Broken Highlander's Blood Oath (11 page)

She never wanted him to stop. His broad hands began touching her, stroking down her spine, and then over her hips to hold them tightly as he lifted her up against him. She clutched the tangled mane of his hair between her fingers and she rose against his strong muscular chest. Her breasts pressed flat into the tight brawny expanse, while he suckled her tongue ever more slowly and deeply into his hot mouth.

The whimpers that fled from her were exciting, and she’d never thought to feel such a fever of longing rush through her veins. This is what she sought; safety, rightness, desire, and oblivion from the fear she’d lived with so long.

“Please,” she pleaded into his hot mouth, while her fingers roamed over the back of his neck, over his scalp, then the side of his jaw, and she felt the strong clean lines of him. Her fingers stroked and caressed his heated strength with urgency and desires unknown to her.

His answer to her advancing impulses moved his lips from her mouth to her jaw line, and then down to the column of her arching throat. The branding heat of his lips on her flesh cast a whimper from her throat and a growl of male desire from his. Then her stroking fingers found the bare heat of his skin between the slashed openings on the front of his tunic.

“Brave, strong knight,” she moaned, against the burn of his tongue on the soft flesh of her throat.

“Shancy,” he pressed in a rumble that curled her fingertips into the hardened sinew across his chest.

His name rang divine sounds in her mind. “Shancy.”

Her voice found the ember-low sounds of never before known whimpers of desire, as Shancy’s mouth plunged deep into the cleft of her breasts. His fingers brushed aside the meager barrier of her torn night shift and the cold night air flashed across her bareness.

Quickly, and so irresistibly the cold was replaced by the heat of Shancy’s hands cupping and lifting her plentiful breasts into his palms. The points of her nipples were pinched spokes that were tight and thrusting.

She gasped at the grazing of Shancy’s palm along the very tips. That sensitivity was so surprising and overpowering. It threw pleasure from the jutting points of her nipples and swept like a storm through her breasts, then it twirled down into her belly, to collide inside her sex with a burst of rapture.

“Lady Soft,” he rumbled, like the deepest beat of a drum in her ears, while his hands shaped desire over her body, and she moaned with need.

“
Please,
yes.”

Cheval couldn’t find thoughts for her words, only urgency, as Shancy kneaded and plumped her breasts in his large hands. Impulse flowed to her fingertips, and she bared his chest, tugging open his tunic roughly to do it. Then the tempest that drove her commanded her lips to his nipples. Mindless and consumed by the arousal flowing through her eager body, she attempted to mimic the action she fiercely needed to feel, by sucking the nubs.

“
Ah
, Holy Christ,” Shancy expelled, roughly.

Then his face lowered between her bare breasts and she felt the unshaven whiskers on his chin chafe the rounded flesh in her cleavage. The pleasures this poured through her body brought a gasp to her lips. But she was totally unprepared for the next nipping sensation on the tip of her nipple, and the pleasure it tightened deep in her heated core.

“Oh!”

Her head fell backward against the intense nips of arousal thrashing deep and torridly inside her. Shancy’s strong arms caught her, but he didn’t lift her back to him, instead he laid her over the neck of the mare shifting beneath them. His lips followed closely, latching onto her nipple again, while she scraped her fingers down his muscular arms. Her head thrashed from side to side as her mind found the frantic blankness of mindless pleasure.

Savior, master, mine.

Shancy knew somewhere within the burning edges of his lust that he needed to stop. How he'd gone so far was incomprehensible, yet his body was rigid and tight with demanding arousal. Even as he licked Cheval’s tender nipple, which was twisted tight and poking his tongue, he willed control over himself. But the urgency was nearly irresistible. He was
not
a ram just to fuck any lass without a thought or care, but he'd never felt such zealous need before— desire that came on so quickly and so strongly.

He struggled to control it, but the woman beneath his roaming mouth and hands was pure passion and desire. He could feel it on her quivering and eager flesh. He could sense it in the heat of her arousal, and he could hear it in the whimpers of lust curling from her lips.

Such feminine and enthralling sounds he'd never heard before. They filled him, and then throbbed heavily in his prick, while urging him onto wild and lusty quests.

Holy Christ, what was he going to do? He growled deeply in his throat, trying valiantly to win the battle. He was there to save the precious lass. Not to fuck her, silly.

Yet when he finally managed to raise his head with a jerking force of will, his gaze collided with Cheval’s, and he knew he'd gone too far to retreat. Cruel would be the man that left a woman in such need. Yet he could not—
would
not take his cock to her tender pregnancy. He knew she'd been raped, and that thought managed to bring him under some semblance of control, as he stared into the dark pool of her aroused gaze.

To have a woman looking at him so—it curled tightly in his chest. With her gaze of imploring need on him, he was able to thrust his selfish lust to the side. And what he wouldn't give to fulfill her every desire, he thought, as he brought his arm around her side to hold her firmly against his mare’s stout neck, while his mouth dipped to her soft lips.

Then when he’d captured Cheval’s frantic kisses solidly beneath his pressing lips, he snuck his free hand like a slippery midnight thief to the bottom hem of her night shift. Her bottom was settled sideways between the V of his thighs as he straddled his horse. He leaned over Cheval, raising the hem of her clinging shift, and he couldn’t stop the press of his stiff cock against the upturned globes of her buttocks.

But he did keep his mind focused on his fingers explorations, determined to control the hot-blooded demand of his cock. Cheval’s flesh was warm and soft, trembling under the stroking of his fingers as he caressed her calf, knee, and then he petted bravely to her inner thighs.

The lass was without drawers, in her nighttime attire, and the discovery of that launched his tongue into sweeping boldness inside her mouth. She tasted of feminine nectar, wild and needy, as his tongue leaped against her tongue, until he willed her tongue beneath his so he could suck on it.

She moaned with the humming sounds of desire, yet what deepened his lust was the way she lifted her upper thigh and opened her heated core to his fingers. He'd never had a woman of more passion beneath him. Cheval’s entire body spoke of wanting him with such urgency that it nearly slayed him, as his fingers found the lips of her soft pussy.

He traced her delicate hot folds of flesh that were wet and sultry with arousal and need. It was as if an ember, for him and him alone, smoldered there. It was a fire ember that he needed to stroke into flames.

Cheval felt the draw of Shancy’s mouth deep on her tongue. The force and pumping rhythm of it rolled her hips with increasing fever. The demand to open her thighs overpowered her as her sex puffed outward greedy and wet.

Oh lord in heaven above
, she needed something so desperately. If only she could name it. The frantic demand for it scorched through her body and her fingers sought desperately to find it. Then within the driving, searching, and needy passion, she touched its heated length, but at the same moment he touched her core.

“Shancy!” she cried, feeling the intense aching in her slit centering on Shancy’s fingers.

His fingers stroking her and petting her burst fire over a nub buried inside her cleft, while her fingers curled over the shaft of Shancy’s manhood beneath his braes.

“Lass,” he groaned harshly over her mouth, while she ground her slit faster against his fingers. Then, she knew what the demand was. She knew the need and the only rhythm that would fulfill her. Tightly she grasped what she could of Shancy’s thick manhood, and she tightly stroked it to the undulating pace of her body.

“Do not stop. I beg you!” she cried.

“Never,” he growled, while his fingers drummed over the engorged nub burning in her sex.

“Faster,” she pleaded, as her fingers drew more rapidly on his throbbing shaft.

“
Ah
Christ, Cheval,” Shancy groaned. “Dinna stop.”

“Never,” she cried, and he lifted her calf over the crook of his neck, spreading the lips of her sex wider to his finger that was rubbing desperate pleasure over the nub deep within.

“
Oh,
” she moaned, as the pleasure tightened, twisted, burning higher, while Shancy’s shaft twitch and grew thicker beneath her pumping hand. She could feel the drumbeat of him in her hand echoing the pounding in her sex.

“Savior.
Master,
” she cried, as the fire inside her erupted, quaking through her with rapture.

At the same moment, Shancy groaned with a suppressed roar and his shaft beat hard, beat again, then again. Shancy’s mouth crashed over her lips, swallowing her cries of pleasure deep into his mouth, while the storm on the burn crashed around them, drowning out the sounds of their entangled passion.

Slowly, Cheval came back to herself with an odd mixture of confusion and a laxness to her limbs that was difficult to overcome, and then suddenly she felt alarmed.

What had she done?

She felt as if she was a stranger to herself. A complete and utter stranger! Embarrassment flashed in her chest, and she snatched her night shift down to cover her bare thighs. Panic began to churn inside her. She couldn't understand what had become of her, what had compelled her to throw her innocence at a man that she didn't know?

“Whoa, lass!”

Shancy tried to snatch Cheval back, but she was too fast and the move was too sudden. Cheval slid down off the mare with a move that completely blindsided him. “Cheval!”

Shancy leaped to the ground after her, when he realized she wasn’t merely stretching her legs or some other womanly affair, but instead fleeing as though she were being chased. But the most telling part that there was something amiss, were the anxious whimpers cascading from her.

He kicked himself three times for being such an ass as he chased Cheval, who was fleeter than he could imagine in the rain and slippery ground. Through the pelting rain, he caught glimpses of her white shift harrying out in front of him, and he broke to the left, sprinting forward to intercept her.

“Cheval, stop, lass! It’s not safe!”

Shancy skirted a tree, and Cheval ran directly into him. She screamed as if he were a ghoul, and tore out of his hands at once. He caught her directly, as she screamed and fought him.

She was soaked with rain and her shift was plastered to her body, making her slippery. They played the catch and struggle free, several more times, while he exclaimed repeatedly for her to stop. He wondered why she feared him so suddenly. But in their frantic struggling that thought flew away from him with the greater need to stop her, to make her understand, and to help her. He was nearly becoming as frantic as she was.

“Cheval! I’d not hurt you. Stop! Please stop!”

Nothing he said was working and he finally tackled her in a bear hug from behind, wrapping his arms completely around her. She wrestled in his grasp, while panting wildly; at times he lifted her feet off the ground, trying to stop her. Nothing he said seemed to cut through her panic, and he was at his wits end, when it finally came to him—

“Twin hearts!” he bellowed. “Two nightingale tears! Twin hearts beating together! One Brenin king's song binding them together! To ere, to life, to love, you shall be the judge!”

Shancy gasped as if the air had been wrenched from his lungs, and Cheval fell limp in his arms, sobbing.

“Thank God,” he exclaimed, turning and lifting Cheval up into his arms as she sobbed Analise’s name. “Aye, lass, aye. I’ll take you to your sister.”

“I don’t know what I was doing,” she wailed. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know you,” she gasped. “But the song!”

“Hush, lass, hush. Tis all right, little one. Hush now,” Shancy murmured.

He thanked God repeatedly for that song, as he took Cheval back to his mare, and then on to find Cheval’s sister, as he should have done without stopping on the burn.

Chapter Eleven

Donan held Analise close knowing for the first time in his life the fear and joy of love mingling as one. He wasn’t a foolish man, but a reasonable and thoughtful one. His fear stemmed from his vulnerable position. If he could only get Analise to his holdings, and his clan in Scotland, he’d never fear for the lass’ safety again or worry over his inadequacies.

He was a man of faith, and now, as never before, he needed a wee bit of luck and a huge helping hand from God. But the fear he worried over was reasonable, and it itched at him to no end. He’d never be able to live with himself if Armand captured Analise again. Even though he knew he could raise an army of clansmen to take her back.