Her Savage Scot: 1 (Highland Warriors) (13 page)

He unclasped the brooch on his left shoulder and placed it
on top of the chest against the wall. Although he’d told her he ached to see
her naked body, so far his gaze hadn’t slipped from hers.

It was oddly endearing. As if he understood that the years
of abstinence had inevitably weaved unwanted modesty throughout the fabric of
her being.

When his hands fell to his leather belt, her glance
followed. Fascinated, she watched him drop the belt to the floor before he
began to unwind the great length of plaid.

“Do you require any assistance?” She scarcely recognized the
smoky voice as her own.

He tossed the plaid from his shoulder and the rest of the
material fell to the floor, leaving him clad in only his knee-length linen
shirt and boots. “Aye.”

She tugged at the fastenings, loosened the ties and he bent
toward her, allowing her access to pull the shirt over his head. She felt
clumsy, like an untried maid, but it didn’t prevent her from flinging his shirt
across the floor or gazing at his sculpted chest in reverent wonder.

“What is your verdict?” His voice throbbed with need.

She flicked the tip of her tongue over her lips. A dusting
of dark hair shadowed his chest and scars of battle scored his hard warrior
body. So utterly different from anything she had previously experienced.
“Favorable.”

A laugh rumbled. “Then we are even.”

Even as he reached out to her, her glance slid down. The
flickering torches cast darkness and light across his groin but couldn’t
disguise the extent of his arousal. His cock, fully erect, thrust upward, his
length impressive, his girth surely impossible.

Had she forgotten so much?

“Aila.” His heated whisper ignited her senses as he pulled
her into his arms, and his rigid length scorched her belly. “My sweet Pictish
lady.” His hands slid along the length of her back, sculpting the lines of her
body, tantalizing and tender.

She mirrored his movements, molding her palms over the hard
planes of his shoulders and back, before gliding over the taut muscles of his
buttocks. He jerked against her, his hot shaft searing her flesh, and molten
need spiraled through her core.

Without a word, he lifted her in his arms, and she clung on
to his shoulders although she knew he would never drop her. With infinite
tenderness, he lowered her onto the furs and sat beside her.

“Come into the bed.” She wanted to wrap herself around him.
Feel his hard body meld with hers. Hold him close in her arms this night and
within her heart forever more.

He grinned and pulled off one boot. “I intend to.” He
discarded his second boot and turned so he was lying beside her, looking at
her. “Your hair is like the finest of spun silk.” He slid a long curl between
his fingers. “I have never seen such beautiful hair.”

“You can thank my grandmother. I have her coloring.” She
flattened her palm over his heart, feeling the beat echo through her blood. “I
like your chest.” The words were out before she could prevent them. God! He
would think her infantile. Yet the truth remained.

She liked his chest. It was scarred, sprinkled with hair and
so enticingly broad.

The chest of a man. A warrior. But why had she allowed such
a thought to spill from her lips?

Even as she cursed her tongue he laughed, a deep, rumbling
laugh that vibrated through her body. His hand left her hair and trailed across
her breasts, thumb dragging across her sensitized nipples.

“And I like your chest.” Before she could draw breath, he
stole a fleeting kiss. “Very much.” His words grazed her lips, his hand cupped
her breast.

“So once again,” her voice was breathless in his mouth, “we
are even.”

His tongue stroked the inside of her lip, an intimate caress
that sent tremors cascading along her exposed flesh. Involuntarily her fingers
clenched over his heart, and his unyielding muscles thrilled her soul.

“It appears,” his husky words mingled with her breath, “we
are in perfect agreement.”

She slid her hand around his neck, tangled her fingers in
his wonderful hair. He deepened their kiss, his tongue invading, exploring.
Teasing the roof of her mouth, discovering sensitive nerves she had never
imagined existed before.

He half rolled onto her, pushing her back into the soft
furs, his thigh between hers. Lightning spiked low in her womb, pleasurably
painful, and warmth flooded her trembling sheath.

His hand cradled her breast, tweaking her nipple, rolling it
between his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure streaked with pain quivered from the
tip of her breast to her sensitized core, a fiery internal caress. Her
dream-lover had never delighted her so. She arched into his touch, as much as
she could, but his body was heavy, pinning her to the furs. She froze, black
memories screeching through her mind, but instantly he rose on his elbow,
releasing the pressure, and stared intently into her face.

“Did I hurt you?” His concern was evident and the memories
faded back into the pit where nightmares lurked.

“No.” This was Connor. And she wanted Connor tonight, more
than she had ever wanted anything for the last nine years. “You won’t hurt me.”
She was no virgin, after all. “Just don’t stop, that’s all I ask.”

Tenderly he brushed tendrils of hair from her face. “You’re
a hard mistress, Aila. But I will do my best to obey your command.”

A breathless laugh escaped. His mistress. Is that what she
would be, after tonight? Even if they only ever had this one night?

It was a scandalous notion. A princess of Ce contemplating
such a thing. But the thought entranced, nevertheless. It would, after all,
exist only in her imagination.

She speared her fingers through his luxuriant hair as he
nibbled kisses along the column of her throat. Once again he rolled onto her,
his heavy body pinning her into the furs. But this time she savored the sensation
of his shoulder against hers, the rigid planes of his chest crushing her
breasts. And the way his thigh angled over hers, brushing so close to her damp
sex.

His hand clasped her other shoulder and his teasing lips
followed. His roughened jaw scraped the swell of her breast and she stirred
restlessly, fingers digging ruthlessly into his scalp.

He gave a silent laugh and his hot breath caressed her
tender flesh. “I’m trying to slow things down. Do you wish me to ravish you
like a beast?”

“No.” She raked her fingernails across the back of his
shoulders and he reared above her, his black hair disheveled, his eyes glinting
in the flickering glow of the torches. Awareness tingled across her skin as she
gazed up at him and slowly she dragged her nails along his straining biceps.

Such leashed power.

The knowledge thrilled her. Connor MacKenzie, savage Scot
from Dal Riada, was naked in her arms and battling his desire to take her like
a primitive barbarian.

“Then I suggest,” he said between gritted teeth, and she had
to stifle the urge to giggle, “that you unhook your claws from my flesh.”

“Forgive me,” she whispered, but before he could respond she
slid her hand between their bodies, delighting in the way his hair tickled her
palm. “I’ll use my claws for more pleasurable pursuits.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t—
Aila
.”

Her name emerged as an agonized groan as her searching
fingers found their target. For an eternal moment she forgot how to breathe as
his cock jerked against her palm. So hard. So hot. Tentatively she moved her
hand, feeling his length, and he angled forward to accommodate her exploration.

“Pleasurable?” The word was a gasp as his heavy balls filled
her hand. Stunned by her discovery, even though she was no stranger to a man’s
body, her fingers twitched uncertainly around their prize.

“On the edge of agony.” Without moving the lower half of his
body, he crushed her breasts beneath his weight. “I fear my self-control is
sadly lacking this night, my lady.”

Her fingers closed around his tight sac. She had him in the
palm of her hand. The knowledge thrilled and an exhilarating sense of power
thundered through her. Restlessly she stirred beneath him and once again her
other hand tangled in his hair.

His body tensed, muscles straining and roughly he kneed her thighs
apart. She lost her grip as he moved over her, spreading her further, his gaze
intent.

“Connor.” His name was a whisper and she didn’t know what
she wanted to ask him. To make haste? Or to wait until the last thread of
anxiety in her soul had diminished?

“My Aila.” The words were a caress, as erotic as the way he
speared his fingers through her hair, as the way he looked at her with such
infinite desire. “For all time.”

She slid her arm around him, held him close, delighting in
the feel of his warm flesh, hard muscles and the restrained strength that
flexed beneath her questing fingers.

For all time. Did he know how seductive she found that
promise? A promise made in the heat of night, the throes of passion. A promise
that meant nothing, yet she would hold the words close in her heart—for all
time.

He bowed his head and his lips seared her in a trail of
scorching kisses across her breasts. And then his mouth closed over her nipple
and she gasped in shock. Raising her head, she watched him, his dark head
nestled against her as he teased her throbbing nipple with his tongue and teeth
and lips.

Such sweet ecstasy. His hand traced the curve of her waist,
the flare of her hip, sending tingles skittering over her skin. He slipped
between her thighs and the breath caught in her throat as he explored the
tender flesh of her belly.
Lower
.

And then he looked up at her, to watch her reaction to his
touch. But as his searching finger trailed over her sensitive clitoris, the
strength rushed from her and she fell back on the bed, her breath erratic.

His face pressed against her stomach, his mouth moved
against her burning skin. She caught a strangled curse but then he rose over
her, hair tumbling over his shoulders, eyes wild with passion.

“I need to be inside you.” It was a demand and a request.
The head of his cock nudged her wet pussy, but he didn’t penetrate. Just
continued to rub his shaft along her cleft, up and down, caressing her clitoris
and teasing her quivering sex.

“Yes.” It was permission, an entreaty. She had never been
touched this way before. Lust and need collided and she hooked her ankles
around the small of his back.

Forearms on either side of her shoulders, he cradled her
head. And then he thrust with a suddenness that burned her sensitized channel
and seared the breath from her lungs. Shock speared through her heart, and her
muscles tensed as she dug her nails into his back, her mind a vortex of black.

His agonized groan dragged her back to the moment, to the
realization she was with Connor. That he was inside her, that everything was
all right. “You weren’t ready.” His fingers tightened in her hair. “I’m sorry.
I wanted to prove to you that I’m no savage Scot, but my actions betray me.”

Although his cock stretched her beyond anything she had been
subjected to before, she gave a breathless laugh. “You are a savage Scot,” she
managed to say over the violent hammering of her heart. “And I am more than
ready.”

His uneven breath fanned her face. “I wanted to make this
first time last. But, God. You’re so tight around me. I can scarcely see
straight, never mind think.”

She knew he didn’t mean to arouse by his words. But renewed
desire rippled through her core, soothing the raw ache of his swift intrusion.
Instinctively she tightened her thighs around him and raked her fingers through
his hair.

“Now,” she whispered, “is not the time to think.”

Now was a time to feel. And she could feel his arms embrace
her. Feel his hard body above her. And, most glorious of all, she could feel
his cock inside her, pushing to her limits. Filling the void she had nurtured
for too many empty years.

Slowly he withdrew, until only the tip of his shaft remained
embedded within her. For one long moment, she saw eternity in his eyes and then
he sank into her, so deep she stifled a gasp. His mouth claimed hers, claimed
her gasp, her breath, her very soul. His tongue invaded, withdrew, invaded
again and her rigid muscles relaxed.

His thrusts became less gentle, more frenzied. The friction
sizzled along her nerve endings, an exhilarating ride, and she slid her tongue
into his mouth, connecting them ever more intimately.

He shifted his angle and as he pulled back the length of his
cock dragged against her swollen clitoris. Lightning speared, shattered, and
she reared against him, as her choked cries spilled into his willing mouth.

He rammed into her, hard and fast, and without conscious
thought she matched his rhythm. Every stroke caressed her core, stoking the
inferno, sending spirals of molten need spinning through her pussy.

Nothing existed but this man, this moment, and as her vision
faded, she convulsed around his thrusting cock. Again and again. Hugging him
within her, squeezing his shaft. Indescribable pleasure cascaded through her
sheath and tremors claimed her weakened limbs.

Dazed, she stared up into Connor’s face. He was looking at
her as though she were a wondrous fantasy and even as the absurd thought
whispered through her mind, a tortured grin twisted his mouth.

“You came for me.” He sounded on the verge of insanity.
“Never felt like that before.” And then he gritted his teeth and hammered into
her with such force she couldn’t breathe. But it didn’t matter because, as she
clung on to him as if her life depended on it, he violently pumped his hot seed
deep into her waiting womb.

For a few exquisite seconds Connor crushed her beneath his
weight. His hard, battle-toned body melded with hers, still joined, and
although her exhausted limbs wanted to slide onto the bed, she tightened her
grip around him.

Hers. Physically perhaps for only tonight. But in her heart
for
all time
.

He stirred, raising his head from her shoulder and stared at
her intently, as if memorizing her face. His tangled hair fell over his
shoulders and she longed to drag her fingers through its untamed beauty.

Languidly she drifted her fingers up his back. She saw the
glazed aftereffects of passion fade from his eyes to be replaced with something
akin to horror.

“Aila.” It was a strangled groan and her fingers froze. Why
did he look at her as though he regretted making love? Did he regret it? But
how could he? “Aila, I’m sorry.”

Ice invaded where just a moment ago heated contentment had
bathed her soul. And when he gently withdrew from her, she didn’t try to
prevent him.

As he left her body exposed to the night she shivered, and
this time through shame, not desire. Did he expect her to get up instantly, get
dressed? Leave?

She had never intended to stay all night. That was
impossible for many reasons. But not once had she imagined he would expect her
to leave the moment he had gained satisfaction.

It made no difference what he expected. She was incapable of
moving. She was incapable of even speaking. All she could manage was to stare
at him and God help her, she knew the pain in her heart was plain in her eyes.

A tortured expression flickered over his face and a possible
reason surfaced. Did he imagine she would demand more from him because of this
one shared encounter?

Was that his concern? That she would demand marriage?

Perhaps she should reassure him. But how could she when
reassurance was the one thing she needed above all else in this moment?

As the jagged thoughts tumbled through her mind, he tenderly
wrapped a fur around her chilled body. An odd gesture if he truly wanted her
out of his sight as quickly as possible. She huddled into the furs and willed
the prickling behind her eyes to remain out of sight. She was a princess of Ce
and even if Connor had broken her heart, he would never see her tears.

“Aila.” His whisper tore at her as his fingers brushed
tangled tendrils of hair from her cheek. He was lying on his side looking down
at her. “I’ve no right to beg for your forgiveness, yet I must. Please believe
me when I say I did not mean to come inside you.”

The chill that had claimed her body vanished as her blood
heated at his words. She knew her face was flaming, knew he couldn’t fail to
notice since his fingers traced the curve of her cheek.

But what did he mean?

“I’m sorry.” The words sounded as though he ripped them from
the deepest pit of hell. Anguish carved his features and yet still he touched
her. She couldn’t fathom what had changed his mood so radically.

His words suggested he regretted their liaison. His touch
suggested anything but.

“Why?” It hurt to speak. Her throat was raw from tears
unshed. And yet she had to know. She deserved that at least. “I’m not sorry for
what we did.”

He frowned in clear confusion. And then, as if a torch had
suddenly ignited inside his brain, comprehension appeared to dawn.

“Aila, no.” He bent, brushed a featherlight kiss across her
lips. “I’ll cherish this night forever.” His eyes darkened, as if demons
plagued his soul. “I lost control.” He made it sound a shocking admission, as
though he never lost control even in the throes of passion.

But wasn’t that the purpose of passion? To abandon all
control in the glorious heat of completion?

She wondered how best to reassure him. “So did I. I believe
in that, also, we are equal.”

Had she imagined the way his fingers shook as he played with
her hair?

“I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you.” If it wasn’t
such an outrageous notion, she would imagine he sounded shamed. “I didn’t mean
to risk your—” He swallowed, clearly unable to continue, but he didn’t need to
because suddenly she understood.

He had been thinking of her reputation should she conceive
his child. Warmth flooded her heart and spilled into her veins, obliterating
the torturous scald of humiliation.

She pushed the furs aside so she could cradle his jaw
between her hands. She longed to tell him her reputation meant nothing to her
if by losing that she gained his child.

But of course, she could say no such thing. Couldn’t tell
him that if she became pregnant, she would quietly be wedded to a man who would
accept another’s child in return for the royal status she brought.

Because she wouldn’t conceive. Not tonight, not ever.

Yet she would give anything for such a miracle to occur.

For a moment, as she gazed into Connor’s troubled eyes, as
his fingers gently caressed her face, the image of Bride fluttered through her
mind.

Bride. Goddess of fertility. Of the spring and new life. And
before she could stop herself the deep longing spilled from the secret places
in her heart. Bride turned and looked at her.

Smiled the unmistakable smile of victory. As though she
imagined Aila had once more embraced the goddess of her youth.

With a shiver, Aila blinked the image away. Bride belonged
to her old life. She would never again worship the pagan ways.

“Aila.” Connor’s whisper was tortured and she realized he might
take her shiver as a personal reaction against his confession.

She pulled his head closer until their lips all but touched.
“I won’t conceive this night.” How she longed for it be otherwise. “There’s no
need to concern yourself with such matters. Trust me on this.”

Wariness carved his features. “I would never knowingly cause
you pain. Yet I behaved like a raw boy with you tonight.”

“A boy? I beg to differ. In my arms you were all man,
Connor. My man.” As a disbelieving grin tugged his lips, she wriggled beneath
the furs until they slipped from her body. “I might even say you were my very
own savage Scot this night.”

“A savage, am I?” The last vestige of worry vanished from
his eyes. “And do you intend to tame me, my noble Pictish lady?”

Suddenly daring, although it also seemed the most natural
thing in the world, she flattened her hands against his shoulders and pushed
him back onto the bed. He lay there, deceptively submissive, as she straddled
his hips and offered him a triumphant smile.

“I don’t think I want to tame you.” Her hands were still
flattened against his shoulders, bracing her weight as she hung over him. “Your
savage ways excite me.”

“You compliment and insult me in the same breath.” His hands
cradled her hips, warm and comforting and desire curled through her wet sheath.
“A remarkable achievement.”

Experimentally she lowered herself onto him. His cock,
gratifyingly erect already, jerked as she slid her damp sex along his rigid
length.

“Tonight has been remarkable altogether.” She flashed him a
smile, loving how her long-unused methods of seduction affected him. He had a
sardonic grin on his face, yet tension clearly etched around his eyes and
mouth. It obviously took great willpower for him to remain motionless and
compliant beneath her teasing touch.

Slowly she slid back up his glorious erection, every inch of
him gliding against her swollen clitoris. She’d intended to play with him for
some time, but now all she could think was how he felt when he entered her
body.

When he emptied his seed within her.

Liquid heat trickled from her pussy and spilled over his
ever-expanding cock. She leaned forward a little more, gave herself more
leverage and brushed her aching core over his sensitized glans.

His grin evaporated, his grip on her hips tightened.
Encouraged, she repeated her action, her erratic breaths mingling with his.

“Do you intend to torture me for the rest of the night?”

“I might.” But much as she enjoyed it, she had no intention
of doing any such thing. Her need for completion was too demanding, too
intense. “It depends on how well you behave yourself.”

His hands slid from her hips. He palmed her bottom, his
fingers perilously close to her immodestly exposed crevice.

Even that thought inflamed her.

“I can’t promise to behave myself when your sweet clit
teases me without mercy.” His fingers grazed the tops of her inner thighs,
skimmed deliciously between her heated lips. “Your savage Scot aches for you.”

Desire coiled tighter at his seductive admission. She angled
herself over him. “I’m too soft-hearted to watch you suffer.” She shifted, felt
him nudge against her swollen lips and her teasing words fled her mind.
“Connor, I need you inside me.” It was a plea and instantly his strong hands
cupped her buttocks, positioning her for his imminent penetration.

Except he didn’t penetrate. “Take me, Aila.” It was an
erotic command, one she had never imagined Connor would make.

Slowly she sank onto him, savoring every moment as he
stretched her once again. She clenched her internal muscles, hugged him tight,
felt his groan vibrate throughout her blood.

Still cupping her bottom with one hand, his other hand
trailed over her trembling flesh to capture her breast. She gasped, arched into
him, quivered as his finger and thumb pinched her hard nipple.

She returned the favor and he reared beneath her. Lust
spiraled along her cleft and flickered through her aroused clitoris.

Panting, she gazed down at him. Saw the same raw need
reflected in his passion-glazed eyes. Abandoning his nipple, she gripped his shoulders.
“Are you ready?” The words were scarcely coherent, but he appeared to
understand.

“For what?” His smoky voice enflamed her and his fingers
exploring her breast and buttock drove her to the edge of sanity.

“For this.” She braced her weight on hands and knees,
lifting her hips until their bodies all but separated. And then she slid down
his length, his size filling her, and it felt so right, so perfect.

Breath scraping her lungs, she pulled up, plunged down,
meeting his thrust halfway and the exquisite friction unraveled her tenuous
restraint.

“Aila.” His voice was rough, as primal as the way he rammed
into her, as primitive as the way he gripped her bottom for added leverage. “Is
it safe?”

She understood his agonized question and a wave of heat, separate
yet inextricably entwined with the lust consuming her, flooded her senses.

Even now he thought only of her.

“Yes.” The ragged whisper tore from the depths of her being.
“Come inside me, Connor.” She saw how her words aroused him by the way his
breath rasped between gritted teeth, the way his eyes glittered on the verge of
madness. As the first delirious wave of orgasm swept toward her, she gasped
with her last coherent breath. “I want to feel you pump your seed deep inside
me.”

He roared her name, thrust so hard he surely touched her
soul. As she convulsed around his rigid length he emptied his sac and she could
feel his hot seed filling her, could feel her body grasping and embracing,
could hear her choked scream echo around the bedchamber.

Connor. Her love.