He licked her madly as she writhed, and his cock seemed to pulse in the warm water with her every word, her every cry. When she grew too sensitive, he finally eased up, then stood before her. “I have tae be inside you,” he groaned, desperate to sink into her glistening, plump flesh, still spread to him. Becoming frenzied, he used one hand to pin her wrists above her head against the rock.
Her half-lidded eyes grew wide and she quickly said, “Wait, Hugh. L-let me free. I need to tell you something.” But her words sounded indistinct as he cupped her sex beneath his whole hand. “Hugh, please—”
“I am,” he growled, keeping her wrists pinned. “I’ve waited too goddamned long, and I’ll wait no more.”
“But I’m—”
“No more talking.” He was through listening. “You’ve haunted me.” He wanted to punish her as she’d punished him again and again. He wanted to take out ten years of pain on her and make her feel what he’d suffered. He shoved her legs wider, about to plunge into her and take her mindlessly, furiously. Finally.
With his free hand, he clutched her breast, feeling his cockhead straining against her, seeking to be inside her. “I’ve told you I’m no’ a good man. If you would believe me, if you only knew, you’d no’ want my hands on you. But you push and push.”
“I know. I do.” Her face went soft, and her body relaxed. “And I’m sorry. It’s just that I need you, Hugh,” she whispered, then leaned up to press kisses to his neck. “So much that I can’t think of anything but you.” The light touch of her lips and her panting words against his skin set him awash in that indescribable feeling of…rightness.
Her eyes met his. She gazed up at him with desire, but also with trust.
He released her wrists and lowered his forehead to hers. “Damn you, Jane,” he whispered harshly.
Had he actually thought he could hurt her? The woman he’d been born to touch and to hunger for?
“Don’t be angry, please,” she murmured. “I want this, but only if you do.”
He almost laughed at that—if he did.
“I do, Sìne.” He was glad she’d made him come to his senses. Not because he was going to back out of this—no, their fate was sealed on that score—but because he’d be damned if he took her like a mindless, rutting animal. The first time.
He disbelieved what he was about to do, but he was resolved. For once in his life, he would have the woman he desired more than anything else on earth. He didn’t deserve her, but he was a selfish bastard. He didn’t deserve her, but God, he needed her.
He’d bring her pleasure again. He’d meant for her to come around his cock when it was thick inside her, but knowing how badly he wanted this, he’d probably embarrass himself, losing his seed with the first thrust.
He slipped his middle finger into her wetness, and she moaned, hips arching up to meet his hand. She was wet for him, but so tight.
“Hugh,” she gasped out when he withdrew his finger and returned with two, preparing her, thrusting deep just as she arched up—
He froze. Staring down at her in confusion, he said in a strangled tone, “Jane? You’re a virgin?”
Her eyes flickered open at his tone, and she bit her lip guiltily. “I-I was going to tell you.”
He removed his fingers, shaking over what he’d been about to do. He’d been about to hurt her—had wanted to—never knowing how devastating it would be. “Why did you no’ tell me?”
“I thought you’d be less likely to make love to me.”
“You thought right!” His eyes narrowed. “But you and Bidworth?”
“Never even got close.”
His relief staggered him, but then he realized that now there was no way he could have her. Just as he was about to pull away, she grabbed his hips, holding him to her.
“Hugh, I want you to show me this, only you. I’ve waited so long, and I know you’ll make this incredible for my first time.”
She couldn’t have said anything more convincing, because he knew she was right. He’d imagined taking her virginity countless times, envisioned the care he would take to spare her pain if he could. He would do everything in his power to pleasure her. Would another man be able to give her what Hugh was dying to?
Forty
“I will,” Hugh vowed, returning his fingers to her. “I want tae show you this. And that means readying you.” He began to tease and stroke her flesh again, making her melt for him, until she was on the verge of release. Mercilessly, he kept her just on the edge as he delved and rubbed, over and over.
She moaned with need, ready to beg. “Hugh, I’m ready!” she cried. “I ache so much inside…please…”
He was so gorgeous in the moonlight—his eyes were burning with intent, with possession. She swept her palms over his damp chest, reveling in the way the muscles in his torso flexed under her hands.
At last, he took his shaft and positioned it, clenching his jaw when the head met her entrance. “So hot…so wet.” His lips were parted, his breaths ragged. “It’s everything I can do no’ to come right now.” When he began working the head inside her, she felt it stretching her—no matter how much he’d prepared her, the fit was still tight. “Tell me,” he rasped, feeding his length into her, “tell me what you meant this afternoon, Sìne.”
By the time he met the barrier, she was trembling, clutching his shoulders, and he was sweating with the obvious effort to go slow. He gazed down at her, dark eyes questioning.
“I’m yours,” she whispered. “To take.” She’d never been more certain of anything in her life.
He groaned, thrusting deep. She felt the tearing, hissing in a breath just as he groaned, “So tight.” He shuddered, but remained still inside her as he gently smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “I dinna want to cause you pain.”
“No, I knew there’d be”—she tried to conceal a wince—“a bit of hurting.”
Even with this discomfort, the feeling of closeness awed her. This was worth the wait a thousand times over. She could feel him throbbing inside her, could see his anguished expression, but somehow he didn’t move, wanting to spare her pain, wanting to please her.
She gazed up at him and couldn’t hold back the words: “I…love you.”
“What did you say?” he bit out, battling the frantic need to shove his hips at her.
“I always have.”
Her words made him wonder if he was dreaming this entire scenario—this was exactly as he would imagine. Now, when he was buried so deeply inside her, the need arose to say the words that would bind her to him—a vow of self, spoken in the old language. Yet he couldn’t. He didn’t have that right.
Instead, he bent down and kissed her, with everything he felt for her, until she was panting. Her hands went from holding on to his shoulders, as though for dear life, to exploring touches over his body. When she tentatively rolled her hips, he withdrew, then eased back inside her, determined to make this good for her. Concentrate. Slowly in…easing out. Again.
He had to stop wondering why she had chosen to give this gift to him—to love him. He drew back to study her face. “Does it still hurt, Sìne?” he asked, rocking against her.
Her eyes fluttered open with a look of wonder. “N-no, not anymore,” she murmured. “That feels so perfect….” She leaned up to press her wet little kisses on his chest, driving him mad. “Does it for you?”
In answer, he shuddered again and couldn’t help stirring himself in her, savoring all her wetness around him. When he thrust again, her nipples were hard points goading his chest. He bent to lick them, and she began meeting every thrust.
As soon as he slipped his thumb down between them and rubbed, she cried, “I’m about to…You’re making me… Oh, God, promise you’ll do this again to me. Tonight.” She took his face in both of her hands. “Promise, Hugh.” His name became a cry as she climaxed.
Though he fought it, had even stopped thrusting, her hungry body demanded, her sex squeezing him, tight as a fist. He couldn’t hold his
seed. Defeated, he bucked between her thighs with all his strength, yelling to the sky. He came with a violent force, shuddering with each fierce pumping inside her.
As he leaned against her, heart thundering against hers, he said hoarsely, “You love me?”
Back in his bed, she curled against him, her breaths light on his chest, her body warm and soft with sleep. But Hugh was wide awake, turning thoughts over and over in his mind.
Tonight, he had dared to put his rough hands on her delicate body—his hands, which had killed so many times before. He’d dared to take her virginity—had been about to do it in a crazed moment of anger. He’d almost hurt her without measure.
Yet he hadn’t.
The only dire thing he’d done was to give in when she’d wanted him four more times. If he was destined to bring her pain, then why had she told him that what they’d done had awed her?
He wondered where the guilt was. He’d expected to be disgusted with his weakness; instead he felt alive, energized, optimistic. His body was relaxed, his muscles at ease. Throughout the night, she’d made him feel like the lad he’d been when he’d seen her last. He wanted more of that feeling.
Tonight, he’d made her his, and it had felt like it was his right to do so.
Because she wants me, too. She’d always wanted him. Before she’d slept, she confided to him about her feelings, and how long she’d struggled with them. The more she revealed, the more astounded he’d become.
She’d told him she compared all men to him—and found them all lacking. Compared to him. He pulled her closer with the crook of his arm. He could scarcely credit it, but knew she told the truth.
What if I just tell her about the curse? he thought again. She was intelligent. He respected her ideas and admired the way her mind worked. Maybe between the two of them, they could figure out a way.
Tomorrow, then. It would be done.
The next morning, Jane stretched with a grin on her face, feeling sore and well-loved. She was also more in love than she’d ever been. Last night had been everything she’d always dreamed it would be—better than.
Her only regret was that they hadn’t been spending the last ten years of their lives like this. But as long as they spent the rest of them this way, she was mollified.
Her eyes slid open, and she found Hugh was dressed in pants, seated on the edge of the bed. She took one look at his face and knew.
“Oh, dear God,” she murmured. “I’m a regret.”
“It’s no’ like that, Jane—”
“Then tell me you don’t regret making love to me.”
He raked his fingers through his tousled hair. “It’s more complicated than that.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “It’s very simple. The man I gave my virginity to, wishes he hadn’t taken it.”
He flinched.
“You win, Hugh.” She stood, wrapping the sheet around her. “I’m going to say three words I’ve never uttered to anyone in my entire life: I—give—up.” She stormed out, striding into her room. After slamming her door, she locked it behind her.
Seconds later, her door was rocked from its hinges. With a gasp, she glanced up from donning her shift.
He was huge, filling the doorway. She was even more aware of his strength and the power in his body because she’d spent the night learning every inch of it, rubbing, cupping, and licking it.
“Stop doing that to my doors!” she cried.
“Then doona ever keep a locked door between us.”
“I’m done talking to you!” she snapped, and darted past him, heading for the broken door.
He grabbed her elbow, swinging her around. “Will you no’ just listen to me?”
They were toe to toe, both breathing heavily. His brows drew together as if he was confounded, then his hand shot out to clutch her nape, yanking her against his unyielding chest. His voice a broken rasp, he said, “My God, I’ll never get enough of you.”
His lips crashed into hers, slanting into a scorching, possessive kiss, making her ache anew. But she somehow shoved against him. “No! I’m not doing this! Not again. Not until you tell me what happened between last night and this morning.”
After a hesitation, he took a deep, seemingly calming breath, then nodded. “Verra well. Dress yourself. Then we’ll discuss some things,” he said, looking for all the world like a man sentenced to the gallows.
Forty-one
Half an hour later, once Jane had washed and dressed, preparing for whatever he had to confess, she sat patiently waiting on the side of his bed.
Hugh hadn’t spoken, just paced the room like a caged beast, appearing as if he were…nervous.
“Just say what’s on your mind,” she said as he passed. “Whatever it is, it can’t hurt to tell me.”
He slowed. “And how would you know that?”
“Is it a secret that someone would kill me for? That Grey would torture me for?”
“No.”
“Does it embarrass you?”
“No, but—”
“Hugh, they’re just words. Trust me with your secret, and you won’t regret it.” When he still resisted, she tried to make light. “Do you worry that I won’t find you as attractive if you’re not the brooding Highlander with his devilish secrets? Tell me.”
“Hell, you won’t believe me anyway,” he muttered.
“This is going to sound mad. I ken it’s going to.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “But my family was…cursed. I believe that I will bring you nothing but misery if I stay wed to you.”
Cursed? What the devil is he talking about? Though her thoughts were wild, her tone was inscrutable when she said, “Go on, I’m listening.”
“Ten generations ago, a clan seer foretold the futures of the Carrick line and recorded them in a book called the Leabhar nan Sùil-radharc, the Book of Fates.” He pointed to the old book he always had on the table. “My brothers and I are fated to be solitary, living our lives alone, and will bring pain to those we care for if we think to do otherwise. We will be the last of our line and can never have children. For five hundred years, the foretellings have all come true—every single one of them.”
“I-I don’t understand…” She inhaled and began again, “Do you care for me enough to stay with me otherwise?” she asked.
“Aye, Christ, yes.”
“Then you’re telling me that nothing stands in the way of us staying married except for a…curse?”
When he didn’t deny it, Jane barely stifled the scream welling in her throat. This just isn’t happening to me! How could she be rational in the face of this? Reasonable was impossible.
It was as if one of the foundations of her adult life had just suffered a fracture. Now everything built on it had gone askew. The quiet, steady Hugh she’d known for half her life was gone, and in his place was a superstitious madman.
“Hugh, people simply…people like us simply don’t think like this anymore. Not with science and medicine. Mòrag is superstitious because she doesn’t know any better. You’ve traveled the world, and you’re educated. Beliefs like this belong in the past.”
“And I wish I could put them there. But this has shadowed me for my entire life.”
“You know me well enough to know I can’t accept things like this.”
“Aye, I ken that.” He exhaled a long breath. “And I know that you scorn those who do.”
“Naturally!” she snapped, then struggled for calm. “Are you telling me this now because you’re willing to forget this, forget these beliefs?”
His expression looked hopeless—and resigned. “If I could have figured out a way to get around it, I never would have had to tell you.”
When she realized that he wasn’t revealing this to explain his past behavior, but to explain why he couldn’t stay married to her, her lips parted. “You’re really saying this? That a Scottish curse—and, my goodness, aren’t those always the worst kind?—keeps us from remaining wed?”
All of the worry, the ca
reful strategizing, the effort to win him—all of it was for nothing.
Because of a curse.
Frustration threatened to choke her. No, Father, actually I can’t cajole him into staying with me. She’d never had a chance from the outset.
“Everything in the book comes to pass,” Hugh said.
“Everything. I ken it’s hard to believe.”
“I should have kept a tally of your excuses! You’re not the marrying kind, you can’t have children, and, oh yes, you are cursed. Anything else you want to declare to scare me away? I know! You used to be a eunuch? You’ve only two months to live?” Then, in a breathy voice, she said, “You’re a ghost, aren’t you?”
He clenched and unclenched his jaw, visibly grappling for control. “Do you think I’m lying about this?”
“Hugh, I sincerely hope you’re lying—” She broke off as a thought arose. “Oh, dear God.” A trembling hand flew to her forehead. “Does this mean that a five-hundred-year-old curse is the only thing you were trusting to keep me from conceiving?”
“I told you I canna get you with bairn.” His eyes narrowed. “But you said it dinna matter either way.”
“I said it didn’t matter, so long as we were married! Right now, all I know is that you’re still leaving. And, yes, you told me you can’t have children, but I’m having trouble with the source of your information.”
He strode to the table, flipping to the end of the book. “Just read the words, and let me explain.”
She shook her head. “I can’t listen to this. I would no more listen to this than I would hear an argument that the sun is blue.”
“You’ve wanted to know, and now I’m telling you—the first person I’ve ever told—but you doona want to hear it?” he demanded. “Read the words.”
She yanked the book out of his hands. “This is the root of the curse?” At his nod, she tossed it back to the table and flipped through, not bothering to be careful with the pages, though she could tell it was very old. Some of the text was written in Gaelic, some in English. Her brows drew together as she flipped toward the end. Now it all seemed to be written in English.
Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 02] Page 23
