“The bodice is tight,” she said, breathing against his mouth. He rolled her halfway on top of him, until his fingers could reach the ties in the back, yanking them loose. When Mairi lay flat again, he looked down on her.
Reaching up, he raked her hair out around her head. “Ye are an angel,” he said.
“Hmmm… Would an angel do this?” Mairi lifted her shoulders, one at a time, as she slid a hand down her neckline and under one breast. She pulled upward, spilling the breast up and out of the bodice. She did the same for the other, so they sat atop her in perfect, pale display.
“Och, lass,” Alec breathed and reached to kiss her again, his palm cupping one breast, lifting its weight, his fingers coming up to gently pinch her nipple. The sensation tugged muscles deep within Mairi. She moaned softly against his mouth and shifted with restless energy.
Alec kissed a path down her neck, his lips like flames licking along her skin, making her pant. His mouth closed around one jutting nipple, and Mairi gasped, arching her back to press into his laving tongue. His hand sought the other breast, plumping it and pinching until she pressed the V of her legs into him, asking without words.
She was a widow, after all. Had been married for nearly a year. No matter that Fergus, despite his frustrated stroking, had never been able to mount an erection to enter her. An embarrassment she wasn’t willing to disclose to anyone. She’d fought off Normond MacInnes and managed to keep her maidenhead, but she didn’t want to keep it anymore. As a widow, no one expected her to be a virgin, so why continue the farce. She wanted to know the pleasure that other women knew, and she had no doubt that Alec MacNeil could deliver it.
“Alec,” she whispered, her hands trailing down the planes of his stomach, tugging the shirt from his kilt, which sat low on his waist. She slid her hands underneath to the smooth, hot skin of his torso, running her fingers along the gentle ridges of muscle there. In a quick motion, Alec untied the shirt at his neck and pulled it off over his head, leaving his beautifully chiseled chest bare.
“God’s teeth,” Mairi said. “Ye make me pant.” He sat up over her and slowly cupped her bare breasts, teasing her nipples. His hands were incredibly warm against the chill of the night air.
“And ye make me harder than the walls of Kisimul,” he growled, lowering his mouth again to catch a nipple between his lips.
Mairi arched in to him and closed her eyes as she gave in to the pleasure his skillful tongue ignited within her body. When he traveled back up her neck to kiss her mouth, Mairi’s fingers edged up his kilt until her hand reached his jutting cod. Thick and long, hot and hard. She stroked up and down in a rhythm to match her own, and Alec groaned deeply. In the darkness, it sounded like a growl, sending a thrill of chill bumps all over Mairi.
“Take me, Alec,” she whispered against his mouth. “Take me here under the stars.”
He leaned back to look down into her face. Would he deny her? Make her promise to wed him first? What would she say?
He released a breath, bending close. “I will make ye fly apart, Mairi Maclean.” He touched a knuckle to the hollow of her throat, and skimmed it slowly down between the tight valley of her breasts. He kissed under her ear. “I will make ye burn,” he whispered.
She pressed against him, a ticklish chill along her skin warring with the hot passion flaring up through her body. “Aye, make me fly apart, Alec MacNeil.” She tugged at the waist of his wrapped kilt. When she loosened it, he stood, sliding it down his legs to fall somewhere at the end of the blanket. There was just enough starlight to see his form. Muscles, narrow waist and hips, and a tall, proud erection. Want throbbed through her, making Mairi weak and strung tight with anticipation at the same time. She pushed up, feeling caught in the grips of the dress, and wiggled until the bodice parted more in the back. She pulled the front away from her, including the tied sleeves. He helped her stand, the dress pooling at her feet. The two of them faced each other in the darkness, exposed but hidden in shadow, viewed only by the distant stars.
Alec’s arms encircled her, pulling her in, covering her quickly cooling flesh with his heat. “Ye’re warm,” she said, her cheek against his chest, aware of the heavy thickness against her stomach.
“And ye’re freezing.” He rubbed her back, stroking down over her backside, cupping and lifting.
She tipped her face up to his. “Set me on fire, Alec. Give me your heat.”
His gaze was intense, as if a battle raged within him. “Ye are sure?”
Was she? Mairi had dreaded giving her virginity to a man older than her father, and when he couldn’t take it, the reprieve had been welcome, yet burdensome. Now she could choose to whom to give it. And she chose Alec MacNeil.
“Aye,” she said. “Make me burn.”
Chapter Twelve
Alec stared down into the face of an angel, a wickedly delicious angel with smooth skin, full breasts, and curves that could make a man weep for want. And she wanted him. He’d given Mairi time to send him off aching, but she’d said the words, asking him. She was a widow, without a need to guard her virginity. He wanted to wed her, and her words had stripped away nearly all of his self-discipline. A bloody legion of English couldn’t distract him now from the woman before him, standing gloriously bare under the stars.
She reached up on her toes to grasp his shoulders, pressing the V of her legs against his rigid cod. “I want ye, Alec.”
His hands stroked down her gently arched spine, cupping her sweet arse, plumping each smooth globe and pressing her slightly up and down to stroke him with her stomach. He groaned, kissing her fully, tasting and plundering her sweet mouth as his fingers tangled through her damp hair. Slowly they lowered to the blanket. From his knees, he looked down at her, hair spread about a lovely face, making her look like a star fallen from the sky above. Her curves were milky white in the darkness, silky and sweet.
She moved restlessly. “Come here,” she said, reaching down to wrap her chilled fingers around him, sliding up and down with perfect rhythm.
Barely coherent, Alec pulled the other blanket over them in case she was cold. Lying on his side along her, he caught her face in his hands, kissing her soft lips, which opened and slanted against him. He stroked down her side to her hip, grasping it in his hand. “So soft,” he whispered at her ear as she arched her head back, giving him access to her long, slender neck. He warmed her with unhurried kisses on the edge of her jaw. “Mairi, lass,” he whispered. “Ye are perfect.”
She tipped her face to connect with his gaze, a grin on those full lips. “And feeling perfectly wicked right now.”
With a soft growl, Alec swooped back down to her mouth, ravishing her as thoroughly as she kissed him back. Fast, fierce, and molten. He breathed her in, her honeyed kiss blocking out the rest of the world.
Below she pressed the V of her legs against his thigh and claimed his cod again, stroking, rubbing him enticingly against her skin. His blood rushed through him, his heart pounding as if he raged in battle. Sweet, perfect battle to bring out her cries. Curving over her, his mouth found her peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling, his teeth teasing. Mairi arched her back, holding her other breast, which he followed with equal attention.
Mairi’s bare toes curled and rubbed along his legs. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him over on top of her. “Please, Alec,” she murmured. But he wasn’t through teasing her into bliss.
Alec held her shoulders gently as he sat back on his heels. “Relax, lass.” He lowered his mouth to just below the curve of her full breasts. While his hands stroked her sides, he kissed down her flat stomach, nibbling. When he reached the juncture of her legs, she moaned. He looked up to see her massaging her breasts, her head thrown back. He breathed deeply, reaching for his discipline when his body demanded he just mount her, thrusting into her wet, willing body. But he wanted her thrashing before him first.
He lowered his mouth, parting her with his fingers. Her legs widened as if begging for hi
s touch. And so he touched, easily finding her most sensitive spot, flicking it with his tongue and sucking along it while she pressed into his mouth. She was drenched, the womanly scent driving him mad. He grabbed his own member, stroking himself as he lapped at her, teasing her nub over and over again.
“Alec!” she yelled, and he pressed one finger inside her incredibly tight channel. “Good God, Alec,” she yelled. Her body tensed, sucking along his finger as she moaned deeply with her release. She breathed hard, her pelvis following the press of his hand. “Alec, damnation, I want ye in me.”
She looked down her body toward him, watching him stroke himself. “Aye, Mairi. I know.” He pressed the tip of his cod against her swollen channel and nearly lost control at the hot moisture kissing him there. She bent her knees to the heavens as she pressed up, sucking the first inch of him inside.
He swallowed hard, his muscles contracting as he moved over her, still barely connected. Wet heat in the tightest channel he’d ever known. She grabbed his shoulders, her nails biting into him. He leaned over her, covering her mouth with his and thrust forward, burying himself in Mairi’s glorious body. Bloody heaven!
Pulling back out, he rammed in once more before his mind caught up to his pounding pulse. He pushed up onto his hands, looking down at Mairi. Her eyes were squeezed tight, her lips open. “My God, ye’re a virgin.”
He lowered back down, breathing hard, a firm grip on his discipline. He was hurting her. Framing her face with his arms, he kissed her gently. First her eyelids, their long lashes against her cheeks. He kept still, buried within her body as he stroked her hair, brushing his lips against her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips. Her mouth opened under his to return his kiss. He stroked her breast, down her side to her hips. “Och, Mairi. I hurt ye.”
“’Tis better,” she said, opening her eyes with a small smile. “I expected the sting.”
“I bloody hell didn’t.”
Her hands came up to his arse, pressing him to her, as she pulled herself up to kiss him. “We’ll talk about that later, MacNeil.” Her hand slid down between their bodies to where they were joined to cup his stones. “Right now, I want to feel ye move.”
His eyes fell shut on the pleasure-pain he endured while forcing himself to remain still within her hot core. He growled in the back of his throat and withdrew slowly.
“Aye,” she crooned, urging him with her hands on his arse, and he pressed back down into her. “Oh God,” she breathed, a look of open passion across her angel face. She began to rock forward and back against him while he rooted her to the ground, urging him to take up the rhythm. “Harder, like the first time,” she breathed. “I won’t break. I swear.” The feel of her tightness sucking along his length caught his breath. Bloody sinful heaven.
He inhaled her warm scent near her ear and rose up to stare into her eyes. “Hold on, Mairi.”
A wicked grin of anticipation curved her lips. “Tell me,” she whispered.
He wet his lower lip. “Ye are soaked with heat, lass.” His arms came up around her face as he leaned in, right before her gaze. “Hold on, because I’m riding ye hard.”
“Aye,” she said, the word a near whimper. Grabbing the back of his head, she pulled his face down to hers, kissing him with her wet, open lips. As if cutting the ties of restraint, Alec plunged back into her, catching her moan in his mouth. In and out, he rammed hard against her straining body. Joined together, hot slapping of skin, he tasted their combined passion on their tongues and lips. Her nails sliced down his back, the sting adding to the lust shooting through Alec’s blood. Faster, they drove forward together, pushing the ache of passion in each other higher. Only she existed, her sweet, musky smell, her wet kisses, the silk of her hair clutched in his fingers, and the molten heat of her core.
“Alec,” she screamed into his mouth as she pressed against him, clinging to his shoulders to rise up as her channel throbbed and clenched around him. He continued his thrusts, roaring as he burst within her. Eyes open and lips parted, their gazes locked as he rocked into her and out, teasing out the last tremors of their releases.
…
Mairi shivered in the cool summer breeze, and Alec pulled the second blanket over them. She nestled against his body and listened to his heavy breathing as it slowed back to normal. He stroked the side of her face and kissed her forehead. The scent of their loving still clung to them.
He raised onto his elbow and looked down at her. He stroked a thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Ye were a virgin. But ye are a widow.”
The tightness of embarrassment clutched at her breath. She’d never talked about her shame to anyone. After a moment, she drew in a deep inhale. “He was never able to consummate the marriage,” she whispered. “He…tried. Had me do things…but he never grew hard.”
“That was not your fault,” he said, and she looked away. He leaned over her, catching her face in his hands, guiding her back. “Mairi.”
She blinked back the tears that ached behind her eyelids, finally meeting his gaze when the silence stretched. She wet her lips and breathed in fully. “And once I knew that he wouldn’t or couldn’t…” She raised her chin slightly. “I swore to myself that I would choose who to give my maidenhead to, and I chose ye.”
The words came firm and swift, but unease coiled within Mairi, waiting. Alec lowered his face, kissing her tender lips firmly. When he pulled back, he made certain she was watching as he spoke. “Ye honor me, Mairi Maclean. Thank ye.”
As if the coil was sliced through by his words, she relaxed, her eyes closing momentarily. She inhaled, an impish smile blossoming, and she blinked open. “Thank ye for not stopping when ye realized.”
His grin was downright wicked. “I don’t think I could have, even if a horde of Englishmen were running up the slope.”
She gave him another kiss, a feeling of lightness giving her energy. Tapping the tip of her finger to his nose, she slowly pushed up into a seated position. “We should make sure the children are well at Kisimul.” She looked toward the dark shape in the bay. “Even with Ian and Kenneth there, I don’t like leaving them alone with Angus Cameron.”
“Aye,” he said, the smile fading from his mouth, and helped her stand. The small biting ache Mairi felt between her legs was nothing compared to the openness in her heart. Alec MacNeil was bloody amazing. She helped him dress, giving him small kisses, especially on the raked lines she’d scratched in the skin of his back. His body was rock solid, a perfectly sculpted figure of a warrior with the golden heart of a kind, honorable man. He was the right man to give her maidenhead.
He cradled her against him as they rode down to the docks, he keeping his horse smooth to not jar her nether regions. Such chivalry. Mairi’s smile remained while he handed Sköll off to one of his men in town, who would take the horse for the night. Mairi stayed in the shadows, since she looked completely ravished with her wild hair, bare feet, popping bosom, and satisfied grin.
Alec claimed her hand as they walked along the line of tethered rowboats. The water lapped at them, and several sailing vessels in the small harbor creaked. Otherwise no one was about.
“Do people have specific rowboats to use?” she asked as they walked past the first tethered boat.
“Aye.” He pointed at the first one. “That was my da’s boat. He took it across from Kisimul when he went to the battle that claimed his life.”
She stopped, her smile fading as she noticed how beat up and weathered it looked, as if it hadn’t been used for decades. It was a wonder it hadn’t sunk to the bottom. “It just sits here?”
“It’s considered bad luck to use the boat of a dead man.” He pointed to the one next to it. “That was my mother’s. She took it across when she left Kisimul to travel to Iona.”
“Ye don’t use that one, either?”
“Nay. Some of the fishermen do.” He shrugged.
Mairi looked down the line of small boats. “Which one is Joyce’s?”
He cleared his thro
at and pointed to a trim little vessel, whose paint was chipping away. “It won’t be used, either,” he said. “At some point, I should probably burn hers. No one will touch it.” As they walked past the little boat, Mairi saw wildflowers, still somewhat fresh from the afternoon, scattered in the bottom, along with one of the wreaths Cinnia had made. She blinked past the press of tears for the children who’d lost their mother so young.
Mairi breathed evenly, staring at the line of little abandoned rowboats, and felt her throat contract. Good Lord. They were memorials to people who had abandoned Alec.
She managed to swallow. “Who do these other boats belong to?” she asked softly, pointing farther down the line.
“This one is Millie’s,” he said, pointing to one painted red. “I keep it tied here in case she ever wants to come across. Not that she will.” His voice was strong, but the words struck against Mairi’s heart. Alec MacNeil, strong and powerful warrior, hurt. Her chest began to ache, and she rubbed against it with her fist.
“Here is mine,” he said, escorting her to a well-kept, white boat with blue trim. The furry face of a wolf, teeth glistening, was painted on the wooden seat just inside the bow. A small mast stood straight with a sail rolled against it, and the oars stood ready.
“I don’t think I’ll sit on the wolf’s face,” Mairi said, stepping in and finding another seat on the side toward the center. “My arse could be in jeopardy,” she said, hoping to lighten the heaviness she felt.
Alec chuckled as he untied and coiled the rope onto the floor of the boat. He stepped close, bending to kiss her lips. “I promise to just nibble.” He sat at the oars right behind her. Within minutes they were gliding across the water with the powerful strokes of Alec’s shoulders and arms.
Even with the jewel-like stars twinkling overhead, Mairi’s gaze kept lowering to watch Alec row. He hadn’t bothered to tie his shirt, and his muscles strained against the confines of his sleeves. Damnation, maybe she was wanton after all and not the cold fish Fergus had called her, blaming her for his lack of rigidness. She squashed the man from her mind and concentrated on the thrust of the boat moving forward through the water. Alec MacNeil, the Wolf of Kisimul. A deadly warrior, a passionate, giving lover, a father, and a man who’d been hurt deeply. Aye, he was complex.
The Wolf of Kisimul Castle Page 11
