“Your ribs,” she murmured.
“To hell with my ribs,” he growled. “Just let me taste you.”
Meg complied willingly. His mouth was hard and demanding, brutal with need. It was perfect. She tasted his hunger and opened to him, taking him deeper as his tongue swept her mouth. He was holding nothing back, and Meg met the force of his desire with her own.
She’d been right. His kiss made her forget. His kiss made her feel alive, alive in a way that she’d felt before. As if every inch of her body were aflame. The passion between them consumed everything in its wake. There was no room for analysis or thought, only for the desperate cravings of their bodies.
She returned his kiss the way he’d taught her. Tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence, she matched the thrust and parry of his tongue stroke for delicious stroke. She couldn’t get enough. The harder and deeper he kissed her, the more she wanted. Meg had succumbed, and she would do so not in half measure, but with verve, excitement, and eagerness.
This was dangerous. Very dangerous. She knew she should stop him, but it felt too good. She’d never dreamed that she could feel this way, that she could so crave a man’s touch. She’d thought that she was not capable of this type of emotion, this type of sensation, this type of burning desire. But when he held her in his arms and kissed her, her heart flipped, her blood rushed, her pulse quickened. All she could think of was drawing nearer to the heat. Of being surrounded by this man.
Her hands explored the breadth of his wide shoulders and powerfully muscled chest. She wanted to touch every part of him, to feel his skin under her fingertips. She clenched him harder as the force of his kiss intensified.
Her frenzy seemed only to increase his own. Alex lifted his head, breathing hard, and the depth of emotion in his eyes took her breath away. It was desire, but also something deeper. Something that made her heart leap high in her chest. Something that she wanted to believe with every fiber of her being.
He watched her face intently as his fingers traced an invisible line down her side, allowing his thumb to slip forward over the curve of her breast. The nipple hardened under his touch.
Meg gasped as his thumb began to stroke small circles over the sensitive tip. She closed her eyes, allowing the warm sensations to crash over her as she gave herself up to his touch. Her entire body felt flushed and hot with pleasure. Vaguely, she was aware that he’d loosened the laces of her bodice and tugged the fabric down below the edges of her stays.
She guessed what he meant to do but made no move to stop him, remembering all too well what he’d done before. His mouth fell on hers again, holding her captive, kissing her with an urgency that gave proof of his intent. His lips and tongue trailed a path down her neck and bodice, perilously close…agonizingly close.
Meg held her breath as his fingers dipped below the edges of her stays and linen sark to lift out her breasts from behind their delicate confinement. She startled at the erotic sensation of his callused finger sweeping the sensitive, naked flesh. Her body turned liquid, and a heavy warmth pooled between her legs.
She heard his sharp intake of breath.
She opened her eyes. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, suddenly aware that he was staring at her naked breasts.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was tight and rough and held almost a touch of reverence. He outlined the swell of her breast with his finger, so feather soft that she wondered whether he was actually touching her or whether it was merely the strength of her own awareness. “So round,” he murmured, emphasizing with his finger. His voice was deep and dark as molten lava, seeping into her consciousness. “So full.” He moved to cup her, and Meg began to shiver, aroused by his observations. “So soft and creamy white.” He lifted her closer to his mouth. She could feel the heat of his breath brush across her sensitive tip. Oh God, this was torture. His voice lowered. “With perfect pink tips.” Meg felt a shudder go through her as his tongue flicked her nipple. “Mmm…so sweet.”
She moaned, writhing in innocent frustration, more aroused than she’d ever been in her life. Every nerve tingled with awareness; she felt ready to jump out of her skin. He teased her already taut nipples, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over the sensitive tips, then squeezing lightly. But it wasn’t enough. Meg knew it wasn’t enough. There was more. And finally, he gave it to her. His tongue circled her, and then his warm mouth closed over her.
Meg had thought herself not capable of mindless desire.
She was wrong.
He sucked her, hard. A needle of pleasure seemed to shoot straight to her heart. She pressed herself against him, savoring the sensation of his teeth and tongue as he pulled her deeper and deeper toward a blinding pleasure. A slow quivering pulsed between her legs, demanding attention. She wanted something; her body felt empty but yearned for fulfillment.
Dear God, she knew what she wanted.
She wanted him inside her. Filling her. Taking away the agony.
Instinctively, she knew that Alex would give her incomprehensible pleasure.
A firm hand dropped to cup her bottom as he nudged her breast erotically with his teeth, a nipping and sucking that drove her wild. She grasped for the safety of his shoulders to keep from fully collapsing. Meg was already addicted to the feel of him beneath her fingers. Through the linen of his leine, there was no mistaking the raw power of his impressive build. Her fingers explored every ripple, every muscle, of his powerful form. Alex was built for destruction. Every inch of him was strong and hard. His arms and chest seemed sculpted from stone, the thick muscles chiseled, defined, and inflexible. Warm steel. He reminded her of warm steel.
Releasing her breast, he moved to take hostage of her mouth again, kissing her with a dark sensuality that would have shocked her senseless an hour ago but now only thrilled her.
But then his hand slid under the edge of her skirt. Her breath caught as his fingers worked their way up along her calf, then thigh, then higher still.
She froze, and a moment of uncertainty broke through the haze.
Meg could no longer return his kiss; she couldn’t think about anything other than his hand…and where it was going.
“Trust me, Meg,” he whispered against her ear, sensing her uncertainty. “I only wish to give you pleasure. Nothing more.”
She nodded hesitantly. She did trust him.
But nothing could have prepared her for the pure burst of pleasure that hit when his finger brushed against her tingling flesh. So achingly soft. Again and again, he swept against her until she didn’t think she could take any more. She knew she should be shocked. Surely, anything that felt this good must be a sin. But held captive by this exquisite torture, Meg didn’t care.
She writhed in sweet agony, almost delirious with need. Craving pressure, she lifted her hips against his hand, wanting it harder. He groaned and finally slid his finger inside her, giving her all the pressure she needed. Lost in the throes of nearly unbelievable ecstasy, she grasped helplessly for something that hovered just out of her reach.
Chapter 12
Alex watched, almost mindless with lust, as the flush spread high across her cheeks. As her breath hitched between her softly parted lips. As her back arched, delectable, pink-tipped breasts straining toward the sky and hips pressed erotically against his hand. She was going to come. For him.
Never had he seen anything so beautiful. He felt humbled just looking at her. She was so tiny and soft and sweetly feminine. An unfamiliar swell of emotion rose in his chest. He’d never felt like this before, moved beyond words by the significance of this moment.
He felt as if he’d been handed a precious gift. Never could he have imagined her soft surrender, the way she melted into him. And the honesty of her response. Meg’s passion was like everything else about her, refreshingly open and honest. And his.
She was so close, writhing in innocent frustration, just as hot and desperate as he was. He bent over her, flicking his tongue against her taut nipple in perf
ect sync with the frantic rhythm of his finger. He nibbled her with his teeth, eliciting a fresh gasp of desire that shot straight to his already straining groin. He’d never been in this much pain. His body drummed with the need for release, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Meg.
His fingers slid over her dampness, feeling the swollen flesh under his fingertips. He ached to taste her, to bury his head between her legs and inhale her warm feminine scent, to lick and suck her delicate flesh until she came against his mouth.
He wanted to devour her, to explore every inch of this gorgeous woman who was about to come apart in his arms.
Her breathing was coming hard and fast. Soft little urgent moans escaped from between her parted lips. Her silky thighs squeezed against his hand.
“Oh, God…Alex…”
He could hear the sweet desperation in her voice. “Just let it come, sweet. I’ve got you.”
She tensed as the force of her release hit her. He wanted to prolong her ecstasy, to make her remember this forever. Taking her nipple fully in his mouth, he sucked her hard as his thumb massaged her most sensitive spot, and she careened over the edge of sexual oblivion.
He felt a heavy thud of his heart as the soft cries of her pleasure echoed in his ears.
It wasn’t enough. His need for this woman was too strong. He felt ready to explode—she was so ripe and wet, so ready for him. Blood pounded in his already burning loins, his passion dangerously close to spilling over. His entire body clenched with the effort at restraint. One touch, one innocent sweep of her hand, and he would be undone.
He wanted to sink into her, to cover himself in her heat. To bring her to a second orgasm as he thrust up high and hard inside her. To fill her with the hot burst of his seed.
To make her his.
No woman had ever done this to him, made him a twisted mass of dangerous cravings. The need to be inside her wasn’t just lust, it was something far deeper and much more elemental.
The devil taunted him mercilessly, urging him on, urging him to take what was so innocently being offered. To relieve the pain, to plunge into her and spend himself in her innocence. She wanted him. He knew he could give her even more pleasure. It would be so easy….
Her eyes fluttered open. An adorable sated smile spread across her face as she gazed at him with such wonder and trust that something inside his chest twisted.
And reality intruded.
What was he doing? He could almost allow himself to forget that she was a virgin. But as the haze of her orgasm lifted, he could see the reality of the situation coming back to her. Her gaze turned shy. Innocent. He sensed her subtle pulling away. The hesitation was back in her eyes.
Indecision teetered in the balance for one long heartbeat. But it was long enough to recognize the truth, damn it.
This was wrong. They’d gotten carried away by the intensity of the battle and drawn into the heady afterglow of survival. She’d been in shock by what she’d witnessed. He knew how vulnerable she was, knew that he should not take advantage of her in such a state, but her kiss had set off a combustion as powerful as fire on dry leaves.
His need for her was all-consuming.
But he could not delude himself that this was right. She deserved better than to be taken on a bed of dirt and leaves in the aftermath of a battle. She was a virgin, a gently reared lady who deserved to be showered with rose petals on a bed of silk. Who deserved much more than he could offer her.
Honor demanded that he stop.
Sweat gathered on his brow as the strain of holding himself back worked on him. Gathering the tattered reins of control, he rolled off her, staring blindly into the dark canopy of trees above them.
He felt stretched so taut, he jerked when she put her hand on his arm.
“Alex, is everything all right? Did I do something wrong?”
He heard the uncertainty in her voice.
“I’m fine,” he said gruffly. He didn’t trust himself to look at her, with her naked breasts still heaving over the edge of her stays.
“But you’re in pain. Is it your ribs? Oh, why didn’t you say something!” she exclaimed with alarm, immediately placing her hands on his chest, intent on ministering to his injury, but her touch only exacerbating the real source of his pain.
Sitting up, he grabbed her wrists, wrenching her hands from his chest. “It’s not my ribs,” he said through clenched teeth. “Just give me a minute.”
Their eyes met, and he could see her begin to piece it together. “It hurt you to stop. Why did you? I…I know there is more.”
So much more. His body wouldn’t let him forget. He wondered if he’d ever be able to forget what had happened here today. It was a sobering thought.
“Aye, but not here. Not like this.” He swept aside a lock of hair that had tangled in her lashes, tucking it gently behind her ear. “It wouldn’t be right.” He stood up, intending to begin preparations for their return. After giving her a minute to adjust her clothing, he turned to help her to her feet.
“Thank you, Alex.”
“What for?”
“For everything you did today. For killing those men. For being so honorable.”
Alex felt a twinge of alarm. There was more than simple admiration in her voice. What damage had he done this day? He knew a woman like Meg would not give herself so freely, no matter how swept away with passion, unless…He couldn’t think about it. Wouldn’t allow himself the possibility. Wouldn’t acknowledge the swell of happiness that rose in his chest. He was not the man for her. It was time to dispel her of her knightly imputations. “I’m not the man you think I am, Meg.”
“Then who are you, Alex? If not the skilled warrior, the superior strategist, the honorable man.”
I’m a man with a job to do.
He’d said enough already.
“Does this have something to do with the MacGregors? Is what Thomas said true? Were you with the MacGregors all these years?”
“Leave it be, Meg.”
She stared at him with wounded eyes. “You still don’t trust me. Is that why you stopped?”
Hurt quivered in her voice, but he forced himself to ignore it.
Did he trust her? He didn’t know. For a moment, before all hell broke loose, part of him had considered confiding in her. She was a Highlander after all; even her father was involved in his brother’s plan. But something held him back. Her pragmatic approach to Highland politics, especially about King James’s policies toward the MacGregors, had angered him. She was wrong. They couldn’t stand around watching while their way of life was destroyed. They had to fight, practical or not. How would she feel about his taking a sword against the king’s men?
And something else bothered him. Her close relationship with the Campbells. Jamie Campbell and his cousin Argyll were closely aligned with the king. Could he trust her not to say anything to her friends? Probably. But probably wasn’t good enough, not with everything at stake.
“Trust has nothing to do with it,” he said brusquely. “I stopped because your innocence is a gift that belongs to your husband on your wedding night.”
It was a gift that was not his to take. No matter how much he wanted it.
He heard her sharp intake of breath. The urge to reassure her was powerful, but he held himself still. For a moment, he thought he saw tears brimming in her luminous green eyes. He ignored the sudden tightness in his chest. This was for the best. Let there be no illusions as to their future.
A gift that belongs to your husband. His words echoed in her ears.
Meg felt ill. The implication could not be clearer. It was not a position he intended to fill.
After the intimacies they’d just shared, his rejection stung. More than she’d ever dreamed possible. She knew he was not indifferent to her, he wanted her. What was holding him back?
She stared at him, praying for a sign, something to take away the sting of his words. Not knowing why, but knowing that it was vitally important, knowing that she’d n
ever wanted anything more than she did at that moment. But he made no move toward her.
This was the reality, then. He didn’t want to marry her.
And at that precise moment, at the moment of bitter understanding, Meg recognized the truth in her own heart. The truth that was so clear, she didn’t know how she could not have realized it before.
She loved him.
Oh God, how could this have happened?
How could it not have happened? she realized. Alex was an easy man to love. Compelling in every way. Handsome as sin, a leader to admire, a skilled warrior, an impressive strategist both on and off the field of battle. But it was also how he made her feel. His strength gave her the freedom to feel vulnerable. Ever since she’d learned the truth about her brother, Meg had been the strong one. The one her father could always count on. It was a difficult façade to maintain, but Alex seemed to sense her strain. When she was with him, she felt strong, invincible. As if the challenges facing her weren’t quite so insurmountable.
From the first, he’d seemed to see inside her. In his eyes she’d always felt beautiful, not the awkward girl at court who seemed never to fit in. Not once had he been put off by her blunt tongue; if anything, he seemed to admire her for it.
From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d sensed a connection. That connection had only strengthened the more she’d learned of him, and each time he held her in his arms and awakened her passion.
How could he deny it?
She waited for a sign that never came. The ache in her chest intensified. She would not cry. Not now. Later. Later, when she could sort out her thoughts.
Back straight, she turned, silently asking for his help lacing her stays and pinning her dress. And just as silently, he gave it.
Dougal MacDonald led the half-dozen palace guards through a scene of bloody carnage. He felt a surprisingly strong bolt of alarm before MacLeod stepped out from behind a tree, claymore drawn, shielding the object of Dougal’s concern.
He breathed a sigh of relief. His bride was safe.