by Eliza Knight
Eva smirked. “I meant by asking you to take me away from Belfinch.”
“Ah.” The humor left his face, and in its place, a dark look passed over him, as though until that moment, he’d forgotten all about the man.
Eva hated to think she’d spoiled what was proving to be quite a warm moment between them. Determining she wouldn’t spoil it more just yet with her Scottish roots, she stood, circled the table, and came to stand in front of him. He still clutched her fingers. Her heart skipped a beat. A week, maybe even a day before now, she wouldn’t be doing this. Wouldn’t have been so bold as to take what she wanted.
Nevertheless, here she was. And not one ounce of her self-control wanted to put a stop to it. Without another moment’s thought, she sat down on Strath’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, pleased he didn’t try to stop her.
He stared at her, but there was no surprise in his eyes, only desire, happiness, and pride. That was a mixture of expressions she would be happy to see on his face for the rest of her days.
“I want you to kiss me,” she whispered.
“With the door open?”
She shrugged. “We have already been spotted before, what difference does it make?”
“In the dark?”
“In the dark, in the light, I do not care, as long as I’m in your arms. You say that I am amazing to you, but truthfully, Strath, I am the one who is in awe.”
“Perhaps ye should be more cautious, Princess.” His lip quirked in a wry grin.
“And why should I? Where has caution gotten me in the past?”
He chuckled, stroked a finger along the side of her jaw and splayed his other hand on the small of her back. “I want to know everything there is to know about ye.”
“And already you know me better than most.” Save for one tiny part…
“An honor ’tis.”
She traced the outline of his mouth with the tip of her finger. “Will you make me wait forever, heathen?”
“I could never wait so long.” And then he leaned up and pressed his lips to hers. The taste of whisky mingled with his own delicious flavor, and the stubble on his cheek tickled her fingertips.
Eva sank into his kiss, reveling in the passion of it, the way she floated away on a bed of heavenly clouds.
I love you.
Chapter Fifteen
Everything about this moment was wrong.
Alone, in the dark, in his bedchamber with a virgin lass betrothed to his enemy. A lass he loved. A lass he’d die for, and could very well be killed over.
In the eyes of the English, he’d stolen this woman. They’d say he’d abducted her across the border. Ravaged her without consent. Destroyed her soul.
And yet that could not be further from the truth. Well, most of it. Aye, she was English. Aye, he’d taken her across the border and she was betrothed to his enemy. But she’d come of her own free will. The lass’s spirit was high, and her soul appeared undamaged. In fact, if someone were to ask, he might even call her happy. She’d not wanted to marry that bastard, and she had no problem with Strath luring Belfinch here to meet his doom. He’d not ravaged her—unless someone considered these powerful encounters to be ravaging.
Strath let out a groan, deepening their kiss. One word from her, and he would take her. God, how he would take her…
Ballocks! Nay!
He couldn’t. Despite how she undid him with her kiss, he had to remember she was an innocent. That innocents had one bargaining chip in this world, and that was the fact they were untouched. Their virginity was essentially their way to buy a future. And, aye, how very wrong that was, when a man had the ability to forge his path without the cost of his body remaining pure.
Despite how wrong it was to continue kissing her, touching her, wanting her, how he felt about Eva could not compare to any other. So he continued to kiss her. To stroke her back. He took in her keening mewls, the desperate lash of her tongue against his, and kissed her back.
Her hands were in his hair, tugging loose the queue that held his unruly dark locks in check and threading her fingers in the tangles, massaging his scalp.
She was warm on his lap, her curves supple, and though he was cautious not to get carried away, he couldn’t help but enjoy the soft swell of her hips and the way the underside of her breast felt against the pad of his thumb. Heaven help him, he was in trouble.
Eva’s moans and the way she rocked in his lap were going to have him undone. Her legs were slung over the side of the chair, her bottom pressed to his hard cock, and her breasts crushed against his chest, nipples jutting through the fabric making him even harder.
She smelled heavenly, like flowers and honey mixed with the whisky she’d just imbibed. And all the more heady was the fact that she’d gone out to the barracks, knowing full well that Duff hated her to the core of his bones, and still tried to help, because she cared about him. Oh, did she even realize how intoxicating an admission that was?
Who was this woman? An angel from the heavens? If she wasn’t, she was damn close.
There was no way on earth he could ever let her go.
Strath knew the difference between a woman who was worthy and a woman who was not. Eva deserved every bit of happiness in this world, and he wanted to give it to her. To give her everything.
“I love ye,” he murmured against her mouth, the words tumbling out against her lips before he could halt them. As soon as they were out in the world, a moment of panic filled him, and then elation. He wanted to tell her. To tell the world.
She paused, one hand in his hair, the other on his shoulder.
Mo chreach. Would she rebuff him? Tell him he’d been a fool yet again? Strath squirmed, his stomach forming into knots. The seconds ticked by in echoing panic. But then she kissed him deeper, as though she were absorbing those words, sucking them from his very soul. She paused again, pulled away so she could gaze at him. Even in this dull light, he could see her beautiful blue eyes, pupils dilated.
“I love you, Strath.”
Strath. The name that he went by, the only name so many knew him by. Suddenly, he wanted her to call him by his true name, for he’d never allowed another, not since he was a lad and his parents had given him this new name. “Magnus,” he said. “Call me Magnus, sweet Princess.”
She exhaled on his lips. “Oh, Magnus, I love you.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Strath knew he’d never felt true happiness until now. Knew without a doubt that he would make certain his king knew Eva was his.
Eva was hot all over and so filled with happiness she could have leapt off Strath’s lap and run twenty miles. Energy and joy thrummed in her veins. He loved her? He truly did?
Had she ever thought she’d hear those words? Not ever. And never from a strong and passionate warrior like him.
At first, she thought he was only saying it because he’d imbibed in more than his fair share of whisky, but then she realized that was not the case. If it were, he would not have asked her to call him by his given name. A name not even his aunt and uncle and cousins called him.
He loved her.
There could be no doubt about it. But where did that leave them?
Eva scratched lightly at the base of his skull, tugging on his hair. “What are we to do?”
“Well…” he drawled. “I can kiss ye here.” He nuzzled her neck, nibbling at the place just behind her ear. “Or here.” He slid his tongue on her ear, scraping his teeth over her earlobe in a way that made her shiver. “Or possibly here.” His lips trailed a blazing path over her neck.
Eva sucked in a ragged breath. If she thought kissing him on the mouth could make her shiver, having his mouth on other parts of her was even better.
“Is this what ye meant, Eva?” he chuckled, lips grazing over her collarbones, hands massaging her back.
Was that what she meant? Huh?
And then she remembered her question. “Oh, no, I meant…” She tilted her head to the side, giving him better acces
s to her neck. She really did quite like that. “I meant what are we to do about loving each other?”
“What is there to do but keep on loving one another?” he asked.
While it was a lovely answer, she was hoping for something more, and she wasn’t afraid to say it. “We are going to soon be at war, Magnus.” She ran her fingers along the collar of his shirt, wondering if he would shiver the way she did if she pressed her lips to his skin? “What are we going to do about a future? I love you. I don’t want to leave you.”
She leaned down to test out her theory, skimming her lips over the stubble on his neck. The corded muscles flexed at her touch, the pulse of his heartbeat against her mouth. He sucked in a breath. She would take that as an affirmative, that he did in fact feel it just as she did.
“I want ye by my side, always,” he said. “Unless of course there is someone holding a sword at me, then I want ye as far away as possible.”
“I would be willing to fight for you.”
“I would never ask.”
Eva touched her hand to his face and kissed his mouth lightly. “Loving someone means never having to ask them to protect you.”
He grinned at her, his eyes intense. “God, I want to make love to ye.”
“I want you to make love to me, too.”
“But not until we wed.”
“Then let us wed.”
He stilled. And she wondered if he was thinking about Jean Guinn. “I am not her. I will not abandon you or betray you.”
“I know. But…” His jaw tightened, and she felt him distancing himself.
Eva smiled and kissed him anyway. “I will do whatever you wish.”
“There are more matters than just the two of us deciding. We must follow the orders of the king.”
The king. The one who was looking for her. The swirling thoughts racing through her mind had the power to douse her elation at just having discovered he loved her. But she didn’t want to think about them. She wanted to revel in this newfound awareness. Had to for her own sanity. “Then we must convince him a marriage between us is sound. How could he refuse?” She was aware of how naïve she sounded when she said it, but the warmth cascading through her filled her with a vibrant hopefulness.
He stroked the side of her face. “How could I ever deserve a woman like ye?”
“Don’t say that. You deserve happiness. You’re a good man, a good leader. I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but in that time I’ve seen into your heart, Magnus. I’ve seen the way your men look up to you. I’ve seen the way your family adores you. And the way you’ve conducted yourself with me…” She pressed her hand over his heart.
Strath shook his head and leaned his forehead against her so their eyes were locked. She giggled.
“Ye know how to pull a man from his misery.”
“Only you, my love. And I can only pull you where you want to be pulled. You have to believe.”
“Huh,” he mused. “My uncle said the same thing to me recently.”
“He’s a smart man.”
“Aye. The both of ye are right. And I do believe. I didna think it was possible, but I’d be a fool not to. And I’ve been a fool, blindly going through the past few months without seeing the truth for what it was.”
“Good. I like the teasing, kissing Strath—Magnus—better. But I would be happy with whomever you are, as long as you’re mine.”
“Och, lass, ye dinna know what it does to me to hear ye say it. I will spend the rest of my days proving to ye that I’m worthy, if ye’ll have me as your husband.”
“Aye, a thousand times, aye.”
He chuckled. “Not more than a thousand?”
She tickled his ribs, and he pretended it worked and then started to tickle her back until she fell off his lap. He caught her mid-air and fell onto the plush tapestry rug on the floor with her.
They were laughing so hard tears came to their eyes. His solid body was pressed into hers, sending spirals of pleasure rushing through her. All of the sudden, their laughing ceased, and his heady, heavily-lidded gaze met hers. Desire mirrored in his regard, and shivers caressed every inch of her skin. Then he was kissing her again. His hot, demanding mouth on hers, and she could have swooned from the passion of it. Heart pounding, belly wobbling, limbs trembling, she sank into the passion that was her warrior.
“I want to give ye pleasure, but I will nae take ye fully until our wedding night.”
“Give me pleasure?” Her voice wobbled a little, filled with craving, nerves firing.
“If ye’ll let me.”
If she’d let him… She wasn’t opposed to pleasure; in fact, she was so weak when it came to the way he made her feel that it didn’t take more than a few seconds for her to say, “Aye. Show me.”
“Mo chreach, will I ever.” Strath kissed her harder, his tongue laying claim to her mouth, his solid body rocking against hers.
“The door,” she murmured, somehow aware that if they were to do this, the door needed to be closed.
They were lucky that no one had come by yet.
Strath leapt to his feet and was at the door in two strides. He closed it tightly and put the bar in place. Eva sat up and lifted her hands to him, silently asking for him to pull her up, but he shook his head and lay down beside her on the soft carpet.
“If we’re going to be scandalous,” he said, “we’d best do it right.”
“Oh,” she gasped. “This is very scandalous.”
He chuckled and reached for her, kissing her hotly as his hands roamed over her hips and her ribs. Her body strained forward, nipples tight, aching buds. She wanted him to touch her, and when he brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple, she sucked a breath through her teeth, eyes popping open at the pleasure.
“I like the way ye respond to my touch,” he murmured against her lips.
Eva clutched at his shirt, tugging at the ties, wanting to feel his skin. When she had it untied at the collar, the linen fell open enough for her to slide her hand inside, to feel the warm hardness of his chest and the tickle of hair against her palm. His skin was rougher than hers, fascinating.
Strath let out a ragged breath, much like the ones she was exhaling. These were small touches, nothing in the grand scheme of what she knew happened between a man and a woman, and yet they were already panting, and sparks of pleasure and keen wanting stormed through her.
Strath trailed kisses over her collarbone and then flicked his tongue over the place on her chest just above her breast. He skimmed his fingers along the inside of her gown, giving a little tug until the fabric slid lower and he brushed her nipple. Eva moaned, and he kissed his way lower, until his tongue replaced his roving fingers, and white heat shot from her breast straight to her core.
Good heavens. How would she survive this pleasure?
Eva tightened her grip and slid her other hand into his hair, not wanting him to let up from his ministrations.
“Do ye like it, Princess?” he asked and took a nipple into his mouth to suck.
Like? She wasn’t certain there was a word for how much she was enjoying this. “Aye,” she crooned. Heat pooled between her legs, and she moved her thighs together restlessly, wanting more. Something more.
Strath seemed to know exactly what that more was. He caressed her hip, squeezing gently and then moving from the back of her thigh over to the front. The back of his fingertips slid slowly upward until he cupped her sex through her gown, and Eva thought she would die from the pleasure of it.
Aye, this was the something more. Unable to stop herself, she tilted her hips forward into his touch, the pressure of his stroking hand almost too much to bear. Almost.
“Ye have so much passion inside ye.” He leaned up and kissed her mouth, his hand still rubbing between her legs.
Then he replaced his hand with his thigh. The hardness of his arousal pressed to her belly, and he slowly slid himself against her, a groan on his delicious mouth.
“This is sinful,” she murmur
ed. “But I don’t want to stop.”
“Not yet,” he groaned. “God, not yet. I want to taste every delicious inch of ye.”
Taste…every inch… How sensual and…intoxicating that thought was.
“And I want to do the same to you,” she replied, very much desiring to run her hands along the length of his body and kiss him from his ankles back to his lips.
“Och, Eva… Ye have no idea how verra much I want ye to do that.” He slid a hand down to her knee, where he slowly started to inch the fabric of her gown up until his fingers grazed the laces of her hose. He caressed higher, touching her bare thigh. “Your skin is so soft.”
His heated palm skimmed over the sensitive flesh of her thigh, and she quivered, holding her breath as frissons of pleasure flashed in the wake of his touch and found their way through her fevered body.
Slowly, he rose higher, his lips on hers as his fingers brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs. He slid a gentle finger between the folds, searching for something, and then she knew when he found it—a knot of flesh that when stroked had her body bucking with the intensity of the pleasure.
“Aye, lass, pleasure…” he crooned against her mouth. “Take it.”
And she did. Writhing with every delicious stroke. How had she not known that such feeling, such decadent pleasure could be had? Her body bowed, hungry, striving for something higher, more intense.
With every rise of her hips, every moan from deep in her throat, Strath answered with a groan of his own. His fingers increased their pace, until Eva could no longer think of anything save pleasure and him.
Then what her body had been racing toward was there, shattering her in breathless pulses of ecstasy.
“Och, princess, ye climax so prettily,” he murmured.
“Climax… That is the perfect word for it.”
He chuckled.
“I want to do the same to you. Will you teach me?”
Strath fell to the side, rolling onto his back with a groan. At first she thought he was distraught, but his eyes were filled with desire, and the curve of his mouth told her everything she needed to know.
