“All right,” he answered, before she heard the fading sound of boot heels on cobblestone.
“Raith?” she asked, just to make sure he had gone. When he didn’t answer, she decided it was safe to let Meggie in. “I still think you’re cruel using a child this way, to flay my conscience,” Katrine muttered as she struggled to lift the heavy bar.
She had pulled open the door a crack when Raith suddenly shoved it hard, brushing her aside as he entered the small chamber. The shock of seeing him held Katrine motionless for an instant. In a single leap, he descended the steps, his eyes searching the buttery as if he wanted to be certain she hadn’t discovered the weapons cache, while hers searched the yard for Meggie. There was no sign of the child.
Katrine’s mouth dropped open as the truth dawned on her. Raith had tricked her! Of all the perfidious— She whirled on him, enraged. “You louse! You sneaking Highland louse! You deceived me!”
“Did I?” He blew out the candle, then bounded up the steps and grasped her by the arm. “I warned you I wouldn’t put up with this nonsense. Now come on.”
“Ouch! What are you doing? I won’t go anywhere with you—” But her protests fell on deaf ears as Raith hauled her out of the buttery and into the house.
It was humiliating being dragged down the hall in front of an audience of gaping servants and loitering clansmen who had come out to watch the commotion. Katrine doubled her efforts to be free. “You cad! You blackguard! You—you lowly worm! I’ll see you hanged for this!”
He started to pull her up the narrow service stairs, but she managed to wrench her arm from his grip and race for the door. Before she had taken two steps, though, Raith had caught her. Whirling her around, he bent down and flung her over a muscular shoulder. Before Katrine knew it, she was being heaved up the stairs like a sack of oats, head dangling, posterior raised in the air.
Struggling and incensed, she pounded on Raith’s back with what little force she could summon, considering that he had knocked much of the wind out of her lungs with his uncivilized handling.
“You filthy Highland clod!” she shrieked as he reached the second-floor landing, trying unsuccessfully to grab at the banister.
“Dear God, what a spitfire you are!”
Raith grunted in pain as her fist caught a sensitive area in the small of his back. In retaliation, he brought the flat of his hand down hard on her rump. Katrine shrieked again, more in shock than in pain, since the blow was cushioned by several layers of skirts and petticoats. “Lout! Brute! You—you weasel!”
“You’re going to run out of things to call me soon.”
“No, I won’t! I haven’t even begun to list all the reprehensible terms that apply to you!”
Raith made a sound that could have been choked laughter, and the suspicion infuriated Katrine. She flailed at him wildly, which at least had the effect of making him lose his grip as he reached the top floor. He stumbled, nearly dropping Katrine to the floor, though he prevented her fall by going down on one knee.
He didn’t dare to even pause for breath, didn’t dare give her a moment’s respite, or she would scramble free, as she almost did. Determinedly Raith regained his balance and his grip. Making him lose it again was like trying to pry open a steel trap, Katrine realized as he carried her along the corridor to her garret bedchamber.
When he had thrust open the door, he strode into the room and set her on her feet, none too gently. He was breathing hard, while her fine nostrils were flaring.
“You can stay here till you come to your senses,” Raith informed her as he turned to leave.
Katrine looked wildly about her for something to throw. The room was dim even though the shutters hadn’t been closed, for dusk was falling rapidly. But she had no trouble making out the gleam of the brass candlestick beside the bed. Snatching it up, she flung it with all her might. It clattered against the wall to the right of the doorway, mere inches from Raith’s head.
He halted abruptly. With a low, muttered curse he slowly turned around. “I warned you....” At the same time his hand reached out to grasp the door and swing it shut.
The deliberate way he set the latch was acutely menacing. He wanted privacy to murder her, Katrine decided. She took a hasty step backward. In the fading light she could see Raith’s fierce expression and the slow, threatening way he was advancing upon her. But there was nowhere to run. In only a few paces her back was pressed against he wall.
Still he stalked her, until he was fairly facing her. Katrine flinched as his fingers closed savagely about her upper arms.
“You’re a menace to the population,” Raith said in a tone that was nearly a growl, “and to me in particular. And I won’t countenance it any longer.”
He stood towering over her, his hands gripping her arms as if he might shake her. And he started to, she could feel it. Her lips parted in a gasp of pain as his hard fingers dug into her tender flesh.
He was glaring down at her, into her eyes, but at her gasp, his gaze suddenly shifted to her mouth. His own eyes were hot and dark and glittering with an emotion that was deeper than fury, darker than passion.
She wasn’t quite sure what happened next, how hostility turned to desire with such devastating swiftness, except that suddenly it was there, throbbing between them.
The very air around them went still. It was as if they were suspended in time, in a quiet, tense moment that had no beginning or end. With an instinct as old as eternity, Katrine knew he was going to kiss her. And she knew that this time he wouldn’t stop with only a kiss. He was going to make love to her, to end the suspense that had left her restless and aching since their forbidden encounter by the burn. And she knew she had never wanted anything more in her life.
Raith still wasn’t willing to admit to the inevitable, though. He gave a low groan, barely audible, as if he were fighting a raging battle with some unknown, invisible enemy…with himself. And losing.
And then, in surrender to the forces that had tormented them both, his mouth slowly descended, claiming hers in a ravishing possession that tasted to her of anger and desire and despairing acceptance.
Chapter Twelve
Inevitable. Inescapable. He had known it for some time, deep within the recesses of his mind, in his very soul. No matter that he had tried desperately to remain aloof from her, from their quarrels, their mutual antagonism, their fierce attraction. In the end he had lost the battle.
Raith kissed her harshly now, punishingly, hauling her body flush against his, as if he might still escape her spell by being brutal enough. But with a soft whimper, Katrine only pressed closer, her fingers clutching at his fine linen shirt, making him feel an urgent, almost savage need to be part of her, to possess his frustrating, annoying, fascinating woman who could rouse him in a way no other woman ever had or would again. He needed her. Feverishly he smothered her mouth with his, rushing her to him, unable to get enough. Once he had wondered what madness had taken hold of him and made him want her so. But it was Katrine; she was the madness.
And now she was in his arms, helplessly, willingly yielding to is searing, savage kiss. Savage, Raith thought in some small corner of his mind. With a frantic effort to control his consuming need, he eased the harshness of his mouth. Her name was on his lips, half a curse, half a prayer, as he lifted his head to draw a long ragged draft of air.
Katrine thought he meant to pull away as he had that day by the burn. Instinctively her hands sank into his thick raven hair, trying to hold him to her as she gasped, “No, don’t stop.” “No…no,” he breathed hoarsely, bending his head. He took her mouth again, striving for gentleness but managing only to transmit an eager fire as his tongue thrust deeply in a frenzied dance of passion.
The fire caught in Katrine’s body, igniting in places that were secret and hidden, places that had never known the touch of a man. She moaned against Raith’s mouth as he deftly dispensed with the kerchief at her bosom and curled his searching fingers around the square neck of her bodice.
His lips abruptly leaving Katrine’s, Raith lifted his head and stared down at her. “This is your first time.” It was a statement, his voice husky and tender, his eyes so intense, so hot, that they burned a path into her soul.
Katrine nodded, hearing the quick heaviness of her breathing echo his own. Yes, this was her first time. He was her first lover, and would be her last. She knew it with a conviction that was as steady and enduring as the Highland hills. Her feelings for him blazed with crystal brilliance as she returned his gaze in the deepening twilight. Yet she was uncertain of Raith’s feelings for her. Hesitantly she reached up to touch his cheek with her slender fingers.
Something in her expression made Raith’s heart cease its rhythmic beating. Her green eyes were glazed with sensuality, but her gaze was questioning, curiously beseeching. It was only when she whispered, “Please, don’t leave me,” that he understood. She was offering herself and was fearful he would refuse.
A rush of enchantment filled him. He could sooner refuse to take his next breath than deny himself the exquisite mating her eyes promised—and it was doubtful which he needed more.
With trembling fingers he began to undress her, unlacing the rigid stomacher beneath her pretty breasts and freeing the soft white peaks from their harsh confinement.
“Bonny Katie,” he whispered reverently, bending down to kiss each quivering nipple, “how I want you.”
Her sharp inhalation was accompanied by a murmured, breathless “Raith!” while her fingers tangled again in his hair. Her breasts felt unbearably full, and she wanted him to ease the aching torment with his mouth.
Her impatience was mirrored in his movements as he started to remove her bodice, but when she tried to aid him, he brushed her hands away. “No, don’t…let me,” Raith ordered with a restraint he wasn’t feeling.
Obediently Katrine stood very still, her lips parted, her breath coming in shallow spurts while he took his time. She ached to touch him, to hold him, to have him hold her, but he was determined to contain the violence of his desire.
Slowly her skirts and petticoats followed her bodice and chemise, before he applied his unsteady fingers to the tapes of her side hoops. By the time he knelt to remove her stockings and shoes, Katrine was suffering an acute attack of self-consciousness. Fighting the conflicting forces of modesty and desire, she kept her gaze on his dark head, wondering how he could remain so calm when she was feeling so nervous, so hot and feverish. But when he looked up, she could read the dark passion in his eyes and knew his control was scarcely more reliable than hers.
Rising, Raith pressed a brief, tantalizing kiss on her lips, then quickly stepped back, as if not trusting himself to remain near her. Yet he continued to watch her as he stripped off his shirt, his hot gaze communicating dangerous undercurrents of desire. Despite her shyness, Katrine watched him in return. In the gathering shadows she could see the powerful rippling muscles of his arms and shoulders. She ached to touch him and feel his flexing strength beneath her fingers.
He sat on the edge of the small trunk to remove his shoes and breeches. Spellbound, Katrine couldn’t look away, not even when he had shed his clothes and stood before her, a naked, consummate male, his splendid arousal blatantly suggestive. She wasn’t afraid of him, only that he might suddenly remember who she was and turn away from her.
But Raith had no intention of leaving now. Forcibly restraining his desire, he returned to her, drawing her naked, trembling body into his arms and urging her lips open.
Any trace of her previous embarrassment melted at his hungry kiss. Her mouth mated with his, the way it seemed her heart was doing to his, the way her softness was melding with the heat and hardness of his body.
“My sweet torment,” she heard him murmur, but by then she could scarcely make sense of the husky words, for she was too caught up in the incredible sensations he was awakening in her. Torment. That was what he was doing to her, she thought wildly as his fingers came up to stroke the aching tips of her breasts. The throbbing of her nipples was almost painful, they were so taut and rigid, while her skin seemed to ignite in flames everywhere it touched Raith’s. Then his hips began to move slowly, rhythmically, making Katrine feel the huge hot length of his masculinity, eliciting a melting heat between her thighs and a soft whimpering sound from deep in her throat.
“Raith, please…” she pleaded inarticulately against his mouth, trying to get closer.
With a ragged breath he dragged his lips away. “Slowly, Katie…slow…” But Raith himself had trouble following his own command when her arms tightened around his neck and she arched desperately against him, as if she were afraid to let him go. Feeling the same desperation—as if he might die if he didn’t have her soon—he took Katrine’s hand with shaking fingers and drew her down beside him on the pallet, so they lay facing each other. Before he could even press his full length against her, though, her mouth was seeking his blindly.
He met her kiss with an urgency of his own, thrusting his tongue swiftly, deeply into her hot, honeyed recesses, the way he wanted to do with his body. It wasn’t enough. Feverishly he moved his caressing hand down her satin-smooth form till he found the soft cleft between her thighs, the exquisite sweetness that hid a treasure of feminine secrets. To Raith’s surprise and delight, her flesh was hot and weeping; despite her innocence, her body had readied itself for him.
The thought sent a shaft of desire so fierce streaking through him that he had to catch his breath.
Innocent, he reminded himself. She’d never known the intimate touch of a man. But she would presently. A long uncontrollable shiver of anticipation and passion passed through Raith before he once more reminded himself that somehow he had to manage some restraint....
Briefly he raised his head to glance down at Katrine, at her beautiful face flushed with the pleasure of his kisses, her copper-hued hair, silken-wild. Her lips were wet and parted, her eyes closed, her expression a grimace of taut expectancy that set his pulse pounding with the need to satisfy her and give her the fulfillment her quivering body so obviously craved—the fulfillment that his own body craved.
“I actually dream of this,” Raith whispered in a voice as raw and sensuous as silk. His glance dropped to the slender thighs bared to his urgent stroking fingers.
In response, Katrine moved against him restlessly, straining her hips against his caressing hand, even though she wasn’t certain she could bear the sweet torment. She had dreamed of this, too, but her dreams paled in comparison to the actual experience of surrendering to this beautiful, hard, dangerous man. She felt helpless, dazed, yet her senses had never been more acute. The staccato of her racing heartbeat was loud in her ears as it mingled with the erratic sound of their ragged breaths. Raith’s masculine essence surrounded her with the fragrance of wild heather and sweet muskiness. The prickly straw of the mattress stabbed her tender skin, which had become acutely sensitive in the past few moments, yet even that gave her more pleasure than pain, reflecting and intensifying the flaring excitement of his maddening caresses.... Katrine thought she would perish from the agonizing delight of it.
“Raith!” she whimpered, reaching for him and curling her fingers in the soft, springy hair that furred his chest.
Willingly Raith allowed himself to be drawn into her arms, shifting his weight till he had settled himself in the silken cradle of her thighs. Instinctively Katrine tried to wrap her legs around his hips, trying to draw him into her more deeply. “Slow, love…slow,” he warned with rasping breath, all the while praying he could find the will to keep from plunging into her like a randy lad with his first lass.
Yet that was how Katrine made him feel…as if he
had never made love to a woman before. This experience was fresh and new, like seeing the sunrise with her for the first time. Like being part of the sunrise. Ribbons of color danced behind his eyelids, while his enraptured, jubilant spirit took flight.
“Katrine,” he murmured against her flaming hair as his probing fingers found the secrets of her femininity. Opening her to him, he entered her carefully, by infinitely slow degrees. The exaltation he felt only intensified.
Beneath him, Katrine caught her breath as Raith filled her with exquisite slowness. She experienced a single instant of pain as the fragile barrier of her femininity gave way, yet she scarcely felt it, so caught up was she in the rapture of this incredible moment. She was dazed, lost in a sensual, flame-shot darkness—yet Raith was there with her, giving her a feeling of completeness, a oneness of spirit that she had only known in her dreams. She moaned softly at the aching fullness of her heart.
Raith immediately ceased all movement. “Am I hurting you?” His tone was anxious, agonized, as it penetrated the daze of her mind.
“No, no!” Katrine murmured, her hands moving restlessly over the warm, satin skin of his sinewed back. “Don’t… stop…please.”
Reassured by the husky passion in her voice, Raith resumed his long slow thrusting. When he was sheathed fully in her tight, silken heat, he gave a ragged sigh, as if this were a sanctuary he had long sought. Letting his head droop, he rested his forehead on hers while bracing his weight on his elbows. He didn’t know if the trembling he felt was coming from his body or hers, nor did it matter, as long as he could manage to control his desire long enough to satisfy the burning need he sensed in her. He took a deep breath, willing himself to stillness.
Katrine stirred fretfully beneath him, not knowing why Raith was remaining so motionless. How could he when this fever was building inside her, like a slow fire igniting, licking at her senses? The heat was almost too intense to bear.
“Raith,” she entreated, desperately moving her head from side to side, as if she might escape, but not wanting to at all. Then, when she thought she could stand it no longer, Raith slowly began to withdraw from her.
TENDER FEUD Page 22
