There were a few beguiling, awkward moments while they shifted from lying across the bed to lying along it. Her feet no longer dangled onto the floor, and he stretched out beside her, still kissing her as if he hardly knew which part of her he wanted to taste next.
This playful, passionate seduction had her blood rising like the tide. As he teased her, she moaned with burgeoning desire. Then cried out when at last he lowered his lips to her breasts. She bowed up to encourage him, as a deep, pounding demand set up in her secret places.
Now she had some idea what that thick pulse promised.
“I want you, Diarmid.”
After a conversation formed of sighs and moans and gasps of appreciation, words seemed a shocking intrusion. He went still under her stroking hand and raised his head. A glittering black gaze pinned her in place.
“Say that again.”
Fiona tangled her fingers in the soft curls at the base of his skull. This ease with touching him was new, too. She even summoned a smile. “I want you.”
Before he could answer, she went on, needing him to know how he’d changed her. “I’ve never said that to a man in my life. Before tonight, I wouldn’t have known what it meant. Thank you, Diarmid. Thank you…my husband.”
He looked overwhelmed. “Fiona…”
“Kiss me again.” She gave his hair a gentle tug. “And perhaps it’s time, my dear, for you to take off that dressing gown.”
Chapter 28
Diarmid’s heart squeezed tight, as he rose on one elbow to stare down into Fiona’s breathtaking face. He couldn’t help recalling her desperate bravery when she came to him hours ago and offered to make this a real marriage.
She was still brave, and she was still desperate. But now, praise heaven, she was desperate for him.
He could hardly believe it, although that long, quaking response to his intimate kisses had made him hope that he might lure her into enjoying the union of their bodies. At least he’d assuaged her fears that she was unnatural, incapable of a woman’s full pleasure.
He’d loved the rich, salty flavor of her sex. He’d loved the little gasps and murmurs of surprised joy that greeted every daring incursion of his lips. Most of all, he’d loved feeling her spasm and writhe under his mouth, as she reached her first climax. Her startled cry would echo in his mind forever.
When she’d succumbed with such enchanting, unfettered astonishment, he’d struggled not to take her. He’d been ready for so long, but the bitter recollection of finding his release and leaving her behind proved a great spur to restraint. Perhaps now patience found its reward.
He sat up on the mattress and with a few fumbling movements untied the cord holding his robe in place. He was so het up, even the slide of the velvet against his skin threatened his control. He kneeled before her in all his hard male insistence and waited for her to retreat in terror from his nakedness.
No male organ had given her pleasure. Not even, to his shame, Diarmid’s.
Her curious gaze settled on the flesh swelling between his thighs. “Good Lord above.”
“I want ye, too.”
When she licked her lips, he bit back a pained groan. In most respects, she was still an innocent. He shouldn’t be imagining those satiny red lips closing around his dick.
“I…see.”
She continued to stare at his cock. Lack of blood started to make his head swim. “Are ye…are ye afraid?”
For her sake, he could hold back. Or at least he’d do his damnedest.
Fiona licked her lips again. Hell, he wished she’d stop doing that.
The delay before she replied threatened to blast him into tiny, steaming pieces. “You know, I don’t think I am. May I touch you?”
He was so stupid with wanting her, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her aright. “Aye.”
She pushed up against the pillows and stretched out one unsteady hand. Diarmid felt like he was strangling. His hands curled in the sheets beneath him, and he braced for her touch as if awaiting a blow.
Although the contact was over in an instant, it rushed through him like a tidal wave. He shut his eyes and groaned, as he battled for control.
“Oh!” she said on a soft exclamation of surprise that made him grit his teeth. “You’re…hot.”
By the devil, he was. Hot enough to burn to ash.
“May I do that again?”
“Aye.” The word was a harsh rumble.
“Are you sure?”
He opened his eyes to see her regarding him uncertainly, but not, thank God, with any fear.
“Of course I’m sure.” The prospect of her hand on him made his blood rush with wild anticipation. “I’m an inch away from grabbing ye. You must know by now that I want ye to the point of madness.”
A frown drew her fine brows together as she digested his words. “How…”
Perhaps his need troubled her or, even worse, disgusted her. Breath jammed like hot coals in his throat, as he waited for her to finish the sentence.
“…delightful.”
Dazed, bewildered, he stared at her. He was so used to seeing Fiona frightened, it took him a few moments to recognize that her expression conveyed curiosity and something that might almost be need.
“What?”
She shrugged, and her soft red lips curved in a smile tinged with gloating. “After what we just did—what you just did to me—I’m glad I can return the pleasure.”
“A hundredfold,” he said on a groan. He caught her hand. “Shall I show ye another way of giving me pleasure?”
The smile deepened, and sensual interest sparked in the blue eyes. “Yes, please.”
When he placed her hand on him, the heat threatened to incinerate him. He ground his teeth, as he hardened, when he’d already been as hard as an iron bar for what felt like hours.
He waited in a lather of suspense for Fiona to pull free. Instead, she shaped her hand to fit him, stroking his length, then curling her fingers around him. The night turned into exquisite torture.
“You like this?”
The husky question penetrated the uproar of blood in his head. “More than I can say.”
“I’m glad.”
“Move your hand up and down.” Although he wasn’t sure how long he’d last if she did.
After a vibrant pause, she obeyed. Fire engulfed his body, and his balls tightened to agony, but he couldn’t summon the words to stop her.
“Tighter,” he growled, his hands fisting in the bedclothes.
Diarmid watched Fiona learn how to touch a man. Her face was stern with concentration, but the hectic color in her cheeks betrayed how what she did stirred her.
He cupped one lovely breast. She shivered under his touch, and the rhythmic squeezing faltered before she resumed his torment.
His thumb teased her nipple until it pearled. He wanted to take her into his mouth, but if he did, she might stop touching his dick.
She leaned in and kissed him. Her lips moved over his with a luscious sweetness that threatened to tip him over the edge.
“Fiona…” he groaned when she lifted away, her name both plea and demand. He raised his hand to catch her shoulder. “I cannae…”
“Show me, Diarmid.”
He caught her hand and lifted it away from him. “Lie back.”
As she complied, he couldn’t mistake her eagerness. He prayed this time she’d reach her climax. With him so close to the edge, he wouldn’t wager on it.
When he shifted over her, she opened her legs to welcome him. He bent to kiss her, silently asking for permission to continue. She returned his kiss, running her hands up and down his back, then to his shock, catching his buttocks and squeezing them.
With a shaking hand, he stroked her cleft. She was slick and ready. He wanted to bring her to orgasm again, but he’d reached the limit of his control. His urgency to be inside her made him blind to everything but the woman beneath him.
“Don’t make me wait,” she said breathlessly, hands clenching on his arse. �
�I’ve never felt like this before.”
A reminder, should he need one, of what was at stake. Diarmid clasped her hips in tender hands. With a gentleness that belied his fierce need, he tilted her toward him. Instead of plunging into her as hunger demanded, he slid forward carefully. When hot wetness clasped the head of his cock, he tensed every muscle against spilling himself. With steady power, he forged ahead, until he was seated fully inside her.
Diarmid rose on his elbows to see her face. Fiona was flushed, and her mouth was red and parted as she gasped for air. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and angled up in wordless encouragement.
He needed no better incitement.
***
Fiona felt cherished and complete, in a way she never had before. When she shifted, Diarmid settled more deeply. He stretched her, touching places Ian had never come near to discovering.
Also new was the emotional connection, even stronger than a physical connection that left her floundering. The mercifully rare encounters with her first husband had never impinged upon her essential self. Now her essential self was naked and vulnerable. The strangest element was that she wasn’t afraid, when fear was the air she’d breathed every day for the last ten years.
Diarmid’s thrusts shook her body and pressed her into the mattress. After that extraordinary explosion of delight when he kissed her between the legs, she recognized the swirling rise of arousal. But this was better because he was with her. Every time he slid deep, he became part of her in some way she didn’t understand, but couldn’t deny. The union extended beyond two bodies in a bed to verge on the holy.
When she lifted her hips to meet him, an immediate thrill rewarded her. Muttering something unintelligible, he caught her waist. Firm hands took her with him as he rolled onto his back. Now she was kneeling over Diarmid, with his body hard and insistent inside her.
“What on earth…”
Before she could shift away, he seized her hips in adamant hands. “Ride me, Fiona.”
“I can’t…” she said, even as this position pressed his length against new and needy parts of her.
A smile eased his tension. “Aye, ye can.” As the smile faded, dark eyes met hers with a piercing alertness that she felt to her bones. “This act has never been yours. Now it is. Use me for your pleasure.”
This agony of gratitude she suffered felt like so much more. He understood her better than she understood herself. If she wasn’t so avid for his possession, the idea would terrify her.
“Diarmid…” she said in a broken voice.
Words failed her, and she leaned forward to kiss him with a luxurious languor that thickened her blood to honey. Her breasts pressed into his chest, creating a beguiling friction against the crisp curls of dark hair.
She lingered over the kiss, before she rose with fresh confidence. Holding that impressive column of flesh beneath her, she angled over him. It was easier than she’d imagined to take him inside her, although the action seemed outlandish, almost unnatural.
“What should I do?” she asked uncertainly.
“Whatever ye like.” Humor creased his eyes as he caught her hips in a light hold. “But I fear if you delay too long, I mightnae stay the distance.”
“You’re a hero, Diarmid. You’ll manage.”
She meant it, although his grunt of amusement told her he thought she was teasing.
Teasing…
Slowly, knowing it would both tantalize and please him, she rose. Every nerve in her body sparked to life. Her startled gaze met his. He watched her with a powerful mixture of tenderness and hunger.
Fiona tightened and squirmed, until he groaned. Stoking the heat inside her to a blaze, she settled into an undulating pattern. When he cupped her breasts, a spike in pleasure made her circle her hips.
He groaned again and pinched her nipples, propelling her spiraling need ever upward. Her movements became more uneven, as each wave hit harder. He tugged at her nipples and jutted his hips higher into her.
The subtle change in position swept her across into rapture. She convulsed over him, as rivers of fire flashed through her. Vaguely through the glory, she felt his hands tighten on her hips. He rolled her under him again. As he shifted over her, she felt the mattress give beneath her back.
Diarmid groaned and thrust hard. In a heated gush, his seed flooded her womb.
***
In perfect, unprecedented peace, Diarmid sprawled over Fiona. His galloping heart slowed from its headlong rush. This time he felt neither guilt nor dissatisfaction. She’d found her peak, just before he’d delivered himself over to a fulfillment deeper and more powerful than anything he’d ever known.
For a few seconds, he lingered dazzled in that heaven, his cock still inside Fiona, her arms holding him close, the broken whisper of her breath in his ears. Then he stirred and raised his head.
“I must be crushing ye.”
She always looked beautiful, but the ease in her expression as she stared up at him made her so bonny that he caught his breath. Her eyes glowed, and the ever-present strain was gone. “I like it.”
“You’re a strange wee lassie,” he murmured and kissed her quickly. Her lips moved under his with tenderness, but no passion.
Despite her beauty, she looked weary. It had been a long and eventful night.
Gently he wrapped his arms about her and moved onto his side, taking her with him. They remained joined. He had an uncanny feeling that after this miraculous night they’d shared, in some indefinable sense, they’d remain linked forever.
He’d liked and enjoyed the women he’d taken to his bed before his marriage. But the act of love had never touched his soul the way it did with Fiona. She’d pleasured his body—he felt so pleasured, he feared he’d never walk again—but she’d also filled some hollow in his heart he hadn’t even known was there.
Perhaps it was because they were husband and wife. He and this woman would create a family, live together as long as the good Lord granted.
Fiona studied him, as if profound thoughts troubled her, too. “I feel…married.”
Suddenly and illogically happy, he smiled. He bumped his hips forward and felt her tighten around him as if she, like he, couldn’t bear to break the connection. “By God, so do I.”
“I’m glad I came to you tonight.”
“I never imagined ye would.”
The joy in her smile made his heart turn a clumsy somersault. “To think, we can do it all again and again.”
“Aren’t we lucky?”
“And…” A yawn interrupted her. “Actually I might need some sleep before we get too adventurous.”
“You’ve been worrying yourself sick for days, haven’t ye?”
She’d looked gorgeous at the wedding, but frail and on edge. He hadn’t missed the violet shadows under her azure eyes.
He’d been fair bedeviled himself. The prospect of Fiona becoming his bride but never his wife had robbed him of sleep.
“About Christina.”
“Aye.”
“And about you. You made such a dreadful bargain when you decided to help me.”
He kissed her softly on the mouth. “Right now, it doesnae feel too dreadful.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “Thank you, Diarmid. You’ve banished my fear.”
“I’m glad.” He wanted to say more, something significant, but the right words hovered out of reach. “Sleep now.”
“Aye.” Her eyes searched his face as if she sought answers to questions she hadn’t yet asked. “May I stay?”
This kiss lasted longer and to his astonishment, his body stirred. He raised his head. “I’d like that. I hated asking for that second room.”
“At the next inn, you should save your silver and take one bedroom.” Charming humor lit her tired eyes. “I’m speaking as a thrifty housewife.”
His brief laugh was appreciative. “What a wee treasure I’ve found.”
Diarmid tried to speak lightly, but the words emerged weighty with meaning.
Because he did think she was a treasure. She wasn’t anything like the woman he’d ever imagined marrying, but he wasn’t blind to her quality. Now she was his wife, he intended to guard her well and do his best to make her happy.
“I’ve brought you a lot of trouble.” Her smile faded. “I hope you still think I’m a treasure, after we’ve defeated all our dragons.”
“I will,” he said, although he could see she remained unconvinced.
He sighed. Time alone would prove him true. “Stop worrying, Fiona. You’re safe, and we’ll get Christina back. Everything else can wait.”
“You’re right,” she said softly, and leaned in to kiss him. Every time she seized the initiative, she took him by surprise. “I don’t want to spoil our glorious night.”
“Glorious?” he said, his heart brimming with happiness.
With a tenderness that had the same giddy effect as her kiss, she touched his cheek. “Aye, glorious. Although I suspect our glorious night has turned into glorious morning.”
So did he. As if to confirm what she said, a blackbird began to sing outside the curtained window.
“Try and sleep. I want us on the road early.” He paused. “I’m sorry it’s no’ much of a honeymoon.”
Not that he’d expected anything like a traditional honeymoon. He’d assumed he’d spend his wedding night alone and yearning. Fiona might be astonished by what had happened between them, but then so was he.
“I wish things were different,” she said with a trace of wistfulness.
“I hate what you’ve been through. I hate that your child has been stolen away. But I cannae hate the circumstances that brought us together.”
By the light of the guttering candles, she studied him. “Do you mean that?”
“Aye, with all my heart.”
“You’re a good man, Diarmid,” she said softly and kissed him again.
He wished to heaven she’d stop saying that. He wished to heaven she felt more for him than gratitude.
But that was an argument for another time, if ever. Diarmid didn’t mistake the damage ten years with the Grants had wrought on his bonny wife. He wasn’t fool enough to think that one night of passion could heal those wounds and leave her whole and ready to face the future at his side.
The Highlander's Lost Lady Page 23
