Demon Laird (Legacy of the Mist Clans) (36 page)

****

Ronan’s heart rejoiced. Lia didn’t push him away. He knew she was frightened—not so much of him but simply because she was a maiden. Even though she was a healer and no doubt understood the mechanics, that was a far cry from truly knowing what awaited her tonight. And tonight he would gently but firmly counter every doubt within her. He vowed she would know perfection.

He finished loosening the laces of her dress and
it fell to the floor. She stood only in her chemise, the thin garment unable to hide the tight peaks of her breasts and the alluring shape of her narrow waist. He reached out and pulled at the tie at her throat and loosened the garment. She gasped as it fell to the floor. She automatically tried to cover herself as she stood before him in all of the beauty God had granted her.

“Nay,” he murmured, his hand catching hers. “Ye are so beautiful.”

She blinked up at him as if she could not believe his words.

He
knew her life had been filled with heartbreak and sorrow. While Sueta had taken her in, given her shelter, and taught her a valuable trade, hers had not been the loving home the orphaned Lia had desperately needed.

T
he water in the bath would be growing cold, and he would not have her chilled. He helped her into it, her lame leg hindering her. But as she sank into the steaming water, a groan of sheer satisfaction escaped her. She allowed her head to fall back against the edge, her eyes closed.

Another wicked grin escaped him and he quickly shucked the remainder of his clothing
, but he did not get into the bath. He knelt behind her, taking up the ewer, and poured warm water over her hair, careful to keep the water from her face.

Her brow blurred into a frown
, but she didn’t open her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I told ye, I am taking care of ye tonight.”

“Ye shall spoil me,” she murmured, mimicking his brogue.

He laughed and started cleaning her hair.
Finally, he rinsed it, admiring the slick strands as they floated around her. She still had her eyes closed, apparently enjoying his attentions.

Ronan quickly took the opportunity
to settle into the bath with her. He gritted his teeth against the desire roaring through him. The bath was not made for two people, so it was quite crowded. She tried to squirm away but had nowhere to go, and if she didn’t stop her squirming, she was going to find herself on his lap in a heartbeat.

“Ronan, wait,” she said
, and only now did he realize the tight set of her jaw. He hesitated and she used both hands to lift her injured leg, which was now bent awkwardly, out of the water. She straightened it and braced her heel on the edge of the tub, keeping it elevated. Ronan’s gaze locked on the terribly discolored and swollen joint. Bloody hell, that was one thing that would stop him in his tracks tonight. If she was in pain—

“I’m all right,” she said
, watching him intently. Water dripped from her fingers as she traced along his jaw to his chin and slowly but firmly forced him to look at her. She leaned forward and kissed him.

“Are ye certain, lass
?” he asked, his lips brushing hers between kisses. “I dinna wish tae hurt ye.” Although there would be one thing tonight that would hurt, but there was no help for it.

“I am
.” The glitter in her eyes sent a warning skittering through him. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw her heft the ewer, but before he could react, she dumped it over his head.

He spluttered against the water streaming over his face. “And ye call me the miscreant?”

She laughed, a sound that fair melted his heart and sent desire pounding through him at the same instant.

He shook his head, showering her with drops of water.

She squeaked in protest. “You beast!”

“Aye
,” he growled, leaning closer to kiss her again.

She placed her fingers on his lips and stopped him. “Ye
be all muck and muscle,” she said.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “I like hearing ye speak in the Scottish fashion.”

The blush rose beautifully on her cheeks, but again her hand shifted, and he caught a glimpse of soap moving rapidly in his direction. He laughed as she slapped it on his head. He realized he was uncovering a playful side to her that he had not previously seen, and he loved it.

“All right, lassie,” he growled, his lips brushing hers. “Ye are so determined
tae wash my hair, do so; I shall busy myself with more enjoyable pursuits.” His mouth descended on hers and he kissed her deeply, their tongues tangling. She groaned softly, but her fingers continued spreading the soap through his hair—an action, he discovered that was delightfully sensuous. His hands closed around her narrow waist and moved upward slowly; he traced his fingers over the swell of her breasts. His breath caught in his throat and his heart hammered.

She pulled away and h
e was rewarded with another dump of water over his head.

He reared back. “Damnation, woman,” he growled, shaking his head again.

She grinned impishly at him. “One more. I have to get all the soap out.”

A third ewer of water followed.

This time he just lowered his head and laughed as water streamed around his face. “Are ye happy now?”

“Quite.”

“Good, for ye test my patience once again, lass.”

“And you would be disappointed if I didn’t.”

He hesitated, his humor fading as he realized the truth of her words. “Aye, lassie,” he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek. “I would have ye no other way.” He lowered his head until his forehead touched hers and closed his eyes. “I would love ye tonight, but I…”

“I
trust you, Ronan,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. Ronan’s heart shattered into tiny pieces. To have her place her faith in him was a greater gift than he could find words to describe. He wanted to take more time with her, he really did, but the demands of his body became as such he could no longer ignore them. Without care for the water, he scooped Lia into his arms and carried her to his bed.

****

Lia moaned softly as Ronan’s body pressed her into the bedding. His kiss never stopped, powerful but infinitely gentle. His tongue delved deeply into her mouth and she entangled it with hers. His rough hands caressed her, following the lines of her body. She trembled under him, her fingers exploring every cut and curve of muscle. He was so very beautiful to her.

He shivered under her touch as her hands moved lower, over his rock hard stomach that appeared as if it were made
of cobbled stone. He groaned and she reached lower, gently stroking his hardened shaft.

Once again he devoured her, but she sensed his desire
was tightly leashed. As he relaxed against her, she tentatively mimicked his actions and was rewarded with a soft groan from him. His hands pulled her tighter against him, and her body willingly conformed to his.

He moved, rolling onto his back and pulling her atop him.

She laughed, startled. He awarded her with his brilliant smile and returned to kiss her again. He encouraged her to cover his body with her own. Again she felt his shaft, swollen and wonderfully hard between them. He gently caught her hand in his then guided her to caress his chest. She pushed herself upward slightly, smiling down at him.

His hand continued
to guide and direct. Her fingers traveled lightly over his chest and down his stomach, brushing over the small line of hair on his lower abdomen. He pulled her hand back up, and she felt his muscles clenching tighter. She closed her eyes and simply concentrated on the feel of the man beneath her hand as he guided her every step of the way.

He slowly pushed her hand lower then wrapped her fingers around his shaft and guided her
to stroke him. His body coiled and he groaned in pleasure. “Aye, lass,” he murmured, his hips lifting in time to the movement of her hand. His hand guided her to stroke him harder and faster; she felt moisture bead on the tip of his cock.

His expression
became one of what she could only describe as pure ecstasy. Her lips lifted in a smile of feminine power. His body coiled under her and every muscle stood out vibrantly. Her hand never stopped, but her eyes widened, drinking in the sight of the perfect warrior who savored her touch as she provoked him so intimately. His scars had faded to such a degree that she no longer saw them; all that existed was pure, untamed strength, raw power, and magnificence. Suddenly, he grunted, pulled her hand away, and in another lightning fast move, she found herself on her back with Ronan over her. He panted, trying to suck air into his lungs.

“Ronan?”

He grinned at her, a fire in his eyes she had never seen before. “Ye nearly brought me tae perfection, lass. I had tae stop ye before ye ended it too early.”

He caught her wrists in each hand, trapping them beside her head. He lifted himself and stared at her breasts.

Lia felt vulnerable under his gaze, but her fear had faded. “Ronan,” she moaned. “You’re making me insane.”

He awarded her with another devilish grin and licked his lips. Then his mouth descended on her breast and she gasped as it pearled under his tongue.
He swirled his tongue around her nipple and nibbled it ever so gently. She gasped at the fire that shot through her. Hot dampness coated her thighs. He suckled her, and a riot of sensation exploded. Her moan came out unrestrained.

Just when she thought she could stand no more, Ronan released her breast only
to move to the other. A whole new sensation crashed into her, and her entire body quivered underneath him. He released one of her hands but kept the other firmly in his grip. His right hand slid down her side, over her waist to her hip. She squeezed her eyes closed, reveling in his touch, the feel of his strong, calloused hands against her skin. She reached up and wove her fingers through his long hair, delighting in the contrast as the soft locks tumbled over her breast.

His hand moved
to her hip then lightly moved over her mound of curls. She sucked in her breath as he gently slid his fingers over her wet folds. He caressed her softly, and suddenly she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, her vision refused to focus. A tiny mewling sound escaped her as her body opened to him.

He released her breast and lifted his head
, just watching her while his fingers continued their journey. He thrust one finger inside of her and she gasped, but not in pain. Although she knew it would hurt, at that moment, she didn’t care; she never wanted him to stop. His fingers returned to stroke her, stronger, more demanding. Then he found her most sensitive place. Her breath caught in her throat and remained there for several heartbeats as her body responded; her legs opened even more and her hips lifted in time to the movement of his hand.

Still
, he only watched her, but his own body seemed to grow more coiled, his muscles tightening under his skin and standing out in sharp relief.

Her fingers impaled his shoulder and she could barely gasp his name. A hot energy formed within her
, a deep pleasure she had never experienced before. It grew in power under his touch.

“Aye,” he murmured, his voice guttural. “Find
yer pleasure, lass.”

As the tempest he provoked within her grew
, she found herself helpless under his touch. It was so intense that she needed it to stop but never wanted it to end. Yet there was something more her body demanded.

“Ronan,” she gasped. “Please!”

His fingers surged against her, and the storm he had created ripped outward in pure sensation. He moved between her legs, and cradling her hip in one massive hand, he slid inside of her, tearing through her maidenhead.

But he had worked her into such a state
that she barely felt pain; instead, it provoked the storm he had created into a new energy. He groaned as he slid inside of her, and Lia suddenly realized what had been missing—her body had been demanding him, filling her completely. The energy rippled outward, clenching every muscle within her. Ronan thrust deeply into her and she found herself clinging to him, calling his name. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his body moving inside her with more freedom, but his actions remained infinitely gentle. The pleasure surging within her changed slightly, easing in its intensity but also building again. This time when it broke free, she embraced it completely and lost herself… she understood what Ronan meant when he called it perfection.

****

His release slammed into him with an intensity he had never known. Ronan kept driving himself into her as his fulfillment crashed over him in waves and for a moment, he wondered if it would ever stop—he didn’t want it to stop. He shuddered against her as he gave her all of himself. Finally, his arms refused to support him any longer and he collapsed on top of her. God, he couldn’t breathe; his muscles trembled violently, and his heart battered his ribs with such force he thought it might burst.

He lowered his head, struggling
to control his ragged breathing. His lips took soft sips of her silky skin, and his hands caressed her, savoring the sweet lines of her form. Then he realized her body trembled just as hard as his. With a groan, he rolled off of her before he crushed the poor lass.