by Ruth Langan
“Aye. They do indeed.” Lindsay glanced at the table and saw more wildflowers, their blossoms adding a splash of color.
The tiny room had taken on a festive air. Bread rested on a warming shelf. Fish sizzled and snapped over the fire as Morgan turned them to brown. The table was set, and her father had settled himself comfortably with a cup of ale.
“Welcome home, my lady.” Morgan turned from the fire and caught her hands in his, lifting them to his lips.
She blushed as he led her toward the table, and held her chair. Then, while the others took their places, he retrieved the fish and bread and began to pass them.
Lindsay felt more relaxed than she had in years. Without the pressure from Heywood Drummond, and the need to hurry home to face more chores, her day had seemed almost leisurely. It was a luxury she had never before known.
As she ate, she listened to the voices of the children, recounting every minute of their day spent with Morgan. It was obvious that he had become their hero. Even her father, it seemed, had found a friend in whom he could confide. More than once the old man managed to turn the talk to battles, as he reminisced about the time he’d fought alongside the laird himself.
Morgan turned to her. “You’re quiet tonight, Lindsay.”
“Aye. Tired, I suppose. But pleasantly so.”
As she stood and made ready to clear the table, Morgan caught her arm, stilling her movements. “Leave that.”
“But Morgan…”
He shook his head firmly. “Not tonight, my lady. The children and I will see to this. You can take yourself off to the stream for a leisurely bath.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “A bath? Before the chores are finished? Morgan, I’ll feel so…decadent.”
“Go on, lass,” her father urged. “’Twill be good for you.”
She knew her father wanted to get back to his talk of battles. But she needed no further urging. Climbing the ladder to the sleeping loft, she snatched up her nightshift and a shawl for warmth, then hurried off to the stream.
Never before had she had the time for such a long, leisurely bath. As evening shadows gathered, and clouds scudded past the moon, she lathered her hair and body, and splashed in the water to rinse. While she dried herself she studied her body, wondering what Morgan saw when he looked at her. Did he like the look of her? The color of her hair? The shape of her body? Did his heart race the way hers did when they touched? Did he want, more than anything in the world, to lie with her? The thought had her trembling as she slipped into her nightshift and raced across the damp grass toward the hut.
By the time she returned, her father and the children had taken themselves off to bed. The little hut was so quiet, only the sound of the fire broke the silence. With a feeling of anticipation, she latched the door.
Across the room Morgan stepped from the shadows and her heart gave a little lurch, before it began speeding up.
“Come over here by the fire and warm yourself.” He held out a fur throw and she crossed the room to him.
He led her close to the hearth and paused behind her, wrapping the fur around her shoulders. “You’re shivering.”
“Aye. Despite the fact that the water was freezing, I had no wish to hurry. It isn’t often I have such a luxury as this, so I took my time until I’d nearly turned to ice.”
Not ice, he realized as his arms slowly circled around her, just beneath the fullness of her breasts. Warm flesh and blood that had his own blood heating.
“Mmm. You smell of evergreen.” He pressed his lips to her temple and absorbed the first staggering jolt to his system.
She sighed as his warm breath caused delicious tingles of fire and ice to dance along her spine.
“Does the fire help warm you?” He dragged his mouth down her cheek to her jaw, then lower, to the delicate column of her throat.
“Aye.” But she knew it wasn’t the fire that was causing this heat. It was the touch of his lips. What was worse, the press of his big hands, so close to her breasts, seemed a terrible distraction.
She wanted him to touch her. Wanted it desperately. But when he made no move to do so, she arched her neck, giving him access to the sensitive skin of her throat.
Dangerous, he thought. He had sworn to her father that he would be her protector. And here he was, tempting himself with pleasures he had no right to. But he couldn’t resist. Not when she was moving against him like this.
On a moan he ran hot, wet kisses across her shoulder. Against his will his hands began a lazy exploration of their own. His thumbs skimmed her breasts. He felt her nipples harden, which added to his arousal.
“Oh, Morgan.” She turned, wrapping her arms around his neck as she fitted herself to him so perfectly. “I don’t know…I don’t know what to do. But I want to learn.”
He froze. “Learn?”
“To please you. I want to make you happy. To make you love me.” She knew she was rambling, but the words came tumbling out.
“Lindsay…”
“Shhh. It’s all right.” She touched a finger to his lips, and heard his little intake of breath. Emboldened, she began to trace the outline of his mouth with her finger. She was pleased to see his eyes grow hot.
“I’ve heard about warriors. About the women who follow them, and learn to please them. I can learn, if only you’ll teach me.”
Did she know what she was offering? He looked down at her and felt a knife-edge of pain to his heart. She was so sweet. So innocent. And each moment he lingered here, he was tempting himself with something he had no right to. He was treading on dangerous ground, he knew. Taking himself to the very edge of something. But the touch of her finger against his lips was the sweetest of pleasures.
The truth was, he wanted her. Dear heaven, how he wanted her. But she was an innocent. How could he claim to protect her when what he wanted was to take her virtue?
With a feeling of self-loathing, he lowered his hands and took a step back.
Lindsay stared at him in disbelief. “What is it, Morgan? What have I done?”
“It isn’t anything you’ve done. It’s me. I…need the night air.”
He turned and headed for the door.
At the sound of her little cry, he almost gave in and halted. But he reminded himself that he’d given his word to her father. With shaking hands he unlatched the door and strode out into the night, without a backward glance.
Chapter Eight
Lindsay stood watching as Morgan walked away. When the door closed, she remained perfectly still, as though carved from stone. Shock rippled through her, leaving her rigid.
She had done it again. With a few simple words, she had driven Morgan away. That realization brought a wave of pain that nearly buckled her knees. Grasping the back of the settle, she held on to keep from sinking to the floor.
As she stood there she went over every word she’d spoken. Every move she’d made.
All she had wanted was to please him. But he had coldly rejected her offer. Worse, he’d walked away. Again. What did other women know that she didn’t? How could she make him see that all she wanted was his love?
Love. This man already owned her heart. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted him to make love with her. Yet, every time she offered, he rejected her.
Oh, if only her mother had lived, or her worldly sister-in-law. They would have been able to teach her the ways of a woman. Instead she was ignorant. Ignorant and clumsy.
Fool, she berated herself as she began to pace in front of the fire. Stupid, silly fool. Throwing herself at Morgan like that. Like some coarse temptress, arousing him.
She suddenly stopped pacing. Aye. He’d been aroused. Every bit as aroused as she.
So why had he spurned her offer?
She began to pace again. Maybe he wasn’t rejecting her. Maybe there was something else here.
She turned to stare at the closed door. Despite the fact that Morgan was a warrior, a man who went from glen to village, seeking out the barbarians and engaging t
hem in battle, he wasn’t like some of the men, who carelessly used the women he met, and then left without a backward glance. There was something fine and noble about Morgan. Hadn’t he asked her father’s permission to court her? Hadn’t he vowed to see to her future, and that of her family?
Could it be that he was more concerned with her honor than with his own needs?
She closed her eyes, and drew her arms around herself, letting out a long, slow sigh of relief as the knowledge washed over her. Of course. Morgan was banking his own desire, in order to be true to his vow to protect her.
She opened her eyes and let out a little laugh of delight. Oh, how she loved him. And why not? What other man would have had the courage to walk away, rather than take what she had offered?
She laughed again as she grabbed up the fur throw and headed out into the darkness. She would find Morgan. After that, she had no idea what she would do.
Morgan stood beside the stream, breathing deeply, filling his lungs with cold night air. He’d managed to get away. Barely. Another minute in that hut and he’d have taken her right there. Though he wanted to be strong enough for both of them, the truth was, he was a mere man. And what Lindsay offered was all that he desired. All and more.
There had been many a village lass who had thrown herself at the son of the laird, hoping to become the lady of the land. And since becoming a warrior, he’d been offered the charms of many a Highland lass, who merely wished to fill a lonely hour or two. But in his heart he craved something much more. He’d seen the love between his father and mother. A love brighter than the sun. He had always known that he’d never settle for less.
With Lindsay, he had found all he was searching for. There was such goodness in her. A nobility that was rare. He wanted to love her, to cherish her. To ravish her.
He clenched his fists and lifted his face to the sky. Aye. If truth be told, he wanted, more than anything in the world, to satisfy his lust and fill himself with her. Even now, the need for her was a living, pulsing thing.
“Here you are.”
At the sound of her breathless voice, he whirled.
His eyes were hot. At the fierce look of him, she came to an abrupt halt and lifted a hand to her throat.
“Why are you here, Lindsay?”
“I…” She swallowed back her fear. “I needed to see you. To explain…”
“You owe me no explanation.” He turned away, to keep from seeing the hurt in her eyes.
She studied his rigid back. Her tone softened. “Nay. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps it is you who should explain.”
He refused to turn. With his back to her he said, “The hour is late. Go back to the hut, Lindsay.”
“Nay.” She forced herself to step closer. Tentatively she reached out a hand to his shoulder.
He flinched. His tone sharpened. “What game do you play now?”
“This is no game, Morgan.” She sandwiched his hand between both of hers and pressed her lips to his shoulder. “I just want to be here with you.”
He nearly groaned at the flood of feelings unleashed by the brush of her mouth against his naked flesh. But he stood, straight and tall, refusing to give in to the weakness. “You play with fire, Lindsay.”
“Aye. There’s fire between us. But I don’t wish to bank it. Instead, I want to see it blaze.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and forced him to look at her. “Oh, Morgan, don’t you see? I love you. Only you. And I want you to love me. Here. Now.”
He caught her roughly by the shoulders, holding her a little away, so that he could see her eyes. “Listen to me, Lindsay. I’ve done everything I could to spare your virtue. But I’m only human. If you persist in this, there’ll be no going back.”
“I don’t wish to go back, Morgan. I don’t want to be that lonely lass, always dreaming of a brave, handsome warrior.” Her eyes filled, and she blinked furiously, struggling for control. “You’re here with me now. We’re together. And I want to lie with you. I want to love you. I want you to love me.”
The hands at her shoulders were no longer rough. Nor was his gaze fierce as it roamed her face, searching for any hint of fear. What he saw was a love, a longing, that matched his own.
“Ah, Lindsay. You wear me down.” He dragged her close and pressed his forehead to hers. “I have no more strength to fight you.” He pressed nibbling kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Though God knows I’ve tried.”
And then there were no words as he covered her mouth with his in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it stole her breath.
When at last he lifted his head, he ran nibbling kisses across her forehead, down her cheek, along the curve of her jaw until she sighed and lifted her lips to his. Instead he surprised her by tracing the circle of her ear before tugging lightly on her lobe. Just as she began to relax he darted his tongue inside, sending her pulse racing.
She shivered and tried to push away but he burned a trail of kisses down the smooth column of her throat. Her heart started hammering and she had to clutch at him for support.
With his lips on hers he lowered her to the fur at their feet, where they knelt, facing each other.
“There’s still time to change your mind, Lindsay.”
At the fierce, hot look in his eyes, she pressed a hand to his chest and could feel his heartbeat, as thunderous as her own.
“Nay, Morgan. I’ll not leave you.” She twined her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for another drugging kiss.
“Praise heaven,” he muttered inside her mouth. “For if you tried to leave now, I’d have to beg you to stay.”
The thought of this noble warrior begging had her heart tumbling, as she gave herself up to his kiss.
Despite the frigid night air, the heat rose up between them, filling their lungs, making their breathing shallow.
Knowing what they were about to share, Morgan fought to bank his needs and move slowly. This was, after all, her first time. He would make it the sweetest of gifts, for it was all he had to give her.
Seeing the fear in her eyes, his kisses gentled, as did his touch. With lips and fingertips he explored her face, her throat, the soft swell of her breasts. And with each brush of his mouth, his tongue, he felt her body grow more tense, her breathing become more shallow.
Steeped in the most amazing sensations, Lindsay gave herself up to the pleasure. Whenever she became alarmed at what they were about to share, his movements slowed, his kisses soothed until she slipped once more into a misty, dreamlike state.
He was so patient, as he kissed, caressed, touched. With soft sighs and tender words he allowed her to set her own pace until she was able to put her fears to rest and begin to trust.
Trust. It was that realization that kept her from flinching as he began to unbutton her nightshift.
He watched her eyes as he undressed her. He had to curb the desire to tear the shift from her. Instead, sensing her need for tenderness, he kept his movements slow and deliberate. When he slipped the gown from her shoulders, he bent to brush soft, wet kisses across her naked flesh.
“Ah, Lindsay, you’re so beautiful.” He recalled that morning at the stream, and the glimpse he’d had of her beauty. Now he had a chance to really appreciate how perfect she was. “You’re more beautiful than I’d dreamed.”
His own heart was thundering as she reached for the plaid. When her fingers fumbled he helped her, until it was discarded beside her shift.
With a sound that was more animal than human he plunged his hands into the tangles of her hair and drew her head back, savaging her mouth. For a moment she stiffened at the quick flash of fear. Then it was swept away in a flood of newly awakened passion.
She brought her arms around his waist and felt his trembling reaction, as his hands moved over her, exciting her, enticing her.
This darker side to his passion was unbearably arousing. The knowledge that it was her touch, her kiss, that had unleashed such fervor, made her bold. With lips and tongue and fingertips, she e
xplored him as he was exploring her.
He knew he could take her here, now. The need hummed between them, desperate for release. But he wanted to give her so much more. Not just passion. He wanted her to experience the madness. The hard, driving need that would take hold and push all other thought aside.
With exquisite tenderness he lay her down on the fur and brought his mouth to her breast, nibbling and suckling until she writhed and moaned. But still he held back, driving her closer and closer to the edge.
The feel of his hands and mouth on her flesh was unlike anything Lindsay had ever experienced. With a sigh she shuddered and strained against him as he moved over her.
He felt her stiffen as he brought his mouth down and she reached the first crest. He gave her no time to catch her breath as he took her again, on a wild ride that had her gasping his name.
Her eyes darkened with passion. And though she hadn’t thought it possible, she wanted more. She wanted all.
“Please, Morgan,” she whispered on a fierce sigh. “Love me. Take me. Now.”
As he entered her she wrapped herself around him, moving with him, climbing with him.
He breathed in the fragrance of evergreen, and knew that it would always remind him of this moment, and this woman, and the amazing love he had discovered.
And then they were moving together, soaring across the Highlands, until they reached the highest peak, and floated free.
It was the journey of a lifetime.
“Lindsay.” Morgan lifted his head to stare down at the woman in his arms.
Her lashes fluttered, and then he was staring into those incredible eyes, as green as a Highland loch.
“Aye, love.”
Love. The word made him smile. “It’s nearly dawn. Your father and the children will be waking soon.” He brushed his lips over hers and felt the quick surge of heat. Would it always be thus, he wondered? Would he always feel this flash of fire whenever they touched?
She yawned, stretched, moving against him like a kitten. The heat grew and he moaned as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
All night they had loved, dozed, then loved again. Yet each time had been different. At times a frenzy of heat that threatened to consume them. At other times as slow, as languorous, as old lovers who had all the time in the world.
