His hand cupped her one breast, squeezing it lightly and running his thumb over her nipple, hard beneath her garments. He wished she was naked so he could feel her smooth flesh and taste her rosy bud grow harder in his mouth.
He wanted her. He wanted to slip between her legs and sink into her and get lost in pleasure. But not here in his solar.
She whimpered sorrowfully when he moved his mouth off hers, a smile quickly replacing it when he whispered, “Come to my bed.”
She nodded eagerly and as they grasped hands as if they intended never to let go, a knock sounded at the door.
“Message,” Helice said from beyond the closed door.
Slain took a deep breath, fighting to calm the mounting need inside him. Reluctantly, his hand fell away from hers, though her slim fingers tried to keep hold of it, and it was like a jolt to his heart.
He went to the door, opened it, and it surprised Hannah when he stepped out, closing the door behind him. She stood staring at it, wondering if she should go over to it and see if she could hear anything. Before she could decide, Slain returned. The passion that had ignited in him all but drained away.
“I must leave. I should return by this evening.”
“I will wait your return.”
“No,” he snapped. “I will see you in the morn.”
He opened the door, a sign that she was to leave, and it upset Hannah that only moments before he was so loving and eager to be with her and now he dismissed her so coldly. Was the savage sneaking in and stealing her husband away?
She had no choice but to take her leave and when she reached the door, Slain’s hand caught her arm, stopping her.
“You will not await my return.”
Hannah went to speak, but his sharp words stopped her.
“Do not defy me on this, Hannah.”
He released her arm and Hannah walked out the door without a word or a nod to him.
The keep was quiet, no wind whistled around the windows or rain slashed at them. It was as if nature itself held its breath.
Hours had passed since she had left Slain in his solar. Imus and his men had long since finished working on the door for the day, one of his men had let her know they would return on the morrow. She had eaten supper alone in the Great Hall. Helice spoke not a word to her and she did not try to engage the woman in conversation. How she would deal with Helice from this point on was questionable, but she had little choice.
Her thoughts jumped around, keeping her from sleeping.
After another hour or so past, Hannah sat up in bed, punched her pillow, then dropped back, her head sinking into it. She let out a sigh.
So much had happened to her in such a short time that she was not sure how to comprehend it all. She recalled something the healer had once told her mum when her mum had asked the woman a stream of questions.
We are often left with more questions than answers and often do not like the answers we get. Life can be wicked. Life can be good. But there is one thing certain about life… it is unpredictable.
The healer had been right about that.
She twisted and turned some more until finally she wore herself out and dropped off to sleep.
She woke suddenly and, casting an eye at the hearth, saw that the fire had burned down some, a couple of hours had past. But what had woken her? She lay listening and realized a strong wind whipped at the window. She burrowed beneath the soft wool blanket and snuggled her head against the warm pillow, thankful sleep was creeping over her once again.
Her eyes barely closed when a loud pounding had her springing up and looking about. For a moment, she thought someone had pounded on her door, but there was no lock on her door and the only person who would enter this time of night would be Slain.
Unless something had happened to him and Helice…
She did not wait to finish the horrid thought that it could be Helice outside her door to deliver bad news. She scrambled out of bed and to the door, opening it cautiously to peer out.
No one was there.
She jumped when the pounding sounded again and she realized it came from Slain’s room. Someone pounded on his door from the inside. It had to be Slain.
It shivered Hannah when the door shook again from the pounding. He would hurt his hand if he continued to pound it. She went to the door, her thought on what he had once said to her. That her door had no lock and it was up to her to discover if his did. She was about to find out.
She grabbed the latch and swung the door open.
Her husband stood there, naked from the chest up, his fist raised, ready to swing at the door again. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding from the previous blows. His dark eyes raged with animalistic fury, much like they had done that night in woods when he had viciously ended Muir’s life, and a tremble of fear rippled through her.
“Get out,” Slain shouted, his muscled chest heaving from his heavy breaths, as if he had run a distance.
“You are hurt,” Hannah said and took a couple of steps inside the room.
“Get out now, Hannah!” he shouted again and shook his fist at her.
“After I tend your injured hand,” she said more calmly than she felt. Inwardly, she trembled, fear crawling along her skin, prickling it as she realized it was not her husband she spoke with but the savage. Yet somewhere in there was Slain and she had the overwhelming urge to protect him from himself.
“Out!” he ordered, shaking his fist at the door, fighting to keep his eyes off her body naked beneath the white wool nightdress that hung off one soft, smooth shoulder, begging to be kissed and nipped in playful pleasure. But he was in no mood to be playful. He was in the mood to hurt, to rage, to pound away the fury that consumed him.
“I will tend your hand, then leave,” Hannah said firmly, compassion for her husband outweighing her fear of him or was it her own foolishness? She licked her lips, her mouth so parched she worried she would not be able to speak. “I will be quick.”
The tip of her tongue circling her lips, leaving them moist and inviting, broke him. “No, wife, it will not be quick.”
He moved with such speed that he was standing in front of her before she realized it and just as fast his hand shot out past her head. She cringed, feeling the room tremble as the door slammed shut behind her, and fear jumbled her stomach when the latch clicked shut.
She was locked in here not with her husband, but with the savage.
Chapter 18
Hannah stared at Slain’s naked chest so close to her that if she puckered her lips she would kiss his hard flesh. It heaved in and out, his solid muscles rising and falling and, for a moment, a brief moment, no more than a blink, she thought she heard the mighty thumping of his heart.
She called on her courage—no—her stubborn foolishness. That was what her mum had called it one time when she was young and had climbed on a horse to ride it, to prove to her father she could do it. It was the first time and the last, she had seen any pride in her father’s eyes for her.
Whatever it was, courage or foolishness, she needed it now.
Hannah raised her head slowly and when her eyes met his dark ones, she stifled a gasp. Anger warred with passion in his dark depths and she wondered what had been the cause of his fury. It was, however, not the time to ask.
“Are you all right, husband?” she asked, hoping to remind him that she was his wife, Slain’s wife.
“Aye, wife, I will be as soon as you shed that nightdress.”
“Your hand,” she said, brushing his remark aside, and reached for it, but he pulled it away.
“Your nightdress… rid yourself of it.”
“Slain,” she said softly, hoping to wake that part of him that was her husband.
“Now!” he demanded and his hands went to his plaid and began to unfasten it.
With his shirt already off and his boots as well, he would be completely naked soon and he expected the same of her.
“If you leave it to me, I will rip it off you.”
Hannah had no doubt he would do just that, so she slipped the nightdress over her head and tossed it aside. It mattered not, since he had already seen her naked. At least that was what she told herself.
A chill sneaked in from somewhere or perhaps it was her courage waning that brought on the shiver that puckered her nipples and turned her skin to gooseflesh. Or was it the way her husband stood staring at her, his eyes slowly taking in all of her.
She felt vulnerable, much too vulnerable and she had felt that way far too much of late. Something inside her refused to allow herself to feel that way with her husband, for if she did so now, it might never change.
Hannah looked him in the eye and began to slowly let her eyes roam over him from top to toe, stopping in the most intimate of places longer than necessary, and finding herself growing quite aroused as she did. Her eyes returned to settle on his eyes and she thought she saw a spark of admiration there.
He stepped closer to her and leaned his face down near hers to whisper harshly, “Are you ready for the savage?”
She did not know where her response came from, but it flew from her mouth before she could stop it. “It is not if I am ready for the savage, but if the savage is ready for me.”
She threw her arms around his neck with a forceful lunge that sent her body slamming against his and if Slain did not throw his arm around her waist and steady them both with his strength they would have tumbled to the ground.
She captured his lips before he could say a word and her aggressive kiss fired his blood and turned his already hard manhood, the results of his eyes lingering on her gorgeous naked body, even harder. She tasted and demanded of him as if she would never be satisfied, and he fed her hunger as well as his own.
He kept his arm snug around her waist and brought his other hand to the back of her head, holding it firm, not letting her move it, keeping her lips locked to his. He maneuvered them toward the bed, stepping back while keeping her tight against him, the feel of her hard nipples digging into his chest, poking, igniting, and firing his loins.
When his leg hit the side of the bed, he tore his mouth away from hers, scooped her up, and dropped her down on it. He was stunned when she spread her arms and legs, welcoming him as he lowered himself down over her.
She showed no fear of him, not an ounce, and she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. His manhood ached for satisfaction, but it was the strange feeling that gripped his heart that he noticed more.
He could easily love this woman.
Not now, not yet, he silently warned himself, but knew the warning did little good.
He took her lips this time, in a kiss so demanding it would frighten most women, but not Hannah, she returned it with a demand of her own. He slipped off to rest at her side so that his hands could touch her, explore her, caress every intimate part of her.
Her hand was quicker, running eagerly down his chest and he jumped when she grasped his manhood, then began to stroke it, as if she was not only familiarizing herself with it but laying claim to it.
What amazed him even more was that he felt her chuckle when he jumped, yet she never broke their kiss. It actually intensified.
He was the one who finally ended their kiss, much to her annoyance, though once he began feasting on one of her nipples that changed and her moans of pleasure heightened his own. He rolled his tongue across the tight little bud and tugged at it with his teeth, eliciting moans and squirms from her.
Though he loved her touching him, he was relieved when her hand fell off his manhood and gripped his arms. If she had continued, he would have climaxed much too soon and that was not what he wanted.
He wanted to slowly enjoy every inch of his wife and seal their union, securing her as his wife forever.
His hand drifted down along her flat stomach, her skin so smooth and soft that he never wanted to stop touching her. And when his hand slipped between her legs to find her wet and ready for him, he almost surrendered to his urgent need.
“Slaaaain,” she moaned his name, though it sounded more as if she begged.
Hannah had never expected to find coupling so intensely pleasurable, though she did not think it would be that way with anyone other than Slain. That she had lost her heart to this man was now obvious to her. She could never lay naked like this, be stroked and kissed so intimately by anyone but Slain.
She trusted him. She trusted him more than she had ever realized.
“Slaaaain,” she moaned again as his fingers found their way inside her and his thumb brushed the nub hiding in her nest of red hair between her legs. The more he stroked her, the more she moaned, the more her pleasure grew.
His mouth left her nipple and moved down along her heated skin and the further down his kisses went, the louder her moans grew. When his tongue flicked across her hidden gem, her body arched and he quickly spread her legs and settled his face between them.
What he did to her next had her definitely thinking him a savage, for he tasted, nipped, and licked, his hands firmly clasped to her backside so she could not move or writhe or even breathe the pleasure was that intense. And if that was what the savage would do to her in his bed, she would welcome him every time.
“Slaaain!” she pleaded with an aching whimper.
He heard her pleading ache, felt it himself, but she tasted like no other woman, sweet as well as potent, a perfect blend that was irresistible.
“Ohhh!” she cried and squirmed, desperately trying to free her bottom from his grip.
She was near to climax and he wanted to be inside her when she did. He moved up and over her, his arm going around her waist to lift her up along the bed until her head rested on a pillow. Then he lowered himself to hover over her, her legs already spread in eager anticipation of him. His manhood was so hard it was easy to slip it between her legs and push the tip gently into her.
Hannah’s moan was more a sigh and she arched her back, wanting more of him.
He pushed further in and she arched higher against him and he slipped deeper in her. She was so wet, yet so snug, and so welcoming. He pushed further in with a bit more force and he stopped when she gasped.
“I hurt you?” he asked, appalled at the thought.
She shook her head, her red hair flaming from the fire’s light. “No. No. Do not stop. Please do not stop.”
He realized he had hit her maidenhead and it was tight. He did not want to hurt her, but it was better done fast or so he had been told since he had never coupled with a virgin.
“Hold onto my arms tight,” he ordered. “It will be over quick.”
Her eyes flew open wide, a spark of concern in them. “I do not want it quick. I want this pleasure to last.”
He could not help but smile. “It is your maidenhead I must take quick. As for your climax, I will see you have more than one.”
Hannah grabbed his arms, loving the feel of his strong hard muscles. “My maidenhead is for you to take, husband, but I beg you do not stop once you do.”
Damn, if her words did not have his manhood throbbing unmercifully, and with one swift thrust he drove into her and he almost stopped when she cried out, but she shook her head and locked her legs around him and tightened her hold on his arms.
He kept a steady rhythm for a few moments to let her accept the fit of him, then he increased it again and again and again, until their bodies pounded against each other.
Hannah gripped his arms tighter and tighter as pleasure mounted throughout her body. It grew and grew and grew with every thrust and so did her moans. Until… her whole body burst with the most exquisite sensation and she shouted out, “Slaaaaain!”
Slain did not stop. He would come, but not just yet. He would see her come again before he did.
Hannah’s moans turned soft, the exquisite pleasure beginning to fade when suddenly it sparked again and she turned wide eyes on her husband.
“You will come again for me, wife.”
She nodded and smiled and her moans began again until once again sh
e burst with pleasure, and he joined her, surprised at the strength of his own climax. It gripped him and rolled through him with an intensity he had never felt before or satisfied like ever before.
After he was completely spent, he moved off her to lay beside her and took her hand in his, and he liked that she curled her fingers around his, not ready to let go of him. His breathing had yet to calm as well as his heart, it thumped a mighty beat, and there was something else. Something he wanted to ignore but was having difficulty doing so.
His wife had actually calmed the savage in him. She had chased away the fury that had raged like a violent storm ready to ravage the land, and what had she used to combat it?
Love.
Impossible. She did not love him. She was being a dutiful wife.
He almost chuckled aloud. It had not felt like duty. It had felt like she could not get enough of him. That she wanted him with as much desire as he did her. Or was it that he wanted to believe that someone would break past the savage within him and love him… all of him?
Hannah rolled on her side, slipping her leg over his, resting her arm across his chest, and placing her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. She looked up at him. “Can we do this again tonight?”
Once again Hannah left Slain speechless. It took him a moment to push aside his shock, then he gathered his wife in his arms, kissed her lips lightly, and said, “We can do it as often as you want.”
He was startled again when she turned a joyous smile on him, though worried when it was suddenly replaced by a frown. “I will not wear you out, will I?”
He could not help but laugh, a deep resounding laugh.
She jabbed him in the side. “I am serious.”
Her curt tone and scrunched brow told him she was very serious and though he could not keep the smile and light chuckle from his words, he reassured her. “Trust me, wife, when I tell you that you will not wear me out.”
Embraced by a Highlander Page 15
