Rogue of the Highlands: Rogue, Book 1

by Cynthia Breeding

  “But I heard your voice…it was so cold. You loathed looking at me.”

  “Never.” Ian gathered her in his arms and held her close, nuzzling her hair. “The coldness in my voice was from anger, my love. If Rufus were still alive, I would kill him twice. What kind of a beast whips a woman who canna give him a bairn?”

  Jillian stiffened and pushed away from him. “That fact hasn’t changed.”

  “It doona matter to me,” he said as he drew her close again and laid her head on his shoulder. “Let me show ye the pleasure in bed that ye’ve never had.”

  He felt so good. So solid and strong, but his hands were slow and gentle as he stroked her back. Jillian nestled against him. She should not be doing this. Nothing would come of it, for Prinny would still expect Ian to wed a young woman who could provide him an heir. And Ian, when his lust was gone, would want a son for his clan as well. She knew that.

  But her body was burning for him. She was slick and wet between her legs, her nub pulsating and muscles deep in her stomach clenching. Just once—just this once—she wanted to know what it felt like to satisfy this need she didn’t even know she had until she met Ian. She wanted to be a woman in every sense of the word.

  She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he covered her lips with his in a kiss that said his need was as great as hers.

  Silently, he rose from the couch with her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

  He laid her down on the bed and then went to bolt the door. She watched as he kicked off his boots and removed his shirt. The soft glow from the oil lamp cast him partly in shadow, defining the contours of his muscular arms and chest, making him appear to be a bronzed sculpture.

  Jillian started to scoot over as Ian joined her on the bed, but he reached out to pull her back and nestled her in the crook of his arm, his other hand stroking her hair.

  “Doona be afraid, Jillie. I wilna hurt ye.”

  She wanted to believe him. But what if she didn’t please him? Would he change his mind if she couldn’t make him hard enough to complete the act? That was when Rufus had always lost his temper.

  “If you’ll open your pants, I’ll pull on it for you,” she whispered.

  Ian blinked. “Pull on it?”

  She was glad the room was only partially lit so her embarrassment didn’t show. “On your…your thing. I know it’s a woman’s duty to make it stand up.”

  Ian raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her. “Your duty?”

  “Well, yes.” Why was he looking at her like that? “I’ll admit, I may not be very good at it, but I’ll try to make it harden for you.”

  The look of incredulity changed slowly and his mouth began to twitch. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his shoulders began to shake. Jillian wanted to roll onto the floor and under the bed. He was trying not to laugh at her. Then her temper began to simmer. “I don’t see what is so funny.”

  His grin broke loose then and he gathered her to him once more. “My little sassenach,” he said and scattered kisses across her forehead. “Ye are worried that I might not be able to do the deed?” He continued to chuckle as he took her hand and placed it over his erect shaft. “I doona think it will be a problem, lass.”

  Jillian snatched her hand away as though she had been burned. It felt like he had a long, thick piece of steel under his trousers, but she couldn’t fathom why he would do such a thing. “What…what is that?”

  Ian looked puzzled. “’Tis me.”

  She gazed back with widened eyes. “Rufus never felt like that. Not once, even after he made me—”

  “Shhh.” Ian rolled partially on top of her and covered her mouth with his hand. “Ye’ll not mention that bastard while we make love, ye ken?” He lowered his hand so that it rested on the swell of her breast above the neckline of her gown. “And I’ll not make ye do anything. Just let me pleasure ye.”

  Jillian’s eyes were dark with apprehension and Ian cursed silently. Whatever her husband had done to her, it had definitely not been making love. He was going to have to go easy and slow with her and his painfully engorged cock only wanted to plunge into her wet, hot core and claim her for his own. He groaned inwardly. His pleasure would have to wait.

  Ian showered kisses across her face and closed eyelids and breathed lightly into her ear before nibbling on the tender lobe. He trailed kisses down her neck and back up her throat before claiming her lips with his. He made light sweeps with his tongue across her lips until she moaned and parted them for him. It took every ounce of his restraint not to savagely devour her as his tongue explored the sweet taste of her mouth. The rose fragrance of her hair floated around him, sheltering him like a cocoon. He could get totally lost in her essence.

  He rubbed his thumb over her still-clothed nipple and was rewarded when she made a mewling noise deep in her throat. Encouraged, he slipped the gown off her shoulder and filled his palm with her bare breast, kneading gently. Jillian arched into his hand with another soft moan.

  “That’s it, lass. Just enjoy.” Ian bent his head to lick the areola, swirling his tongue around the tight little peak and teasing it with a flick or two.

  “That feels so good,” she whispered and then gasped as he took the nipple into his mouth and began to suckle, lightly at first and then with deeper suction. She raked her fingers through his hair, pressing his face closer to her, and he obliged, drawing long and deep on the hard bead.

  Jillian began to pant. “My body is on fire.”

  Ian grinned. “Just wait.” He sat quickly to remove his pants and then moved to join her again on the bed, but not before he saw how big and round her eyes got at the sight of him fully erect. A moment of sheer masculine smugness washed over him. He’d had his share of compliments from women about his size, and this should put Jillian’s fears to rest that he wouldn’t get hard.

  “That will never fit inside me,” she said in a trembling voice. “It’s too big. You’ll tear me apart.”

  Not exactly the words he wanted to hear, and if he had not been so besotted over her his proud member might have shrunk. But it didn’t. He did, however, have a problem on his hands.

  He lay down beside her. “It will fit, lass. Your body will stretch. It willna even hurt, I promise ye.”

  Jillian looked at him doubtfully. “What if it does?”

  He really didn’t want to think about that, but he needed to put her fear to rest. “I will stop if it does. Ye have my oath.” He nuzzled her neck. “Trust me, lass.”

  When he felt her shoulders relax, he turned her over on her stomach and began to unfasten the many buttons of her gown. He slipped it down and off and undid the laces of the short corset and pulled it out from under her. She stiffened as he eased the sheer fabric of her chemise down to expose her skin, and he stroked his hand over the scars.

  “Doona fash,” he said as he leaned down and began a series of kisses along her spine. “I find ye beautiful.” His hands made slow, circular motions across her back until he felt her begin to relax again. He slid his tongue along one of the slightly raised welts that went nearly to her buttocks, squeezed her bottom and then gave the rounded cheeks little nibbles that brought a satisfying shudder to her.

  Ian slipped his hand between her legs, pleased to find that she was already wet. She whimpered as he glided his fingers along her slick folds and found that little nub of pleasure. Jillian shifted her hips instinctively to give him better access and began to moan in earnest as he increased the pressure, alternating between stroking and circling.

  He let his fingers slide back and then he slipped two of them into her core. She gasped and bucked against him, but his hand on her nicely rounded arse held her firmly in place while his fingers continued their rhythmical thrusting. He felt her inner muscles contract around his fingers and he increased his pace until, with a cry, her body convulsed, and then she lay still, hands fisting the bed sheets.

  Dear God. She’d never felt anything like that before. Not even
in the maze, as good as that had been. Jillian gasped for air, but even before the warm pulsing inside her had stopped, Ian turned her over on her back and splayed her legs to kneel between them.

  He pressed soft kisses to her inner thighs, right above the gartered stockings that she still wore. Startled, she raised up to look at him. “What are you doing?”

  Ian glanced up with a smile. “Ye’ll see. Lay back, lass.”

  Her head had barely reached the pillow when she felt his mouth press against her core. Flames seared their way through her as his tongue licked her slickness in slow, broad strokes. His hands spread her folds open and her body began to shake again as he teased the still-sensitive nub by flitting his tongue over it swiftly, again and again. A contraction began deep in her belly and when he sucked hard on her, she shattered once more.

  Ian slid up the length of her, keeping most of his weight on his elbows as he looked down at her flushed face. The scent of her arousal nearly drove him insane, and he didn’t think his demanding cock would hold back much longer, but he had to know that she wanted him inside of her.

  She looked up at him, her eyes so dilated, the irises looked almost black. “I didn’t know I could ever feel like this,” she said with a shaky voice.

  “’Tis not over yet, lass.”

  “What?”

  “’Tis not over, unless ye want it to be.” Fervently, he prayed she didn’t. He hadn’t had to service himself since he was three-and-ten, but he would not violate Jillian. Not after what her husband had put her through.

  For a moment, she looked confused and then she flushed a deep scarlet. “Oh. I forgot. You’ll want me to—”

  “To do nothing, lass.” Ian pressed his painfully hard erection against her opening and stilled himself. “I want to be in ye, but only if ye wish it.”

  Jillian took a deep breath. “I want you to feel pleasure too.”

  Ian slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue thrusting and withdrawing in an imitation of what he was about to do, and he slipped the head of his cock inside of her.

  Jillian felt the strange sensation of being opened and stretched, but it didn’t hurt. She wiggled a little bit and felt him slide in deeper. She might have gasped at the thick fullness of him, but his mouth and tongue were driving her to distraction. How could a man know to do such sensual things that aroused her whole body? Every nerve ending flamed and she ached to become one with him. When he fully inserted himself with a firm thrust, she could only gasp slightly.

  “Are ye okay?” His voice was raspy.

  Her lower body thrummed with admitting him. His manhood throbbed and pulsated inside her and she wanted more. Another urge to totally merge with him. She clung tightly to him and wrapped her legs around his thighs.

  In response, he began to move, slowly and carefully at first, withdrawing so only the tip of him remained inside of her, making her feel the emptiness of his withdrawal and the deep satisfaction of him filling her again. She began to writhe and he picked up the pace, thrusting steadily until the tension grew in her and she flung her head from side-to-side on the pillow. Need, sharp and insistent, built up inside her. She wanted even more of him.

  As if he sensed her need, he drove in deeper and harder, his back and thighs flexing with each movement She raised her legs and dug her heels into his buttocks, allowing him to feel the crown of her womb. In a frenzy, he plunged farther in, again and again. She lifted her hips from the mattress to meet his thrusts.

  Her body was shaking so hard, she didn’t know if she would survive. Jillian didn’t know where she ended and he began. A deep inner tremble, like an earthquake rumbling, rose to the surface. In a smattering of multi-colored stars, her body exploded, her orgasm squeezing and milking him. With a huge shudder, Ian spilled his seed into her and collapsed on the bed beside her.

  Jillian had not known that the act could feel so good. It was a bittersweet thought, knowing that Ian would have to marry someone else and produce an heir. If she had any sense at all, she’d ask him to leave now and thank him for the experience. But her traitorous body already wanted him again.

  He seemed to know what she was thinking, for his fingers brushed over her breast. She turned to him and he gave her a slow, seductive smile.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wesley waited in the shadows of Sherrington’s house for nearly an hour after the last lamp had been extinguished before he began crawling up the trellis to scratch on Delia’s window. He was feeling quite pleased with himself and he wanted a woman.

  After convincing the earl that perhaps he should search for his wife and the resulting fiasco when he found her, Wesley had spent some time bending the ear of Lord Liverpool. The prince would be getting Wesley’s version of Cantford’s behavior soon.

  He had really wanted to gloat to Jillian, but she’d scarcely made an appearance before she turned around and left again. He narrowed his eyes as he climbed. The rumor had flown across the room that perhaps it was Jillian who Cantford thought he was going to see, but that was a risk Wesley had to take when he told Delia to dress and act like Jillian to lure Cantford into a bedchamber.

  At any rate, he wanted Jillian back at the townhouse. Tomorrow, he would make sure she returned, but for tonight, there was Delia.

  She opened the window at once. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” she said as he stepped over the sash.

  He pulled the ribbon that was holding her robe closed and pushed the garment down, squeezing her breasts as he back-walked her to the bed.

  “I had to come to celebrate,” he said as he tossed her onto it and quickly stripped his own clothes off.

  Delia spread her legs wide for him. “Then come and take me.”

  She had hardly finished the sentence before Wesley was on top of her and buried deep within her warm, welcoming wetness. She flexed her hips and began thrashing beneath him. He rode her hard, the way she liked, but if he slitted his eyes in the near darkness, she became Jillian. The thought of training Jillian to submit to him made his groin tighten and he came fast.

  “I’m not satisfied,” Delia complained when he rolled off of her and got up. “William was quite put out with me and I had to listen to a tedious lecture from him. I was looking forward to a rather long session with you tonight.”

  Wesley stopped in the act of reaching for his pants and sat back on the bed. “Why don’t you finish pleasuring yourself while I watch?” he asked. “You know that always excites me.”

  Delia made a sound deep in her throat as she reached between her legs to begin stroking herself. With her other hand, she pinched and pulled at her nipple.

  “That’s it, pet,” Wesley crooned as he moved toward her head and then over her, bracing himself on his hands and knees so that his phallus was near her mouth. “Suck on it while I watch you make yourself come,” he said.

  Her fingers began to stroke her core harder as her mouth closed over him and she began swirling her tongue over his head. He pushed himself deeper. “Take more, pet.”

  Obligingly, she sucked on him harder and he closed his eyes in bliss, imagining Jillian in the same position. Once he got Cantford out of the way—either killed in the duel or hanged as a traitor—Jillian would be his.

  Delia’s body went rigid and her hips lifted as she brought herself to climax, her mouth clamping down on his cock hard. With a grunt, he felt himself spurt into her throat. She gagged a little and he pulled himself out.

  “Feeling better?” he asked as he reached for his trousers once more.

  She licked her lips. “When Lord Cantford kills my husband, you’ll be able to stay all night, love.”

  “Right.” No need reminding her that Sherrington was an excellent shot and that it was Cantford he wanted dead. He had no intention of letting Delia get her hooks into him. He leaned down to plant a quick kiss on her cheek, not wanting to taste himself on her lips. “For now, I need to go.”

  He slipped out the window and down the street
where his horse waited. All in all, it had been a good night.

  Givens met him at the door. Wesley wondered if the man actually slept in his uniform or why he was still up. Dawn was near. He glanced down the hall to the closed door of Jillian’s chamber. No sense in trying the lock. The room would be empty as it had been this past week.

  He turned to Givens. “I want a footman sent first thing in the morning to fetch Lady Newburn back.”

  Givens nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Tell her when she arrives that I expect to have her company at lunch.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Wesley yawned hugely. “And don’t wake me before then. Understood?”

  Givens nodded once more. “As you wish, my lord.”

  As Wesley ascended the stairs to his bed chamber, he didn’t see Givens look toward Jillian’s closed door. Nor did he see the butler’s lips twitch.

  Darcy arrived the next morning amidst a flurry of trunks and baggage and a very excited Mari in her wake. Givens showed them into the library where Jillian was attempting to do some embroidery.

  “Is it true?” Mari asked as soon as the door had closed. “Is Ian—Lord Cantford—really going to duel with Lord Sherrington?”

  “Goodness.” Jillian’s nerveless fingers dropped the hoop onto her lap. “News certainly travels fast.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mari said as she bounced on the couch, oblivious to Jillian’s stillness. “Maddie’s maid heard it from Lord Sherrington’s footman herself.”

  Jillian arched an eyebrow. “And how did that happen?”

  Mari paused and then blushed a little. “Well, I think the footman is rather fond of Maddie’s maid.”

  “I see,” Jillian said and picked up the needlework again, although she didn’t attempt to work it. “And Maddie came straight away to tell you?”

  Mari frowned. “Well, yes. It was just shocking. Such a scandal.”

  “And haven’t I told you not to listen to such things?”

  She stared at her sister. “Are you angry with me? I didn’t spread the rumor. All of London is buzzing about it.”