The Highlander's Sin (27 page)

“Let us sup before Compline,” Duncan said. “The monks will not be pleased to see us milling about when they go into their evening prayer.”

The Sutherland warriors set up camp outside of the abbey walls, and only Heather’s brothers Magnus and Blane remained behind. Prior Samuel led them all into a public dining hall, where they ate a plain meal of cabbage stew and brown bread. The meal was short and quiet, and once completed, the prior met them outside of the hall once more. Bells tolled as the sun bade its farewell to the day. The cloister was lit by a few hanging lanterns, light enough to envision the path to take but dark enough that anything along the path was not visible.

Magnus and Blane wished them a good night and retreated toward their men.

“We have a small guesthouse available to ye both this night,” the prior said. “But on the morrow, ye’ll leave. While the lot of ye were fighting, I sent word to your clan that we’ve been keeping ye safe until the time ye were ready to return. They’ll be expecting ye, my laird.”

“My thanks,” Duncan said. “For everything.”

Duncan and Heather bowed their heads, kneeling before the prior, who blessed them both before wishing them good night.

Duncan took Heather by th
e hand and led her to the guesthouse, a small building just past the prior’s lodging. ’Twas a small but cozy house with a bed just big enough for two of normal size. A man of Duncan’s height would definitely have feet hanging off the end.

Once inside the small house, Heather froze. They’d made love before, even slept beside one another. But tonight they would do both of those things as man and wife.

Man and wife.

Married.

Duncan lit a trio of candles set in a candelabra on a small square table and then poured them each a goblet of dark red wine. He handed her the goblet, their fingers brushing, igniting a new and heightened nervous excitement. She supposed the difference between this time and every other was that those times had been ruled by emotion, not actively sought out.

“To us.” Duncan touched his glass to hers.

“To us,” Heather repeated, taking a sip. She crinkled her nose at the bitterness of the wine, but took another sip all the same, hoping to calm her nerves.

“We made it through the day with little
bloodshed.”

“And blessings from my family and the church.”

“A successful day.”

Heather nodded, taking another bitter sip. Funny thing was, with each subsequent sip, the wine seemed to lose its bitterness.
An effect of the wine, or was her tongue simply becoming numb?

Duncan stepped closer to her, wiping a droplet of wine from her lip with the pad of his thumb. “I want ye to know how verra happy ye’ve made me today. I’ve searched nearly my whole life for the feeling of completeness,
and once I found ye, ye made me a whole man.”

Heather smiled as he inched his lips closer to hers.

“Now let me kiss ye until we’re both unable to breathe.” He rubbed her nose with his, and then kissed her.

The press of his lips
was more intoxicating than the wine, filling her with warmth and making her head swim. Wobbling on her feet, she clutched at him with her free hand, her fingers finding purchase in the center line where the leather of his jerkin split.

Duncan took her wine, leaving her lips briefly to set both their goblets aside.

“As laird… I know your duty to your clan is to produce heirs,” she said softly, nervously.

“Aye.”

“Then…tonight…”

Duncan stroked the sides of her face. “Lass, my clan has g
one two decades without a laird. They can wait awhile longer for an heir.”

She blew out the breath she’d been holding, relief lightening her chest and shoulders. “Thank goodness.”

“Dinna be so thankful. Ye’ll give me a complex. Now, enough talk of making bairns. Let us simply enjoy each other tonight.” He spread his fingers around her waist. “And get ye out of this gown.”

Heather tugged at the leather lacing on his jerkin. “We could do without this, too.”

Duncan grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Ye first, though.”

He walked to a waiting basin and poured water into it, then took a folded linen, dipping it into the water.

“We’ll wash each other as we disrobe.”

Heather was relieved to hear it. She felt as though a layer of dust covered her.

Duncan undressed her slowly, his lips following the path of the clean cloth over her neck and collarbone. He peeled her gown down over her arm, kissing her bare shoulder beside the thin strap of her chemise.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured.

His fingers glided over her skin as he removed the sleeves from her arms and once her hands had been freed, he tugged the gown over her hips and let it drop. Normally, she would have felt a cool rush of air, but not this time. The way he touched her, savored her, kissed her, made her burn with a passionate fever.

He went about the same process with her chemise,
washing, kissing down the length of her arm until he reached her hand, where he pressed his lips to each of her knuckles, giving her index finger a tiny nibble. Heather gasped and jerked her hand away.

But that subtle movement let the slip of fabric that served as her chemise fall to the ground. Naked as the day she was born, she gulped, her gaze fixed on the center of Duncan’s chest.

He drew in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Good God, lass… I’d no idea.”

“What?” She flicked her gaze up to his, afraid there was something wrong
. He’d seen her naked before. What had changed? She didn’t see concern in his eyes—only awe, and raw desire.

“Ye’re perfect.” As he said the words
, he reached for her. One hand pressed to her hip and the other trailed over her ribs with the wet cloth.

Gooseflesh prickled where he touched.
Lightly, he caressed the sides of her breast, then beneath it, chilling her and exciting her.

Perfect.
He thought her flawless, and yet he talked much of how he loved her fiery nature. For him, her flaws made her perfect. She smiled to herself, sinking further into him. He cupped her breast, brushing a thumb softly over her puckered nipple. Heather sucked in a breath, trying hard not to pant. But it was hard to control her breathing with him staring at her, touching her. He took a step closer, dipped his head and captured her lips in a tender kiss. Their lips slanted over one another, tongues lightly stroking, and all the while, he caressed her breasts, rubbed the cloth over her back.

“So eager,” he murmured against her lips.

Duncan trailed his fingers lower, in time with his lips, which traveled over her chin and neck down to her collarbone. He tickled her belly, circled her navel. By the time the cloth reached the apex of her thighs, his lips wrapped around her nipple, tongue swirling over the taut bud and he gently swept the cloth over her sex, replacing its chill with the press of his fingers. He stroked through wet folds and pushed up inside her. Wicked, delicious sensation from so many places. Heather could not hold in her cry of pleasure.

It was simply too much
and yet not enough. She wriggled, shifted. Demanded more with her hands gripped tight to his shoulders.

And Duncan didn’t disappoint. In fact, he shocked her.

Cold air hit her breasts as he left her nipples behind and trailed kisses down to her navel. His swirled his tongue around the indent, and then he dragged his velvet heat lower.

He knelt before her, hands splayed on her hips and lips poised over her woman’s center. Dark, hungry eyes gazed up at her.

“I want to taste ye,” he said.

Heather licked her lips. Dare she hope he meant what she thought he did? She’d never guessed that a man could…
kiss a woman there, but just seeing him poised over top of her mons made her knees quake, and somewhere deep in her core clenched tight with need. Her breath hitched. “All right.”

Duncan smiled up at her, wicked intent etched in the curve of his lips.

The heat of his mouth centered on her, and then his tongue flicked out over that part of her that fired white-hot sensation, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her.

This was so much more than a simple kiss. Fingers massaged at her hips while his tongue massaged at the very
heat of her. Tasting, licking, nuzzling. He swirled that velvet length over her again and again. With each stroke, she moaned. With each stroke, she felt her legs give way a little, until Duncan all but held her up. And still he tormented her, lapping at that little bud.

Heather gasped, trying desperately to pull in a decent breath, but she couldn’t. Every draw of breath was a gasp, a moan, and he never relented, only increased her pleasure. Just when she thought she’d lose consciousness, so intense was the sensation whipping through her, an overpowering climax took root, shaking her where she stood. Her nails dug into his shoulder
s, hips canted forward, knees buckled, and she cried out, riding the potent waves of pleasure his tongue provided.

“Beautiful, lass.” Duncan dragged his mouth across her inner thigh, nibbling at her sensitive skin. “Exquisite.”

Heather bent forward, her forehead dropping on to his. “Amazing,” she said, still panting.

Duncan stood up
, rinsed out the cloth and handed it to her.

“Will ye wash me, wife?”

Heather nodded, speechless. She curled her fingers into the wet cloth and watched as Duncan shed his jerkin and shirt. Before she’d caught her breath, he took her hand and pressed the cloth to his chest. She did as he’d done, cleaning him gently, but didn’t have the courage quite yet to kiss his nude flesh. When she had at last found a normal breathing pattern, he removed his belt and his plaid fell to the floor. Again, her breath hitched. Her eyes widened as she studied him, taking in the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest, the chiseled muscles of his abdomen. Where before she’d not been able to look him over too closely, this time she did, her gaze roving over the jutting length of flesh that gave her so much pleasure.

“I want to…” She trailed off, didn’t bother to finish. Instead
, she closed the distance between them and knelt in front of him. If he could taste her, she was going to taste him.

“
Mo chreach
,” Duncan groaned.

She stared up at him, suddenly wondering if it was all right. His gaze had darkened all the more
, and the look he gave her said it was more than all right. He was eager for it.

Heather took him in her grip, marveling at the combination of solid velvet.
She washed him from root to tip, going slow so she could feel every inch of his length. Then she tossed the cloth. Doing exactly as he’d done, she breathed hotly on his skin, touching her tongue to the tip and swirling around it. She teased and tormented him, kissed his hard length, running her tongue from root to stem. Duncan groaned, pumped his hips forward so his erection slid back and forth in her hand as she kissed him.

“Och, lass…” He wanted more, she could tell.

Just like she’d wanted more, wanted to reach that pinnacle moment of release. And she wanted desperately to take him all the way into her mouth. To suck on that rigid length. Was it proper? Would he resist?

Only one way to find out. Heather centered her lips on the tip and then opened her mouth to him. Duncan jerked his hips, groaned loud, but pushed his way inside.

“Heather,” he groaned. “Ye have to stop.”

She pulled back and stared up at him. “Why?”

“Because I want to make love to ye slowly.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“Aye. But…”

“Let me finish.”

“Nay. Not this time.”

He grabbed her hand where it wrapped around him, then slid his palm up her arm, coaxing her to stand but not let go of him.

“I want to make love to my wife, in a bed, for the first time. And if ye keep kissing me like that, I’ll not make it to the bed.”

Heather grinned, feeling proud of herself for having made him feel just as undone as she’d felt.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he laid her down. The wood creaked, and a cloud of dust plumed with their weight.

“My guess is, it has been awhile since any other guests have visited.” Duncan chuckled.

“If ever,” Heather laughed.

But they didn’t let a little dust or a little creaking delay them. Duncan kissed her madly, making her feel as though he needed her desperately, a feeling she experienced every moment. Hands stroking everywhere, Duncan settled between her thighs, gently guiding her to hug them around his hips. She stroked the backs of his calves with her toes, tilting her hips upward, needing to feel him inside her. But Duncan had told her he wanted to make love to her slowly, and he didn’t back down, no matter how much she coaxed him.

When they were both shaking with need, he finally did drive deep inside her. As their bodies molded into one, the bed shook and creaked, wood scraped across the floor, but neither of them cared. Once inside her, he did relent on one promise—he didn’t go slow. He drove inside her, relentless in his pursuit of their pleasure.