Flame (20 page)

Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his
bare skin against hers, Joanna slipped her hands inside his shirt.
True, she had seen him naked before, but the actual feel of his
sinewy muscles beneath her fingers made her thrill for more.

He lifted her off the ground, and Joanna
instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned and
pulled his mouth away. “Joanna, I shall surely die if I do not take
you now.”

She bit his ear before suckling it. “Then
take me, Gavin. Make me yours.” She pressed her lips into the
hollow above his collarbone. Saltiness tingled on her tongue as she
ran her tongue along the bone to his shoulder where she nipped at
the powerful flesh she found there. As his deep groan penetrated
her brain, a glorious sense of wickedness swept through her as she
felt him discard the last shreds of his control. With few quick
strides, he carried her to his bed and perched her on the edge.

The giant warrior hurriedly kicked off his
boots, and her fingers pulled awkwardly at his belt. When he took
over the task, tossing away the kilt and kneeling before her, her
eyes focused momentarily on his huge manhood. Her breath caught in
her chest. Joanna leaned forward and tore open the front of his
shirt.

She had just touched the taut warmth of his
muscular chest when Gavin pushed her back slightly, his mouth
closing over her breast. Her mouth fell open with a gasp as he
circled her hard, erect nipple with his tongue before tugging at it
with his lips and teeth. She paused, paralyzed with an excitement,
and watched him through half lidded eyes until she could lie still
no longer.

Engulfed by a rising fever that demanded
release, Joanna pushed him back by the shoulders, yanking the shirt
down over his massive arms. As he shrugged it off, she threw it
aside with a sigh.

“I have wanted to do that from the first
moment I walked in here tonight,” she murmured, gazing into his
fierce face, his smoldering eyes.

He buried one hand in the heavy silken spill
of her hair, tugging it back, exposing the stretch of her neck. He
ran his tongue and lips over the skin of her throat while his other
hand cupped her breast, his thumb stroking the aroused nipple.

“And
I
wanted to drag you to this bed
and bury myself in you from the moment you stepped through the
panel door.”

“Such wicked thoughts,” she groaned as his
hand slid down her stomach, over the downy mound, and between the
folds of her womanhood. She shook from the vibration of her body’s
response. Her hips curled against his hand, and one leg lifted and
wrapped itself around his waist and his naked buttocks.

Her blood pounded in her brain and the
pulsing lights that had replaced the earlier haze now flashed,
ablaze with a myriad of colors. Her body and skin caught fire, and
she felt her breaths growing shorter as he continued to stroke the
sensitive spot within her. Joanna threw back her head and moaned as
he probed deeper and deeper into her intimate heat, and his mouth
once again suckled one breast.

Sensation began to crowd out her
consciousness. It was like gliding along on some fast moving cloud,
or running in a dream down some endless hill, feeling the
excitement rising and never wanting it to end. But in a bright
corner of her brain, Joanna knew that this could not go on forever.
There was an urgency that told her that complete fulfillment was
near at hand. But she didn’t want it to finish. No matter how
rapturous whatever lay beyond could be, she didn’t want to cross
that line--not without him.

Blindly, she reached out for him, her fingers
groping down his body until she found the long, hard shaft. The
skin was hot, and he throbbed to her touch. Her hand curled around
him and slid the entire length until her thumb caressed the satiny
crown.

“Nay, Joanna,” he groaned tearing his mouth
away from her breast. “Not yet.”

But in spite of his voiced reluctance, the
warrior hardly resisted as she brought the broad tip of his manhood
to her moist folds and pressed herself against it.

“Now, Gavin,” she whispered, the note of
ardor evident in her voice as she gazed into his dark and passion
glazed eyes. “Please, take me now.”

Now driven with the urgency to have him
inside of her, she moved with him as he centered himself over her
and took hold of her hips.

“And will you be mine, Joanna? Will you
forever belong to me?”

She nodded and drew his head down, kissing
him with all the passion she had in her.

As he drove into her, Joanna stiffened at
first, stunned by the tearing pain of his entry. She kept her
eyelids pressed shut and bit her lip to keep from crying out as he
ceased to move for what seemed like an eternity. But then,
gradually, she felt his throbbing shaft begin to move, slowly at
first, and then faster and faster, until her mind cast off all
memory of pain, all memory of innocence, and the white hot lights
of some blazing heaven opened up and consumed her.

***

Stepping away from the murky waters of the
underground lake, the man held up the wick lamp and peered through
the darkness of the cavern beneath Ironcross Castle. Something by a
wall caught his sharp eye. Ducking his head as he moved beneath a
rock overhang, the Earl of Athol crouched before the rough bed of
straw, noticing the corner of a dark cloth peeking from beneath.
Pushing away the straw, he uncovered the meager possessions the
inhabitant had hidden there. A cloak besmirched with black grime
and a rolled heap of rags. He picked the clothing up, scanning them
for some telltale mark. Putting the wick lamp on the packed earth,
he held the rags up before his eyes, recognizing that the shreds
may once have been a woman’s shift.

Casting the cloth aside, he turned to the
small heap of sticks not too far away. Putting his hand over the
still warm ashes of the fire, he knew that the owner of these
things had left here not long before.

Picking up the wick lamp, the earl looked
about for other clues and turned his attention back to the straw.
Shoving the clothing back under, he found a wooden bowl with the
remains of some dry bread. An empty wooden cup.

Pushing himself up to his feet, Athol swept
his long red hair back over his shoulder and peered around the
cavern for anything else that he might learn of this poor, timid
soul, the latest of the Ironcross ‘ghosts.’

By the devil, since he was a lad--hell, since
he was no more than a bairn--he had known his way around these
caverns, racing through them with John MacInnes and the stable
lads. Back then, the only ghosts haunting the castle had been he
and his friends. He smiled in the darkness at the memory, but his
face quickly grew serious. His man David had spoken of a spirit
roaming the castle now, but Athol had been inclined not to believe
him then. Now, glancing down at the belongings of some poor beggar,
he was certain of it. No ghost he had ever heard of kept warm by a
fire or helped himself to bread. What still perplexed the earl,
though, was the behavior of a ‘phantom’ who seemed determined to
keep returning Joanna’s picture to the place where it had
originally hung.

Having the new laird of Ironcross retire
early tonight had been fine, so far as Athol was concerned. Finding
the truth behind this ‘ghost’ was something that the earl knew he
himself must do. He certainly couldn’t rely on David.

Athol pushed at the ragged cloak with his
foot. He wasn’t about to allow some poor beggar to ruin his
efforts.

Not when he was this close to succeeding.

***

Settling back on the down-stuffed pillows,
Gavin took a deep breath and listened to the rain whipped by the
wind against the walls of the keep. Occasionally, the low rumbling
sound of thunder rolled across the loch, and the laird tried to
yield to the warm sense of tranquility that was seeping into his
bones.

There was something wonderfully intimate
about lying in his huge bed with Joanna curled up at his side. Just
a moment ago, after their lovemaking, he’d levered himself up and
repositioned her in the bed, lifting her into the center and
covering her with the soft wool blanket. It had been then that he’d
seen the proof of her innocence. When he had first entered her,
he’d discovered he had been her first. And although he’d never
considered a woman’s virginity an important issue before, something
of its dearness struck him now. He turned onto his side and gently
brushed the dark golden hair from her damp brow.

“You were a virgin,” he said simply.

She rolled onto her back, her gaze sliding
away from his. “So I was.”

He caught her chin and brought her eyes back
to him. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

She gently wrenched her chin loose. “You
would have thought what you wished no matter what I told you!”

“Nay, Joanna, you cannot think that,” Gavin
argued gently, pulling her back to her side until she faced him.
Her head rested against his arm, and he absently combed his fingers
through her long tresses with his other hand. “That does not say
much for my character, now, does it? I must be more depraved than I
thought.”

She shook her head. “We were talking of my
virginity. And what does it matter now, anyway? What’s done is
done. But why must you scold me for giving you what was mine to
give?”

“‘Tis not what
you
have done,” he
said, letting his hand rest lightly on her cheek. “‘Tis the way
I
behaved that is bothering me. I should have been...more
gentle. I should had taken my time, but instead I just took you
like you were a woman of the world--a woman familiar with...”

She placed a finger on his lips, “Did you
enjoy our lovemaking?”

He stared at her for a moment, but then
laughed, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a kiss on her
palm. “Aye, Joanna. Immensely.”

“And am I what you expected? I mean in my
shape...my body? Am I too thin or too fat? Am I...?”

“You are just as I have dreamed you would
be.” He bent over her and brushed his lips against hers. “You
are
just perfect.”

She pulled back. “Then it must be that I was
inept in your arms!”

He shook his head. “Nay, Joanna. You were
incredibly able.”

She paused a moment before letting a smile
break across her lips. “Then I believe I was successful in seducing
you.”

For the space of dozen heartbeats, there was
silence as he stared into her shining, violet-blue eyes. “Aye, you
were successful in seducing me.”

“And you think me wanton?”

“Nay...well, a wee bit wanton is a fine
thing, to my thinking.”

“Are you not shocked?”

“At what?” he asked, his eyebrows arching
with amusement. “At you seducing me before I could seduce you?” He
slid his hand down over her neck and collarbone, pushing at the
blanket until his hand caressed the side of one breast. “I did have
plans of my own, you know.” Gavin ran his thumb gently across her
nipple. It hardened like a pebble beneath his touch. He watched as
Joanna closed her eyes for a fleeting moment and drew in her
breath. “But now, considering how far we have come--certainly
faster than I could have possibly hoped for--I will gladly admit
that I approve of your method the best.”

“Then we are done with your questioning?”

Gavin studied her expression. Her sparkling
eyes held within them a devilish gleam, a playful expectancy. Her
full lips, turned up at the corners, told of her mirth. Her hand
stretched out against his chest, and began to move lower over the
hard planes of his belly. He caught it just above his rising
manhood.

“Only if you let me seduce you,” he
growled.

She freed her hand and slipped it around his
waist. Scooting closer, she pressed the length of her body against
him, and he felt his fully aroused member nestle between her
thighs.

“You can try,” she challenged. “But I warn
you, I have plans of my own.”

Margaret’s hands quivered as they tried to
raise the latch of the door behind her. Her darting eyes followed
her brother’s impatient steps as he paced the small room. He came
to a sudden halt.

“So you’ve decided to return to us at
last.”

She pressed her back hard against the door
and looked down at the rushes on the floor.

“Where were you, Margaret?”

She wiped her wet palms on her skirts, but
never raised her eyes.

“Where the
Hell
have you been,
Margaret?”

The vehemence in Allan’s voice caused her to
cringe. Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze and looked into his angry
eyes.

“Vaw...cuh...”

“Nay. Molly was there, but she said she
hadn’t seen you.”

She shook her head and repeated her broken
words. “Vaw...cuh...”

“You would never lie to me, now, would you,
sister?”

The violent shake of her head was instantly
followed by the tearing of her eyes.

“One of the stable lads saw you go to the
chapel.”

Margaret crossed herself. “P...P...”

“Why do you redden so? Why, Margaret?”
Allan’s hands fisted at his sides. “Were you with that dwarfish pig
of a priest?”

She shook her head again and then looked at
the floor. “Vaw...vaw...”

Allan unclenched a big hand and laid it on
her shoulder. “He is as bad as the devil himself, sister. Do you
understand that?”

Margaret reached up and took hold of his
hand.

“I don’t want you to go near him. I don’t
want you to have anything to do with him. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“We cannot allow anyone to cause us more
pain. No one, Margaret. No one!”

Trembling, she nodded again.

***

Shoving another log to the crackling blaze,
the warrior chief straightened up and turned, looking earnestly
into Joanna’s troubled face. She was sitting at the head of his
bed, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her chin rested on the
blanket she had gathered around her legs, and as he gazed at her
eyes, he found them staring into a dark corner of the room. Even at
this distance, he could see within them the flicker of troubled
memories.