Highland Angel

by Hannah Howell

  And, most lowering of all in his slightly drunken opinion, was that his attempts at seduction were also failing. A full fortnight had passed since he had decided he would have Kirstie in his bed and his bed was still cold and empty when he crawled into it at night. Kirstie was not cold to him, but she was certainly resisting him with a frustrating success. A part of him was pleased that she was not proving to be an easy conquest. He had had far too many of those. Another part of him, he mused as he glanced down at his aching groin, was not pleased at all. Payton idly wondered if a man could suffer any damage from a near-perpetual erection. His vanity was stung as well. Why was she not tumbling into his bed with the ease so many others had?

  The soft sound of his bedchamber door opening drew him from his thoughts. He hoped Strong Ian was not coming to taunt or lecture him again. The man was finding far too much enjoyment in Payton's failure to get Kirstie into his bed and, far too often, too sternly disapproving of Payton's attempts to seduce the woman as well.

  When Kirstie slipped into the room, softly shutting the door behind her, Payton nearly dropped his tankard. Never taking his gaze from her, he finished his drink and awkwardly fumbled around until he was able to set the empty tankard down on the table next to his chair. He surreptitiously tugged his shirt down to hide the painfully visible proof that he could not be in the same room with her and not want her. Especially when that room was a bedchamber and most especially when she wore only a too-thin night rail.

  "Is something wrong with the bairns?” he asked, not surprised to hear how raspy his voice was. Payton was astounded he could utter a single coherent word.

  "Nay, they are all sleeping,” she replied in a soft, somewhat unsteady voice.

  "Why are ye here, then?"

  Kirstie took a deep breath to steady herself and was pleased with the calm, strong tone of her voice as she replied, “I want ye to make love to me."

  A heavy silence met her words. She had imagined many responses to her approach, but never one where Payton just sat there silently staring at her, acting as if he had been hit in the head. Or, she mused as she looked at his tankard, as if he was one sip away from becoming a useless lump of drunken unconciousness. She had not considered the possibility that he would be too drunk. Then she frowned. In the three weeks since she had met him she had not noticed that Payton was given to indulging in too much drink.

  "Ye have been drinking?” she asked.

  "I have been doing rather a lot of it in the past three weeks,” he replied, wondering why he was still sitting in the chair and not rushing her into his bed.

  "Ah, so ye are drunk.” She wanted to weep with disappointment, for she was not sure she would be able to work up the courage to approach him a second time.

  "I dinnae think so, although I begin to wonder. Repeat the reason ye are here."

  "Must I?"

  "Oh, aye, I believe so."

  "I want ye to make love to me."

  Slowly, Payton got up and walked over to her. Just hearing her say those words had him so heavy with need he was surprised he could walk at all. Yet, the end to the long days and nights of aching hunger had come so abruptly, so simply and directly, he could not fully believe it. He grasped her by her slender shoulders and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  "Again,” he whispered against her skin. “Tell me again."

  "I want ye to make love to me,” she whispered back, then blushed when he leaned back a little to stare at her. “I dinnae understand why ye keep asking me to say it. ‘Tis what ye have been trying to coax from me for a fortnight, aye? Jesu, have ye changed your mind?"

  "Nay. Och, nay, I havenae changed my mind. I have been fair to crippled with the wanting of ye since we met."

  "Och, aye? I believe ye were about to climb into Lady Fraser's bed when we met."

  "Weel, then since I first saw ye in the light, without all the mud and marsh grass."

  She shivered faintly. The thought that this beautiful man wanted her was enough to send her desire soaring. Slowly, she curled her arms around his neck, hoping he would hurry and start doing what he was rumored to be so good at. Although she had finally convinced herself to just reach out and take what he offered, what she so desperately wanted, too much hesitation could easily prove fatal to her resolve. There were just as many reasons why she should not be in his arms as there were reasons why she should be, and she did not want her mind to start thinking about the former again. Too much thinking could easily turn her aye back into a nay.

  "What about your annulment?” he asked as he began to stroke her thinly covered back.

  "I realized that wasnae possible now.” She began to unlace his soft linen shirt. “This battle can only end with Roderick's death, or mine. He cannae let me live. In this instance, ‘twill truly be only death which will end the marriage. If naught else, I will have to let it be known I am alive if I am to get that annulment.” She opened his shirt and thought it had to be a sin for a man to have such beautiful skin. “But, I suspect ye kenned that.” She softly kissed his chest and felt him tremble, his arms tightening around her and pulling her closer. “I suspected the flaw in that plan from the moment I thought on it. Ye ne'er argued it, however."

  He pulled her close, nestling her against his groin, and was enthralled by how perfectly she fit him. “I decided it was but a ploy to try and hold me at a distance so ye would heed no argument.” He gritted his teeth as he fought to control his desire, to allow her to keep touching him. “Ye are nay longer concerned about committing adultery? Can ye now see that ye are nay his true wife and ne'er have been?"

  "Payton, why are ye trying to recall me to all the reasons why I shouldnae be here?” she asked.

  "Because I am an idiot?"

  "Weel, I would ne'er be so unkind as to say so. Still..."

  "Aye, still. One last question ere I strip ye of this wee scrap of linen ye wear. Are ye certain Sir Roderick ne'er consummated your marriage?"

  "I may be innocent, but I am nay ignorant. Nay, he ne'er did."

  "Why?"

  "Doesnae that make two questions?"

  "Why?"

  Kirstie sighed and looked at the wall, feeling the sting of a deep blush upon her cheeks. “I told ye that, at fifteen, I looked like a child. I truly did. I was verra late coming into womanhood, though I threatened the few who kenned it into silence. It finally descended upon me on my wedding night. Roderick didnae give me a chance to warn him, so, I fear, he discovered it in a rather embarrassing way."

  "Ye mean he—"

  "Aye. I didnae ken it at the time, but he had obviously stiffened his backbone and gritted his teeth, prepared to do the deed as quickly as possible. He staggered into my bedchamber, muttering something about a husband's duty and inheritances. I had prepared myself to tell him what had happened, only he kept sticking his tongue in my mouth. Then he yanked up my shift. He was ill all over the bed linen, then ran out of the room. After that I began to look a wee bit more like a woman and less like a child. He tried a time or two after that night but could ne'er get verra far. At first I thought it all my fault, that I repulsed him."

  "Foolish.” He began to kiss her neck, breathing deep of the clean scent of her skin.

  "Weel, after I had a wee problem with one or two of his men trying to tumble me, I decided it wasnae me. It was him. Then I began to notice that there were verra few women about the keep and fewer still who were even allowed near him. That was when I decided he must prefer men. That also explained why he was increasingly angry with me, his faint tolerance rapidly turning into a somewhat brutal contempt, even hatred."

  "Mayhap he thought a wife would cure him."

  "Mayhap. Or he felt, if he could breed me, it would help him hide his true self from the world."

  The way he was kissing her face, her throat, even her ears, had desire flowing through her veins at an increasingly heady speed. She did not want to talk anymore. She wanted them both naked, wanted to feel those gently caressing hands against her skin, and wa
nted to touch his skin. Kirstie had the feeling Payton sought to go slowly, gently, to soothe any virginal fears she might have, or even to ease her free of any lingering doubts. She was not sure how she could tell him she did not need, or even want, such consideration. He had been promising her paradise for a fortnight and it was time he delivered.

  As she had told him, she was innocent, not ignorant. She might not know exactly how they were supposed to fit together, but she did know that the ache she felt was demanding that they do so. On her wedding night she had been prepared to endure it all for the sake of her family and for the begetting of children. Now, she craved it. It was what Payton had been trying to make her feel, yet now that he had, he was dawdling.

  When he kissed her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself be swept away by the heat his clever tongue induced within her. It took a moment after the kiss ended for her to realize he had removed her night shift. His hands clenched slightly upon her shoulders as he held her away from him and looked her over. Kirstie fought the urge to try and cover herself with her hands. There was no place for such timorous modesty in what they were about to share. When his gaze met hers again, she trembled beneath the force of the desire she could see there.

  Payton struggled against the urge to toss her down onto his bed and immediately bury himself within her. She was ivory perfection. Her breasts were small but perfect, the rose-colored nipples hard and inviting. Her waist was small, her belly taut, and her hips slender but well shaped. Her equally slender legs were long, perfectly formed, and strong, with a space between her silken thighs that invited a man to settle in. The sight of the neat triangle of black curls shielding her woman's flesh had him trembling like an untried youth. He started to remove his clothes, hoping that chore would aid him in regaining some scrap of control.

  Kirstie clenched her hands into tight fists as he undressed far too slowly for her liking. When he shed his shirt she had to fight the urge to immediately touch him. He was all lean, taut muscle and smooth, golden skin. It was no wonder the man's beauty was nearly legendary. Then he removed his boots and hose and she found it difficult to breathe. His legs were long and muscular, the fine coat of reddish hair only enhancing the light golden tone of his skin. What rose up from a tidy thatch of auburn hair at his groin was what truly held her gaze. Roderick's manhood had never looked so imposing. Kirstie began to wonder if some of Payton's reputation as a great lover was born of the fact that he had a little more than most men. She did not really think something of that impressive size was going to fit inside of her. Perhaps, when people whispered that Sir Payton Murray could make a woman scream, they were not meaning with pleasure.

  The look of consternation on Kirstie's face, and the hint of alarm in her eyes, did a lot to help Payton cool his heated blood and grasp some semblance of control. He pulled her into his arms, lifted her slightly, and carried her to his bed. He sprawled at her side, then kissed her. To his relief, her unease was not enough to steal away her passion, for she quickly responded as she always had. Kirstie was a passionate woman and he knew he could use that to ease her introduction into the heady delights they could share.

  Kirstie clung to him as he kissed and caressed her. All the hunger and need he had stirred within her over the last weeks swamped her when he turned his seductive attentions to her breasts. A strange wildness possessed her as he kissed, licked, and suckled at her breasts. She barely flinched when he slid his hand between her thighs. His long fingers both eased and heightened the hot aching there. It was as if every soft, seductive word, every stolen kiss, every subtle caress, and each heat-filled dream over the last three weeks had never been forgotten or fully recovered from. She enjoyed his kisses, his gentle caresses, but it took only a few of them to leave her shaking with need. Payton muttered something about needing to be sure she was readied for him, and Kirstie suddenly knew that she was. Completely, blindly, ready. She had been getting readied since the moment she had set eyes on the man.

  "Payton,” she cried, nearly bowing up off the bed when he slid a finger inside of her.

  "Ah, lass, ye are so verra ready for me,” he said, even as he prepared to enter her. “It still may hurt a wee bit."

  "I dinnae care,” she nearly growled and wrapped her limbs around him.

  He laughed, but she heard no mockery in it. Then, for one brief moment, pain cut through her somewhat frenzied need. Kirstie held herself very still, every one of her senses fixed upon the joining of their bodies.

  "Lass, are ye all right?” Payton asked through gritted teeth as he fought the need to move.

  She shifted her legs slightly, felt him slide deeper within her, and shuddered. “Oh, my. Aye, I am all right. S'truth, I am verra fine, indeed, though I think ye still have some work to do if I am to see that paradise ye have been promising me for days."

  Payton grinned, then echoed her gasp of pleasure when he began to move. “Ah, lass, ye are a wonder,” he managed to say before he lost himself to passion.

  Kirstie smiled and ran her foot down Payton's calf. Her body still felt all atingle, but the near swoon she had fallen into had passed. If this was what Payton could make a woman feel, it was surprising that there were no women camped outside his door.

  She frowned as she toyed with a lock of his thick hair, enjoying the feel of his slowly steadying breath against her neck. It would be wise to cease thinking about all the women he had bedded. Such thoughts were painful and she did not want them to spoil whatever time she had with Payton. It would probably be impossible to stop all pangs of guilt for breaking so many rules, but she intended to do that as well. If the wanton way she had behaved just now was any indication, Payton was right in saying she was a passionate woman. Kirstie was determined to enjoy that to its fullest. Aye, she thought, it was time to grasp all the delight she could, for in a way, she was living under a death sentence.

  Payton enjoyed Kirstie's idle caresses as he waited for his pulse and breathing to return to normal. He hoped he would then find the strength to move. It was as if he had poured all of his strength into her lithe little body. His release had been the most powerful, most shattering he had ever experienced. Payton suspected that ought to concern him, and it might do so later, but for now, he simply wondered if there was any chance he could make love to her again tonight.

  He finally found enough strength to stroke her hip and felt her snuggle against him. Little Kirstie MacIye was probably the most passionate, most responsive woman he had ever known. Not only did she go wild in his arms, but she had done so her very first time. There was no deception in it, either. She was not pretending, not simply making all the required faces and sounds. The moment desire started to creep through Kirstie's veins, she let it rule her, gave it her whole heart, and reveled in it. She was deliciously exhausting. He wanted to compare it all to another woman, another bedding, but at that moment, he could not recall any.

  When Payton moved out of her arms and got up, Kirstie felt a brief flicker of alarm. She had thought the silence between them was simply because they were both too wrung-out to talk. Now she began to wonder if she had done something wrong, been too wicked and wanton and disgusted him. Despite her embarrassment over such an intimacy, she was relieved when all he did was fetch a cloth and water to clean them both off. When he slid back into bed beside her, she fought the urge to cling to him.

  "I should return to my own bedchamber,” she said, her voice a little unsteady as he nibbled her ear, restirring a desire she would have thought was well fed.

  "Nay.” Payton wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close. “Ye will sleep with me now."

  "But, then everyone will ken what we are doing."

  Considering the amount of noise she had been making earlier, Payton found it amusing that she would whisper now or that she could think, for even a moment, that her presence in his bedchamber was a secret. He would not say anything about that, however. There was the chance she would be embarrassed into silence and he found the sounds of h
er delight rather intoxicating.

  "Nay, ye will stay here."

  "But—"

  He gave her a brief, hard kiss. “They will ken we are lovers e'en if ye creep back to your own bed. They willnae fault ye for it, lass. After what ye have done for the bairns, ye would have to do far more than take a lover to lose their respect. And, ere ye say it, nay, they willnae see ye as just another one of my women.” He circled her nipple with the tip of one finger, delighted by how quickly it hardened, inviting his kiss.

  "The children—” she began, fighting to ignore his idle caress.

  "Are too young to see any harm in this or e'en to understand. Weel, save for Callum. He willnae condemn ye, but he may nay be too happy with me.” He began to cover her plump, round little breast with fleeting kisses. “I think the lad is in the throes of a first love and that can be a sore trial."

  Kirstie had begun to suspect the same. “He told me I should do what will make me happy."

  "So, ye already spoke to the lad, aye?"

  "He spoke to me. ‘Tis difficult at times to recall that he is but a boy of eleven."

  "In years and stature, but nay in heart and mind. Callum hasnae been a boy, as we think of one, for many a year. His childhood was stolen by abuse and abandonment. I think some of what he feels for ye is born of the fact that ye are kind to him. ‘Twill soon settle down to a feeling more akin to what one feels for a mother, sister, or aunt."

  "That would be nice.” She wondered how he could keep talking as she was rapidly losing all of her wits.

  Kirstie threaded her fingers through his hair. She trailed her other hand down to his hip. His skin felt so good beneath her fingers. She wanted to cover his body with kisses, but was not sure a lady would do such a thing. She inwardly grimaced as a small voice in her head tartly informed her that a lady would not lie down with a man who was not her husband nor do so with such vigor and enjoyment. But, she had. She was in Payton's bed and, despite her unease, she intended to stay there for as long as she could. The very last thing she wished to do was something that would give him a disgust of her. Since he was freely touching her, however, it had to be permissible to touch him. Kirstie slid her hand inward from his hip and curled her fingers around his erection.