by Cosby, Diana
She touched the embroidery she’d made for Symon in her pocket. Though the lace cover was but a simple thing, she had not even that chance to show Duncan she loved him.
In but hours they would reach Rothfield Castle. Then she and Duncan would go their separate ways.
This time forever.
But daylight was a long way off. The choices over the next few hours would be hers. Isabel hugged herself. Did she dare give him the ultimate gift, that of her innocence?
She wanted Duncan with her every breath, had for many years. But if she gave herself to him this night, he would learn she was a virgin, the very fact that had kept her from making love with him in the tower chamber days before.
But now, with the uncertainty of the morrow looming before them and given the depth of her love for Duncan, the magnitude of losing him again overwhelmed her.
Like the rose unfurling to catch the golden glow of the sun’s rays, she knew her decision. Peace infused her, a warmth so sweet it assured her that she had made the right decision. She wanted Duncan. However selfish, however wrong, for this one night, if he accepted her into his bed, she would give herself to him.
If making love with him made her damned, then so be it. For he already held her heart, she would gladly give him her soul.
The soft creak of the door announced his return. Steadying herself, she turned in time to watch him enter and close the door in his wake.
Their gazes met.
Tension snapped between them, edged with awareness and heat. Her body trembled, her reaction far from incited by cold.
“The horses are taken care of,” he said, his voice a dark calm, that of a man who was weighing the situation with a seasoned hand.
She nodded. A shiver swept through her body. The room seemed to crowd in on her, steal the air from her next breath. “You are tired. We are both—”
“I will begin a fire.” He strode to the hearth and knelt. The shuffle of twigs, clunk of larger wood atop the small pile echoed in the silence as her mind spun.
He scraped his knife against a piece of flint. Sparks showered the dry moss. He blew on the glowing embers until a flame punctured the blackness. As he continued to coax the fire, it grew, spreading beneath the carefully built pile. Within moments, flames licked higher, greedily consuming the dry wood.
Satisfied, Duncan stood and turned. Unaware of her thoughts, he braced his feet shoulder width apart, hands on his hips. A warrior’s stance.
At the intensity of his gaze, nerves trickled down her spine. She inhaled deeply, then slowly released, her heart pounding.
“I need to know what is on your mind.” For a moment she doubted he would answer.
Duncan tilted his head and appraised her with eyes that held a combination of ice and heat. “I was thinking you are the most beautiful lass I have ever seen.” As she caught her breath, he added, harsher, “and the most deceitful.” He stepped toward her. “I have waited for the truth, Isabel, a truth I will have this night.”
She held his gaze. “Any lie I have made had a purpose.”
“Purpose?” His face darkened with anger, his body cast in the outlines of flames at his back adding to the ominous image. He strode to her and caught her face between his hands. “Hear me, Isabel,” he said between gritted teeth. “You will tell me everything.”
“It is not so simple,” she whispered. Frasyer’s threats to kill Duncan if she broke her vow of silence of their arrangement clattered in her mind, more so of the twisted ways he would seek vengeance.
“Nothing of importance is.”
She could not allow harm to come to Duncan, but neither could she lie to him further. Already, too many mistruths had passed her lips, but she’d given them to save Duncan. Except he would not see it as that.
And he would hate her.
When she loved him with her every breath.
Wanted him as no other man.
“Isabel!”
His harsh voice unnerved her further, but she held her ground. “I will tell you what you want to know, but first”—her voice trembled, but she reached her hand over to cover his—“can we not share this one night?”
Chapter 16
Awareness heated in Duncan’s gaze and he stilled. His mouth tightened. At the flash of denial in his eyes, her heart slammed against her chest.
“What difference will a few hours make?” Isabel asked.
He watched her for a long moment. “And after, you will tell me everything.”
“Yes.” Isabel exhaled slowly. “I promise.”
At her vow, Duncan arched a brow, his disbelief easy to read. As nerves threatened to overwhelm her, she damned them and held her ground.
“I want you, Duncan,” she breathed, allowing her dreams, her desire for him to seep into every corner of her words. “I want you as I have no other man.”
Fire crackled in the thick silence. Tension thrummed in the endless void. Oh, God, what was he thinking? What was he feeling?
It took all of her courage to hold his gaze, but she refused to look away. She wanted him more than any man, more than life itself.
As he continued to watch her, his eyes hot, hard to read, panic overwhelmed her. He was going to deny her. She knew it with every beat of her heart, with every breath she took.
Then he stepped away, putting more space between them.
“Duncan.” Panic had her stepping forward. “Make love to me this night. I see the questions in your eyes. I feel them in your gaze. I swear to you that afterward, I will tell you what you want to know.”
With her heartfelt plea wrapping around his thoughts, threatening to overcome his good sense, Duncan took in the desperation lining her face, the pale outline of her skin in stark contrast to the worry troubling her eyes. He should leave her untouched, walk away. God knew if he had but an ounce of common sense he would. Had the past not taught him the depths of Isabel’s treachery?
His body burned with need, his blood pounding hard with the thought of finally, finally taking her.
Making her his.
Promises or no promises.
He caught the haunted look in her amber gaze. Secrets. Aye, she had them. And even knowing that, it took sheer will not to succumb to a long-denied passion, where logic and hurt and betrayal came second to seduction.
Her throat worked as she struggled to speak. “Duncan?”
She looked to where her fingers lay atop his, then dropped her hand, where it formed a trembling fist.
Something in Duncan snapped.
On a hiss, he lifted her chin with his hand. His first mistake. He wanted answers, but touching her, the silk of her skin soft against his fingers, he realized he wanted her more.
He claimed her mouth, hard, hot, demanding. At her taste, an inferno surged through him with mind-numbing need. Heat arched, sizzled between them. His body trembled with the need to touch her, to expose her every inch, to bury himself deep inside her.
The press of her lips against his drove him wild, so he angled his head and took the kiss deeper. A disbelieving part of him expected her refusal, for her to push him away as before, her words no more than another ploy.
Instead of trying to break free at his hungry demands, Isabel leaned her body full against his, curled her hands around his neck and dragged him closer.
With his blood pounding hot, her every moan, her every sigh ignited a new wave of need. Desire, fueled by a lifetime of wanting, destroyed his logic. So he took, demanded, masterfully teased with tongue and teeth until her eyes grew blind with desire. It wasn’t enough, he wanted more, he wanted her complete surrender, to take her up until she screamed his name in release.
The coolness of the past few hours fled as she moved her body against his.
With his mouth firmly possessing hers, he walked her backward until he trapped her against the wall near the fireplace. The growing warmth within the small space was but a trice of the heat pouring through his veins.
Duncan wedged his body firm against hers, lea
ving her no doubt about his intent, of what they would share this night. He set a hand on each side of her head, effectively trapping her, then he broke the kiss.
The pure need swirling in her eyes matched that storming his body. “You will not leave me. Tonight, or ever.”
The words spilled out before he could stop them.
She gasped.
He blinked, and even before he registered the shock in her features, he realized he meant them.
Gazing into the soft curves of her face, the soul-searching amber eyes, the soft, full curve of her mouth was like creating a new man in him. Someone with hopes and wishes that lived on despite what life had thrown at him.
A shaky breath spilled from her parted lips. “Duncan—”
“Ever!” He claimed her mouth to seal his words. Merciless to her struggles, he seduced her, using every sensual tactic to drive her wild, until her body relaxed against his and she was once again kissing him back.
Inside him, fear that she would refuse him ebbed.
Whispering her name, while her unsteady breaths trembled from her lips, Duncan slowly skimmed his mouth along the soft curve of her jaw, loving her taste of woman and silk, how she arched with genuine pleasure at his every touch.
“Watch me,” he whispered, wanting her like this, wild with need, her mind blazed with passion. And more.
Savoring this moment, their very first time together, he held her gaze as he slowly untied her garb. He inched the loosened garb from her shoulders, relieved her of the layers, each one landing with a soft, satisfying plop on the dirt floor, until his fingertips grazed bare flesh.
She shivered, but with the way her eyes watched his, desire, not the cold embracing the falling night, ignited the response.
His gentle shove had the final, flimsy chemise joining the heap on the floor. The pendant around her neck, a lion in silver complemented by a background of deep red, hung between her breasts. Wallace’s arms.
Before he could think to question the revelation, she stepped toward him and his thoughts shattered.
The muted glow cast by the firelight caressed her nakedness in a soft gold, in direct contrast as he stood before her fully clothed.
As if a parched lad offered the first glimpse of lifesaving water, he drank in the sight of the soft curves of her body, the fullness of her breasts with taut, dusky peaks. Then his gaze swept lower, slowly. He lingered on the flatness of her stomach, then edged slowly downward to the amber curls lying in soft folds to shield her most precious gift.
He dragged in a raw breath. She was everything a man could ever dream of and more.
Beneath his steady gaze, her body began to tremble.
Painfully aroused, he looked up, met heated eyes filled with desire that matched his own. Duncan stayed the urge to release himself and drive into her in search of relief. This time, their first time, he wanted her blind with passion. When she cried her release, it would be his name on her lips, he who claimed her.
Except this time, she would not walk away.
Emotion welled up inside him to a painful ache. A need that went beyond physical attraction. She was Isabel.
She was his.
He splayed his hands on her shoulders, then slowly wove his fingers over her satiny skin, his own body trembling in anticipation. He cupped her breasts, savored the play of firelight upon her skin, the contrast of calloused hands to satin. He looked up.
Her mouth parted as if in surprise. Expectant, she watched him.
“Say you want me,” he whispered, needing to hear the words, hear the desire in her voice.
“I want you, Duncan.”
Slowly, he tasted her skin, the unique blend of woman and lavender infusing his every breath, savoring the soft roundness of her breasts. He drew her tip into his mouth, took until she arched against him.
While he worked her with his mouth, he skimmed his hands over the soft angles of her body, the flatness of her stomach, the sensitive flesh framing where he wanted to touch the most.
Her breath caught and she trembled as would an innocent.
But he only skimmed his mouth lightly against her skin, wanting to build the tension and the inevitable pleasure the waiting would bring. He continued to stroke her until her body trembled beneath, then he lowered his head and followed the wake of his hands.
She arched against his lips. “Duncan.”
He knelt before her, catching her hips to frame her before him.
Redness crept up her face, a flush ignited by the fire of desire.
“You are amazing,” he whispered, in awe of her precious response when the past three years had surely left her anything but innocent. He inhaled her scent, and his body burned straight to his groin.
His breaths shook as he skimmed his fingers over her most sensitive flesh, needing to see, to feel the slick softness within his hands. A soft moan tumbled from her throat as he caressed her slowly, soft, lazy circles feeling the texture, softness of her amber curls to the silky smoothness of her velvet skin.
Needing to see her, he placed his thumbs against her and slowly opened her to his view. Beautiful. Simply amazing. His nostrils flared at her scent, as one would with their mate. A powerful urge consumed him, to taste her, claim her to be his.
When he lowered his head toward her most intimate place, Isabel stiffened.
Eyes wide with shock, she grabbed his hair with her hands, halting his progress. “What are you doing?”
How could she not know? Surely Frasyer—no, he refused to taint the moment. “Relax.”
“You cannot.”
Her frantic words had him drawing back. Had she not learned the touch of a gentle lover?
Duncan took in her lips swollen with his kisses, the glazed look of pleasure in her eyes, how her pulse at the base of her neck raced.
A satisfied smile edged his mouth.
That he was not her first left a harsh taste in his mouth, but he would not think of that. This night he would sear her mind with images of their intimacy.
“Aye, I can and will.” He touched her softness, pleased to find her warm and wet. At her sharp intake of breath, Duncan glanced up.
Fear flickered in her eyes.
“I will not hurt you,” he promised. “You can trust me.”
“I-I know.”
“Then what is wrong?”
She swallowed hard. “Naught.”
There was, but he understood her shyness. “You are nervous.”
Relief eased the lines on her face. “Very much so.”
Which made sense. Untutored in the proper way of making love, to her, his actions would seem odd. Duncan skimmed his finger around his silken destination in a slow sweep. Her skin tightened beneath his touch. Trembled.
As if her body understood what her mind did not, Isabel leaned into his touch.
His body hot with need, he opened her to his view, took in her beautiful treasures, sleek with the evidence of her desire for him. He held her gaze as he leaned forward to taste.
More shock, then pleasure radiated in her eyes as he drew her into his mouth, teasing her with his tongue. She leaned her head back on a gasp.
The soft crackle of flames sounded as he plundered, using teeth and tongue until her body bowed beneath his every caress and her breaths grew shallow. Wanting more, for her to give him everything, he used his hands to tease her, exploiting the soft curves as he feasted.
She shuddered, the movements of her hips becoming uncontrollable.
He slid his finger within her slick heat, matching her rhythm.
“Duncan!”
“Let yourself go,” he urged, wanting her like this, her body lost to sensation, finding her release for him, knowing that he had brought her this intensity.
Another shudder tore through her. Her muscles tightened around his fingers. He caught her sensitive bud within his teeth, and she cried out her release.
With her entire body shaking, Isabel sagged against the wall. Her face glowed with a combination of daze an
d awe. Soft moans fell from her lips.
His body on fire, Duncan stood, drew her to him, enjoying her every shiver, the catch in her breath as she rode the remainder of her release. He ignored the hard demands of his body to take and kissed her slowly, softly across the sheen of dampness on her brow.
“I ne-never suspected,” she whispered brokenly, “that one person could touch another so.”
How could she possibly not know? Ruthlessly, Duncan focused on the moment. On Isabel.
“Pleasure does not come merely in the joining,” he said hoarsely, “but in the touch, the building, the anticipation of the journey shared.” He skimmed his hand along her cheek, then ever so slowly, slid the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip to curve around until he lifted her face to meet his. “Feel your senses. Experience the rush of heat. Revel at how your passion builds, how every part of you comes alive in the building of pleasure.”
He leaned down to catch her nipple with his mouth, swirl his tongue around the taut skin in a slow circle, again savor her silken taste until she groaned with pleasure. Then, and only then, did he look up and meet her eyes glazed with passion.
“This night,” he whispered, “I will show you the many ways a man can make love to a woman.”
Her blush deepened at his words.
Duncan savored her shyness as he roamed over the soft curve of her shoulder, then sliding down, teasing with his tongue, nipping gently, enjoying the hitch of her breath, how her heartbeat pounded in her chest.
“Duncan?”
Her rough, passion-filled voice curved a smile on his mouth. He left a trail of kisses across her neck, marveling at her silky softness.
“Duncan.” The soft tremble in her words sent his own pulse racing.
“Aye.”
“You…You are still dressed,” she said, her voice shaky.
“I am at that,” he murmured as he knelt on one knee and framed her waist with his hands, pressing a kiss against the flat of her stomach.
She reached over as if to stop him, but he caught her hand. “I am not done with you yet.” Before she could speak, he lifted her and carried her to the bed.
