"Don't be afraid," he whispered, his hands caressing the outer bare thighs beneath her short, cotton nightgown.
"No," she choked, his scorching touch awakening fiercer stirrings low in her abdomen. "Please, no."
His hands stopped at the elastic leg bands of her underpants. After a moment, he pressed himself against her, and she bewilderedly peered into the hypnotic depths of his eyes. The silence between them gave birth to a span of introspection. Laura, despite her will to try, could not recall ever feeling so lost to desire. It wasn't lust. She was perfectly rational now. Too rational for her liking. And she wasn't feeling lonely or in need of an emotional fix to verify her feminine existence.
It was simply Roan.
An instinctual, primal yearning to share the ultimate intimacy with him, unmercifully felled her inhibitions.
Roan, meanwhile, was thinking back on the early years of his marriage to Adaina. It baffled him that he'd never felt breathless at the prospect of making love to her. His hands had never felt afire to touch her.
How had he ever considered Laura a clone of her?
The features in front of him bespoke of an innocence that he'd never seen in Adaina's face. And Adaina had never possessed the—although outright frustrating at times—fiery spirit of this woman.
"Do you really want me to stop?" he asked in a low, husky tone, his gaze sweeping over every contour of her face.
She focused on the blue toothpaste visible at the corners of his mouth then her attention was drawn to his lower lip.
His mouth made her crazy. Sensual. Sometimes brooding, and sometimes teasing. Lips designed to weaken a woman's control.
She swallowed once, then again when a haze of undeniable desire yawned in her brain. Straining on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to one corner of his mouth. He remained perfectly still while she ran the tip of her tongue over the sweetened spot.
A shudder passed through him, and he lifted his anguish-filled gaze to the heavens.
"Laura...."
His erection pressed against her abdomen, prompting her to graze the tip of her tongue to the other corner of his mouth. With seductive determination, she used the inner lining of her lower lip to melt away the rest of the toothpaste.
Roan groaned deep in his chest.
His arms encircling her shoulders, he drew her slender body flush against the rock hard wall of his. His gaze searched her features as he slowly lowered his head. The instant his mouth closed over her lips, he shut his eyes and lost himself within the sensations building to an inferno behind his chest and in his groin. He became aware of her fingers pressing into the small of his back, urging him closer, as if that was at all possible.
He deepened his kiss, caressing the soft inner lining of her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. She moaned. Internal fires seized his genitals, causing a shudder to course through him once again. In a bid to rein in his control, he lifted his head and pressed his pursed lips to the soft skin between her eyes.
"Roan," she breathed unsteadily.
"Come to ma room." He kissed a trail down her cheek, lingered at one corner of her mouth, then lifted his head and looked longingly into her eyes. "I want you, Laura. So much so, ma brain's on fire."
She lifted her hands and smoothed them over the soft mat of hair on his chest. Desire tinted her cheeks a rosy pink, and brightened the deep green of her eyes. It had occurred to her when he'd first begun kissing her that the guesstimated amount of whiskey he'd consumed—enough to render him unconscious—would have made the possibility of lovemaking very slim. But the evidence of his attraction, the hardness pressed against her abdomen and thigh, dispelled any doubts she had as to his ability to consummate a union between them.
He began to nibble her left earlobe, his hands cupping and squeezing her rounded backside. "You smell so good." His teeth nipped the lobe then he trailed kisses along her temple. "You taste so good." He kissed her mouth long and hard, weakening her knees. "Damn me, lass, you feel so bloody good!" he added, his inordinately deep tone sending chills of delight through her.
"Why are we..." Laura swallowed hard to quell her breathlessness. "Roan, why are we still in the hall?"
Lifting his head, he stared into her passion-glazed eyes and grinned almost shyly. "I'm afraid if I move, all this will vanish before ma eyes. Can you feel ma heart, Laura?" Taking her hand, he laid her palm over the center of his chest. "It’s pumpin' wild."
"Yes...yes...it is."
"It’s been a long time, Laura-lass." He brushed the back of the fingers of his right hand along her cheek. "I'm a wee nervous. I don't want you disappointed, come morn."
A look of utter elation glowed on Laura's face. "No one's ever really cared how I felt about anything." Trembling with happiness, she lightly kissed the dimple on his chin. Thank you. Oh, God, thank you! "Make love to me, Roan."
A tremor passed through him. His gaze languidly searched her face, and a sad smile played on his lips. "Ye're so bruised, lass." Gingerly, he touched the discolorations on her features. "Do they hurt?"
"Not really. I forgot about them." She lowered her gaze. "I must look terrible."
"No." He chuckled deep within his chest. "Bruises and all, ye're the prettiest womon I've ever laid these sorry eyes on."
"Gotta pee," came a whimper from close by.
Laura and Roan guiltily cut their gazes toward the boys' room. Kahl stood unsteadily on spread feet, rubbing one eye with a fist, the other hand clutching the front of his underwear.
"Gotta pee bad."
Ducking beneath Roan's arm, Laura deliberately blocked the boy's view of the man's state of undress. "Go back in the room, hon. I'll be right in."
After a moment's pause, Kahl shuffled into the bedroom.
Laura quickly turned to face Roan, crimson staining her cheeks. "Go!" she urged in a stage whisper, giving him a shove in the arm. "Please!"
Left at odds by the turn of events, Roan ambled back to his room and closed the door behind him. Shivering with cold, he whipped the top quilt from the bed and haphazardly draped it over his shoulders, then lethargically went to the fireplace and prepared the iron grate with quartered wood stacked to the left of the white marble facing. He rose, took a box of wooden matches from the mantel, hunkered again, crumpled two sheets of 1848 newspaper stacked in a low crate in front of the wood, and built a fire.
When the flames had risen to his satisfaction, he lowered his bottom to the cold stone hearth and numbly stared into them.
Kahl's untimely intrusion had broken the spell.
"Wha's wi' you, mon?" he asked himself aloud in a monotone. "Two days. Two days and ye're ready to bed her?"
He gave a solemn shake of his head then ran the back of a hand beneath his chin stubble.
"Ye're smarter than tha', Roan Ingliss. It’s the house—or it’s Lannie settin' you up for a fall. Och, I know he shared his bloody whiskey wi' you, but one night o' camaraderie, does no' a friend make.
"Damn me, I'm tired." He scowled into the flames, the pounding of his heart sounding hollow in his ears. "When did you last sleep? No' nod off, mon. Sleep!"
Rubbing his hands down his face, he lifted a bent knee and rested his chin atop it. After a while, his eyelids lowered, and his pulse rate slowed, but still he could not sleep. A fluttering reminder of his earlier desire taunted him.
"Where's yer stamina, mon," he murmured, his eyes remaining shut. "You've got to banish her from yer mind. Think o' somethin' ither than—"
An inexplicable sibilation passed through his skull. The hearth, the flames, wavered in front of him, became grainy and distorted, then once again sharply defined. Ice flowed through his blood. Lodged in his heart. The air surrounding him shifted, again and again, until suddenly, he felt himself caught up in a passage of movement. His heart thundered. Terror swelled within his brain. Adrenaline flooded his veins, boiling his blood.
He experienced a sensation akin to coming to an abrupt halt. Words bombarded his mind, compelling him to voice them.
>
"Ta you, let snow and roses
And golden locks belong.
These are the world's enslavers,
Let these delight the throng.
For her o' duskier lustre
Whose favour still I...wear,
The snow be in her kirtle,
The rose be in her...hair!"
The compulsion intensifying, he went on:
The hue o' highland rivers
Careerin', full and cool,
From sable on to golden—"
"How did it go...? From...from—
"From rapid on to pool
The hue o' heather honey,
The hue...o' honey bees,
Shall tinge
Shall tinge her golden shoulders,
Shall gild her tawny knees."
Roan sagged in exhaustion, and wearily stared into the dancing flames.
"Robert Louis Stevenson's, 'To You, Let Snow And Roses," came a breathless voice.
His head shot up, and his heart skipped several beats at the sight of Laura standing by the open door. A breath caught in his throat as his gaze scanned the length of her, from her tousled blond head, to the shapely pale legs visible beneath her thigh-length, simple-cut nightgown.
"So you're a poet at heart, too?" she smiled, easing the door shut.
Barefoot, she crossed the distance and leaned against the fireplace wall, facing him. "Had my Lit professor your accent, I might have taken poetry more seriously. What else should I know about you, Roan Ingliss?"
"Perhaps the whys and the wherefores," he said softly, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe, and up once again.
Crouching, she studied his strong features for a time. "Tell me," she urged finally.
Shifting his gaze to the flames, he frowned. "The whys: 'cause ye're here, I suppose. And lovely, desirable. The wherefores....for wha' I'm no' sure. Perhaps for the sake o' a night's pleasure; for a wee time o' escapin' the shadows o' the past."
His eyes, amber in the fire's glow, locked with hers. "Tell me yer whys and wherefores."
Laura didn't hesitate. "The whys are because you're here, I suppose." She smiled a bit shyly. "Not because you're just an attractive man, but because you're you, Roan. Does that make sense?"
"Aye...I think."
"And the wherefores...." She looked down at her folded hands atop her lap and lightly shrugged. "I like to believe I'm an independent, modern woman, but the truth is, I'm not always sure—at least about the modern part."
She lifted her gaze to meet his questioning expression. "The last time I, umm, initiated making love with a man, it left me feeling very confused and...empty. I-I guess the act made me realize that my mind's longing for physical love could not be compensated by a random night's fling. Am I shocking you?"
Roan grinned and flexed his shoulders. "No. It’s nice to hear a womon speak openly o' such matters. Too eften, people fail to communicate. Kahl back to sleep?"
Laura nodded then grimaced. "He had a slight accident in the bathroom, though."
Roan arched a brow.
"He, umm, missed the toilet. You, ah, left your clothes on the bathroom floor."
"Ma clothes—ma trousers!"
Again Laura nodded, a twinkle in her eyes. "I rinsed them in the tub and laid them out over a chair. I doubt, though, if they'll dry by morning."
Roan stared into the fire for a time, then shook his head and chuckled. "Damn me if I squeeze maself into Lannie's trousers."
He sobered the instant their gazes locked. For an indeterminable time, silence bathed the room. Then Roan frowned and cut his gaze to the fire.
"What's wrong?"
He shrugged and drew the quilt tighter about his shoulders. "I don't know. There's a strange buzzin' in ma ears."
"It's probably all the whiskey you consumed."
Roan looked at her. "No. Tis weird, I know, but I feel fine in tha' respect. Tis you...." With a shake of his head, he stared again into the hearth's source of warmth.
"Are you sorry you kissed me? Is that it?"
"Are you sorry?" he asked, scowling at her through a pained expression.
Laura took a moment to think over her reply. "You know, it's weird, Roan, but it felt very...right...as if I'd waited for that moment all my life."
Lowering her backside to the floor, she sighed. "I don't want to let go of what I'm feeling, right now." She lightly tapped between her breasts. "At this very peculiar moment in my life, I swear my heart is beating only for you."
He held out his hand to her. "Come here."
After a moment's hesitation, she rose to her feet. Seconds ticked by. Self-consciousness made her fidgety.
"I won't hurt you," he vowed, extending his hand out further.
Lifting hers, she closed her eyes for a moment when his warm fingers enclosed hers. He gave a gentle tug then another firmer tug urging her to step closer, urging her to stand with her feet planted to each side of his outer thighs. Then he released her hand and, for a long moment, stared up at her through an unreadable expression.
"Wha' are you afraid o', Laura?" he asked thickly.
Swallowing hard, her chin quivering, she achingly replied, "You, and how you make me feel."
His hands gently lit on the back of her knees. With a low groan, he leaned to and nestled his face against the soft mound crowning her groin.
Laura clenched her teeth and dipped her head back. Her fingers threaded the hair at the back of his head, kneading, flexing, coaxing him to further explore. For a tormenting time, his palms massaged the back length of her legs, until, hesitantly, he cupped her buttocks, then held her firmly in place.
With deliberate slow strokes, he smoothed his face across her abdomen, now and then, his teeth nipping her through the fabric of her nightgown. Laura trembled in anticipation, agonizingly sweet anticipation that threatened to consume her in the fires of need. She couldn't ignore the absolute rightness she felt at his touch. Ageless rightness, as though she'd been created for this one man, and no other.
His fingers hooked onto the waistline of her panties, and drew the flimsy material down over her hips. She gulped, trembling, barely in control of the raw passion rapidly building and building within her fevered body. His first tug ravaged her panties, and he tossed them aside. The realization that her womanhood was now bared to him, intensified her excitement until she was sure she would perish beneath its power.
He gripped her hips and coaxed her back a step. Her breathing became ragged, labored. She pulled the nightgown over her head and mindlessly swung it away. When she felt his lips touch her intimately, ecstasy akin to a climax rocketed through her system, tingling to the tips of her fingers, the tips of her toes, nearly causing her knees to buckle when his tongue stroked her in a manner previously unknown to her. Spasms impaled her reasoning, jolted her wave upon wave.
Crossing his legs Indian style, he gripped her hips and tugged downward. She straddled his lap, facing him, her gaze never wavering from the passion glazing his eyes. His hands smoothing over her outer thighs, he kissed her at first lightly, then in a demanding, masterful way that prompted her to thread her fingers through his hair and draw him closer. Lightheaded, weakening with desire, she tightened her fingers within the soft, thick strands.
"God," he breathed against her lips, then nuzzled his brow to one side of her face. "Ye're incredible! So soft. I can’t wait. Sair to dae." Hard to do. "So...sair to dae."
He kissed her hungrily. His arms encircled her, crushing her small, rounded breasts against his chest. Laura's arms folded around his neck, and with the fire's warmth licking along her spine, she melted into the sheer masculinity of his embrace.
She thought his kiss enough to appease her until his hands crept up between their bodies and cupped her breasts. A gasp spilled past her lips. She arched away from him, her hands anchored on the muscular contours of his shoulders. Her eyes closed to the bliss of his kneading her breasts, of his thumbs gently massaging the dark, rigid peaks of her nipples. His tongue c
aressed the graceful lines of her throat, evoking incendiary pulses to again detonate along her skin. The provocative trail descended to her right nipple, where his mouth encompassed the taut bud.
"Oh God," she moaned, her fingers burying themselves into the hair at her temples.
Roan's hands moved to her back, supporting her as he suckled the nub of her firm breast. Every muscle in his body ached for her. The fire in his groin painfully hardened him, but he was determined not to end, too soon, the maddening ecstasy of his anticipation.
His mouth sought and enclosed her left nipple, his tongue repeatedly circling it, eliciting a groan from her that rocked him with a shudder of appetency. Unable to withstand the conflagration of his needs, he gripped her upper arms, drew her head up, and stared into her eyes with a look that betrayed his impatience to possess her.
Breathless, Laura managed a weak, "Yes."
"Lang syne," he chanted breathlessly, their gazes remaining locked.
His hands cupped her buttocks and eased her onto her knees then, reaching between her thighs, he positioned himself. His other hand gripped her hip, and he deeply kissed her while coaxing her to lower herself onto his taut member.
Her arms went around his neck. Her body trembled as the moist cavity of her loins met with the implement. A look of uncertainty flashed in her eyes, spearing him with alarm until she reached between her thighs, wrapped her fingers beneath the soft, smooth head, and began to lower herself onto it.
Roan clenched his teeth, his eyes riveted on her expressions of agony and pleasure when she slowly filled herself with all he had to give. He was dimly aware of losing himself, feeling oddly displaced. Undeniably, he loved this woman. He cherished her very existence, although he vaguely questioned the possibility of feeling so strongly for someone he'd known for so short a time.
Ripples upon ripples of pleasure vied to sway him from dwelling on anything but the lovely woman making love with him. Mindlessness was to be expected. Absolute, instinctual need to quell his drive for a climax, normal. But looking at her, perspiration glistening on her expression of bliss, he had to wonder what had doused the friction between them. Her body moved up and down in perfect, tormenting rhythm, stroking him within the wondrous cavity of her perfect body. His muscles grew tauter by the second in response to her. The haze of passion thickened over his brain.
Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 Page 8
