The Highlander's English Bride Page 21

  Finally, his hand traced the hot, wet folds of her sex, and she cried out in pleasure and surprise. When his attention focused on one place in particular, violent sensation crashed down over her. She shuddered and cried out and all her muscles clenched into flaring bliss. Her tumultuous reaction left her shaking and gasping.

  When she came back to earth, her nails dug into his brawny forearms and her legs sprawled across the sheets. Modesty became so irrelevant that she had no idea why she’d ever asked him to stop.

  "Hamish, what on earth was that?" she asked breathlessly, trying to straighten cramped fingers.

  He smiled at her. "That, my darling, was the first of many climaxes. Or at least I hope so."

  "Climax?"

  "Didn’t it feel like a climax?"

  "It felt like… It felt like a mountainside of pleasure slid down to bury me. And you can stop looking so smug."

  "But I feel smug. Would you like to do it again?"

  She swallowed to shift a swirling mixture of trepidation and excitement. "Again?"

  "And again and again."

  "I’m not sure I’ll survive."

  The gentle mockery in his laugh made her want to snuggle closer. "I’ll save you if you’re in danger."

  When she lifted her hands from his arms, she was horrified to see the crescent marks of her fingernails on his golden skin. "I think you’re the one in danger."

  He glanced at the scratches. "Wounds of honor."

  His grandiloquence made her giggle. "Wounds of lust, more like."

  The tremulous, otherworldly feeling receded, but the glow lingered. What an extraordinary experience. Emily felt like he’d combed out all her bones and laid them out in line under the sun.

  Except if Hamish was right, it wasn’t so extraordinary at all and he could make it happen again. How…marvelous.

  Confusion stirred under her anticipation. "I don’t understand what just happened to me."

  He stretched out on his side and crooked one elbow so he could rest his head on his hand. Those bright blue eyes surveyed her with unmistakable approval. "You want me to explain what I did?"

  "No." Except while she thought about it, his capacity for drawing such reactions from her body was interesting. She would like to know more. "Well, yes. But not now."

  "Then what don’t you understand, you absurd miracle of a woman?"

  That melting feeling was back. "Oh, Hamish…" she whispered. "How am I meant to put two words together when you say such wonderful things to me?"

  He reached out to play with her tangled brown hair. "Do you like it?"

  "You know I do."

  More than his astonishing words, the affection in his tone launched her heart on a dizzying swoop. She struggled to remind herself that only one person in this bed was in love, and it wasn’t her husband. But clinging to that thought was impossible when Hamish stared at her as if she was another new comet for him to discover.

  Another comet? An entirely new galaxy.

  "Stop thinking so hard. I’ve never taken a scientific lady to bed before. I had no idea of the challenges she’d present."

  "Too many challenges?"

  "I’m up to them," he said, with another of those gravelly laughs that made her bones dissolve with yearning.

  He caught a handful of her hair in his fist and leaned in to kiss her again. His lips soothed her uncertainty, but not her curiosity. In fact, it was his…upness that troubled her.

  "You said you wanted me," she said against his lips.

  He frowned as he lifted his head. "Good God, you can’t doubt that."

  "I’m beginning to."

  He sat up and stared at her in consternation. "What the devil…"

  Explaining this was difficult, not least because she still trembled after those extraordinary moments when she’d flown free of the world’s bounds. Her explanation emerged in a breathless rush.

  "I thought you’d be in a hurry. I thought there would only be…hurry." She scowled as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her bosom. "Now you’re trying not to laugh at me."

  "Actually I think we’re both rather funny."

  "Why? What am I meant to think? You haven’t even taken off your kilt."

  "I was trying not to frighten you." She saw he, too, struggled for words. "This is your first time with a man. I want it to be good for you, so I’m—"

  "Preparing the ground?"

  This time he did laugh, although with a bashful note that made her susceptible heart contract with adoration. "If you like. I’m…big all over, you see."

  He certainly was. She remembered his rampant virility from their chaotic wedding night. When she felt bereft without him, she’d often let her mind dwell on the image as a naughty pleasure. Now when she thought about that hefty organ invading her body, she began to see the problem. "You’re saying you won’t fit?"

  Hamish started to blush. "I’m saying things might be somewhat painful, at least the first time. So I’m trying to make you as…relaxed as possible first."

  "When you touch me, it’s not relaxing," she said emphatically.

  "It’s not?"

  "No, it’s exciting and stirring and—"

  He groaned and closed his eyes. "Stop, Emily. Or you’ll get your rushed coupling after all."

  As she stared at him sitting beside her, she realized that caught up in her unprecedented responses, she’d missed the signs of how he was reacting. He wasn’t nearly as at ease as she’d thought. Tension bunched in those broad shoulders, and the angle of his masterful jaw told her he fought to rein himself in. "You’re being…kind again."

  Another agonized groan and this time, she heard the strain behind the sound. "Don’t you believe a word of it. It’s all self-serving. I don’t want you deciding once is enough."

  She placed her hand flat on his chest, where his heart thundered. "Hamish, I hate to see you suffer. I’m sure I can cope with—"

  His large, warm hand covered hers. "I don’t want you merely coping. I want you transported with delight."

  A smile curved her lips. "That sounds lovely."

  He stared into her eyes as if he plumbed every corner of her soul. "It is. At least it can be."

  "Show me." Then she spoke the words she’d never said before. "I want you, Hamish."

  Brilliant excitement flared in his features, made his golden beauty blaze like lightning. Her wayward heart upended into a dizzying tumble of trepidation and desire as he swept away the sheet and came down over her. "Then let’s be on our way, lassie."

  Chapter 24

  Through a turbulent storm of kisses and caresses, Hamish managed to unwrap his kilt. It was a damn sight easier than stripping off his English clothes, thank God. Although he resented even those few seconds, because they stopped him from kissing Emily.

  She wanted him. He’d known it when she responded so ardently to his seduction, but hearing her speak the words was a dream fulfilled.

  He stroked the delicate petals of her sex, finding the center of her pleasure and teasing her until she was gasping and he felt the liquid rush of her arousal. How he loved the way her face changed, when she gave herself up to delight. She closed her eyes and parted her lips and released a long voluptuous sigh of surrender. That sound of female rapture made him feel like a king.

  While she still trembled in the afterglow, he settled between her legs, poised to join his body to hers. With exquisite care, he edged forward, watching her face all the time. When a faint wince tightened her expression, he made himself stop.

  "Are you all right, Emily?" he asked in a raw tone.

  She opened her eyes and summoned a smile. Her hands clenched hard on his shoulders. "Don’t wait, Hamish. We’ve waited too long already."

  By heaven, that was true.

  He kissed her with all the reverence he felt for her. Gradually the stiffness seeped from her body, and he shifted deeper. Then deeper again, until she cried out and dug her fingernails into his skin. Tomorrow, he’d bear her mark. Dear God, he’d bear her mark for the rest of his life, whether the world could see it or not.

  To his dismay, he saw a tear trickle from the corner of her eye. He stopped moving, although every atom in his body insisted he push home and claim her. "Emily, I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you."

  "No," she said in a husky voice.

  "Liar."

  To his surprise, she angled up and kissed him with clumsy but volcanic passion. "It’s a little uncomfortable, but not too bad. I feel so...stretched."

  Yes, she must. She closed so snug around him. The sensation was glorious – for him, at least.

  Emily kissed him again, and he felt her desperate grip as he inched further. With a shaking hand, he reached down and tilted her upward. The change in position drew a guttural sound from her. This time, it wasn’t a whimper of pain but a moan of pleasure.

  Encouraged, he kept going. As the delicious pressure built, she released another of those beguiling little hums of enjoyment.

  She wriggled, and he felt her body loosen in sudden welcome. With a naturalness he would never have expected, he seated himself fully inside her.

  "Hamish…" In that soft contralto, his name was a caress.

  "My wife." Profound emotion flooded his heart. It vied with this unrivaled physical pleasure for the most powerful experience in his life.

  Fergus was right. A wife wasn’t like other lassies. Or at least his wasn’t. This connection he formed with Emily beggared previous encounters the way the sun outshone every other object in the solar system.

  He rose on his elbows until he could see her face. She was flushed, and her eyes were heavy and dark with arousal, green as forest pools. After his ferocious kisses, her lips were swollen and red.

  When he’d taken her, she dug her fingernails into him. Hamish was a barbarian to admit it, but the sting had added extra spice to this first extraordinary connection.

  Now she released her frantic clutch on his shoulders and began to stroke him, touching his arms and neck and chest. It was like she discovered him through touch alone, while all the time, her body held him as if she never meant to let him go.

  "I had no idea," she murmured. Her hands trembled as she explored his damp skin. "The…closeness is astonishing, isn’t it?"

  "Sublime." He dipped his head to kiss her. The urge to move became irresistible, but he was reluctant to shatter this radiance. "Does it still hurt?"

  "A little. That’s part of the pleasure."

  "Yes," Hamish said, glad she started to understand.

  "You’ve occupied every inch of me," she said in that same wondering tone. "I don’t know where I end and where you begin."

  His heart expanded to the point of bursting. "My darling…" he whispered and kissed her again.

  Her roaming hands moved up and down his back, tracing his spine and the long muscles over his ribs. Her touch felt like a benediction. Wherever she stroked his skin, she made him whole in a way he’d never felt before.

  He started to move and transcendent stillness changed to furious action. As he withdrew and thrust forward again, she made a raw sound of appreciation. Her grip on his back tightened. The next time, she lifted to greet him. He lost himself to the blazing dance of desire.

  Emily crossed the barrier first. As her body clenched around him, she cried out on a high pure note that would echo in his ears forever. He held still while she shuddered and convulsed around him.

  Not a moment too soon. Keeping himself back as she attained her peak tested his limits. He retreated, the wondrous friction threatening to blow his head off. Then with a mighty roar, he plunged forward and gave everything he was into her keeping.

  ***

  Emily still soared in the dizzying heights, when she felt the hot spurt of Hamish’s seed. Their joining had already spun an intimacy between them that left her reeling. But this moment, when she received his essence, was the most intimate act of all.

  He exhaled audibly and rolled to the side. Overwhelmed by all that had happened tonight, she remained flat on her back staring up at the beams on the ceiling. Gradually her breathing eased, her heart steadied, and her mind wafted back to earth after wandering out among the stars. She became aware that she was still naked. So was Hamish. His arm lay along hers, a physical connection to remind her of the more profound physical connection they’d just shared.

  The long night drew to an end. A bird started to sing outside. The dawn came early here in Scotland. Already sunlight edged the curtains to compete with the lamplight.

  Lying here beside Hamish without a stitch to cover her, she started to feel awkward. She shifted to find the sheet.

  "Not yet," Hamish said, his voice more subterranean than she’d ever heard it.

  "I thought…" she began, then forgot what she meant to say when he caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

  "Just lie with me."

  She shifted until she could see his profile. The straight, commanding nose and determined chin gave little away. "If you wish."

  Then her fleeting unease evaporated as he drew her into his arms, until she lay with her head on his chest and her legs tangled with his. Immediately the closeness returned. She’d feared it might belong purely to the marital act.

  "Thank you, Emily." Drowsiness thickened the words, as he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

  "Thank you, Hamish." I love you, Hamish.

  She felt tired and stretched and on edge. She wanted to dance and jump and run. She wanted to stay just where she was, resting in her husband’s arms in the sweet aftermath. Her body felt strange, as if it didn’t belong to her anymore. There was a stickiness between her legs, and her neck and breasts stung where the beginnings of his beard had chafed her skin.

  Her mind inevitably drifted back to that explosion of ecstasy. It had been like her earlier climax – thank goodness Hamish had given her a word to describe that flaring moment. But the experience had been longer and more powerful when he’d been inside her. At the end, her pleasure had risen so high, surely she must have rattled the gates of heaven.

  She cuddled closer to Hamish and winced as strained muscles made themselves felt when she moved. A climax was a marvelous thing. She hoped Hamish meant to give her another before too long.

  And if a climax was a wonderful thing, she began to think a skillful lover for a husband might be even better.

  Chapter 25

  They stayed in the peel tower for a week, enjoying a long-delayed honeymoon. Emily became used to plundering Hamish’s wardrobe, although the wicked truth was that she spent much more time naked in his bed than she spent dressed in his shirts.

  "You’ve turned me into a lazy sensualist," she said to her husband now as they rode back to Lyon House.

  They were making their way along a narrow defile. From her first trip to the tower, she remembered that this track led to a ridge overlooking Lyon House in its pretty valley. She’d ridden up to the tower only seven days ago, yet the Emily who retraced this route was a completely new person.

  Hamish turned back in the saddle to give her the flashing smile that sweetened her blood to honey. "You’re surely not blaming me."

  "I surely am."

  "Then I cry unfair. There I was, dedicating every waking hour to the cause of science, when a wild and wanton woman landed on my doorstep and demanded I abandon my studies and put myself at her service."

  "That’s not how I remember it."

  "Damn this pass. It’s too narrow."

  "What?" She’d drifted into a reverie, reliving some of the decadent things Hamish had done in her service. "Are we in danger?"

  He faced forward, his low chuckle carrying back to her. "The only danger is that I want to get off this horse and kiss you."

  "That doesn’t sound too dangerous."

  "It is, if you want to reach Lyon House before nightfall."

  Her smile faded, and she dared to voice what troubled her. "Hamish, will we be the same when we get back to civilization?"

  He pulled his horse to a stop and turned to face her. "My darling, it won’t be the same, but it will be just as good."

  She reined her horse to a halt, too. "I know we can’t live like castaways on a desert island forever. You’re the laird, and you have responsibilities. But I fear in the real world, we’ll go back to being hostile strangers." Her voice broke. "I’d hate that."

  Her time with Hamish had sparked so many discoveries, not least that now they set aside their defenses, they got along surprisingly well, and not just in bed. So well that Emily wondered why it had taken her so long to find out what excellent company he was.

  He slid to the ground and walked back to her. "Are you really fretting about this, Emily?" Ahead, his mount ambled forward to nibble at some grass sprouting from a cranny.

  She struggled to find the words to explain her disquiet. "This last week has been like something from a fairy story."

  He grinned at her. "You must have read more exciting fairy stories than I did."

  Emily didn’t smile. "You know what I mean."

  His expression sobered. "Yes, I do. It’s felt like time out of mind."

  He did understand. "Like we were whisked away to an enchanted kingdom."

  To her surprise, he reached up and dragged her down into his arms for a long and passionate kiss that knocked her stylish hat to the ground. By the time he raised his head, she was trembling and breathless.

  "Dear Lord above, what was that for?" she asked, unsure if her knees would hold her up.

  He remained serious. "That was proof that we carry our enchanted kingdom with us. You and I create the magic. It’s nothing to do with where we are."

  "Oh," she said, dazzled. "What a lovely thing to say."

  He kissed her again, and this time he was smiling when he drew away. "Have faith, Emily. We’ve started our journey together, and it’s going to take us to marvelous places. There might be a few stumbles along the way, but that’s all part of the joy of travel."

  "When did you become so wise?" She stared up at him in wonder. "I’ll swear in London the man I knew was a stubborn blockhead who needed a good thrashing."