He lifted his head suddenly, eyes glowing in the moonlight. Without a word he scooped her up, crossing the room, setting her on the bed. He climbed onto the bed, lying full length beside her.
The light from the window outlined his body, strong arms, flat stomach. It was impossible not to want to touch him, and she gave in, running a tentative hand over his chest. The room was cool, but his skin was warm, very warm. She let her hand drift lower, fingers playing over his stomach, but she faltered the lower her hand strayed.
“I’ll not bite ye…at least not with that.” He’d lain still under her brief explorations, but now he took her hand, moving it lower, her fingers brushing against the thick thatch of hair that ran down below his navel. The pressure of his hand on hers increased, moving her hand lower, until she touched the shaft of his erection.
He was hard now, very hard. A shiver ran through her as he took his hand away, trusting her, as she ran her hand down the full length of him. He flexed his hips at her touch, his thighs moving apart, his cock pressing into her hand. It was such a subtle movement, but so sensual, so overly masculine. A little whimper of excitement escaped her.
Wrapping her fingers around him, she moved her hand over him, stroking him. A rush of feminine power coursed through her, quickly followed by a rush of arousal like she’d never felt before. This man, this beautiful enigmatic man—this stranger—was doing things to her that no man had ever done before. And he’d barely touched her. But he’d gotten her to touch him.
And she did touch him. She moved her hand over him, stroking him slowly, savoring the girth of him in her hand, the way the back of her hand grazed his taut balls, how her fingers tightened around him, just below the head of his cock. She ran her thumb over the head of his cock, the skin smooth and hot, softer.
Craig moaned as she moved her hand back down, moving again until he was lying fully on his back. She sat up and leaned over and he gasped, his hips flex upward in anticipation. But she didn’t take him into her mouth.
Instead she flicked her tongue over one raised nipple, the small round bud harder than she imagined. His moan this time verged on frustration, and he wound his fingers into her hair. For a moment he simply rested his hand on her head, letting her play her tongue over his chest, kissing and nuzzling him, as he had done to her, while she continued to play with him, stroking him slowly.
But then it apparently was too much for him, and he tugged, not gently, on her hair, pulling her head downward. He couldn’t see her smile, but he could feel her shaking her head. The tug was harder this time, but he let her raise her head.
“Not now. Not…yet.”
“Ye canna torture me any longer, Arianna. I’m a patient man, but not that patient.”
Before she had time to react he rolled her onto her back, his knee forcing her legs apart. She lost her grip on him as he grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms over her head, one hand holding her easily.
“I want ye, and I’m taking ye now.”
“And if I’m not ready?” Her chest rose and fell against his, faster than she’d have liked. His aggression scared her, but excited her at the same time. Some part of her wanted to keep control, but the rest of wanted him to ravage her.
His hand slid between her legs, fingers finding home instantly, as if he’d touched her there before. She gasped, expecting rough fingers, a brutal thrust. But he stroked her gently, so gently and quickly she wasn’t certain he’d even touched her.
“Ye be ready. Ye’re as ripe as a fresh peach, and ripe for the picking.”
His body was hard against her, heavy, but she wanted the weight of him on her, pressing her into the mattress. He lowered his hips first, his cock brushing briefly against the inside of her thigh, then finding her center with as much certainty as his fingers had.
He was in her, sliding the length of his cock into her wetness. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, catching the musky sent of her on his hand, the smoky scent of the forge that lingered in his hair, on his skin, and the deep scent of him, of his sweat and arousal, a scent so powerful she drew another deep breath.
He kissed her, hard, and she tasted wine. His tongue was in her mouth, mimicking the probing thrusts of his cock, as he flexed his hips forward, as he drove himself into her.
Whatever she’d imagined this would be like paled. She drew her legs up, her thighs moving over his hips, moving higher until she could wrap her legs around his waist.
She felt him move with her, his legs moving apart, his thighs pushing against the backs of her legs, as he moved against her, into her.
The sensation of him inside her was intense, the sense of this strange man making love with her excited her in ways she’d never known. It wasn’t just having sex; it was more than that. It was a connection that went beyond just the physical. It all felt right, somehow, even though it shouldn’t have.
Craig dropped his head to her shoulder, his chest crushing her breasts. He released her wrists with one hand, keeping her pinioned with the other. The free hand he brought down to her waist, fingers tensing against her skin. Then he moved lower, to her hip, lower still, sliding beneath her ass, squeezing her.
His open mouth pressed against her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin. Between her legs his movements intensified, thrusts getting harder, faster, deeper, each one accompanied by a deep grunt.
She moved with him, arching up as he pulled back, flexing her body to meet his thrusts. It all flowed in a beautiful dance, everything in perfect harmony, their bodies moving as if they’d done duet this a thousand times before.
Abruptly he let go of her wrists, planting his hands beside her shoulders, rising up and away from her. The sudden movement of his body, the weight being lifted had her feeling as if she could float off the bed. But they were still joined, his hips hard against hers, his cock buried deep inside her.
In the pale light from the window she saw his face, saw the emotions crossing his features. Pain, pleasure, a look of ecstasy mixed with something so personal she had to look away, as if she’d looked into his soul without his knowing.
But the demands of her body rose, the response to his movements, the tension and pleasure building in her increasing with each thrust he made, with each answer she gave. She reached for him, hands twining through his hair, looking up into his eyes.
He held her gaze for a long movement, mouth open, breath rasping before lowering his head, his mouth pressed against hers in a brutal kiss. As he kissed her his body bucked violently, the force of his orgasm driving her into her own release. She arched, threw her arms wide, fingers pulling at the bed covers, breaking the kiss with a cry, head thrown back.
Everything went still for a heartbeat and then she was crying out, feet planted on the bed, pushing up into him as if wanting more of him, more than he could give. Every cell in her body came alive, pulsing with the rhythm of her orgasm and with his.
She caught blurred glimpses of him above her: face raised to the ceiling, a primal growl rising from his throat; head dropping, sweat dripping between her breasts as he gulped for air; a smile curving his sensuous lips.
Then it ended, for both of them. He crumpled onto her, then rolled away. As his cock slid out of her body she cried out, a strange feeling of loss washing over her. But it was gone the next second, and she forgot about it as she lay, heart thudding, breathing deeply. She let her body float, letting her mind drift.
She wanted to close her eyes, but just for a minute. Craig was beside her, and she wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him so many questions. But first she’d just close her eyes, just for a minute.
Chapter Six
She opened her eyes, not sure if she’d heard the sound or imagined it. The room was filled with soft light, and she squinted at her watch. It was just after six, probably not long after dawn.
There was another sound, a door closing somewhere, and she climbed out of bed, wrapping herself in the sheet. Craig was crossing the yard below, and she watched as he pulled back the heavy d
oor to the forge, then disappeared inside.
Her head hurt, just enough to remind her she’d had a little too much to drink last night. And it hurt just enough to remind her she’d done something she probably shouldn’t have. She’d slept with a perfect stranger. Not the smartest thing you’ve ever done, Arianna. Ever.
But the tingle on her skin, the way her body felt, was a result of that mistake, of spending the night with Craig. She turned away from the window, scooped up her clothes, and went in search of a bathroom and a shower.
She found one down the hall, peeking in with trepidation, expecting the worst. But she was pleasantly surprised to see there was a sink, toilet, even a shower, so apparently there was running water. Thinking about it, it made sense why there was water but no electric: water lines could be run along the inside walls to one or two rooms, heated with a gas boiler. It would take much more work to electrify a whole castle. Anyway, she liked the candles and oil lamps. That is, if she lived in a castle, she'd like them.
Dropping the sheet, she turned on the water, held her hand beneath the spray. It was hot and she stepped into the shower area, pulling the linen curtain closed. The whole shower was really a corner of the room, curtained off, a drain in the stone floor. It was rustic, but she didn't care. There was a bar of soap, rough-looking but smelling of heather and herbs. She washed her hair, letting the lather run over her shoulders and arms. She wanted to wash away the scents and memories of the night before, and hopefully the memory of what happened.
There were clean towels stacked on a nearby shelf and she took one and after dressing, sat on the deep window ledge, drying her hair. The bath was on the back of the castle, and from here she could look down and out, over the river that ran below the rise, almost a cliff really, that the castle sat on. On the other side of the river were the wilds, the gray-green hills, rocky outcroppings. This was, and had been, the end of the world in some sense.
Sighing, she rose. There was work to do. She folded the towel, gathered the sheet and returned it to the bedroom.
Work. That was what she needed to do now. Get back to the reason she'd come to Scotland. It wasn't to be bedded by the blacksmith or caretaker, or whatever he was, that lived at the castle.
After a few wrong turns she found the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee hanging on a hook over the dying fire in the hearth. A cup of coffee would help clear her head, and she searched out a heavy ceramic mug from the open shelves above the sink. A thick potholder was nearby, and she gingerly grabbed the handle of the pot and poured out the inky black liquid.
Her bag was on the table. She sat in one of the straight-backed chairs, pulling it toward her, taking out her cell phone, somehow hoping the battery would have magically charged overnight. But of course, it was still dead. She'd have to remember to call her mother as soon as she got back to town. First thing she'd do, and then she'd look up the newspaper, do some research...
“Oh, crap.” Her car. She'd forgotten for the moment the reason she was here, stranded here really. Her damn car wouldn't start. And there was no other phone, no other car.
How the hell does that man survive here? She lifted the mug, took a swallow of coffee, and almost spat it out. It was possibly the strongest thing she'd ever tasted. Giving the mug a wary glance, she pushed it away. Her irritation at remembering she had no car had gone a long way to clear her head.
The only thing to do was ask Craig how to get someone to fix the car. But the last person she really wanted to talk to was Craig. The irritation about the car faded into embarrassment. She'd gotten drunk, and slept with a stranger. A stranger who, in the clear light of day, seemed more than a little unbalanced. He was in love with a woman who had been dead for over two hundred years. A woman who looked just like her.
He'd taken advantage of her, that's what had happened. She sat up suddenly.
“He sabotaged my car.”
That had to be it. The car had been in perfect working order, and then it just stopped working. He offered her wine, and she fell right into his plan to seduce her.
“How could I be so stupid?”
But he was still the only other person here, the only person who could help her.
She rose, shrugged into her slicker, shoved her phone it her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed across the courtyard to the forge. Might as well get it over with, see what he could do to help her, and then decide what to do.
The day was rainy, which was no surprise, cooler even than yesterday. The forge doors though were open, and she stepped inside.
It was darker than yesterday, the forge unoccupied at the moment, Craig not anywhere in sight. She hesitated, but the warmth was enough to pull her further into the room, closer to the glowing coals.
The thick massive anvil, the other tools of his trade all neatly arranged on the walls, they were all foreign to her. The various hammers and tongs, some looking like vicious pincers, were all overly masculine, somehow barbaric.
“Looking for sommat? Or someone?”
She whirled around. Craig stood in the back of the room, face obscured. He stepped out of the shadows toward her, wearing a clean version of yesterday's shirt, and the kilt. Images from last night rose up, unexpected and uncontrollable. Her face went hot, and she wanted to turn away. But she faced him instead.
“I was...I wanted...I need my car.” Eloquence had deserted her in his presence. He was just as overtly masculine as this room, these tools. She was out of her element, completely, totally.
“Aye. I figured as much.” He moved to the forge, shifting the piece of iron resting there, stirring the red coals. A shower of sparks rose briefly before settling back.
“Yes. But I need my car.” She shifted, uncomfortable in his presence, equal parts prickly irritation, and a pervasive—and annoying—tingle of excitement. She didn't want to admit she was attracted to him, that he had an effect on her. He made her restless in a way no man ever had. To be honest, he threw her off balance.
“Aye. You've said.” He leaned against the anvil, arms folded across his chest. “There's a man who'll come later today and fix it.”
“Did you call someone?” There was no phone. He'd said that yesterday.
He shook his head. “I walked to the village while ye were sleeping. He'll be here before the end of the day.”
“You walked? That's...how many miles is that?”
At this he smiled, uncrossed his arms, and pushed away from the anvil. “It's a good morning stretch.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.”
Craig came toward her, and like the day before, she had the overwhelming desire to back away. But she was determined to stand up to him, not let him take advantage of her again.
“Thank ye as well.” He stopped, a hair closer to her than was entirely comfortable. He reached out, fingers brushing her hair, so gently she wasn't sure he'd actually touched her.
“For what?” Damn him. Damn the way he made her feel. “I didn't do anything.”
“Ye did, even if ye won't admit it.”
“They why didn't you stay?”
Those weren't the words she meant to say, but he didn't seem bothered by them. He tipped his head, regarding her with a serious expression.
“It's not an easy explanation, the reason why. Can you trust that I would have, if I could?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “ 'Would have'? You either wanted to or not. It's not a matter of could or would. It's a matter of wanting to spend the night with me...or not.”
He held her gaze, face darkening. “There are things about me ye cannot understand, not after one night between the sheets. Ye may think my life here is simple, a humble blacksmith living in the middle of the wild. The romance of the castle.” He stopped, drawing in a breath. “It's not so simple.”
They stood facing each other, the soft heat of the forge wrapped around them.
“What was last night? Was that you just taking advantage of a naïve Canadian girl who landed on your doorstep.”
The hurt in his eyes made her wish she could pull back the words. But they were out there, hanging between them.
“It might seem that way to ye. But ye weren't taken advantage of. I dinna mean for you to be hurt. But if ye asked me if I'd not want it to happen, I canna lie. I'd bed ye again, in a heartbeat.”
It felt as if the air had been pulled from the room, and she struggled to draw a breath. His eyes held hers, pain and longing clearly writ on his face. She reached for him as he leaned toward her.
“Craig, are ye about?”
The voice came from the courtyard. Craig straightened, moving away from her outstretched hand.
“That will be Owen, for your car.”
She watched him walk out of the shop, belatedly realizing they'd need the keys to her vehicle. Hurrying after him into the cool morning air, she dug in her pocket for the keys.
A small white-haired man stood by her car, hands on hips. When he saw Craig he smiled, his lined face falling into a thousand creases, his small bright eyes almost disappearing beneath bushy brows.
“There ye be, lad. Was wondering if you were still abed. But I doubted it.” For the first time he seemed to notice Arianna. She stopped a pace or two behind Craig, waiting awkwardly for an introduction.
“This is the woman I told ye about.” Craig glanced over his shoulder, stepped aside, motioning Arianna forward.
“And what brings you to this lovely place. A bit lonely out here, is it naught?”
Before Arianna could answer Craig began talking.
“She's from a university in Canada, doing research on the castle.” There was a strained quality to his voice, and Arianna wondered if what she was doing here bothered Craig that much. But she didn't have time to worry about him. She brushed past him, holding the keys out to Owen.
“Thank you for coming all the way out.”
He took the keys, jingling them in his hand. “No trouble. I'm closer than you think. Let's see what the trouble is.”
Kiss Of Fire (BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance): Dragon Shifter Romance Page 4
