Wicked Highland Lords: Over 1100 pages of Scottish Regency Romance

by Tarah Scott

  She startled at the brush of fingers on her breast beneath the water. His stare remained locked with hers as he touched her. She flushed, the water suddenly cold. How was she to endure the agonizing pleasure and not leap from the bathwater and onto him?

  He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “Caroline, I am no brute. Sharing a bed can bring us both pleasure.”

  How could she answer? A wife’s place was not to question her husband’s past liaisons, but the forbidden knowledge she possessed as Aphrodite confirmed the truth of his words. Determination rose. She wouldn’t let a fantasy of a woman who didn’t truly exist occupy Taran’s thoughts. Not tonight. When he plunged his hard, beautiful cock into her, he would know the woman in his arms was real.

  She jammed her eyes shut. Fool, such liberties were not hers to take. He could never know her as he had Aphrodite, not now, not ever. A mental picture rose of their lives fifteen years into the future, his sudden recognition and hatred, that loathing reflected in their son’s eyes as the father’s revulsion seeped into every aspect of their lives.

  “Do not fear,” he whispered near her mouth.

  Caroline jarred from the morbid vision and gave a small cry when he kissed her again. The hand on her hip tightened almost convulsively, then wrapped around her back. He slipped his other arm beneath her knees and lifted her from the water.

  Caroline squeaked and threw her arms around his neck. Water streamed onto his chest and arms, soaking his breeches and leaving a trail across the floor as he strode to the bed. She shivered, the chilled room a stark contrast to the warm, contoured torso that pressed into her breasts and hip.

  He stopped beside the bed and looked down at her. “Kiss me, sweet.”

  She blinked in surprise. He stared, the dark eyes intense, but pleading for something, anything, to show she wasn’t without feeling…wasn’t the cold bitch John had said she was. Understanding hit with the force of a gale wind. This man was nothing like John. John would have given no thought to the fact she despised his touch. He would have bedded her until the required heir was produced, then left her a dry husk, never again to be touched or considered.

  But Taran had no taste for life with a woman who hated him. Love was not a requirement, but neither was loathing an option. If she didn’t give herself to him, he would believe she hated him. Until last night, she had. He deserved better than she would have given John. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. He must never know the truth. She had to get to the vial hidden beneath the mattress and empty it onto the sheets before he awoke in the morning.

  Caroline tightened her arms around his neck and inched forward until her lips brushed his. He opened his mouth opened and his tongue snaked between her lips. His gentle but determined thrusts against her tongue set her heart to pounding. God help her, she wanted him. How many more nights could she have with him before this house of cards fell in on her…before he grew tired of her and sought another woman? Her heart twisted. Better another woman than his hatred. She sank into the kiss, drinking in his essence. Never in her wildest dreams had she conceived this moment possible. Her masked lord held her close, sweeping her into a vortex of carnal cravings.

  Arms tight around her, Taran sat on the edge of the bed, settling her on his thighs. She gasped at the feel of his erection against her hip and the pull of awareness travelled from her nipples into the hotness between her legs. He broke the kiss and trailed a finger along her face, feathered his touch along the column of her neck and over her shoulder.

  He bent his head and closed his mouth over a nipple. Caroline bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to keep from moaning. Despite the pleasure that slipped through her veins, melting her from the inside, she would give herself to him as the expected virgin. His velvet tongue curled around the nipple. She squeezed her thighs against the burgeoning need that rose between her legs. Wet heat rolled over her breast. Answering warmth slicked her thighs.

  He would know how she responded, just as she could feel his arousal, hard and erect in his breeches, prodding into her hip.

  He shifted and set her on the bed, then stood and stared down at her, eyes dark with desire. Her breath caught. Here was the man from last night, filled with lust.

  Tucking his thumbs into the sides of his breeches, he pushed them past lean hips. His broad shoulders, tapered torso, and strong thighs held her mesmerized. And his cock. Long, thick, and fully erect, thrust towards her. Dark curls circled the base and trailed up over his groin. Silvery liquid leaked from the slit in the rounded knob. Her mouth watered, yet she knew she could never again taste him in that way.

  He sat on the mattress and began shoving the breeches from his legs. Caroline scrambled to the center of the bed. With a hard tug, she pulled the coverlet from the pillows and dived beneath the blanket. The crisp sheets chilled her, but did nothing to stop the steady thrum that pulsed in her pussy. She was wet and her internal muscles clenched with the desire to have his cock deep inside. Caroline swallowed, thankful his back was to her. Her only doubt was her ability to hide her response to him.

  Taran stood and faced her, giving her full view of all that made him perfectly male. “I cannot promise there will be no pain.”

  He seemed to stumble over the words. Perhaps because only last night he’d whispered a similar sentiment to another virgin?

  “I am strong.” She winced inwardly at the schoolgirl words. Even last night, when she had been a true virgin, she’d had no fear of this man.

  He braced one knee on the bed and cupped her cheek. “Do I frighten you?” Yes, her heart cried, but she only nodded.

  He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. Caroline silently cursed the tremble in her mouth, then realized he would mistake the action for trepidation, not desire. Praise heaven for small favors. Now if she could just keep from grabbing his cock and shoving it inside her, she might yet convince him she hadn’t tasted him before this night.

  He came down on top of her and she was certain the feel of his hard length through the blanket was enough to bring her instant pleasure. He cupped her face and kissed her. She startled at the gentle thrust of his erection against her stomach. He kissed her cheek, then lower, to her neck. She pushed at his shoulders, unable to stifle a whimper when his tongue flicked at the spot beneath her ear in unison with another thrust onto her stomach.

  “So sweet,” he whispered into her ear.

  Caroline shivered.

  Taran shifted to the side and tugged the blanket from between them. Cool air rolled across her body, puckering her nipples and tightening her pussy to near discomfort. He sucked in breath and a blush of heat rose into her cheeks. He had never looked upon Aphrodite, never had his cock harden because she lay naked before him. Whatever she might have lost, this belonged to her, his wife.

  He shifted back on top of her. Warmth enveloped her like smooth steel heated before a blazing hearth. He kissed her forehead, eyes, then each temple before finally finding her mouth again. Caroline grasped his shoulders. Muscles bunched beneath her fingers and she envisioned those muscles tightening as he pumped into her.

  Her breath caught and he gave a soft chuckle. Unexpected embarrassment warmed her cheeks. This was not a man with his paramour, but the gentle touch of a lord with his lady. While last night his lust had incited her to the heights of ecstasy, this was no less arousing. He kissed her, sliding his mouth from her lips, down past her jaw, neck, then lower to the curve of her breasts.

  She tightened her fingers on his shoulders, her nails sinking into his flesh. He latched onto a nipple and she couldn’t prevent a moan. She shifted, then realized too late she had opened her thighs for him. He settled against her mound and the weight of him pressed so intimately to her brought a wave of desire that was nearly her undoing. His warm hand covered her other breast. He abruptly stopped. She shifted her gaze onto him, her heart pounding. Had recognition come so soon, so suddenly?

  His gaze travelled her length and she instinctively reached for the blank
et.

  “You are mine to look upon.” He smiled gently. “To touch.” He traced a line down her leg with a finger. “To kiss.”

  He slid to the foot of the bed and grasped her foot. A tickle caused her to try and yank from his grasp, but his hold tightened as he brought her foot to his mouth and flicked his tongue against her toe. She shrieked when he sucked the toe into his mouth.

  Her pussy throbbed. “Bloody hell.”

  Taran paused and lifted his eyes to hers. He stared for a long moment, then slid his tongue between her toes. Heat raced into her breasts, stomach, fingertips, and her juices soaked her folds. The scent of her arousal intensified, need boiling within her. She stretched her toe and he sucked it the way she’d sucked his cock in the maze, working it in and out of his mouth. She balled her hands into fists against the sudden desire to touch herself and work her fingers between the dewy folds and ease the ache.

  Her toe popped from his mouth and her hips dropped onto the bed. Caroline dragged in a breath. Good lord, she had bowed off the mattress like a catapult pulled back to full extension. She had no idea her feet were connected to her pussy. So he had not given every intimate secret to Aphrodite? What more would he teach her?

  As if reading her mind, he rained kisses up one leg, then the other, rubbing, touching as he drove her beyond thinking. When he parted her legs, her pulse jumped with the hope he would put his mouth on her as he had last night. Instead, he placed soft kisses to her hips, across her pelvis, even tasting her navel before he positioned himself over her. Gaze locked with hers, he settled his hips between her thighs. His cock rode the wet slit of her sex.

  “When I enter you, it will not be pleasant.” He braced on his arms, keeping most of his weight from her.

  Caroline resisted the urge to wrap a leg around his calf. “I understand,” she replied in a small voice she prayed didn’t reveal how much she wanted his hardness slamming in and out of her passage.

  Remember the first time, he’d said as he slid his rod between her legs. Could she recall the pain? The intense, but brief discomfort was a distant memory, drowned within the pool of pleasure that had followed.

  Taran laced the fingers of one hand with hers and, leveraging higher, aligned the crown of his stalk with her drenched opening.

  “You are so wet.” He pushed in an inch and spread her juices over his cock.

  Caroline bit back a whimper. The torture of his patience was killing her. Hold strong, she commanded herself. He must believe you are innocent.

  He pushed a fraction deeper, gyrating his hips to stretch her opening. He wrapped an arm under her back and unexpectedly thrust deep. Caroline cried out. Her back arched off the bed at the burn of intrusion. No longer a virgin, but Taran still had the length and thickness to stretch her taut channel. Tears seeped from the corner of her eyes.

  He hugged her close, keeping their bodies still. “Forgive me.” He kissed her closed eyes. “It is better to get the first thrust over with quickly.”

  Caroline clung to his shoulders. “I am well, my lord.” She shifted beneath him.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, and pulled back before easing into her again.

  His slow, steady strokes built momentum. Cream slicked her channel. Last night, having his cock thrusting into her had been divine. There were no words to describe tonight. He completed her.

  Caroline lifted and rolled her hips. The pressure of his erection nudged the very deepest part of her body. He penetrated fully, then reared back slowly. Tremors rippled her internal walls. Sweat beaded on her brow and the weight of his body pressed her into the bed. She reveled in the sensations crashing through her. She gasped for breath, but Taran increased his speed. Sliding into her wet, heated sheath, pulling out, then sliding into her again. Cabled muscles in his arms bunched as he braced above her. A tick flinched in his clenched jaw. He rode her, wringing pleasure from her body.

  “My lord.” Her heart leapt. Had he detected the fear lacing her voice? She was going to come.

  Harder thrusts inched her up the bed. She would not have thought it possible, but his rod felt harder, thicker, and plunged unbelievably deeper.

  “La petite mort.”

  “The little death,” she repeated in a whisper.

  Caroline jammed her eyes shut. Tiny sparks flashed behind her eyelids. Her tummy tightened and her mind numbed. Convulsions started deep in her core and radiated out through her body. She gripped his shoulders and locked her legs around his hips. Spasms jerked her entire being. Taran’s arms tightened then, and with a shout, he erupted. Warm seed pulsed within her, slicking her channel as he continued to pump her full of his cream until he at last went limp on top of her, his chest heaving from exertion.

  A moment passed, his breathing slowed, and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then rolled to the side. Caroline lay still as a mouse. She didn’t dare glance at him. What thoughts weaved through his mind? Had she been convincing as the blushing bride? Her heart still pounded. She hadn’t been able to completely stifle her response to his touch.

  He stirred beside her, his gentle fingers tracing her arm.

  “The tenderness and blood are expected,” he said.

  She gritted her teeth. Why in God’s name wasn’t the man already snoring in deep sleep? Damn his eagerness. If he chose now to verify her virginity he would find only a slippery combination of their completion.

  He startled her by rising and starting across the room. Caroline stared, mesmerized by the sight of his tight buttocks flexing with each powerful step. Taran reached the sideboard and she jarred from the morbid trance.

  He reached for the pitcher and she scrambled to the right side of the bed. The sound of water sloshing into the bowl filled the silence as Caroline stuffed a hand beneath the mattress. Her fingers touched then closed around the silver vial. She pulled it free just as he set the pitcher back on the table. She yanked the cover up over herself with the intention of opening the top when Taran turned, bowl and washcloth in hand.

  Caroline froze, the vial gripped in one hand as he strode towards the bed. “Wh-what are you doing, my lord?”

  Taran stopped beside the bed and set the bowl on the nightstand. He paused, clearly taking in the blanket clutched to chin level. “There is no reason to be embarrassed.” He sat next to her. “Allow me to wash you.”

  Her heart pounded against her ribs. To have come so far, risked so much, only to be undone by the man’s kindness.

  “My lord, I…” She choked back the words. How could she ask him to leave the room so she could deceive him further?

  He dipped the washcloth in the water. His gaze shifted to the cloth as he wrung water from it and Caroline glanced at the edge of the bed. She could never slip the vial back beneath the mattress without being caught. Tears rose perilously close to the surface. It was enough that he would discover she wasn’t the promised virgin, but to catch her trying to deceive him would incur his wrath, maybe even recall his instructions to Aphrodite last night. Recognition would be instantaneous.

  He shifted and Caroline stuffed the vial beneath her pillow. Taran faced her, his expression gentle. He leaned forward and breathed a kiss to her neck, caressed the edge of her breast with a feathering touch. Gently, he urged her back onto the pillow, then pried the covers from her fingers. He pulled the blanket down to her feet. Caroline shut her eyes and steeled herself for his wrath.

  With pressure to the insides of her knees, he opened her legs. Cool fabric pressed against her mound. Gentle swipes of the cloth wiped away the blending of their cream.

  Caroline startled at feel of firm lips pressed to her inner thigh.

  “Forgive me,” he murmured.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. Back rigid and his mouth a tight thin line, his ministrations were centered on her thighs. She shifted her gaze to her legs. Her breath caught. Streaks of blood stained the sheets. More blood—but how? In a flood, tears filled her eyes and the weight of her secret crashed around her. More blood. She hadn’t know
n it was possible. Apparently neither had Taran. She wouldn’t need the vial after all.

  Taran traced a finger along her thigh. “Our first time—” He shook his head.

  Relief washed over her and she couldn’t refrain from covering his hand with hers. His head lifted and their gazes met.

  Caroline offered a tremulous smile. “We are no longer strangers.” Gratitude shone in his eyes and her heart broke.

  * * * *

  Tentative fingers slid across his stomach. Lower, across his groin. His breath grew thready and blood surged into his shaft. He was dreaming. Lying in a soft bed with a soft woman stretched out next to him. Silky hair draped over his shoulder and warm breath fanned against his chest. She shifted and her fingers brushed his cock. He groaned, reached over, and covered her hip with a palm. Her thighs parted. Soft, damp curls ground into his thigh. The woman moaned. A seductive, sweet sound he recognized. Aphrodite. So vivid and real beneath his hands. Smooth, naked curves. Heat from her pussy scorching his flesh. Clamping his eyes shut, he refused to wake. No. He wanted to be encased in her tight, slippery sheath.

  Wrapping his hand over her thigh, he slid her onto his lap, a leg straddling each of his hips. Centered over his shaft, her slit parted and her folds surrounded his length. Rubbing, grinding, thrusting against her mound, he braced her hips, then moved his hands higher, over each rib. Finally, he cupped each perfect, full breast in his palms. He pinched the taut nipples and she gasped. Her hips rocked against him, emulating a lover’s intimate dance.

  Bracing a hand on his chest, she rose onto her knees and grasped his shaft. Taran clenched his jaw and angled his head back. Intense pleasure surged through him. Blood roared through his ears and his heart pounded. Her fingers were tight, yet her stroke was delicate. When she reached lower and fondled his scrotum, Taran thought he would go mad.

  With precise movements, she positioned his rod at the entrance of her channel and, in one slow slide, took him in.