The Highlander's Lost Lady Page 22

  One hand slashed the air. “Any debt between us became null the moment ye married me.”

  Fiona could hardly credit his generosity. A few hours ago, she’d never have imagined finding the nerve to do this, but she stood and crossed to stand before him. She caught his face between her hands and met his intense black stare.

  “I honor you, Diarmid Mactavish, my husband. And while I know you don’t want my gratitude, you have it. I promise I’ll do my best to be a good wife and to make sure you never regret taking me as your bride.”

  “Fiona…” he said in a raw voice.

  Before he could deflect her thanks, she bent to press her lips to his mouth.

  The kiss was unprecedented in her experience, a step beyond even those heady kisses they’d shared before he used her body. He’d been very much in charge of those, for all her enjoyment and enthusiastic response. Now she made the choices. His lips were soft beneath hers, and he let her take the lead, so the contact conveyed more tenderness than passion. Although passion hovered close, a whisper from taking over.

  Slowly she drew away. He rose to his feet and settled his hands at her waist. The light in his eyes made her stomach clench on more of that piercing emotion she still couldn’t identify.

  “I’m glad I married you.” Something else she’d never imagined saying before tonight.

  “And I’m glad I married ye.” The sincerity in that deep voice settled inside her like a warm ember at the heart of a fire. “We’ve made a bonny start, I think.”

  “I think so, too.” She lowered her hands to those broad shoulders. She loved his strength. Another first. Male power had only ever been a threat until she met Diarmid. “Shall we take the next step?”

  “Aye.” He kissed her again, and she realized with a shock, that for the first time in her life, she came to a man’s bed with joyous anticipation.

  Chapter 27

  Fiona expected Diarmid to pull her nightdress over her head that very moment. She knew he wanted to see her naked. But he seemed content to stand here and keep kissing her, until her knees threatened to fold beneath her.

  Hard to believe at the start of the night, she hadn’t known how to kiss a man. Now she knew about playful kisses and teasing kisses and wet, open-mouthed kisses that were all tongue, and that set her blood thundering. She knew about long, lazy kisses that lured the soul from her body. Hard, thorough kisses that ignited flashes of excitement, hot and bright as lightning. Sweet, quick kisses that sparked pleasure wherever they landed. An eyelid. Her nose. The tip of her chin. The whisky they’d shared added a honey flavor, but the richest flavor of all was Diarmid himself.

  It was impossible to ignore the hard flesh rising between his thighs. She’d learned to fear that part of a man, but tonight his excitement presaged the joining to come. Not cruel and inescapable, but a promise that she’d bring him joy.

  The voluptuous dance of their lips made her audacious. How odd to find herself seeking contact, when before tonight, she’d always shrunk from it. It seemed Diarmid gave her yet one more gift, a nascent sensual courage.

  She bent to nip and lick at the bare chest revealed under the open vee of his robe. He tasted delicious, and the heady scent of his skin intoxicated her. When she scraped her teeth down the center of his chest, he shuddered. The frail seedling of her bravery shriveled, and she raised her head to meet blazing black eyes.

  “I didnae teach ye that,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  “I…I wanted to taste you,” she said uncertainly.

  He closed his eyes, and that telltale muscle flickered in his cheek.

  “I’m sorry.” She started to shift away. “I thought you’d like it.”

  His hands tightened on her waist. “By God, I do.”

  She regarded him doubtfully, although she stopped retreating. “You don’t sound as if you do.”

  “Ye took me by surprise. You’ve been so afraid…”

  As he stood before her, she saw a legion of reactions in his face. Care. Consideration. Desire. Nothing even close to disgust. “I’m becoming less afraid by the minute.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging.” A ghost of a smile deepened the corners of his mouth, fuller than usual after all those urgent kisses. “Would ye like to try again?”

  “Only if you would.”

  “My body is at your command, lassie.” He kissed her quickly, then stepped back. “Make braw use of it.”

  A couple of hours ago, that invitation would have had her quaking with nerves. What had she cared then for a man’s body? The thought alone promised only pain and degradation.

  But this was Diarmid, and she’d wanted to touch him for a long time. Despite her fear, his male beauty had always drawn her.

  Now he was hers to explore.

  “What should I do?” she asked again, as her hands itched to discover the hard planes of his torso.

  He spread his arms out and smiled at her with a delight that chased away the shadows in her heart. “Whatever ye want.”

  “But will you like it?”

  “I’m sure I will. I’ll like it even more if ye do.”

  She bit her lips and wondered where to start. Her touch tentative, she placed her hands flat on that triangle of skin where she’d kissed him.

  “You’re so warm,” she said almost to herself.

  His muscles bunched under her caresses. This time, she didn’t read the response as rejection, but as stirring need.

  “I burn for ye,” he said softly. “You must ken that by now, Fiona.”

  She did. It was lovely knowledge. With growing confidence, she spread her hands wider, pushing the heavy red velvet aside to reveal flat brown nipples.

  He’d liked it when she’d been bold. Perhaps she should be bold again. The breath caught in her throat as she leaned in to kiss each nipple in turn.

  She heard Diarmid stifle a groan of pleasure. When he’d suckled her breasts, wild, shivery sensations had rocketed through her. Could she do that to him? She placed her mouth over one nipple and drew hard until the point hardened. She swirled her tongue over the nub until he was shaking.

  “Dinna…stop,” he said in a cracked voice she’d never heard before.

  She caressed his ribs as she nibbled her way across his chest. Avid hands pushed at the dressing gown, edging it down until it hung loose around his waist.

  In a fever of carnal curiosity, she fumbled to untie the belt. But her fingers couldn’t make sense of the knot.

  He caught her hands. “No’ yet.”

  “I want to see you.” Enough of the former frightened Fiona remained for her to marvel at the demand.

  “Last time, I rushed ye.”

  Her hands stilled, and she stared up at him, puzzled. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Aye, I did.” That crooked smile she’d come to love turned his lips down. “If ye undress me, I’m likely to rush you this time as well. That would be a pity when there are things I want to do to ye first.”

  A luscious ripple stirred her blood. “That sounds—”

  “Terrifying?”

  Once, perhaps. No longer.

  The answer she settled for didn’t come near to expressing the turbulent storm raging inside her. “Interesting.”

  “I hope you’ll think so. Will ye follow where I lead?”

  She smiled. “That’s what I promised in front of the minister.”

  He caught her hand and placed a quick kiss on her fluttering fingers, before he led her across to the bed. “Thank ye.”

  He’d explored her most intimate flesh, moved inside her. In comparison, these little gestures of affection shouldn’t contain such power. But the sweetness of his lips on her knuckles transformed her blood to melted sugar.

  In a daze, she let him push her down to sit on the edge of the bed. When she shifted, the slide of her nightgown beneath her bare buttocks felt like yet another sensual tease.

  Diarmid kneeled before her. “Part your legs for me.”

  “But you’ll see…”r />
  Familiar amusement creased his cheeks. “Aye, I will indeed.”

  Fiona set her hands flat on the mattress either side of her and slowly spread her thighs. The loose nightgown dipped to preserve her modesty, but she wasn’t naïve enough to imagine it would stay that way.

  Diarmid moved in until her legs framed him. Instead of doing anything shocking, he put his arms around her and tilted her down for more kisses. He was so tall, she didn’t need to lean far.

  By the time he drew away, her heart was racing and she couldn’t muster a sensible thought. Her hands were buried in the black silk of his hair, and the neck of her nightgown gaped to allow him an unimpeded view of her breasts.

  His eyes flared, and he licked his lips with unabashed appreciation. Instead of hitching up the nightgown to cover herself, she leaned forward and ran one hand down the side of his face. When she felt the faint prickle of whiskers, she recalled the short beard he’d grown in the hills and how dashing it had made him look.

  Then he’d looked like a pirate. Now kneeling before her, he looked like a knight of legend beholding the Holy Grail.

  Except she couldn’t imagine Sir Galahad’s eyes ever gleaming with quite that sensual fire.

  “Touch me, Diarmid,” she whispered.

  He caught her breasts through the silk. Her nipples tightened into yearning points. He played with her breasts, squeezing, cupping, pressing them together, rubbing the silk across the sensitive peaks until she whimpered with longing. By the time she caught his busy hands and tugged them down to her lap, she was shaking so hard she could barely sit up.

  “Wait,” she said breathlessly. “Shift back a wee bit.”

  Fiona stood to pull the nightdress over her head. She felt she offered him her nakedness like a gift. When his eyes worshipped her, she received a reward of her own. She’d expected to see salacious hunger, but he looked transfigured. His fists closed at his sides as if he hardly dared to touch her.

  Dear heaven, how she wanted him to touch her. Liquid heat welled between her legs, and her breasts swelled in flagrant need.

  “Fiona…” he said in a choked voice. “I’m no’ worthy.”

  Tenderness crushed her heart into an aching mass. She slid her fingers through his hair. “Of course you are.”

  Diarmid’s movements always expressed manly grace and power. But as he reached for her and buried his face in her belly, eagerness made him clumsy. His hands shook as he caught her buttocks.

  This time, the tenderness sliced so deep, it carved a rift across her heart. Her hand curled around his head and pressed him closer. She bent over until her hair drifted about him like a veil.

  She didn’t know how long they remained in that desperate embrace, but eventually he raised his head and stared up at her from where he kneeled at her feet. The fond amusement was back, but beneath the smile, deep emotion lingered, like the last traces of sunset in a night sky. “You’re glorious.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” she said in a thick voice, still playing with his hair. “I want to please you.”

  “By all that’s holy, ye do.” He caught her hips and pushed her back until she was sitting again. “Let me please ye in return.”

  When her legs spread and his eager eyes fell on her…there, she blushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

  “Bonny,” he said with a trace of his earlier awe. Gently he caught her thighs and slid her forward to the edge of the mattress. “Lean back on your elbows.”

  Fiona sucked in a breath laden with the spice of arousal and obeyed without hesitation. When Diarmid stroked her legs, starting at her ankles and venturing higher with each pass, she gasped. She craved his hands where she was wet and needy. With a shiver of voluptuous nostalgia, she recalled how he’d touched her there.

  By the time he reached the top of her thighs, she was panting. Then her breath stopped altogether, when he caressed her feminine folds until they felt full and hot and swollen. Each brush of his fingers teased a place that left her shuddering with reaction.

  A strange, powerful sensation rose. A little like what she’d felt when he’d joined his body with hers. But compared to the mighty waves crashing over her now, that had been a mere wisp of response.

  She gave a whimper and shifted to urge him on. Impatience made her restless.

  Diarmid leaned closer and placed his mouth where his hands had created such havoc. Shock made her stiffen and cry out as wet heat settled over her.

  He raised his head and sinful surprise gripped her to see his lips glistening with her female juices. Until tonight, she’d never been wet with need. Until tonight she’d never known that a woman could need.

  “Diarmid…”

  “You’ll like this. Trust me.”

  “I do, but…”

  Devilish knowledge lit his face. “I’ve wanted to taste ye since that first night.”

  “This seems so wicked,” she said weakly.

  A huff of laughter escaped. “Och, I certainly hope so.”

  Before she could digest that answer, he lowered his head to kiss her private places. Astonishment held her quiescent under his mouth, before a blast of sensation so pure and piercing struck that she cried out again. In helpless surrender, her thighs opened wider to invite him to feast on her.

  He did.

  Fiona felt the scrape of his teeth and the soothing flicker of his tongue. Except the touch wasn’t soothing at all, but teasing and taunting and tormenting.

  Another shudder jolted through her. And another. Until the quakes came so fast, she could no longer count them. Boneless with bliss, she flopped back onto the sheets and gave herself up to his brazen incursions.

  At first, she was only aware of the unprecedented sensations rushing through her body, turning her blood to flame. Gradually her response focused on one particular place that his mouth returned to over and over.

  Something new and overwhelming began to coil in the base of her belly. Like an ever-tightening spiral of brightest gold. She gasped as the feeling grew sharper. Her hands tangled in Diarmid’s hair, while she fumbled for purchase in this whirling new world.

  Sounds of sensual enjoyment escaped him, something between a purr and a growl. His hands stroked up and down her legs, the caresses creating a counterpoint to the movement of his greedy lips.

  Fiona should be shocked. She’d never imagined anyone doing such a thing to her—or wanting to. But she’d moved into a universe completely alien from what she’d known before. She lay beneath his attentions and let the pleasure build layer by layer.

  Because even in her innocence, she couldn’t call what flooded through her anything but pleasure. Even if it was pleasure with an edge of striving, of insistence for an end.

  Instinctively she pressed up toward his mouth. Then—heaven save her—the pressure changed. She could hardly believe that he’d pushed that clever tongue inside her. With a broken moan, she tugged sharply at his hair.

  Still he went on. Still that wild longing rose and rose, until she was entangled in suspense close to pain. Her breath emerged in ragged gasps, and tears pricked at her eyes.

  “Diarmid…” she moaned, at the point of begging him to stop, to end this torture that hovered so close to ecstasy.

  He didn’t answer her. Or not in words.

  Instead he returned to that place that throbbed with need. Fiona sank into a dark velvet world charged with lightning, as he circled that place with his tongue, then drew hard.

  A towering surge of heat flooded her. She felt his teeth on that sensitive spot, and everything dissolved into white-hot, perfect rapture that buffeted her across some invisible barrier. She tumbled into a dizzying free fall, where she swooped through endless skies of brilliant light.

  Through the clamor, she released a high, broken sound of ecstasy. Every muscle clenched as she writhed in delight. She closed her eyes and vanished into the wild colors rioting through her head, the incendiary waves battering her body.

  How long did she rem
ain pinned to that starlit rack? Who knew? Her body seemed to shudder for an eternity. When she slumped back against the sheets, she felt as loose as a bolt of silk draped across the bed.

  She gulped to fill lungs that ached after the violent, astonishing, transfiguring paroxysms. Slowly she opened eyes that until now had been blind to so much. Hazy sight took in the black beams on the whitewashed ceiling.

  That couldn’t be right. Surely she should see the vaults of heaven instead.

  Fiona was still lost in the mists of what had happened. What on earth had happened?

  She was only vaguely aware of Diarmid shifting. Her legs sprawled around his shoulders. Some last shred of modesty made her wonder what he could see. But she couldn’t summon the energy to sit up and close her thighs.

  After tonight, her body held no more secrets for him. He’d fed on her, and she’d gloried in every moment.

  She felt so luxurious and lazy, she might never move again. Diarmid would have to build a special litter for his sloth of a wife, who lay around all day waiting for him to transport her to paradise.

  “Something funny?” Even through her satisfaction, she heard the purr in his voice.

  Fiona kept staring at the ceiling. “I want to stay like this forever. I’ve never known…”

  Words fluttered away from her like butterflies over a field of wildflowers. Although even at her sharpest, she’d never be able to describe that extraordinary event.

  He placed a kiss on the base of her stomach, just above the curls hiding her sex. Slowly she wafted back to the workaday world. But it was a workaday world now tinged with magic, thanks to Diarmid.

  The bed sagged beneath her, and Diarmid’s face appeared between her and the ceiling. “Ye were created for pleasure,” he murmured and bent his disheveled dark head to kiss her.

  His lips tasted salty. She took a few seconds to realize she tasted the flavor of her intimate flesh. The thought made her shiver with arousal.

  With Ian, the marital act had been an unforgivable invasion. With Diarmid, she welcomed every profligate incursion.

  So after a surprised hesitation, she caught Diarmid’s shoulders and kissed him back with succulent enjoyment. He began to rain kisses across her neck and breasts.