DevilsHeart (15 page)

He grinned and smacked a big kiss on her cheek. “And birth
control?”

“It just means preventing conception. There are lots of
different ways.”

“What way did you use?”

She cleared her throat in discomfort. “It was a little pill
I took every day. It was just a mixture of ingredients.”

“Like herbs or something? Like what a healer might mix?”

It wasn’t but this line of questioning was challenging her
vocabulary. It had already been a long day. She nodded instead.

He stiffened against her. “Are you still using these herbs?
Do you have access to the ingredients?”

She swallowed hard. This was about the son he needed. The
son he wanted
her
to carry. And, damn it all, she was well on her way to
making him a very happy man since she always melted into a weak puddle of
desire every time he touched her and reveled in the pleasure he took in her
body. The sensual, utterly feminine sensation of power coursing through her as
he came inside her was heady stuff.

“No,” she whispered.

His relieved exhalation caressed her ear. She dropped her
eyes to her lap, fidgeting with her skirt. Children had always been in her plans.
They were so easy to be around. So naturally loving and accepting. But Simon
had been less than interested. They were messy, demanding, and far too
expensive, he thought. It was the one thing she pressed him on and he
eventually caved, promising one child once he made partner in the firm.

But now here she was married to a man who would be more than
happy if she were knocked up already. It was so sudden. Much too soon. Such a
thing was going to be planned and prepared for at the appropriate time, if she had
had any say about it. Was she even ready for this now?

“Were there other men before your betrothed?”

A sharpness edged his curious tone. She gave him a hesitant
nod. “Two.”

“Just two? How old are you?”

His surprise drew a soft laugh from her throat. Perhaps if
they weren’t so busy having sex every chance they got, they’d know each other a
little better. “Almost twenty-nine years. What about you?”

“I have seen about thirty-three summers.” He paused and
leaned forward. “Do you really want to know how many women?”

“No,” she snapped, raising her brows. Janet. His wives. And
the fact he had had a habit of cheating on said wives. It was more information
already than she needed. “You can keep that to yourself, thank you very much.”

She turned to face him and he grinned down at her before
casting his eyes toward the horizon. She tilted her head, tracing his strong
profile with her eyes. Sharp, chiseled jaw and cheekbones. An almost hawklike
nose. Solid, masculine brow. Everything about him exuded a powerful, alluring
masculinity.

When he turned his gaze back to her, a shy smile spread
across her lips. “I suppose I’m too old for you then. Don’t men like you marry
young virgins?”

“What would I want with a spoiled, mere slip of a woman when
I have a lusty wench like you?”

She shook her head in exasperation but the smile did not
fade from her face. He laughed and squeezed her against him. She settled back
against him and sighed as the silence fell upon them. Enveloped by strong arms,
leaning against a solid, warm chest. It was all too inviting and comforting.
Too easy to get used to.

“I have already had my fair share of almost childlike
brides,” he admitted in a whisper. “I like this better.”

“How old were they?”

“About sixteen.”

She shuddered. So young. Too young. But it was unfortunately
typical at this time. Men had been so concerned with virginity throughout much
of history and perhaps even docility in certain cases. Young women, some even
far younger than the ones Rathe had married, were easier to control, and political
and wealth connections always trumped compatibility and maturity.

He exhaled against her hair. “I was not the best of
husbands, I will admit. So I suppose a fair share of the misery should rightly
be laid at my feet. I was impatient and far too lusty for such inexperienced
girls so I took up with other women. Neither marriage was one of my choosing
but pairings endorsed by the king.”

“You were forced into them?”

“Politically speaking, yes. They did not like me nor I them.
Both preferred finer things than I could give them. They were used to being
waited on and fond of complaining when they did not receive what they thought
due to them because of their station. I have little patience for either.”

She remained motionless, afraid to disturb his sudden openness.
His honesty touched her. Made him seem more vulnerable—more human. And her
heart went out to the young women as well. Marriage and family when that young?
It was hard enough coming to terms with it now at her age.

He touched her chin, coaxing it back to him and pressed his
lips to hers. The kiss was tender and warming all the way down to her toes.
Heat seeped into her from his body, a renewed swirl of desire pooling in her
belly.

Her lips tingled as he pulled back and brushed against them.
“But you,” he whispered. “You I like.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

He chuckled, his gaze caressing the contours of her face
before coming back to her eyes. “Is it so hard to believe, Leah? That your
husband actually likes you?”

Her breath caught in her throat at the earnestness in his
eyes. No, this was ridiculous. They were strangers still. “But I thought…”

“You thought what?”

She shook her head, dropping her gaze. “I’m not exciting
or…” The words swirled through her head but wouldn’t come out.
Beguiling.
Sexy. Alluring. Sociable.
All the things she was told she should be by
society at large, but wasn’t. Instead, she was quiet, private, cerebral. All
flaws according to the dominant culture. “I’m shy. I’m not brave. I’m…”

He tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes back to his. “You
excite me. I will admit it was your body I was after at first. But your shyness
intrigues me. As do the quirks of your mind now that you are revealing them.”

She tried to shake her head, but his hand gripped her jaw
tighter, preventing her from moving. “But the land,” she protested. “Your need
for a son. It could easily be another woman. It could—”

“I like how you make me feel,” he breathed.

And then his lips were on hers again. Demanding, possessive.
A foreign thread of tentative joy wound through her. He did want her.
Her.
Not just some random warm body, but her.

He pulled away but she followed him, drawing him into a
deeper kiss. Parting her lips, she made a hesitant sweep of her tongue across
his upper lip.

A soft groan rumbled forth from his chest. He wove his
fingers into her hair, pressing her mouth hard against his and then breaking
the kiss. He sucked in a breath, touching his forehead to hers. “I think it is
time we stopped for the night.”

She glanced around. The sun was hanging low in the sky but
they were in the middle of nowhere. A dense forest surrounded them with the
blue-gray waters of a small loch glistening between the trees behind him.
“Here?”

He nodded, his lips curling into a seductive smile. “Come.
It is time I tasted you properly.”

She sucked in a surprised breath as he dismounted and held
his hand up to her. Dazed, she swung one leg over. He guided her hands to his
shoulders and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to his chest and easing
her down the length of his body until her feet touched the earth.

He threw her a wink and clasped her hand, dragging her
deeper into the woods.

“Rathe, someone might see us,” she declared in a dismayed
whisper.

“No one will follow, I promise. You will be as shielded as
if you were concealed in my bedchamber.”

Her body hummed in a disquieting swirl of arousal and fear
as they walked. What if he was wrong? What if she was too loud?

“Rathe, I don’t—”

He stopped and turned to her. Grabbing her by the waist, he
backed her up to a large oak tree. He dropped his lips to her neck, dragging
them up to her ear. “Do you trust me, lass?”

She froze. Did she? Panic rippled through her belly. There
hadn’t been enough time. Sure, he’d opened up to her today but there were still
too many questions. Too much doubt planted already.

His mesmerizing, commanding gaze drew her eyes to his,
despite her fear of admitting the truth to him. Much to her surprise though,
his features didn’t twist into anger or hurt over her distrust. He simply
nodded. “Fair enough. I have yet to prove myself.”

Remorse eased the tension in her face. “Rathe, I—”

“Shh.” He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “It
will come with time.”

His hand slid over her stomach and up to one breast. With a
light, skimming touch, his thumb flicked over her nipple through her clothing
as his lips trailed along her jaw. An erotic shiver of anticipation radiated
outward, pulling her hardening nipple outward. Moisture seeped between her
legs.

“Tell me you want me, lass.”

She crushed her cheek to his, her eyes fluttering closed.
Her lips parted, seeking his ear. Her tongue darting out, running along the
edge. “I want you, Rathe.”

He dragged his lips across the base of her throat, his hands
grazing down her hips. Cool air swirled around her ankles, up to her thighs as
he raked her skirts upward. She shivered as he pulled away, pushing her garment
up to her belly, exposing her to his gaze and the world around them.

She almost panicked. But his sudden intake of breath gave
her pause. Her breathing turned shallow.

He grinned. “Spread them.”

The man was downright diabolic. She bit her lower lip,
tearing her gaze away. She reached back, grabbing the tree for support. She
shifted her feet apart, a wicked power spiraling through her, forcing her
shyness into the background.

He dropped to his knees, threading his fingers through the
curls of her mound, pushing her skirts back. He secured them against her as he
gripped her hips. His warm lips skipped across her thighs, his breath hot
against her cooling skin, teasing her legs into jelly.

His tongue dipped between her legs, skimming her folds. She
gasped, a shudder coursing down her legs. Her eyes were drawn back to him. His
black hair stood in stark contrast against her nakedness. He dipped his tongue
in again, flicking her clit. She moaned, terrifying, pulsating surges sending
her core into a tremble.

Her cheeks heated. Out in the middle of the woods with a
man’s tongue between her legs? Who was she anymore? This would never have
happened to the old Leah. Let alone with a man like Rathe. Dashing. Daring.
Absolutely demonic in his ability to draw mind-bending pleasure from her body
and coax her into shedding her inhibitions.

And then his lips were around her clit, sucking the engorged
bud into his mouth. Her eyes fluttered to the back of her head, a moan tearing
open her lips. She leaned her head back against the tree, closing her eyes.
Surrender. There was nothing left for her to do.

His tongue encircled her clit, flicking and sucking. Driving
a maddening ache through her abdomen. Then fingers. Fingers pushing up into
her, spreading her open. Her pussy throbbed around them, sending waves through
her thighs. Faster pulsations, blood thundering in her veins, vision blurring.
Tension mounting, thighs shaking.

And then the spasm. Vibrating through her clit, growing
outward in ever expanding rings until her pussy clamped down on his fingers and
she gasped for breath, her vision turning black.

She fell forward, fighting to breathe, her legs giving out.
He caught her around the waist, twisting her in midair, bringing her down to
the damp forest floor. Still shuddering, her hips rocking, she grasped his
face, bringing it to hers. Covering his lips with hers, thrusting her tongue
inside.

He growled, twisting his tongue around hers. Lifting his
hips, his hands fumbled along her inner thighs. And then, in one smooth, quick
motion, he thrust his cock inside, burying it to the hilt.

She gasped in surprise at the sudden, intense invasion. His
teeth grazed over her jaw, his fingers digging into her hips as he pulled back
and drove forward, hard. She sucked in a breath, the weight of him resting
against her. She wrapped her legs around him and locked her ankles together. He
sank deeper and groaned. Licking and sucking her neck, pounding into her in a
furious, hurried rhythm. Another pulsating ache uncoiled through her pussy and
released, sending her into wild undulations beneath him. He continued to thrust
into her over and over, forcing moans of pleasure from her lips. Her eyes fluttered
closed and she was lost, giving herself over to the shuddering vibrations.

He snarled against her neck and stilled, cock throbbing
within her. His breath skated across her neck to her cheek until his lips were
on hers, drawing them into a slow, deep kiss. He lifted his head and brushed
the hair away from her face as he grinned down at her.

“Dear Lord, lass, you are fetching thing. Beautiful.
Bewitching. I am a lucky man.”

Her lips parted, but no words came to her. It didn’t seem
possible. In her time, she’d be watching a man who looked like him up on a
movie screen playing some warrior in a medieval drama. Not smiling above her
with his thick shaft buried between her legs in the middle of the woods.

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “And you have no
idea of it, do you?”

He slid out of her, tucking his cock back into his breeches
before drawing her skirts down over her legs. He sank to the ground beside her
and rolled to his back, slipping one hand behind his head and staring upward at
the dimming sky high above the treetops.

They were alone. Finally. And he wasn’t running off.

She rolled toward him, stretching out along his side and
resting a hand on his chest. “Why do they call you the Satan of the Highlands?”