Highlanders (24 page)

“I’ll send a maid to tend you in your bath,” Marguerite continued. She opened the door to the chamber and welcomed her inside. The servants had already added steaming water to the tub, and another had laid out a linen drying cloth.

“Before I go, I...wanted to ask if you and Dougal—” Her words broke away, as if she didn’t know how to phrase the question. Embarrassment flushed over the woman’s face, and she added, “I don’t mean to pry.”

Her words voiced a question Celeste didn’t know how to answer. In essence, Lady Marguerite was wanting to know if she and Dougal were lovers.

This night, Celeste craved his presence, even if it meant nothing more than sleeping with his arms around her. The comfort and safety Dougal represented were everything.

Keeping her voice in a low whisper, she admitted, “He means a great deal to me.”

There. Let her make of that what she wanted. Even if it meant Dougal slept outside her door, it would make her feel better.

Marguerite’s expression remained serious. “Dougal has never shown interest in a woman before you.” Her gaze fixated upon Celeste. “He is like a brother to me, even if we do not share the same blood.”

She did not have to say anything else. There was no doubting the warning in her words. Celeste nodded but met the woman’s gaze squarely. “I understand. But I would want him near to me this night.”

The servants continued to come and go, filling up the small wooden tub. Steam billowed up into the cool air, and the light was dim, despite the flare of several beeswax candles.

Marguerite helped her to unlace her gown, and within moments Celeste was in the water, up to her chin. She closed her eyes, so grateful for the healing warmth. “I will send someone to you shortly,” the lady said before she closed the door behind her.

* * *

D
OUGAL
HELD
THE
cake of soap Marguerite had given him. “Knock on the chamber door and give this to the maidservant, if you would.” His brother’s wife did not wait for him to argue, but fled as soon as his hand had closed over the soap.

It was a strange bidding, but he supposed she’d forgotten to give it to the maid.

He went up the winding stairs and paused before the doorway. Though he supposed Marguerite would want him to sleep in the Hall with the other men, he fully intended to sleep outside Celeste’s door.

If Lord Eiloch’s soldiers somehow returned in the night, he wanted to be there to defend her. He and Callum had posted extra guards, with the reminder to the men to alert them at the sign of anyone suspicious.

Dougal knocked upon the door, waiting for the maid to open it. A voice called out for him to enter and his hand stilled upon the latch.

Enter? When they did not know who stood beyond the door? Were they expecting another maid?

Slowly, he lifted the latch, averting his gaze as he waited for the maid to approach. Instead, there was only silence.

He closed the door behind him and when he dared to look, every thought left his brain. Celeste was resting in a tub of water, her hair pinned up, while her bare breasts bobbed atop the water.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, turning to go. “I thought a maid was with you to—”

“Wait.” Her voice was calm, not at all afraid of him. Dougal froze with his back to her, and in that single word, his imagination filled in the spaces, reminding him of the bare skin he’d glimpsed. She wanted him to wait?

“I wasn’t trying to intrude,” he said. The steam from her bath made the air heavy, and the aroma of dried herbs filled up the tiny space.

“You weren’t intruding.” He heard the faint splash of water and though there was hesitation in her voice, she said, “Will you bring me the soap?”

His feet wouldn’t move. A rigid desire swelled through him, and he gripped the bar of soap as if it would somehow dispel the dark needs.

“No,” he answered after a time. “I’ll send someone else.”

“And what if I want you?”

The words severed any remaining denial within him, and he dared to turn back. Though her arms now covered her bare breasts, he could see the blush on her cheeks. She was no maiden, for she had known a husband’s touch. She knew exactly what she was offering, and God help him, he lacked the willpower to say no. But he would try once more.

“This wasn’t part of our arrangement.”

She regarded him, her blue eyes capturing his. “Do you want to leave me?”

He’d dreamed of touching that sweet skin, of tasting every inch of her. Of joining their bodies together, sheathing himself inside until she arched with trembling pleasure.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He drew nearer, setting the soap down upon the wooden floor. There was a stool beside the tub and he went to sit upon it. From this vantage point, he could see her wet skin glistening against the candlelight.

“Yes, I do. And I don’t want to be alone this night. Not when I might die on the morrow.”

He understood, then. She wanted a few hours to forget the men pursuing them, to seize a moment of pleasure when it could be her last. He could no more refuse her than he could sever his right arm.

Slowly, Celeste lowered her arms back into the water, revealing her breasts again. Pink-tipped and wet, they were large and tempting. Her nipples were erect, and his body responded with a desire so strong, his groin ached.

He dipped his hands into the hot water and then lathered up his hands. “Sit up,” he commanded. She obeyed, and he began by washing her back, sliding his hands over skin so soft, his hands grew slick. Scooping handfuls of water over her back, he rinsed her, and then soaped his hands once more. He caressed her shoulders with the soap, moving his palms down to touch her breasts.

They were a gentle weight, and he drew his thumbs over the pointed nipples, tormenting her as he shaped them with the soap. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub, her eyes closed as she allowed him to touch her.

“Please—” she managed to say, gasping as he rinsed away the soap, easing her to sit up. Her nipples had darkened in color, and he gave in to temptation, kissing her deeply as he explored her breasts with both hands. He didn’t want her remembering her first husband or anyone else at this moment. Only him.

Though he didn’t know what had made her decide to invite him in, she’d made his honor crumble into dust. There was only
her
kissing him hard, her tongue touching his while he gripped her above the water. Her hands were pulling at his tunic and he broke free long enough to remove it.

Celeste rose up to her knees in the tub, embracing him skin to skin. He didn’t care at all that her body was wet against his own. The sensation of her breasts pressed to him was more arousing than anything he’d ever felt before.

“Slow down,” he commanded, pressing her back. “I haven’t finished tending you in the bath yet.”

She stilled, but her eyes held a passion that mirrored his. “Then do what you will.”

* * *

S
HE
WAS
DYING
against his touch. Dougal had washed every part of her, paying particular attention to her sensitive breasts. “Before the night is over, I’m going to taste you,” he warned.

Heaven help her, she prayed he would. Her body felt alive, as if he was possessing it with every touch, every kiss. Now that his tunic was off, she could see the firm muscles and his hard chest that tapered down to a ridged abdomen.

He used the soap again to wash her feet, his hands moving up one calf. He massaged her skin as he explored her, his hand drifting to her inner thigh. Her breathing was shaky, and the water lapped against her in another caress. Dougal repeated the motions with the other foot, washing her gently until his hand moved between her legs. His fingers rested against her intimate opening, and he palmed her there, his dark eyes locked with hers.

She gasped as his thumb edged her mons, his hand cupping her curls.

“Shall I wash you there?” he demanded.

She couldn’t speak, her body was rising so hard. She was utterly pliant against his hand, her breathing hitched as he stroked her. His fingers edged the hard nodule above her opening, while he slid one inside her.

“Is this what you were wanting?” he asked, bending to kiss her mouth. His lips captured her, while below the water he penetrated her with his finger.

Slowly, he added another when she managed to answer a breathless, “Yes.”

The steady rhythm was starting to pull at her, and she was afraid of surrendering, unsure of what he was doing. But the more he touched her, the more she leaned in to him, feeling the ache between her legs. His warm mouth enclosed one nipple, and she gripped his head, shaking hard as the sensations intensified.

“Let go,” he ordered against her skin, taking the other nipple. “Celeste, stop fighting me.”

She didn’t know what he wanted, but when he began to suck hard, her fingers dug into his hair. He rubbed against her, his hands demanding a response she couldn’t bear.

Then he added a third finger, and his thumb pressed her hard. A scorching release soared through her and she cried out, bucking against him as he filled her with his fingers. Her body was like melted tallow, pliant to him.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop myself,” she murmured, feeling embarrassed at what had happened.

A dark laugh broke through him, and Dougal helped her to stand, wrapping her in the linen drying cloth. “I wanted to pleasure you, Celeste. And we’re not finished yet.”

She stepped out of the tub, her skin freezing at the cool air. Dougal kept her covered in the linen cloth while he led her toward a small pallet in the corner. It was covered with fur, and he took a moment to dry her off before laying her back against the soft coverlet. He stood before her, his eyes searing as he unfastened his trews and finished undressing.

His body was lean and powerful, his legs muscled from riding. And his manhood was heavy and erect when he knelt down beside her.

“I’m cold,” she whispered, beckoning for him to lie atop her. His skin was warmer than she’d expected, and Dougal pulled another coverlet atop both of them. He rested his body weight on his forearms as he stared down at her.

“I don’t think this was what you intended when you asked for my protection.”

She shook her head, but moved her legs apart, bringing his aroused manhood directly in contact with her slick heat. Although it had never been painful with Edmon, neither had she craved his body inside hers.

She wanted to feel Dougal moving within her, and she pressed her hips against his. Yes, this was exactly what she’d hoped for several days ago. But she’d never dreamed it would feel like this. “I trust you,” she whispered.

Lifting her knees, she guided him inside her, her body stretching against his fullness. “Yes,” she breathed, marveling that it could be this good.

Dougal’s face was strained taut, but his mouth trailed down the column of her throat in a wet path to her breasts. As he suckled one, he plunged in deep, intensifying her arousal. She felt the answering pull, her body needing his.

Slowly, he moved within her, a fluid rhythm that felt so good, she pushed back, welcoming the thrust. He raised one of her legs over one hip, and in his eyes, she saw the man she’d loved for so long.

She’d been wrong to leave him. Dougal never would have let anything happen to her, nor would he have let her starve. The two years she’d spent with Edmon paled in comparison to one night with this man.

“More,” she urged, holding his hips. He guided her legs around his waist, elevating her hips until he penetrated harder. Over and over he plunged, forcing her to meet each thrust.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see your eyes when I’m inside you.”

She did, and the feral look pulled her apart. He was marking her, forcing her to see the man who was pleasuring her. And God above, the intensity was mind-stealing. He was raw and untamed, quickening the pace until she could do nothing but hold fast and surrender.

Liquid heat pulsed inside, and she shuddered, climaxing around him as he continued to drive inside her.

“Let go,” she pleaded, grasping his face with her hands. She couldn’t bear much more of this. But he only kissed her hard, continuing the relentless rhythm. As if he was trying to drive out the memories of any man but him.

She couldn’t catch her breath, for it was coming in swift gasps, until at last he came in a fierce thrust. His breath shuddered as he pumped inside her, his arms gripping her hard.

Their bodies were joined in a way that made a mockery of what her marriage had been.
This
was what it meant to share a man’s bed. She’d never known, and though Dougal was still buried deep within her, there was a joy that he’d awakened.

“I liked that,” she murmured with a lazy smile, pulling him into a kiss. But neither of them spoke of what the morrow would bring. And she could not say what would happen anymore.

There could be a child, a memory of this night. A child who would save both her and her sister. A wild hope filled her, that perhaps she could have everything. She could reclaim Eiloch, and later bring Dougal back to stay with her.

But when he rolled over, curling his body around hers, a sense of darkness surrounded her. No. He would never give his child another man’s name. If he knew that she had wanted him in her bed for that purpose, he would never forgive her.

Once again, she would have to choose, for she could not have both.

* * *

D
OUGAL
AWOKE
IN
the middle of the night to find Celeste naked in his arms. Her body was warm, her hair tangled down her back. He stroked the length of it, and her mouth pressed a sleepy kiss against his chest.

Though he’d grown hard and his shaft was demanding more, he held back. She was not a virgin, and he could claim her again if she would have him. And yet...even though he’d sated his lust, he’d sensed that there was more at play here. She’d had a reason for inviting him into her bed, and he could not guess what it was.

He moved her atop him, enjoying the sensation of her naked body against his. He caressed her skin, down her spine to her round bottom. Almost immediately, his shaft surged against her.