His Woman (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Diana J. Cosby

  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, savoured 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, savouring 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 and 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 savoured 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 savoured 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, marvelling 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.

  Lying naked before him, Isabel made to cover herself.

  "No, let me see all of you."

  Had he not already seen all there was to see? Touched everything there was to touch?

  Isabel hesitated, lulled by the heat in his eyes. She'd anticipated making love to Duncan, but in her mind it had been hurried, frenzied, a mating rather than a deep joining of the bodies.

  Never had she anticipated it being so much more.

  Had he truly done those intimately wicked things to her? Had she truly let him? Her body quaked with the after effects she wasn't sure she would recover from.

  Was this normal? Did all women find such enjoyment?

  Emotion welled up in her at Duncan's thoughtfulness, at how he caressed her, watched her as if something to be cherished—his reverence something she'd believed she'd lost.

  With her nerves receding, the warmth of moments ago flooded her body, tingles of pleasure rippling through her to tease her most sensitive places. She embraced each sensual shiver, the warmth pooling in her most private place, the rush of anticipation coursing through her body.

  Never had she known being with a man would be so exquisite. Heat infused her as she remembered the intimacy of how he'd touched her. How he'd used his tongue with such indecency. And his fingers. He'd caressed her everywhere, stroked her until he left

  her blind with need. Even now, tremors from her release rumbled through her in silent ecstasy.

  Wanting him to see her, Isabel uncovered her breasts. His gaze riveted on her, the intensity of his desire leaving her aching with anticipation. He scanned her body with mind-spinning slowness. Wherever his gaze roamed, her skin fluttered with excitement. She recognized the sweep of anxiousness, how her body tightened in readiness for Duncan's touch. Was her response what he would expect from a seasoned woman as he believed her to be?

  Nerves wove through her bravado. Duncan had known many women. Had he discovered her innocence? Unsure, Isabel started to look away.

  Duncan caught her face in hands. Frowned. "What is wrong?"

  Ashamed, she shook her head. "I know so little about the joining," she whispered. "You are a man who has known the pleasures to be found in making love. And I..."

  "Have been treated poorly."

  She looked at him then, the flicker of anger, of remembrance on his face in opposition to the softness of his words.

  "No," he said when she made to speak. "I do not want to know any details. At least for this night."

  Isabel swallowed hard, then nodded.

  Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with the daylight, the reality that kept them apart.

  He lay by her side, brushed a swath of hair from her brow. "This night is for us." He kissed her gently, with urgency until doubts left her mind and her body filled with a languid heat. On a soft groan, he placed gentle kisses across her cheek.

  "Your clothes," she murmured through sensation.

  "A fair request," he replied through the next kiss. He stood. With infinite slowness, he removed his garb piece by excruciating piece. Muscles bunched, rippled up his arms and chest as he withdrew his shirt, exposing his hewn frame. A body made for war. A body that knew how to make love to a woman.

  Piece by piece, he exposed himself to her. With his eyes locked on hers, he slowly untied the final garment shielding him from her view. Loosened, he slid his thumbs beneath the woven cloth, paused, then released. The tangle of cloth dropped to the floor atop the last of his garb.

  He stood before her naked, totally exposed. Taut muscle honed to sheer perfection crafted a warrior's chest, angled down to where blond hair narrowed to a tangle of twists leading to where he stood readied for her.

  Heat stroked her cheeks as she looked her fill. His masculinity jutted proudly from a profusion of unruly curls that added to the power he exuded. She swallowed, trembling, unable to look away.

  Duncan shifted and she jerked her head up to find him watching her, his gaze, dark, intense, and sensual.

  "You are beautiful," she breathed.

  Desire kindled in his eyes as he knelt before her, his gaze never leaving hers. He traced his finger in a slow trail from the pad of her bottom lip across her chin, along her throat to pause where her pulse raced wildly.

  "As are you." His hand skimmed along her shoulders, curved to flow beneath her breast. "Touch me, Isabel."

  Curious, she reached out. His muscled body quivered beneath her fingers.

  He caught her hand within his, set it over his heart; it pounded beneath her palm. "My tremors are from the wanting of you.

  He sealed his words with a kiss, one meant to seduce, to excite, to wash away all thoughts of everything but him. She savoured the thrill of her naked body against his, the roughness of his maleness pressing against her soft, sensitive flesh.

  Her hands slid over the hard planes of his body, the taut muscles exciting her more.

  "Isabel," he whispered as he positioned himself intimately against her. Propped on his elbows, he watched her a moment

  before he dipped to nuzzle her neck. "You taste like seasoned honey made only for me."

  With Isabel's moans of passion firing his blood, Duncan pressed her onto the bed, enjoying her every shiver, her every twist of delight as he teased her with his tongue. Her taste exploded in his mind, a combination of innocence and woman, an intoxicating mix that he wanted forever.

  Though there was a mix of questions and contradictions, these past few days with her had taught him that he still cared for Isabel. Now, with her in his arms, her taste potent in his mouth, he realized his feelings for her went deeper than he'd ever believed possible.

  A shiver stole through him, but it had naught to do with how the slide of her body against his drove him wild, or that for the first time since she left he felt whole. The emotions storming him were more than he'd expected. More than he'd ever anticipated feeling for Isabel ever again.

  A sword's wrath, he loved her.

  Except this time, there was no turning back. He'd not seen the moment coming, or if he had, he'd deluded himself with thoughts of caring, of his feelings of those growing up with her, of having wanted to many her. How could he be such a fool to think he could ever have stopped loving Isabel?

  The demands of his body moments before, the urge to take her, claim her, deepened to a fierce level. Aye, he wanted her, would make her his, but this time, he was offering her the greatest gift.

  That of his heart.

  If he was a fool to love her, so be it. He loved her too much to give her up now.

  With his mind steeped in emotions he'd never again believed he'd experience, he poured them into his every touch, his every kiss. His fingers teased, lingered across her sensitive skin, wanting her to know what she made him feel. How he felt, for her.

  With incredible care, he wove his hands over her skin, sliding along the flat of her stomach to the gift she'd given him this night. This time, when he reached his destination, the shock in her eyes of before darkened to needy expectation.

  He inhaled her woman's scent as he opened her fullness for his view. "You are so ready for me." Unable to hold back, he tasted her, the warmth of her body's invitation, his own body pounding its need.

  "Duncan," she gasped as he slowly suckled her most private place, his tongue teasing, then swirling to outline where she pulsed for him.

  He pressed his thumb against the moist walls of her sheath, and her hips raised in response.

  With her body writhing beneath his, silently begging for release, Duncan aligned his body over hers, his hardness pressing intimately against the warmth of her dewy entrance.

  Glazed with passion, Isabel watched him, her breaths short and coming fast. She caught his hips, pulled him closer. "I need you so much."

  The pulse of her warmth throbbed against his sensitive shaft, testing his will. He held on to his control, barely. Coveri
ng her mouth with his own, he drew her into a long, drugging kiss.

  Need built within him like a river gorged. As he inched deeper, Isabel cried out. She jerked and her body began contracting around him. Swept away by emotion, he pulled back and drove deep.

  The slight resistance was his only warning as he tore through Isabel's innocence. He didn't miss the flicker of pain tangled within the passion.

  Her slick walls tightened around him. Desire tore through his thoughts, suffocating all but the elemental need to take her. So he moved, withdrew to submerge himself in her heat, until his strokes grew fast and his mind blurred with the taking. Somewhere in the blinding haze of need, Isabel's release broke his fragile hold.

  Duncan poured into her, his body racked with blissful spasms that left him drained. Exhausted. He crumpled to her side. Out of sheer reaction he drew her to him, cradled against his nakedness.

  Next to him, her breathing calmed. The rapid pace of her heartbeat slowed to a steady, normal pace when this moment was anything but.

  Tears shimmered in Isabel's eyes, but her emotion couldn't navigate through the dark fury building within Duncan's soul.

  He wished they were simply lovers, not caught up in a web of deceit so he could relish lying in the arms of the woman he loved.

  Loved.

  Bitterness tainted the beauty thoughts of the word should bring. Pain twisted inside him. "How," Duncan asked with lethal calm, "could you still be a virgin?"

  Chapter 17

  "No more lies," Duncan said between clenched teeth. "You will explain everything now!"

  At the anger churning on his face, Isabel's guilt at hiding her innocence and about Frasyer doubled. "Yes, I did lie to you," she whispered, aching inside, "but I had a reason." She reached out to touch him.

  As if scalded with hot water, Duncan released her. He sat on the edge of the bed, his face cast in harsh lines. "A reason for lying to me these past three years? A reason for convincing me that you were Frasyer's whore? What possible reason could you have for denying our love a chance to grow? Nay, no need to explain," he seethed, "the reason is clear. You wanted Frasyer's wealth more than you wanted me."