Seduced by Destiny (18 page)

Hell, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d promised.

His lips were warm, and she could taste the enticing sweat of battle upon him. She had to admit ’twas not an unpleasant flavor.

The smell of his skin—clean and slightly scented with the lingering spice of his soap—was agreeable. The heat of his body
against hers was rather welcome—indeed, ’twas strangely arousing.

God’s bones! She was definitely in over her head now.

She wasn’t a seasoned spy. She didn’t know how to lie and cheat and sneak around. She was accustomed to direct confrontation,
not deception. She’d acted on pure instinct. He’d cornered her mentally and physically, and she’d responded with the first
thing that had popped into her mind.

Now she was trapped in her own ruse, forced to kiss him, forced to pretend she’d come here, not to spy upon him, but to seduce
him.

Marry, what she knew about seducing men would fit in that thimble he’d given her.

But she’d always been taught to have a strong offense. Trying to remember what they’d done before, she deepened the kiss,
coaxing him on with soft mews. Then she pitched her mouth across his, teasing it open with bold sweeps of her tongue.

He answered with unexpected zeal, seizing her face between his hands and tipping her head to access her more fully. He threaded
his fingers through her hair, anchoring her, then parted her lips with his tongue to invade the recesses within.

She should be frightened. This was a skirmish for which she was completely unprepared. But every brush of his lips soothed
her fears and excited her, and soon she yearned for more spirited combat.

Beneath his palms, she could feel her pulse racing. Her heart pounded, and the blood rushed through her veins, as intoxicating
as any ale. Her head swam in a hazy sea of need and turmoil and longing, and she had no desire to be pulled from the perilous
waves.

He growled against her mouth, and the sound sent a curious sizzle along her spine, waking her senses and making her dare more.

She let go of his doublet and slipped her hands inside, letting them roam over his broad shoulders and the smooth contours
of his chest. Through the thin saffron shirt, she felt the sultry warmth of his body. And as mad as it seemed, the sensation
triggered a pleasing twinge between her legs.

Meanwhile, his hands forged their own seductive path across her flesh. He skimmed her throat with the back of his knuckles,
and his fingertips drifted across her collarbone to slip beneath her chemise, caressing the skin there.

She shivered at the delicious, forbidden contact and rose to meet it, longing to feel his hands delve further beneath her
clothing.

As if sensing her desires, he loosened the laces of her bodice and slipped the chemise from her shoulder, baring the top of
her bosom. Her breasts thrust upward, aching for his touch, daring him to trespass there. She moaned as waves of delicious
torment filled her head.

When she thought she’d drown in the lusty current, he broke off the kiss, nuzzling her ear to whisper, “Is this what ye came
for, love?”

His breath spiraled into her ear, awakening something deep within her brain, and she shivered, answering him with a sigh.

“Is this what ye want?”

He pressed his lips in a sweet trail down the side of her neck, and she turned her head aside to give him access. Anticipation
curled her toes and made her clench her fists in his shirt.

“Aye,” she breathed.

He bestowed gentle kisses along the upper curve of her
bosom, moving lower and lower until her nipples stung with yearning. She arched up, wishing he would free her breasts and
feast upon her.

He chuckled softly. “Oh, Jossy, ye’re a wanton wench.”

Maybe she
did
know what she was doing, after all, she thought, before rational thought deserted her and she surrendered to instinct.

He did as she willed then, pulled down her bodice to expose her breasts, then lowered his head to capture a nipple in his
warm, wet mouth.

She gasped, arching reflexively and twisting her fists tighter in his shirt, wanting…

She didn’t know what she wanted. More. Closer. Deeper.

He began to suckle at her, and she felt the exquisite tug of his lips all the way to the core of her being. The tingling between
her thighs became a burning need, and she thrust her hips up as well, seeking some unnamed relief for the fiery torment there.

He moved to her other breast and lavished the same satisfying attention on her straining nipple. But instead of quenching
her thirst, his bold efforts only aggravated her need.

She pulsed up against him again, and this time she felt all too vividly the evidence of his arousal. Even through the layers
of his shirt and trews, she could tell his cock had grown as hard as steel. Which sent a heady tremor through her bones.

She was doing it, she realized. She was seducing him. And that knowledge gave her a sense of power. Even while she languished
at his mercy, she had him wrapped around her finger, just where she…

He slipped his hand down between her legs and, with remarkable precision, found the very spot that hungered the most. ’Twas
as if lightning had struck her. Sweet fire blazed through every nerve. And for the first time in her life, Josselin felt in
danger of losing control.

“Do ye like that, lass?” he murmured. “Do ye like it when—”

She surged upward with the last ounce of her will and bowled the Highlander over onto his back. A strong offense, she repeated
to herself. Now she had him right where she wanted him.

Josselin’s response was more forceful than Drew had expected. But he wasn’t about to complain. Only a fool would complain
when a beautiful half-naked blonde sat astride him.

She was breathtaking. Tendrils of her hair dripped like honey over her bare shoulders and flirted with her heaving breasts,
still wet from his suckling. Her lips, swollen with kisses, parted in invitation. Her eyes smoldered with passion.

Lord, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman. His blood was hot, his appetite was whetted, and his cock was primed
for trysting.

She tore open his doublet, wrenching it off of his shoulders, and pulled up the shirt underneath, baring his chest. Then she
caught his wrists and held him down, asserting her superiority with a rough kiss of claiming.

He didn’t mind. Not at all. Her breasts were soft and warm upon him. Her lips were sweet and supple. That she wanted him enough
to take command of his body only sharpened his desire.

He let her have her way with him, pinning him to the bed, plundering his mouth, taunting him by brushing her tempting breasts
against his chest.

But the wild hound in his trews was not so patient. It languished in the heat of her onslaught, beneath the welcome weight
of her buttocks, begging to be unleashed.

She mirrored his lovemaking, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, then pushing his shirt up to bathe his chest with her
tongue. She gradually found her way to his nipples, and as she gently lapped at him, he closed his eyes at the divine sensation.

All the while she gently rocked back and forth upon his lap, probably unaware of her actions. But the effect upon him was
like flint on steel. Soon his need would burst into flame.

He adjusted his hips beneath her, lifting his thigh slightly between hers to give her the friction she craved. She pressed
against him, rocking harder, seeking relief.

“I know what ye want, darlin’,” he breathed. “I can—”

She never gave him the chance. All at once, she thrust her hand down and seized his restless cock.

He gasped, and his hips instinctively thrust upward.

As she began to stroke and squeeze him, driving him to new heights of desire, the little minx actually smiled faintly, as
smug as a cat slurping cream.

“Jossy, love,” he breathlessly warned her, “ye’re playin’ with fire.”

“Am I?”

He smiled back and reached down to return the favor, rubbing purposefully between her legs and eliciting a ragged gasp from
her.

But instead of retreating shyly, the lass actually
attacked him with more aggression. She loosened the laces of his trews and boldly shoved her hand inside, grasping his cock
as if ’twere a rare prize.

Current flooded every nerve, and he groaned with the pleasure-pain of her assault. Only sheer willpower kept him from spilling
his seed into her hand.

But two could play her game.

He tugged up her skirts, slipping his hand underneath to seek out the hot core of her need. He glided his fingers through
her soft hair and over her warm, moist folds. Lord, she was already drenched with the dew of desire. He parted her swollen
lips and found and fondled the precious nub within. She moaned deeply, and the primal sound fueled his passion.

Supporting herself on one arm and still holding his cock in her tantalizing grip, Josselin planted her knees on either side
of him, positioning herself strategically above him.

Amazed and thrilled by her unashamed aggression, he mustered his last ounce of nobility to stop her.

Holding her back with a hand upon her chest, he gasped out, “Wait, lass. Have ye done this before?”

Her eyes were glazed with determined passion.

“Ye can’t…” he explained, “ye can’t just… If ye’ve never… Let me…”

“I’ve never golfed either,” she panted, “but that didn’t stop me.”

Then, before he could prevent her, she sank down onto his hips, sheathing his cock in her welcoming warmth, and the deed was
done.

S
atan’s claws!

Josselin bit her lip against crying out. For an instant she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. ’Twas like impaling herself on
a great jagged knife.

Beneath her, Drew stiffened. “Oh, lass!” he whispered.

She refused to let him see her weakness. He’d warned her, after all. Aye, ’twas painful, but it had been her idea, and she
wasn’t about to back down. Besides, she could no more undo what had been done than she could recall a careless slash of the
sword.

So she blinked back the tears of pain starting in her eyes, clenched her teeth against the size of him inside her, and tried
to move.

“Nae, love,” Drew murmured, stopping her. “Let me.”

She didn’t want to let him take the offensive, and she didn’t want his pity. ’Twould show she was weak. But he gave her no
choice. For a man who didn’t have the bulging muscles of a caber-tosser, he was damned strong. Holding her against him with
one hand on her buttocks, he gently rolled with her until he was once again on top.

Humiliated, she refused to meet his gaze. She’d felt so victorious a moment ago, and now…

“The pain will pass in a moment,” he told her, tenderly brushing the hair back from her brow, “I promise.”

“ ’Tis nothin’,” she lied. “I’ve had worse from a blade.”

He cupped her cheek and kissed the corner of her lip. “Breathe through the pain, and try to let it go. I won’t move a muscle
till ye give the word.”

He kissed her again, this time full on the mouth, and she answered instinctively. Considering his bold invasion below, his
trespass upon her lips was surprisingly delicate.

He stroked her with a feather-light touch, murmuring against her ear, “I’m sorry if I hurt ye.”

But already her muscles were relaxing around him, adjusting to his fullness, and she could feel the delicious erotic glow
gradually returning to her skin.

The frantic need she’d experienced a moment before was gone. In its place was a slow-building, tender craving that was soothing
her hurt and taking her to a sweeter place, a place to which they were journeying together.

“That’s it, love,” he said. “There’s no hurry. ’Tis a dance, not a race.”

His soft touch—along her jaw, over her shoulders, upon her breasts—began to bring her to life again. Soon, floating in a haze
of arousal, she started to respond, returning his kisses, clutching at his shirt, weaving her fingers through his wild hair.
Caught up in bliss, she almost forgot about her discomfort.

“If ye’ll allow me,” he whispered, “I can make it better.”

She couldn’t imagine anything better, but she wasn’t about to argue with him. She nodded.

He slipped his hand down to the place where they were joined, massaging her gently as he pulsed inside her. She sucked in
a sharp breath, not of pain, but of pleasure, as his fingers found her most vulnerable spot.

Like a swordsman with a blade at her heart, he held her hostage. With the slightest movement of his fingertip, he controlled
her passion. He could send her lust spiraling out of bounds or withhold his touch to leave her begging for more.

It shocked her to know how easily he’d usurped her dominance.

Thankfully, he was merciful. He stroked and circled and caressed her flesh with expert care, returning to claim her mouth
with sweet persuasion. He played her with the same finesse he used on the course, keeping his eye on the target and nudging
her gently toward the goal.

A strange yearning grew deep in her belly, and her breath came in rapid gulps as, of their own will, her hips rocked up, eager
to mate with him. Lust mixed with despair as she realized he was going to win. In another moment, she’d surrender to the demands
of her own body, and he’d emerge victorious.

Then a curious thing happened.

“Oh, Jossy,” he said tightly, withdrawing his hand, “please say ye’re ready.”

She peered up into his face. His eyes were dark with desire. His nostrils flared, and his lips were compressed with restraint.
His brow was deeply furrowed, as if he suffered some terrible agony. Faith, he was as vulnerable to her as she was to him.

That knowledge sent a thrill of power through her veins. They were equals in this arena.

“Aye!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He moved within her, and this time there was no pain, only a satisfying fullness that made her arousal more complex. She strained
upward, pressing against him, and he answered, delving more deeply. She drove against him to hasten his thrusts, and he complied,
pumping to a faster rhythm. She curled her legs over his, claiming him, and he responded with a groan of delight, enfolding
her in his arms.