Samantha James (18 page)

Her voice had plunged to a whisper.

Give me your seed
.

Cameron stared at her. His eyes darkened. For one mind-teetering second, he was convinced he’d gone mad, that his ears had deceived him. Surely she could not have said…

Give me your son
.

He was pierced by a bittersweet pang. Even now she wanted nothing from him but her freedom. But his heart had begun to thunder. His blood was burning. He felt purely selfish, purely greedy. Aye, he thought. He would give her what she wanted, for it was just as he’d said.

He wanted her. He ached for her…too much to refuse what she offered.

Ah, but would the night’s surrender draw the morrow’s penance? He had to know—he had to.

“Do you know what you ask?” His gaze probed hers, clear to some unseen place hidden deep within her. “Do you, lass? Say yea or say nay, but say it now!” Even as he spoke, his hands came up to grip her own.

For one perilous moment Meredith’s traitorous mind betrayed her and she was reminded of other
hands. Hands upon her body. Hands that had forced her down.

Drawn by a force she couldn’t command, her gaze trickled down…down to where dark fingers caught at her own. They were strong, those hands. Lean and powerful. Tanned and wholly male.

Those hands had grasped her waist, traced the slant of her cheek, skimmed the bareness of her very breast, immeasurably gentle despite their strength. Those hands had made her tremble, but not in fear. Nay, not in fear…never in fear.

His hands held no terror for her now.

She trembled anew. Her gaze climbed higher. Her eyes clung to his, trapped by the fiery hold in his. With quavering heart and quaking limbs, she heard her voice, as if from a very great distance. “Aye”—and then again, this time a soft cry—“aye!”

His eyes seemed to blaze. “Then let it be,” he whispered. “Dear God, let it be…”

His mouth crushed hers, hot and passionate. She felt herself swept high aloft, snug in his embrace. He kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. Her toes touched the floor. Almost before she could draw breath, her gown was whisked from her shoulders. She could only watch as his clothes met the same end as hers—a forgotten pile on the rough cold floor.

The light from the fire bathed him in pale, firelit glory. Though her cheeks flooded crimson, Meredith could not help herself. Always before, she had hidden her face away, curious but almost desperately afraid to look. Now she could not help herself.

Clad in kilt and plaid, so tall and striking, Cameron was a man whose sheer presence was an over-powering force among those around him.

Naked, he was…extraordinary.

He was power and strength. Masculine grace and vitality.

The stark, masculine beauty of his body made her throat constrict. His frame was forged in iron. He was long and lean of limb, the contours of his shoulders were sculpted and round, his arms were sinuously defined with muscle. A dark netting of fur covered his chest and the ridged hardness of his belly. From somewhere she dredged up the courage to gaze the length of him…
all
of him.

She dared what she had never dared before. Her regard ventured helplessly lower—what she saw made her eyes widen and her entire body go hot. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Rigidly unconfined, framed in coarse black curls, his staff stood boldly erect. Meredith let out an uneven breath and transferred her gaze to safer territory, only to discover he’d been watching her all the while!

As if he were precisely aware of where her gaze had resided for long, uninterrupted moments, an odd half-smile curled his lips. He allowed no time for shame. No time for embarrassment. A hand at her hips urged her body against his. His skin was hotter than any fire, the eyes that gazed down at her brighter than any flame—there was nowhere they did not touch.

Did he test her? she wondered frantically. All at once she knew not. She cared not. His fingers twisted in her hair, turning her face up to his. Then his mouth was on hers, a fevered caress that tasted of a tortuous hunger that was strangely thrilling. Warm breath filled her throat…
his
breath. Never in her life had she dreamed a kiss could be like this. When his tongue danced against hers, a swirling foray, she felt utterly boneless. She would surely have fallen were it not for the hardness of his arms braced around her back.

She was only dimly aware of being carried to the bed. Firelight flickered over his features as he propped himself on an elbow, his regard utterly intent.

“You know what I will do to you,” he said quietly.

She blushed. “Aye.”

He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. “Then listen to me, Meredith, for when I take you…it will be nothing like what was done to you before.” His tone was low and vibrating. “Nothing at all.”

Praise God he was right, for she could not stand to think it might be otherwise.

“You must trust in me, lass. Can you do that?”

Indeed, she thought wildly, she had no choice. Some little-known sense inside warned her they had come too far to turn back now.

“Aye,” she whispered. Yet he must have heard the vulnerability in her voice, for his eyes darkened.

“It will not be the same as before,” he said again.

With fledgling courage, she laid her fingertips on the bristly plane of his cheek, unable to tear her eyes from his. “Will you swear it, Cameron? Will you?”

His gaze rested on her mouth. “I swear it, lass.
I swear it
.”

This time his kiss was so unbearably sweet, she nearly cried out. He whispered her name, a sound that sent a quiver all through her.

His lips found the corner of her mouth. “Meredith…sweet Meredith. You must tell me what pleases you.”

With his thumbs he traced slow circles around the boundary of her breasts. “Does this please you, lass?”

She could only nod, for he was drawing perilously close to the delicate roseate peaks. She longed to drag his hands heavy against her swelling fullness, for her
nipples thrust turgid and hard, in a way that had only happened with him…

“And this?” He grazed the very tips, the merest butterfly caress.

She inhaled sharply. Her breasts seemed to swell still further. That evocative touch came again…and yet again. Lightning shot through her, centered there at those dusky crowns. She hadn’t realized that he would try to please her. Somehow she’d been convinced he would see to his own pleasure first.

Somehow he seemed to know exactly where she ached, what she wanted. He gave an odd little laugh. “You like that, don’t you, lass? Ah, but I knew you would.”

His mouth slid down her throat. Heat splintered all through her, even as her mind balked. Nay, she thought hazily. He had touched her there. But surely he would not…

She could only watch in mingled shock and fascination as his dark head hovered over her breast. Never had she dreamed he might kiss her there! As if in anticipation, her nipples peaked and hardened. As his mouth touched the quivering tip, she gasped. “Cameron, what—what do you do?”

He raised his head, his smile wicked. “Ah, but there’s more, lass. Much, much more…”

He began the task anew, but this time…this time he trapped the dark rouge center within the hot wet cave of his mouth. His tongue boldly came out to touch the swelling peak, laving and curling, teasing and sucking…A sharp stab of pure sensation tore through her. The torment was unceasing. He lashed her nipple with torrid, wanton strokes that made her bite back a cry of sheer bliss.

It was as if a stranger had overtaken her body. She
had convinced herself that she must endure his possession in order to gain her freedom—instead she reveled in his touch, in every kiss, in every mind-stealing caress. She felt her senses widen, expanding like a frail spring blossom beneath the heat of a noonday sun, opening to welcome him…but only him. With a helpless little moan she caught his dark head in her hands, as if to keep him there and capture that elusive pleasure forever.

It was no different for Cameron. Had she lain passive beneath him, he knew he would never have forced her. But her mouth clung to his. He felt her shiver with sensation, arching into his hands and mouth as if he were all that she craved. Her blind acceptance of his every caress sent his ardor spiraling. His blood was boiling, his rod near to bursting the bounds of his skin. But he would not hurry his possession of her, for he wanted the memory of this night to remain branded in her heart forever…

As he knew it would be in his.

With precise deliberation, the heel of his hand laid claim to the satin hollow of her belly. She inhaled raggedly, but didn’t stop him. His mouth gauged the wildly raging pulse at the base of her throat. He buried his fingers in the flaming curls that guarded the center of her womanhood, a plundering quest that did not stop until he touched the very heart of her.

He felt the flutter of her hands upon his shoulders. “Cameron,” she said faintly. “Cameron, nay…”

His lips swallowed her choked little cry. “It’s all right, lass,” he murmured into her mouth. “Just let me touch you…” He kissed her endlessly, allowing her to adjust to his blatantly possessive touch there between her thighs.

His patience met with reward. His first sweeping
pass grazed soft, dewy folds; the second explored with unerring precision, parting each side of her furrowed cleft to seek the bud hidden deep within. It was there he now worked his magic, circling and skimming that taut kernel of flesh, loving the way her breathing hastened, how her fingers curled and uncurled on his nape—the dew of her passion soon glazed his own. She clutched at him, her breathing as torn and labored as his.

It circled through his mind to sample her sweetest fruit, to taste the spicy tang of her essence full upon his tongue. A fleeting regret seized him, for he knew it was too soon.

With every heartbeat, he wanted her more. He kissed the scar beneath her breast, the hollow of her belly. God, she was sweet. Feeling her tremble with the response she couldn’t withhold nearly splintered him apart. The thought of thrusting deep and hard within her velvet heat was almost more than he could stand. He sought to control the rampaging thunder of his heart, the pulsing need soaring ever higher in his rod.

Suddenly it was he who trembled. He was overcome with the need to feel her touch, and his hand entrapped hers, guiding small, dainty fingers down his chest, grazing the plane of his belly, unfaltering in its quest. His fingers caught at hers, searing her palm with the hardness of his shaft, swollen and engorged.

“Feel,” he said thickly. “Feel the blaze of my desire for you. No weapon here, lass. Naught but the fierceness of my need for you.”

The clasp of her fingers there—
there
, where the pulse of desire throbbed strongest—made both their hearts leap. Pitched into feverish awareness, Meredith couldn’t tear her eyes from his face. His words were
shattering and raw. Her heart tumbled to a standstill, for she could feel him, hard and rigid in her hand. Above her, his eyes burned like silver torches. The cords of his neck stood out. Only then did she realize the enormity of his restraint.

He was above her now, pressing her back into the bed. Meredith was achingly conscious of the heat and hardness of his body above hers. Her fingers were caught and threaded tight within his, borne to the mattress beside her head. With his knees he splayed her wide, the very tip of his velvet crown snugly embraced by sleek, pink petals of femininity…For the span of a heartbeat, she lay before him, naked and vulnerable and helplessly open…She could not help it. Dark remembrance scored her mind at the very instant her flesh parted beneath the stunning pressure of his.

She felt her body stretch to accommodate his thrust…and then they were no longer two, but one.

Time stood still. Her breath left her in a scalding rush. Meredith was quiveringly aware of the breadth of his shaft buried tight inside her, filling and thick, so deep it seemed he touched her very womb. Yet, impossible as it seemed, her body accepted his as if they’d been made to fit together just so…

“Meredith”—her name was a ragged groan—“be not afraid, for I could not bear it if you were.”

Be not afraid
. His voice echoed through the void of her mind. He’d said that the night he’d taken her, she recalled suddenly. At the time, she’d been terrified…But as his mouth now found hers, the tight knot of fear inside her melted away as if it had never been.

His hands released hers. A powerful arm slid down to their hips, binding them together even more tightly.
Traitorous arms locked tight about the binding tightness of his shoulders.

Slowly he withdrew. In the same breath, he moved inside her anew, a blazing shaft of lightning. Again…and yet again. Her breath caught. Her body welcomed his of its own volition, clinging to his like a glove.

He was right, she decided vaguely. It was nothing like before. With each carefully gauged plunge of his flesh inside hers, flame licked along her veins. The sensation was indescribably delicious, a veritable feast of the senses. Somewhere in the murky haze of her consciousness, she wondered why she had fought this so hard. Swept into a realm of dark, heady pleasure, her hips taking up the rhythm of his. Arching. Seeking…

“Meredith…sweet Meredith, give me your lips.”

Eyes closed, she raised tremulous lips to his, a willing captive of his passion. Her arms stole about his neck.

For Cameron it was too much. Her sweet surrender was more than he could bear—the feel of his staff clamped tight within the warm, wet prison of her sheath was more than he could stand.

His thrusts quickened. He lunged almost wildly. His climax rushed at him from all sides. The night exploded—and so did he. A jagged groan erupting from deep in his chest, his seed spewing from him almost violently, flooding her with fire.

Sunshine slanted through the shuttered window, gauzy and radiant, proclaiming the arrival of a new day. Meredith awoke slowly, a decided lassitude in her limbs. The fire in the grate had long since grown cold, yet never had she been so snug and warm. The reason for that was clear—she lay within the sheltering protection of strong male arms, her entire length molded against Cameron’s side. Her head was pillowed on the sleek skin of his shoulder. Her hand looked small and dainty nestled there amid the bristly curls on his chest; it rested just above his heart, which beat steady and strong beneath her fingertips.

Thrice more he had taken her throughout the long night. The last time…ah, the last time. Meredith trembled in remembrance, for the last time had been the best. He was slow and achingly tender and the very thought of it made her tingle all over. It was near dawn before they had finally slept.

She told herself she should rise, yet the thought held little appeal. Indeed, she admitted to herself, never had she felt so safe, so warm and secure—as if nothing or no one could hurt her. Here in his arms, she thought with a pang, was the haven that had always eluded her…always until now.

Her gaze wandered up the strong column of his neck, to his profile, relaxed now in slumber. His lashes were long and feathery, shielding the silver of eyes that could snap like a whip—or glow with a bright, sensual haze, as they had last eve. The jutting blade of his nose bespoke an arrogance she knew would ever be present. His mouth…ah, his mouth! It was cleanly sculpted, and brought her a rapture she’d never known could exist. A shiver touched her spine, for never had she known a man so ruggedly masculine.

Cameron awoke with the same sense of rightness, of oneness. Though he did not open his eyes, he could feel the silken strands of red streaming across his chest. Her breath misted warmly across his skin. Some powerful emotion surged in his chest. There was something blessedly rich about waking with her in his arms, holding her like this. True, it was not the first time they had lain just so.

But this was different. She belonged to him now—belonged to him as she would never belong to another. Ruthlessly he dismissed the bastard who had stolen her innocence, for he—Cameron—had given it back and she knew it, too. He was the one who had completed her journey to womanhood, who had shown her that lovemaking was something to be shared and neither feared nor dreaded. Aye, he thought with a purely masculine swell of satisfaction, she knew it, too, else she would never have yielded her trust—and aye, her body, too—as she had during the long hours of the night.

She propped herself on her elbow, tugging the sheet so that it covered her breasts. “You are awake, Cameron. I know it.”

He sighed and opened his eyes. At the sight of her peering down at him, he smiled.

Her mouth pursed indignantly. “What do you find so amusing?”

“Remember the day you told Aileen you’d kissed a toad—and found it quite disgusting?”

“What of it?”

His eyes gleamed. “It occurs to me you did not seem so disgusted by your toad last eve.”

His smile was transformed into a full-blown laugh as she blushed to the roots of her hair.

“What! Am I wrong, then? Ah, clearly you find me lacking! Well, then, ’tis obvious I must endeavor to please you far better. I suppose it is like swordplay—the best way to proceed is through practice…”

Meredith found herself seized and hauled atop him. She blinked down at him. “Your swordplay needs no improvement,” she gasped.

“Then I must find a place to sheath my sword,” he said smoothly. He chuckled heartily as she grasped his meaning, for now his shaft lay sweetly cradled between her thighs. A jolt of longing shot through him. Lord, but she stirred him—stirred him mightily! He knew from the way her eyes widened that she, too, had appraised the proof of his readiness.

Reluctantly he put her from him. His gaze followed her as she slipped from the bed, dwelling long and hard on the dimpled length of her back as she washed. He experienced a twinge of regret, for she did not face him—he knew shyness and modesty precluded it; therefore he contented himself with the glimpse of rounded breast he was given when she tugged her gown over her head. Purposely he waited until she was covered before he arose. He washed and dressed,
while she rummaged through his pouch for the bread and cheese he’d brought.

When they were done, she brushed the crumbs from her lap. “Well,” she said breathlessly, “what shall we do today?”

A devilish brow climbed high. Her innocent comment was a tempting inducement. Cameron’s blood fairly sizzled. He craved her with a hunger that startled even himself—never had he experienced a passion so keen as that which he felt for her. Were it up to him, he would never leave the cottage—indeed, they would never leave the bed. But above all, he did not want to frighten her anew.

He rose to his feet and strode to the door, gesturing her through it. “I’ve an idea,” he said, a secret twinkle in his eye. Though she begged to know what they would do, he would not tell her; rather he teased her and told her that she must wait.

She glanced at him as they walked along a pathway that took them inland, farther from the beach. “This cottage, Cameron. How did you know it was here?”

“My mother was born in this cottage,” he told her. “Her family worked this land for many a year. But once her parents died, there was no one left. Now no one lives here.”

Meredith glanced around. They had just crested a small rise. Behind them, the surf rolled upon the beach. Beyond, the vivid green hills undulated, fold after fold. “What a pity no one stayed,” she murmured. “’Tis beautiful here.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “When I was a lad”—there was the slightest hesitation—“my brothers and I spent many a happy day on this isle.”

His voice had gone low and husky. Meredith’s heart wrenched, for she could hear the loneliness and
longing that dwelled within. Unthinkingly, she slipped her hand in his, a wordless gesture of comfort; it seemed the most natural thing in the world. His grip tightened around hers. Hand in hand, they walked together.

Above them, a hawk turned cartwheels in the deep blue bowl of the sky. Clouds as fleecy white as the belly of a newborn lamb drifted above; their shadows dappled the grassy hills below. Cameron stopped once, putting a finger to his lips, then pointing to where a deer foraged nearby for her dinner.

Soon they came upon a small loch, surrounded by a towering stand of aspen. Sunlight slanted down from above, spilling across the surface of the loch like liquid gold. It was to a small inlet that cut into the shoreline that Cameron strode.

“I thought we might spend the rest of the morning swimming here in the loch.”

“I cannot swim, and well you know it!”

“’Tis a matter I intend to rectify. ’Twas here that I learned to swim, and here that you shall as well.”

Her gaze swung to the glistening waters of the loch, then back to his face. “Cameron, nay!”

“Come, now, lass. I am a good teacher, am I not?”

Her face turned the color of a glorious sunrise.

She neither agreed nor disagreed. “No doubt those waters are as frigid as—”

“Nay, ’tis warm here in this cove. There is a hot spring that feeds into the loch near that rock.” He pointed to a spot near a small pile of boulders.

A slender brow rose. “Should I drown,” she informed him loftily, “I will go straight to hell—and I promise I will take you with me.”

“And we would not want that, now, would we? Nay, I would much rather be in heaven”—the light
in his eyes was irreverent—” as we were last night.”

“Cameron! You should not speak of such things!” His grin made her heart catch. It was difficult to be as stern as she might have wished.

“’Tis considered manly to boast of one’s prowess with a woman.”

“But should a man boast of his prowess
to
a woman? I think not!”

“I fail to see the harm in it.” As he spoke, he dragged his tunic over his head. Unabashedly he shed the rest of his clothing and waded into the water.

The waters of the loch glimmered invitingly, yet she could not banish a twinge of uneasiness.

“Meredith,” he called. “Do you dally a-purpose?”

She glared at him. Perhaps if he had given her fair warning, she might have been better prepared…she fooled no one, least of all herself! She could make excuses till the end of her days, and naught would change. Chiding herself for her cowardice, she decided reluctantly that he was right—she must learn to swim.

“Mayhap you need assistance.”

The wicked gleam in his eyes told the tale only too well. He would be glad to lend it—and then her lessons would never begin! Taking a deep breath, she discarded her slippers. Her gown followed, but that was as far as she would go. She would not strip naked as he did.

Wearing only her smock, she ventured forward tentatively. To her delighted surprise, he was right. The water was not at all cold. Cautiously, she tiptoed to where he stood. It was not deep here, but the water lapped at the jutting ridge of his hips.

The first order of the day was to teach her to hold her breath. She resisted mightily when he bade her
duck her head beneath the water, but he persisted until at last she complied. Once she was not quite so fearful, he decided it was time she floated on her back. Again she resisted, insisting his hands remain beneath her. When he was comfortably certain she could do it alone, he withdrew his hands.

She never even knew. Her eyes were closed, her hands churning lazily beneath the surface to keep her afloat. Holding his breath, he stepped back. After a full minute—no, two!—softly he called her name.

Her eyes opened. At the sight of him a full arm’s length away, she floundered and promptly sank like a stone beneath the surface. She emerged, sputtering and glaring.

His hearty chuckle earned him a stinging spray of water straight in the face. He blinked, his smile wiped clean, and then it was her turn to laugh.

“Rogue!” she threw at him.

“Vixen!” he accused without heat.

By that time the next day, she swam slowly but cautiously across the width of the inlet. Her feet finding purchase in the sandy bottom, she stood upright. Her eyes glowing, she pushed her heavy hair back from her face.

“I did it!” she breathed. “I did it!”

One corner of his mouth tipped upward. Her exuberance made him smile. Flinging her arms around his neck, she pressed a wet, sloppy kiss on his lips.

In that instant, his very heart ceased to beat…it resumed with a thick, pounding throb. For she had reached out to him. She had touched him of her own volition. Elation soared within him.

She had realized it, too—her swiftly indrawn breath told him so. She snatched back her hands and would have retreated, had he let her.

He caught her by the hips. “Nay,” he said. “
Nay
.”

Desire blazed within him, a powerful tide of heat. The cloth of her smock was rendered sheer by the water. Her flesh gleamed white and smooth. The mounds of her breasts rose firm and round, tipped by nipples that stood impudent and erect. ’Twas a sight more brazenly erotic than if she’d stood before him naked, he thought hazily. He wanted to kiss her senseless, until nothing else existed. He wanted to plunge deep within her fiery cave till they were both shaking with need.

Meredith swallowed. The way he looked at her made her mouth go dry…as if he would devour her with his eyes.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

Her breath slammed to a halt in her throat. His grip had tightened, burning through the sopping fabric of her smock to sear her very skin. She was suddenly heart-stoppingly aware that her every curve lay revealed to him.

Nearby a procession of ducklings wiggled behind their mother, traipsing across the bank. Insects hummed in the dark netherworld below the trees. A fragrant breeze sighed through the willows. Neither one of them saw, nor heard.

The world veered to a dark void where there was only the two of them.

His voice was low and taut. “You enflame me.”

Meredith drew a shaky breath. He touched her with naught but the callused tips of his fingers, yet she felt as if he touched her everywhere—she felt it in every fiber of her being.

“I burn for you. Do you know what that is, lass? To feel a yearning that makes you burn both inside and out?”

The heat of his gaze—and aye, the dark intensity of his words—ripped from her what modesty remained. She stared up at him, caught by the intoxicating web of his gaze, no longer caring that she stood before him almost naked.

“Where?” she asked unsteadily. “Where do you burn?”

“Here.” His hand caught hers so that it rested directly above his heart. “And here.” His eyes sheared directly into hers as he guided it down…ever down…

His hand closed around hers—her fingers wound tight around that turgid plane of masculine flesh.

Her pulse leaped wildly. Her gaze dropped helplessly. The water was crystalline clear here. She could see him, all of him, thick and rigid with arousal, surging boldly, for her hand encompassed but half of him.

He saw the way her eyes widened. “Do I frighten you, lass?” No, he thought. Pray God, no…

Her gaze shied away, only to return. “Nay,” she whispered, and then again: “
Nay
.”

Triumph leaped within him, for her gaze reflected the same intense longing as his. Bending his head, he kissed her with greedy urgency, a deep, ravaging kiss that left both of them gasping.

He dragged his mouth from hers. Shifting his legs wide apart, he filled his hands with her buttocks, then slipped to the backs of her thighs. She caught at the rippling muscle of his arms, her expression dazed.

“Cameron—”

He lifted her astride him. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said hoarsely, the sound as raw and molten as his gaze.

She could do nothing but comply, her heels catching together by sheer instinct. She could feel the bulg
ing muscles of his thighs riding beneath her own. For one heart-rending moment, her mind balked at what he would do. Yet even as the thought spun through her, the swollen tip of him breached the velvet petals of her cleft. Then he was driving home, so piercing and deep she burned inside as he had vowed he burned.