His hips flexed. Heat swelled inside her. Inner muscles clenched about him, tightened. A low groan warmed her ear. A slow smile spread across her face.
‘You mean … here?’ She clamped around him.
A shudder shook him. ‘Aye—Christ!’
Kenzie grinned as a surge of power rushed through her from head to toe. It seemed she wasn’t entirely at his mercy. She too, could make demands with her body. It was only fair.
She gasped as his hot mouth closed over her breast. Her back arched, granting him greater access, giving her the closeness she craved. Every nerve ending started and ended about her swollen breast. A soft moan filled the air.
‘Let me hear you sing.’
‘Are you daft?’ A mewling cry hissed from her lips as his mouth swooped down and captured her other nipple. Fingers of fire swept her side, caressed her hip, and slid into the curls where his body joined to hers.
She shivered, shuddered, gasped. Breathed, gasped again as his mouth feasted and his hand played, swirled. Then he moved inside her, his body slowly rocking into her, against her. Rekindling the fire he’d set to burn. Sliding in, withdrawing, teasing. Awakening madness, burning need.
His thrusts quickened, lunged deeper, fanning the flames higher, brighter. She clutched his powerful shoulders, her fingers struggling to anchor on his slick, heated skin. Tilting her hips, she pressed her lower body up as he surged down, driving deep.
Heart thumping near out of her chest, she held on, rising to meet him, as his lips scored up her neck and seized her mouth. His tongue stole inside, tangling with hers. His fire scorched her, merged with her own. Leaping flames flared higher, brighter, roared as a night sky of stars burst to life inside her. Twinkling, shimmering, falling, fading, until only the night remained.
***
Almighty God.
Stunned, Lachlan lay with his face buried in the warm curve of his wife’s neck, surviving on lavender-scented breaths, waiting for his thundering heart to slow. As it did, he fought the notion of losing control.
He’d never in his life been swamped by the fierce, mind-stealing desire he’d just suffered making Kenzie his. Now she was, he’d ensure she’d only ever be his.
A mixture of regret for causing her pain, and triumph for staking his claim trapped the air in his lungs. Her grasping fingers, surging hips and pleading whimpers had driven him to the edge of rapturous oblivion. Her lilting scream of release had pushed him over.
She was as passionate as she was stubborn, could be as frustrating as she was beautiful.
Mine.
Heat coiled about his heart.
He frowned at the sensation he’d experienced more and more of late. No doubt his sense of triumph mingled with his relief at knowing he was her first, her only lover, must be the cause in this instance.
He’d promised his father he’d marry and he had. He’d also vowed to beget an heir. Now he’d bedded his bride, he’d soon achieve all his father had asked of him.
Aye, the frequent fullness, the constant warmth crowding his chest, was due to him being so close to fulfilling the promises that had haunted him for far too long. That was all.
His reasoning was sound. It had to be. He latched onto it and focused his awareness on the soft form beneath him. The beating of her heart against his chest. The welcome weight of her leg, barely there, draping the back of his. His right hand lay trapped under them, palm up, cupping a soft globe of flesh. Silken thighs cradled his hips. Her heat embraced him still.
His body stirred. He frowned. So soon? Too soon.
Retrieving his hand he pushed upright and with brutal reluctance, slipped free to the bed beside her. His reward a murmured protest from her lips and an unfettered view of her luscious body.
His unshaven jaw had left patches of pink scoring her neck, upper chest and the creamy swell of her breasts. She looked like she suffered a permanent blush. A sheen of moisture on her smooth stomach glistened in the weak firelight. Her innocence and his seed smeared the gentle slope of her inner thighs.
His wife. His.
Again, heat coiled about his heart.
Chapter 19
A whisper-soft touch drew Kenzie out of the languorous void she’d tumbled into. Limbs pleasurably heavy, mind pleasantly clouded, she turned her cheek into the gentle caress and lifted her weighted eyelids. Lachlan’s handsome face, surrounded by mussed fair hair, swam into view. The blue of his eyes was hidden in shadows, but the warmth of his gaze and the upward curve of his mouth beckoned a smile to her own lips.
‘Hello, wife.’ The husky timbre of his greeting set her slumberous nerves to tingling.
‘Hello—’ The fog cleared. Air rushed in on a gasp, trapping his name. Heated kisses. Scorching, bold caresses. Wanting. Pain. Blinding lights. Heaven.
Dear God. She was naked.
‘Husband? Lachlan?’ he calmly suggested, capturing her wrists as she made to pull the coverlet over her breasts. ‘Or perhaps,’ he said, trapping her hands each side of her head and raking her exposed flesh with his molten gaze, ‘the most fortunate of men.’
Her heart swelled at the appreciation in his tone.
‘Delicious.’
A breathless shiver racked her body.
His tongue ran the length of his lips as if he were a man famished and she his feast.
Heat blossomed low in her belly. Relaxing beneath his gentle hold, she let him look his fill, basking in the light of his admiration. Never had she felt such glowing confidence. Pride welled in her chest. A radiance more powerful, brighter than the sun, unfurled in the centre of her heart. She felt delicious. Beautiful. Loved?
‘Ah, my tempting wife.’ His head lowered and he skimmed her lips with a kiss. ‘If I do not move now, we will never leave my bed.’ His shuddering sigh mingled with hers. ‘Come, lest the water grows cold again.’
She’d thought she’d experienced the sum of ‘more’ with their first joining, but he proved her wrong. Scooping her up from the bed, he climbed into the tub and sank down into the water, knees bent, her legs straddling his lean hips. Liquid sloshed over the tub’s sides.
His large, gentle hands bathed her, worshipping her breasts with circling caresses, soothing the tenderness between her thighs with lingering strokes. His desire a hard ridge of flesh beneath her.
Cradling her against his broad chest, he stepped from the tub. Her skin glowed from his touch, which fanned the flames deep inside her. Her bones were as soft as a spring blossom. Using a length of linen, he rubbed every bead of moisture from her body, adding others as he licked and nibbled the sensitive flesh across her shoulders and the tender skin of her nape. He then wrapped her in another linen and, sitting in one of the chairs, settled her across his bare thighs.
She ate the morsels of cheese and smoked ham he pressed between her lips, the reminder to chew and swallow a constant chant in her muddled, heat-soaked mind. Wine trickled from her mouth down her chin and splashed her chest. Whether it was due to her clumsy lips or his shaking hand, she had no clue, nor did she care. He soon licked every drop with his tongue, his mouth wandering down her neck and over her breasts where no wine had spilled at all.
They didn’t leave the chamber for the remainder of that day, or the next. Inner flames crackled and burned. Smoldering embers fired her blood. During those two magical days and feverish nights, she learned more about her body than she’d dreamed possible. She also revelled in the wondrous discoveries she made while exploring Lachlan’s magnificent form.
She learned how to make him shudder and groan by lightly trailing her fingertips down his sensitive sides. Nipping the flesh above his left hip with her teeth sent him into fits of deep, masculine laughter. She silently promised to unearth more of his body’s delightful secrets.
Two mornings later, when the food ran out and no pails of fresh water remained to heat, they dressed in more than bare flesh, firelight, and lengths of linen, and left the haven of their chamber.
As they descended the stairs to t
he Great Hall, she wondered if she looked as different as she felt. She’d made her choice when she’d uttered that single word—stay. He’d accepted, and now it was time for her to settle in as his wife both in and out of his bed. But could she be the lady of Castle Redheugh?
She drew strength from his presence, her arm tucked firmly beneath his, and stepped down into the buzzing hall. Despite the flush warming every inch of her skin, her cheeks burned hot at the knowing grins cast their way. Head held high, and with a natural smile born of her new-found confidence, she slid into her rightful place at the laird’s table.
She fell more in love with Lachlan with every passing day. It was as if she were shedding the shadows she’d drawn about her and was moving into the light. She’d been captured, yet she relished the sense of freedom and happiness that lightened her step and brightened each cloudy day.
With guidance from Lachlan and his steward, the next two weeks passed swiftly, as she learned what was expected of her as the lady of the castle. Her confidence grew and her doubts about being able to carry out her set tasks quickly dissolved.
She sewed with the women by the giant hearth, aided the servants in the kitchens and chatted about healing with Iona. The quick-witted healer instructed her on the simplest of healing herbs: wormwood aided unsettled stomachs; feverfew reduced the redness of a wound and was effective as a mild calmative. While Kenzie couldn’t personally press yarrow leaves to a wound to stop the bleeding for fear of swooning, she absorbed the useful knowledge and would pass it on to Martha when she visited the cottage next.
Iona also removed the stitches from Lachlan’s arm. Later, Kenzie had pressed her lips to the thin, pink line, a tender apology he’d accepted by indicating other places he wished for her to kiss, none of which showed any marked injury.
She complied.
Kenzie also paid particular attention to the two men who’d been wounded the night of the raid. Keddy made a swift and full recovery and resumed his duties, while Dorrell’s slashed thigh took longer to heal. But with her encouragement, he was soon on his feet, testing his weight, and despite a slight limp, begged to man the gates if not the enclosure.
Time passed quickly, checking the stores, counting candles, discussing what would be served at meals with Castle Redheugh’s cook. She spoke with each of the guards and learned about their loved ones, visited the washhouse, and then the blacksmith to ask if he could fashion a larger iron tub to better fit the bed linens needing to be washed.
Many sought her opinion and as she gladly gave it, she often looked up, or peered over her shoulder, to find her husband’s attention fixed on her.
Her favourite part of the day was watching Lachlan practise his sword skills each morning. The thrill at seeing him in action, all might and power, never waned. When he was done, they strolled to the stables where he set her on fire with demanding, promising kisses. The nights, wrapped in Lachlan’s heated embrace, were pure Heaven.
On a clear, crisp morning, with cheerful banter filling the hall as they broke their fast, Father Tremayne stated his need to return to his duties in Dumfries.
‘My work, God’s will, is done here,’ he said with a satisfied smile crinkling his weathered cheeks.
‘Aye,’ Lachlan said, reaching for her hand and placing a soft kiss on the back of her fingers. ‘I will escort you to Dumfries midmorning.’
Kenzie now understood the intent behind every twinkle, gleam, or blaze she spied in Lachlan’s eyes. The gleam she noticed simmering in the blue now sent a swirling shiver of anticipation through her. Tonight, he would tease, coax and make his demands on her slowly, stretching her senses, torturing her flesh until she begged him to free her from his sensual torment.
Curse him. The day had barely dawned.
The priest left the table to make his round of farewells and to pack his meager belongings.
‘Care to view a man of skill at work?’ Lachlan said, waggling his brows and rising from his chair.
Peering up at the sinful smile lurking about his mouth, she suppressed her quiver of delight by giving a careless shrug. ‘Since I have naught else to do, watching you play will fill in time until something exciting snares my interest.’
Grinning, he tugged on the hand he still held, drawing her to her feet. He turned her hand over. ‘I will do my best to entertain you,’ he said, licking the centre of her palm.
She couldn’t repress the shiver that shot up her arm. Curling her fingers over her damp skin, she looked straight into his gleaming eyes. ‘Beast,’ she gasped.
He chuckled, linked her arm through his and led her out into the chill morning.
The brisk air restored a small measure of her composure as he guided her to the long wooden bench he’d carried from the hall a sennight past and relocated to the keep’s south side. ‘For your comfort,’ he’d stated with a bow.
After guiding her to her seat, he offered a wink and a wicked smile and strode off to collect his sword from one of his men. He appeared to enjoy her watching him hone his sword skills almost as much as she delighted in the viewing.
Her mouth dried the moment he pulled his linen shirt over his head. Her heart fluttered as he began to twist and turn, lunge and weave about each practice opponent. Muscles bunched and tightened across his wide shoulders and back. The tanned flesh rippled over his powerful chest, his thick arms bulged, shifting with each stroke he made in attack or defence. A sheen of moisture, captured by the early morning light, glistened on his bare skin.
Merciful Heaven’s, God had been in a glorious mood the day he’d created her husband.
Heat prickled beneath her woollen gown, as if she were the one exerting herself. Images of him covering her, beneath her, surrounding her in a different dance flickered through her mind, awakening her hunger. She had no control over her body’s response when it came to Lachlan. It was as if every sensation she now experienced had lain dormant, waiting for him to awaken them.
Long ago, she’d vowed to never bring a child into an uncaring world. She knew what it was to be overlooked, forgotten. She knew the hollow ache that was fierce enough to curl a body up tight while you cried a stream. But now, knowing Lachlan, the world didn’t seem as cold and uncaring.
A thrilling thought. A frightening thought.
Kenzie watched as the man who tested yet another of her beliefs laid aside his broadsword and splashed the sweat from his face and body. By the time he was done, she needed a good dousing with cold water too.
He swaggered toward her, the handsome brute. He knew too well how easily he set her heart to racing, her nerves to tingling, and her body to aching. She drew a steadying breath and tried for a long-suffering expression, but it proved most difficult when he came and stood toe to toe with her. With her sitting and him standing, the rippling flesh of his bare torso drew level with her gaze until he finally donned his shirt.
‘Oh, is it over?’ she breathed, then cursed herself that it wasn’t the bland enquiry she meant it to be.
‘Aye.’ His smile was evident in the single word. ‘Were you terribly bored?’
She enjoyed their banter, though he was far better at it than she. But she was improving with the passing of each day.
‘Just a little,’ she responded, taking his proffered hand.
‘Come to the stables and I’ll beg your forgiveness.’
Anticipation tingled through her as his warm fingers trapped hers and tugged. She almost had to run to keep up with his lengthy stride. Her blood pulsed with excitement as he pulled her across the bailey and dragged her past the four horses saddled and waiting to be mounted.
‘Don’t you need to leave?’
‘‘Tis good being laird,’ he said and tossed a grin over his shoulder as they entered the stables.
They marched by the stalls where numerous pretty eyes watched their progress from the shadows. He stopped in the darkness at the furthest end, turned, grasped her upper arms and slowly backed her into the corner.
‘Don’t. Move.’
>
Her shoulders settled on the angled wall. Releasing her, he placed his hands against the wood either side of her head. She pressed her palms flat to the timbers behind. Dim light outlined his towering form, stealing her view of his face. She looked up and watched as the dark shape of his head lowered. His heat drew near, swirling about her. He shifted closer. She sensed the prelude to his touch. He left her waiting.
A broken breath escaped her lips as a warm whisper of air brushed her cheek, then her mouth, her other cheek, before descending to brush her chin and neck. She heard his deep inhalations over the sound of her thundering heart, as if he were drawing her in, absorbing her scent, her essence, with every deep breath.
Her body quickened, wept. Slick heat dampened her inner thighs. Her fingers bit into the wall’s hard surface. Her nipples hardened at his nearness as the flames inside her licked higher. She struggled not to move, fought not to reach for him with her hands, her mouth and her body. Anticipation grew to a fever pitch, spurred on by her battle to obey his command. The sensations were too much to bear. Her restraint frayed, began to crumble.
Warm hands molded her hips and she hissed in joyous relief at his touch. Fingers kneaded, shifted around to her buttocks, firmed, and pulled her into his hardness.
Raising her hands, she tangled her fingers in the silky hair at his nape and drew his mouth to hers. Lips met, melded, scorching her senses. Powerful arms wrapped about her and crushed her breasts against his chest. She moaned. He swallowed the hungry sound. Tongues entwining, he breathed for her and she for him. His groan rumbled through her, slipped into her mouth. She absorbed the heady taste. His lips gentled, withdrew. Not ready for the torment to end, she stretched on her toes and followed.
‘We have company,’ he murmured against her mouth.
A distant voice reached her ears. ‘One of the stable lad’s said the laird and his lady came this way.’
‘I must go.’ His lips brushed hers, and then lifted.
The Thief Page 18
