The Highlander's Sin (18 page)

“Tell me.”

She held her head high. “None of your business.”

Duncan bared his teeth. “Ye’re not a virgin?”

Now it was her turn for reddened cheeks. Heat suffused her face, making her cheeks feel like they’d burst into flames at the snap of a finger. “That is—”

“Dinna say none of my business, because it damn well is.”

Heather didn’t want to admit she was a virgin. Not to Duncan. Shameful as it was, she wanted him to think she was experienced. He was a man who had obviously charmed many females, and though she had no clue how in all the world she was going to pleasure him, she didn’t want
him
to know that.

“I—”

“Damn it, Heather, ye either are or ye’re not.”

She chewed her lip. This dilemma could easily have been solved with her telling him the truth. Humiliation would have been nothing compared to dealing with his wrath over a fake lover.

“Tell me the bastard’s name, and I’ll cut him down.”

Exactly as she’d feared. With a deep sigh, she let her shoulders sink a little. “I am still…intact.”

Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. “Has any man touched ye?”

“I just told ye—”

He shook his head. “In any other way.”

“Of course, lots of men have touched me.” She rolled her eyes. “What a ridiculous question.”

Duncan pressed his hands to his hips, drawing her attention to the area. Slim hips and a line of dark hair on his abdomen that led straight beneath his plaid. She found her mouth watering at the sight of his muscled belly, and couldn’t help but wonder what the muscles hidden by fabric looked like.

“Ye mean to tell me ye’ve pleasured many men?”

Heather jerked her gaze back to his. “More insults. Do ye take me for a whore? Would ye marry a woman like that?”

“I’d marry ye no matter what.”

“Well, then, nay, I haven’t pleasured any man.”

“Lad
s?”

“O
h, for God’s sake, why are ye being such a brute?”

“Who touched ye then?”

“Duncan, really… I kissed a few boys at a feast or two. Otherwise, I am completely innocent and know nothing of the act, save for what I’ve seen.”

“Seen?” He sounded exasperated again. “What kind of house did ye live in?”

“Trust me, they were all trying to be discreet.”

“And yet, ye found them. Ye little hoyden.”

Her face was fully on fire now. She felt like throwing up her hands, but that would have only made her blanket fly off her shoulders. “Ye got me. I’m a little sneak.”

“And a curious one.” He took a step closer. “Did ye like what ye saw?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

He gently stroked his hands over her hips, gripping them and tugging her closer. Heather stumbled, unable to find her feet, her mind solely on the touch of his hands.

“Well, did ye?”

She swallowed hard, unable to answer. Of course she had. But he didn’t need to know that.

“How many times did ye watch?”

“Ye, Priest, are getting entirely too personal.”

His voiced lowered as did his eyelids. Eyes darkened, he was giving her that look again. The one that made her knees knock. “Think of this as confession time.”

Heather searched for a way out of this conversation.
“But ye’re throwing your robes aside.”

“I haven’t as yet.”

He had a point. “I dinna know.”

“That many?”

“I never counted. Maybe seven.”

His brows shot up. “Seven?”

Heather laughed softly, her embarrassment getting the best of her. “I think so. Could be more.”

“Tell me what they were doing.”

She gasped. “Nay!”

“Come now,” he bent toward her, stroking her hair aside so he could nuzzle her neck, “tell me. Were they doing this?”

Heather sighed, tilting her head further, liking the feel of his soft, heated lips on her skin. She nodded.

“This?” He flicked his tongue out, swirling it in a circle at the nape of her neck.

Again, she nodded. There was no way she’d make him stop, not yet anyway. She liked it entirely too much.

Duncan caressed her hips, moving his hands around and down over her buttocks. “Did they touch their women like this?”

“Aye,” she sighed.

“Touch me like the women touched their men.” His whispered demand caused her stomach to flip up into her throat.

Tentatively, she stroked her hands over his corded arms, tightening around his upper arms, feeling the bulge of strength, and then moving to his shoulders and around to his back. Every inch of flesh she touched made her curious to keep moving. Duncan’s breath quickened, and he skimmed his lips up the column of her neck to her chin, nibbled gently on her jaw.

“
Do ye like this?” he asked.

Heather nodded.

“Then ye have nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid.
” She whispered the bold-faced lie.

Duncan chuckled, brushing his lips over hers. “I could see the fear on your face when ye talked of being with others. Ye didna want to admit your innocence. But truth be told, love, I want to be the only man to ever touch ye like this. I want to teach ye everything there is about making love.”

Love.
Making
love.

Was it possible?

She swallowed, cleared her throat. “Aye. Ye will be the only one.”

Duncan groaned and caught her lips in a deep kiss full of possessive desire. He slicked his tongue over the crease of her lips, and when she parted them, he dove inside to taste her.
Whisky, heady and intoxicating.

“Say ye’ll marry me again.”

“I’ll marry ye.”

“Call me husband.”

“Husband,” she sighed against his lips.

“And I call ye
my wife.”

The word, so foreign to her, sent chills of excitement racing along her spine—or was th
at his fingers dancing over her rib cage?

Heather leaned closer to him, feeling the ridges of his body mold
to her own through the blanket. And then he was running his fingers along the two edges where the blanket met, scraping every few inches over the bare skin of her belly. Passion ignited within her. She
wanted
him to touch her bare skin, to feel what it was like to have a man pant for her, to whisper things in her ear and to cry out in pleasure.

Curiosity and desire overcame her fear of the unknown. The way he responded to her kiss, the way he groaned when she massaged the muscles of his back, she must have some bit of talent, else such a response wouldn’t have been elicited. At
least she hoped that was the case. Duncan had said it best. He was going to teach her. He was going to be the one and only.

Her husband.

She tucked her belly closer to him, letting more of his fingers edge around the shield of the woolen blanket. Duncan took her cue and slid his warm hand flat against her belly and around to the side of her waist. Having his hand on her bare skin was exquisite. She gasped against his lips. He fluttered his fingers, making her delirious with such a simple touch.

He caressed over her ribs until he stopped at the side of her breast
. Would he? Oh, God…she wanted him to. Her nipples were taut, tingling. She arched up into him, wanting more, trying to ease the ache in the hardened buds.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

Niggling in the corner of her mind was the warning that this was wrong. To let a man who was not yet her husband touch her bare skin in such an intimate manner was a sin. But that caution was brushed aside by the impish element in her that wanted to feel this, to experience the touch of a man.
That
side reminded her that this time tomorrow he’d be her husband, so he would have every right to touch her, and she every right to enjoy it. The little angel inside her head, the one reared by Aunt Fiona, leaped to her feet and shouted of him being a charlatan, only wanting what most men wanted, the prize that only her husband should have.

“I want to,” he whispered back.

What was a few hours when he’d be doing this to her for the rest of their lives?

Caution lost.

Heather let go of the blanket, not hearing it fall to the floor around her feet, hearing only the dull roar of blood rushing through her ears and the storm pounding outside.

Duncan groaned. “Och, lass. Why did ye do that?” But he didn’t seem to mind
, truly. He skimmed his lips over her chin down to her neck and collarbone, then moved away, keeping hold of her hips with his thick fingers as his eyes roved over what she showed him.

Heat curled its way over her chest and neck to her face. In the dimmed light of the cave, she could see desire flicker in his eyes
, along with the flames.

“We’ll be married. Is this not your right?” Her voice sounded tiny, echoing in her ears.

“Aye, love. A husband’s right and privilege.”

There he went calling her love again… Oh, if only. A surge
of emotion wrapped warmly around her heart.

He took a deep, staggering breath and blew it out slowly as his eyes fell to her breasts and then the dash of curls between her thighs.

“But ’tis also about a woman’s pleasure. I’d not make love to ye unless ye wanted me to.” His eyes returned to hers, pupils dilated, and a grim expression flattened his lips. “Do ye want me to?”

Heather couldn’t tell if his serious expression meant he dreaded her approval or her denial.

She nodded slowly. “Aye. I want ye to.” There was no immediate sense of regret like she’d expected. Only a heightened excitement.

“I would say it was necessary to keep us both warm.” He gave a slow grin and a wink. “But I doubt ye’d believe me.”

Heather smiled. “I might. I’ve heard of men piling themselves naked on one another when caught in a snowstorm and the threat of frozen limbs hung heavy.”

“But I dinna want to make love to ye for the sake of warmth, Heather.”

“Nor do I want that to be the only reason.”

Nay, she desperately wanted it to be about love, but knew that was an impossibility. For now, she’d take the fact that he cared enough about her pleasure to ask her permission, and the honor and loyalty of his personality. The fact that he’d saved her life. She wasn’t being forced. She had a choice.

And she chose him. This. Them.

Duncan slid his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, her skin pebbling in their wakes. He entwined their fingers and pulled them up to his lips, pressing tiny kisses to each of hers.

“I’ve only ever seen love once, when I was a young boy, before…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment he looked as though he’d traveled to another place. “My parents loved one another. Their marriage was arranged, but my father always told me how lucky he was to have fallen in love with my mother. He told me if I was lucky, if I met a woman who matched me in most ways, I might, too, find love.”

Heather’s throat tightened, and her mind reeled. Could this be true? Was it possible that one day he might feel even partially what she felt? Was that tight clenching in her chest…love? They’d only just met. Couldn’t be. And yet, already they’d shared so much, learned so much about each other.

“Ye’re my match in most every way.”

A near confession of love
and a promise of good things to come.

He pressed her hands to his heart. “I
will take care of ye. I swear it. I will not let them have ye.”

“Ye’re an honorable man.” She leaned up to press her lips to his knuckles.

“Ye make me honorable.”

She shook her head. “Nay. ’Twas in ye all along. Ye just needed a reason to let it out.”

He grinned. “And ye’re that reason.”

“Ye said so yourself.”
All of it seemed almost too good to be true.

“There could not have been a better enticement.” Duncan pulled her arms up, placing them around his neck.

She curled her fingers into the length of hair tied back in a queue, caressed the pads over the parts on the sides that were shaved, feeling the tickle of soft bristles. Her body sank against his, the wool of his plaid tickling her thighs and his belt buckle pressing into her belly. Their gazes remained locked as they studied one another, perhaps letting them each wrap their heads around the promises they’d made. But within a minute or two, Heather didn’t want to wait anymore. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, molding to her, feel that strong press of his rigid length against her.

“I may be a virgin,” just saying the word caused her face to heat, “but I believe there is more to making love than pressing my naked body to yours.”

“Aye, and I’m going to show ye.”

Chapter Seventeen

S
weet heavens!

Duncan pressed his lips to hers, and somehow, this kiss seemed different than all the rest. Tender, passionate, intense. And this time she knew it wouldn’t end with one of them pushing the other away.

He toyed with her mouth while he stroked his hands up and down her ribs, teasing her skin with each passing inch. Shivers raced over her limbs. Places on her body she’d not been aware of before flickered to life. Every inch of her tingled and a deep yearning for more centered in her chest. Between her thighs, twinges sparked, spiraling outward and then cascading back again. She clutched at Duncan’s bare shoulders, stroking her hands over the glorious ripples of strength, finding happiness even in the bend of his elbow and the soft skin of its crook.

When he softly stroked the undersides of her breasts, Heather gasped, arching into him. His palm flattened over a breast, warm and tender as he kneaded her, then swiped his thumb over her nipple. She moaned, running her hands over his chest, curious to see if he’d feel the same way when she touched him. Duncan’s nipples, too, were hard. Smaller than hers. They tickled her palms.

To think this man would be her husband, and they could do this… every day. Maybe more than once a day. Heat rushed through her. Excitement, anticipation.

Duncan slid his lips away from hers, down her neck and to the top of one breast. She watched him do it, finding a certain allure in seeing his mouth on her skin.
He glanced up at her, catching her eyes just as he moved to the center of her breast and licked her nipple.

She choked on a gasp, her body jerking.

Confidence oozed from him. He knew she liked what he was doing, knew that he was giving her pleasure.

He drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. But no matter how gentle it was, her reaction was tenfold. She gasped
, dug her fingers into his skin. When she’d thought about him doing this before, she’d never expected it to feel this good. Duncan paid equal homage to her other breast. All feeling of cold left her, and only warm heat rushed through her blood.

While he teased her breasts, Duncan massaged a path from her hip to her thigh. Then her inner thigh. A finger drew
an enticing line from her mid-inner thigh to just below her center. He stilled there, waiting. Was he waiting for her to say aye? Heather shifted forward, wanting desperately for him to continue his climb, but he retreated, traced that same line back down her thigh, and then up again. Never touching the apex of her thighs, only hovering on the brink. ’Twas torture. Delicious, wanton agony.

“Touch me,” she said, suddenly unafraid to ask for what she wanted.

Duncan groaned, straightening away from her breasts and pressing his lips to her ear.

“Lass, ye’ll have me undone.” But he did what she asked, caressing against her folds and sliding over some part that made her jump and cry out with intense pleasure at the same time. “God, lass.” Every word sent her to trembling as his breath tickled her skin. “Slick and ready.”

Aye, she could feel the slickness as he stroked over her, feel her body heated to a thousand degrees and begging for something. Begging for this feeling to never end, and yet she wanted to go beyond this.

“I feel…” She didn’t know, couldn’t answer.

“Tell me.”

Her breath hitched when he slid a finger inside her. She couldn’t tell him, could barely think beyond that sensation.
He dipped in again, pulling slowly out, then in again. At the same time, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over that sparking part, the part that made her—

“Oh,” she moaned. Heather pitched her hips forward, rocking against his hand even more when she realized it heightened
the sensations.

Her muscles clenched, and she held onto him, certain he was taking her somewhere, but then he abruptly left her, stepping back a couple of feet. She opened hazy eyes, concentrated on keeping her balance, though her legs shook.

“I’m going to lay out the blanket, lass,” he said. “Then I’m going to lay ye down on top of it. I’m going to remove my plaid.”

Every sentence
generated a vision in her mind, making her tremble with the anticipation of it.

“When I l
ie down beside ye, climb on top of ye… There’s no going back from that.”

Heather chewed her lower lip. “I know.”

“I need to be certain that ye want this. That ye want me. That ye would call yourself my wife.”

“I do. I will.”

His eyes were heavily lidded, and the expression on his face made her want to rush forward and lay the blanket out herself. He desired her, wanted her, was willing to give up so much for her. Just as she was willing to give up things for him.

“I want ye,” she said again.

Duncan gave a short nod, then laid down the blanket, spreading it flat. He stepped forward, took her hand in his and led her over to it. Just as he said he would do, he laid her down on the blanket, giving her a soft kiss on the lips before he stood.

He gripped his belt and pulled it off, letting his plaid unravel around his hips and fall to the floor. The cave was dim, but even in that dimness she could see his arousal jutting
forward. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a staggering breath.

Standing before her like the statue of a god, he said, “There is still time to turn back.”

Heather shook her head, certain now of one thing. She wanted Duncan to be her husband, no matter the cost. An honorable, fiercely loyal warrior, he was her destiny.

“I dinna want to turn back. I want to go forward.”

In a matter of a breath he was lying beside her, pulling her into his arms as he kissed her. The clash of his nude body against hers sent fresh tingles of awareness skating over her limbs. She moaned against his lips, slid her tongue over his.

Duncan rolled her onto her back and moved to hover above her, his thighs pushing hers apart as he settled between them.

“I’ve never taken a virgin,” he admitted. “I fear I’ll hurt ye, but I promise to go slow.”

Pain… She’d heard of the pain. Knew there would be blood. Suddenly, fear filled her, and she wanted to change her mind, wanted to push him away and tell him that this was a mistake, maybe they should try another time.

But then he was kissing her again, sliding his body against hers, his arousal pressing against that triggering bit of flesh between her thighs, and she answered with her pelvis rocking up and down. Fear of the pain was overshadowed by the pleasure he gave her like this.

Duncan slid his hands between their bodies, stroking over her folds and entering her again, this time with more than one finger. He stretched her, a delicious pang that was instantly replaced by a throbbing need.

When he withdrew his fingers, she felt the void keenly. She canted her hips upward, begging for him to come back. And he did, but this time he returned with his shaft, guiding it against her folds. He pressed it gently against her opening, pushing against her. Heather clamped down, stiffening every muscle.

“Shh, lass, ’twill be all right. I’ve heard the pain is brief. I promise to go slow.” He kissed her nose, her cheeks, her lips. “I will stop if ye ask me, even though I said there was no going back.”

She shook her head. Even if he stopped, she’d agreed to marry him. This moment would come again and again. How many times would she be able to deny him? He slid his shaft upward over her sensitive folds, and she moaned, liking that sensation so much.

This time when he slid back down
, he pushed into her opening a fraction of an inch, hitting the barrier of her maidenhead.

“Say ye want me, lass.”

“Aye, Duncan, aye,” she whispered.

He surged forward, past the barrier, and she cried out
from the pinch of pain. An aching throb pounded in her nether region. He filled her to the brim. Too big. She wanted him to get off of her, out of her. Duncan remained still, unmoving.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her lips, kissing her tenderly and then wiping at the tears she
hadn’t realized had spilled. “Does it hurt overmuch?”

She shook her head, afraid to move and feel that sharp pinch again.

Duncan made her forget the discomfort, though, as soon as he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. The touch and swirl of his tongue, the slide of his lips, and the press of his weight on her chest sent her back to the moments before the pain, when pleasure had radiated through her limbs.

T
hen he moved, withdrawing slowly before gently sliding back inside. Heather gasped, the thrilling sensations tenfold. The pain was gone, replaced by a subtle ache that was quickly overpowered by pleasure.

Duncan guided her legs up around his hips, which only brought him closer to her, deeper. He kept his pace steady. Slow and deep. Above her, his breathing was much the same. He pressed his forehead to hers, locking eyes. He groaned when she gasped
, grit his teeth when she moaned. ’Twas obvious he was working hard to keep himself in control. Heather had no such power. It felt too good to hold back. Clutching his back, she moved with him. Her body coiled tight, muscles clenching, and she could barely find her breath.

When Duncan slowed to a torturous pace, she arched her back against him and begged. “Please, please.”

“Och, I canna,” he answered.

“Ye must,” she said.

“Nay, I dinna want to get ye with child.”

How could he remember a thing like that at a time like this? She was on the precipice, the edge of a cliff, ready to fly off and fall deeper into the ecstasy he brought her. Instead of quickening his pace, he drove in slow
ly, but deeper, arching up into her, his pelvis grinding against hers.

“Oh!” she cried out, as ripples of decadent, foreign sensation resulted. “Dinna stop,” she demanded.

“I won’t. I canna.”

He continued to rock into her, until Heather could barely breathe, and her mind centered squarely on the pressure building deliciously between her thighs. Suddenly, it hit her. A tidal wave of pleasure, like the storm outside, it pounded against her, soaking her. A feral cry ripped from her throat. She rode out the waves, unable to catch her breath. And then Duncan was pounding into her with earnest strokes, faster, harder. She thought she’d die from the impact. Another storm of ecstasy was upon her, ricocheting relentlessly around her insides.

Above her, Duncan groaned. Shouting out, he withdrew from her suddenly, pressing his thick shaft against her belly. Warmth spread over her flesh as he collapsed on top of her, his forehead pressed to the crook of her shoulder.

They panted in unison, unmoving other than the rise and fall of their chests.

“Lass…that was…” He cleared his throat and pulled away from her shoulder to look her in the eyes. “That was amazing.”

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

“And I made sure not to…put my seed inside ye.”

Heather nodded. “Thank ye.”

“Dinna thank me, lass. This was…God, I can barely think.”

She laughed. “Nor can I.”

“Let me clean ye.” He pulled away from her, climbing to his feet. He picked up one of her chemises. “Can I sacrifice one of these?”

“Aye.” She’d already decided
that when they left here, only one of her chemises was coming with them.

Duncan tore off a few strips and held them
both out in the rain. Returning to her with the wet cloths, he wiped one between her thighs. She turned away when she saw the blood.

“Dinna be embarrassed.” She looked back at him, seeing a satisfied grin on his face. “Ye were perfect, Heather.”

“I have the best teacher.”

Duncan cleaned off her belly and himself, then tossed the rags into the fire. He stretched out beside her, tossing his unraveled plaid over top
of them both, and pulled her into his embrace. Warmth spread through her. Happiness.

His flesh against hers stirred up more of the yearning, hungry sensations she felt when he kissed her. Lord, she was a wanton to already want more of him. But…“When will ye be ready...to do that again?” she asked.

A deep rumble of a laugh sounded in his chest. “Och, lass, dinna tease me. I’m ready now.”