing a wet strand away from her face with his lips. “Tell me.”
She thrust against him, furious at being weaker, as she had always been in the plans of men. Her father—her mind calmed suddenly, apart from herself and the man looming over her. MacGregor had said there were bargains made on the blanket; perhaps she could strike an arrangement with him.
Fighting a fine edge of fear, Regina thought of a bargain and explored it. Of course she was afraid; this mountain man would be her first man.
With a sense of jumping off the edge of a cliff, Regina inhaled sharply. MacGregor was a kind man to his son and to the animals. She’d have to keep that thought close to her.
She was like any other woman whose time had come to lay with a man. Life had a way of thrusting itself in her face, and now surely she could deal with this, too. The situation was dire, the remedy only logical and practical.
“Loose me, MacGregor,” she snapped, balancing her thoughts against the increasing hot and long pressure on her leg. The bargaining moment was at hand, she thought warily. He wanted and she wanted... an exchange of needs, fairly met would serve them both. “A gentleman doesn’t tear at a woman like this. The very idea—I haven’t even had my breakfast tea.”
The barb caught him broadside, she noted with a small measure of satisfaction.
“If you’re wanting a bargain to soothe your guilt,” she continued, watching his eyes darken, “I can’t ride without my favorite saddle. It’s a treasured keepsake, and I can’t possibly leave without it. If you want me, you’ll have to help me get my saddle.”
His lids narrowed, his eyes roaming her upturned face. “You’re not handing out orders to me, Duchess,” he said roughly. “I’m claiming you, simple as that. A woman can expect that from her man. You can squall later, and I’ll give you all the foofaraw you want. I’ll get you a saddle.”
He moved slightly, and the tip of his manhood rested against her intimately.
Beckoning slyly, her flesh moistened and softened as if licking at him. Waves of heat ran through her, her thighs softening against his hard ones.
“Foofaraw?” She shifted and realized that he had slipped smoothly into the feminine valley between her legs. Breathing rapidly, Regina closed her eyes, remembering women’s stories of tearing flesh beneath grunting, sweating males. She accepted the fate she had fought—she would distance herself, absorbing the pain, and leaving her body as he hurt her....
Fear clawed at her stomach, and she forced herself to concentrate on the gentle way his hands had moved over the animals and Jack.
But she was a woman lying beneath a man for her first time, not a horse to be brought to hand, or a baby to be cuddled and loved.
“Foofaraw—pretties, gifts women like. Maybe money after I sell my spring furs,” he explained rawly, his hot face finding the soft curve of her neck and shoulder. “Let me in....” he asked quietly, waiting for her response.
Against her, his large body trembled, and she found her hand smoothing the scars covering the taut muscles of his back. How vulnerable this rugged man seemed now, how needing....
Regina struggled to keep her emotions away from the task ahead. She was striking a bargain after all and couldn’t let a momentary softness interfere.
“Then I claim my saddle and you can have me. This once. Then you’ll take me off the mountain.” Trembling, Regina knew she had sold her body, but the rough mountain man knew the wilderness, and he could complete her task. Once the jewels and her safety were assured.... She could feel his blood pound into her, the raw need driving him, trembling through him, barely leashed.
She... would... not... be... afraid. She thought of beautiful poetry and lovers’ warm words and the romantic knights of King Arthur. She had dreamed of her first time being a sweet, sweet song....
Perhaps Lady Guinevere had the leisure to be afraid, but Regina dealt with reality.
He rubbed his chest against her, a luxurious, slow movement that caused him a sigh of pleasure. The deep male sound swirled about
her, the aching need woven about it. “Done,” he whispered. “You’ll have what you want.”
Regina swallowed uncomfortably, realizing that for some odd reason, her lower body had gone as soft as velvet. Sheathing his hard length between her legs, yet without him entering her body, she began to melt. Damp and warm, a fullness ached and needed tending in her lower stomach and trembling thighs.
Of course she could fight him, make him pay painfully. But he’d have her finally. Or would he? There was something waiting in him, waiting for her to yield or to fight. She sensed that with a word she could stay him from his course.
In her lifetime she’d seen little male tenderness, yet now the heat of his eyes was only for her. Once she’d wanted that look and found no man looking at her as though he adored her.
His firm lips had a tempting curve she wanted to experience against her own....
“Are you so set upon this course, MacGregor?” she asked in a husky whisper that barely resembled her voice.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered adamantly, trembling against her. “I think... I’ll die if I don’t have you now.”
The admission was roughly spoken, but Regina knew the strength of his feelings.
She closed her eyes, inhaling his fresh scent blended with smoke and pine. “I’d prefer a gentler approach, MacGregor. Then, of course, you can expect to be killed later... if you don’t keep to your gentleman’s word. I’ll start by shooting off your toes and then working my way upward.... Perhaps I’ll scalp you like the heathen you are. Perhaps I’ll tan your pelt and nail it to the cabin door....”
Nuzzling her skin, MacGregor’s mouth moved against her, causing her to shiver. “I’m hungry for you, not words. Can we do it, so we can get about our business?”
His beard slid across her flesh and a strange aching need fluttered delicately within her.
“I have no idea how to go about this, sir. And if I did, I would do so, then finish you off. Why, you haven’t even kissed my hand, much less my mouth, and here you are—”
MacGregor raised over her, his eyes oddly gentle beneath the fierce eyebrows. “Kissing is for children. I’m for the other. At my age I know what I’m about. A hard fast ride takes the poison out of a man—”
She blinked, disbelieving. “Egad!”
Regina shook her head, blushing furiously beneath his warm gaze. “You may be ready to.... Kissing is... part of courting. Though we’re in the wilds and you’ve proposed... I think we should keep to the customary order of events.”
“Could we do that later, ma’am?” he asked as his gaze slid hotly down her body to touch her breasts nestled against his chest. He moved slightly, like a big mountain cat nestling to a warm sunny branch, adjusting to the feel and the sway beneath him.
“The kissing first,” she began adamantly, then the words drifted away as MacGregor carefully lowered his broad chest to her softness.
He eased against her, flattening her breasts gently as his eyes closed as though he absorbed his pleasure, savored her body flowing against his hard one. “Where?”
Astonished by his question, Regina found herself looking hungrily at his mouth. After all, if he was going to force her to accommodate his mating practices, she should accept with style becoming a lady.
And then she would have her saddle, of course. She would keep her part of the bargain. “I’ve never been adequately kissed on the lips. That would seem a good starting point. Perhaps you could say a sweet word or two along the way.”
“Words are empty, it’s the bodies that do the loving—”
“Yes, loving. Words like that,” she whispered, then moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. He followed the movement as though he were dying for the taste of her.
What an odd pleasure, she mused. MacGregor had somehow kept her warm and safe and had caught her in a strange, exciting game.
His mouth pressed hard against hers, quickly, then was gone. “Now?” he asked roughly, raising his hips slightly and rubbing himself against her intimately.
Frowning darkly, Regina glared up at him. She might have made a practical bargain, but romance should be kept involved, too. “You’re the man. I should think you would have more experience in matters of the heart. Kissing on the lips is supposed to be....”
She looked away, shy with her emotions and the dark, lean man who so badly wanted to enter her body. “Sweet. Like a love sonnet. Or tasting jams.”
He arched a brow, a slight curve to his hard mouth. “Or honey?”
“Well, yes.” Meeting his eyes, Regina swallowed tightly. “Then I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”
“Foolish.” Yet his gaze washed across her hot face, gauging her intently. Then, taking a deep, longing sigh, MacGregor carefully placed his lips over hers. Looking into her eyes, he rubbed his mouth along hers softly.
The caress was so light and sweet that Regina closed her eyes, her lips lifting to the warmth of his. Instinctively she knew he was taking care not to harm her. In a tender play she brushed his mouth, pleasure seeping into her as he inhaled sharply.
MacGregor breathed roughly, his eyes glittering beneath his lowered lids. Carefully he shifted, and Regina found him gently probing her feminine opening. Arching away, she found herself warming, flooding damply around his hardness.
He kissed her again, and this time his lips roamed hers, asking sweetly.
Lost in the heady sweet sense of being cherished, Regina allowed her lips to part and meld with his firm ones. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the slow tasting of his lips against hers, sinking deeply into the gentle taking.
MacGregor’s thumb moved slowly across her inner wrist. “You’re soft like doeskin. Or like your silk ribbons,”
Before she could protest, the tip of his tongue prowled across her lips to enter her mouth. Catching her breath, Regina watched his dark scowl deepen as he gently probed her mouth, tasting her. The intimate gesture caused heat to flow through her. His hard hips moved slightly between her legs, and she found herself trembling. His tongue flicked again, and feminine muscles deep within Regina contracted suddenly, startling her with pleasure.
The cords within her started heating, her body melting when he entered her gently. A movement of his hips brought him sliding deeper into her moist softness. He let out a deep, ragged groan, his great body trembling over her.
She hadn’t bargained for her skin growing taut, her body accepting and dampening at his gentle probes. Realizing the depth of her submission to his powers, sheer terror jolted through her.
MacGregor was playing games, taunting her, waving his male arrogance at her. Her head went back, and she glared at him, “Your tongue in my mouth was uncalled for, sir. Truly indecent.”
After a moment’s silence his voice was low and uneven. “Sorry, ma’am. I just started thinking how sweet and warm you are between your legs and wondered what your mouth would taste like. Can’t say I’ve ever wondered that about a woman.... Like I wanted to crawl in and taste and get fever hot—”
“Sweet and warm between my legs? A gentleman would not have said such a thing.” Regina tried to swallow, tried to look away from the hot glitter of desire in his eyes. She trembled, her legs feeling as though they were weak, his warm, rough thighs burning against her inner knees.
“It’s true,” he whispered huskily. “You’re so soft and sweet there, too.”
He shuddered, closing his eyes briefly. “So tight and soft... hot.”
He slid deeper, and Regina went taut. She’d heard of the blood and pain—yet she was softening, stretching, and allowing him to enter with only the slightest discomfort. “That’s enough,” she whispered shakily, arching back from him. “I’ve changed my mind.... You’re hurting me.”
“No, I’m not. You’re soft and hot here, wanting me... opening to me like rosebud petals to the sun.... I liked the kissing,” he whispered back gently. “Haven’t ever kissed a woman when I was in the saddle before.”
“Egad! This is horrible,” she whispered, fe
eling him slide deeper within her. Her body had accepted him, encased him tightly, throbbing against his strength.
She ached for more, trembling, wanting to feel his mouth on hers. “Egad, MacGregor,” she whispered shakily. “What are we going to do?”
For an answer MacGregor’s mouth settled gently over hers. Taking his time, he tugged at her lips with his, running the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip until she parted for him. Thrusting deeply within her mouth, MacGregor suckled her tongue, playing a sweet game that Regina found herself returning.
She wanted to touch him, her fingers moving restlessly as he held her wrists.
MacGregor groaned roughly against her throat and trembled as though staying a beast within him. Gently, pushing a small way deeper within her, he sighed and Regina found herself heating, seeking his mouth hungrily as she stretched to fit around him.
“So I am the first... and now you’re mine,” he said roughly, running a broad, rough hand down her body. The raw male possession caught at her, binding her as his hand covered her breast, his eyes locking with hers. He pressed the soft mound gently, and she fought the groan of pleasure rising out of her. Her hips lifted to his sweeping touch down her thighs.
“My God!” he exclaimed roughly. “I’ve never—”
His eyes closed, and his skin stretched tightly across his cheekbones. Regina couldn’t keep from lifting her hips, fitting her knees to his hard hips as he slid deeper within her.
The first shock of waves hit her, swirled her around in the dark passionate waters, pulling her from her rock of safety and taking her into the heat of the night.
Throbbing around him, Regina watched, stunned as MacGregor’s black eyes darkened, then blazed brightly. “You feel it, too, don’t you? The mating?” he demanded unevenly. “Hot... deep in the blood.”
She moaned as he held himself tautly above her, straining to remain still as Regina lifted her hips to him. The wings of hunger beat at her, pulsing and taking him on a dark, sweet flight.
