Highland Love Song (DeWinter's Song 2) (16 page)

"I wonder if you know the torment I have been through since you became my wife. You are legally mine, and yet I have no right to touch you."

"You gave me your word you wouldn't," she reminded him. "I expect you to keep that word."

"Does holding you in my arms go against my word?"

She was bewildered. She wanted him to hold her, she wanted to feel his lips on hers, but wasn't there danger in becoming too intimate with him?

He swept the silken hair aside, and his mouth hovered over the nape of her neck. A shiver went through her.

He brushed his lips against her ear. "If only I could have some small part of you to keep with me—to remember you when you are gone."

He raised his head, looking deeply into baffled blue eyes. "I wonder if I might have just one last kiss."

She wasn't certain if she should allow him to kiss her, although the thought of his lips on hers spread a warmth throughout her body. She decided it would do no harm, so she closed her eyes and offered him her lips.

He smiled at her childlike gesture. Clasping her shoulders, his lips came down gently on hers. His hands moved to the front of her gown, and he unfastened the top hook. When she would have resisted, he deepened the kiss.

Arrian tried to press her mouth tighter against the hard lips that were draining her of all resistance. She had not known a kiss could be so pleasurable and evoke such a strong longing that it left her breathless.

Her innocence was no match for Warrick's expert skills. He unfastened the other hooks, slid her gown off her shoulders, and let it drop to the floor. His thigh rubbed against her while his lips plundered hers, robbing her of protest.

He was still kissing her when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but that would not stop him.

Arrian fought against her body as it betrayed her. Everywhere he touched it tingled, leaving her begging for more.

Warrick had not expected to feel this deep burning need for his captive. At that moment he could not have said whether he was seducing her to hurt Ian or because he desperately wanted her. He had dreamed of the moment he would make her blue eyes smoulder with desire.

He wanted to be the one to stir within Arrian the first realization of what it was like to have a man touch her. He would not take her all the way—no, only to the brink, and then pull away.

As he stared into her soft eyes there was in him such a strong yearning, it was almost like pain. He knew then that he would not stop until he had all of her.

Warrick brushed hot kisses against her silken neck and Arrian threw back her head.

He lay back against the pillow and pulled her on top of him. Hot desire kindled in his bloodstream. He trembled with yearning as her soft lips opened to his probing tongue.

He knew that she would soon be his. Victory was within his grasp.

15

Arrian could feel the heat of Warrick's body through her thin chemise, and she knew that what was happening between them was wrong.

Pressing her hands on the bed, she raised her body from his and managed to stand on shaky legs. "I know what you are trying to do, Warrick. You are breaking your word to me. I'll not give you what you want."

He swung to his feet, towering over her, his hand lightly touching her. "I would not be breaking my word if you consent, Arrian." His gaze moved over the swell of her breasts. "I can make you beg for me, Arrian. Shall I do that?"

"N . . . o."

His hand drifted down her neck to the tie that held together her chemise. She looked into his eyes, the hot words of denial dying on her lips.

Slowly he pulled the tie and exposed her breasts to his hands. With a soft groan she threw her head back, and his lips touched her neck, sliding downward to sprinkle kisses on first one breast and then the other.

She tried to speak, but his plundering mouth closed over hers, and she went limp in his arms.

Arrian felt herself going backward onto the bed with his arms cushioning her fall. A small voice within her mind warned her that she was in danger, but it didn't matter, nothing did except that mouth that made her a willing captive of his desire.

Arrian had never known a man's body was so hard. She was aware of each breath he took, for she matched it with her own breathing.

Warrick pulled up her chemise and allowed his hands to drift up her leg and spread across her rounded buttocks. With pressure he pushed her tightly against his thighs and slid her up and down against his throbbing desire.

"Warrick," she said in a breathless voice, "this is wrong. I will never consent."

"No," he whispered against her lips, "not yet."

"I'm not thinking of you," she said through trembling lips, trying to gain control of her emotions. "I'm thinking only of Ian." Even as she said the words she could not remember what Ian looked like, she could only see silver eyes.

An angry cry escaped Warrick's lips, and he stared at her. She tried to turn her head away but could not. In a move that surprised her, he quickly removed his clothing. When she turned away, he only laughed.

Warrick rejoined her, and taking her hand, he placed it on his chest. When she tried to pull it away he held her fast. "Feel me, Arrian. I am flesh and blood. Look at me. I am not Ian Maclvors, I am your husband."

Her voice came out in a painful cry. "No, no."

"At this moment you belong to me. You will never forget this day no matter how old you grow, or how much you think you love Ian Maclvors."

He rolled over so that she was beneath him and lowered his body to hers. A tremor shook her. "Feel my body, Arrian, and say my name."

"Warrick," she whispered, feeling a deepening need building within her virginal body. There was no thought of Ian, no feeling of guilt, only a need to draw closer to the flame that stirred her heart.

His hands moved over the full magnificence of her breasts, and she thought she would die with longing, and yet she had never felt so alive. She was conscious of his every move, his every touch, for each brought a new discovery.

When his mouth moved across her breasts, Arrian thought she would faint from the joy that surged through her body.

Warrick looked at her, his flintlike eyes softening, and in that moment she knew he was as moved by the experience as she was.

She was not prepared for the hand that slid across her stomach and downward to spread her legs.

"Now is the time to ask me to stop, Arrian," he whispered against her ear. "If you wait much longer, I will not be able to control myself."

"I don't want you to stop," she said as he hovered above her, his lips parting as he lowered his head to take hers in a deepening kiss.

"Release me from my promise," he said in a raspy voice. "Give me leave to take you to a world of pleasure and delight."

"Yes," was all she could manage to say.

He slid into her, filling an emptiness she never knew existed. A gasp escaped her lips, and she would have moved away but for the heat of his moist mouth, making her lightheaded.

Fear entwined with burning pleasure at his invasion. There was a stinging pain as he jabbed through the narrow barrier of flesh. With another thrust he came to rest deep inside her.

Warrick's hungry mouth devoured Arrian's lips, smothering the cry in her throat. She languished between pain—oh, such sweet pain—and lingering desire.

His mouth moved down her neck to burrow between her breasts. Arrian slipped her fingers into his thick black hair and groaned.

Warrick's body trembled with consuming need. He strained to hold his desire under control while he cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes. "Who am I, Arrian?"

Her body became a traitor as he slid back from her and then forward, making her feel she would faint. "You are Warrick," she groaned.

"Every time Ian takes you, you will remember only me."

She stared at him, her mind clearing. What had he meant? But before she could protest, he moved inside her again and she gasped with pleasure.

Warrick felt as if he were wrapped in silk. Was he possessing her or was she possessing him? Her softness was driving him mad with passion. Her sweetness was filling his very being, and he knew he would never forget the enticing aroma of her satiny hair.

His pleasure built with raw urgency, but he held back, wanting to make love to her slowly and lingeringly. He wanted to savor each consuming moment of desire.

Arrian stared into his silver eyes, which were softer than she had ever seen them. Then he closed them as if he wanted to block out her face.

Giving a forceful thrust, he plunged into her with a driving passion.

Arrian could no longer resist. She was his to do with as he willed. His lips were brutal as he ravished hers, but she clung to him, begging for more.

"Now," he whispered, "I have you, my lady."

When he pressed her against his chest she instinctively began to move with him, her passion matching his as it raged wilder and wilder until it ignited into an inferno of pleasure.

She heard him groan and whisper in her ear. "Do I have you, or do you have me?"

Her body quaked, and she heard him take a gasping breath. Together they trembled, fusing as one. They were left breathless.

For a long moment they lay in each other's arms, lingering over the feelings that neither could understand. As his hand slid across her breasts, she wondered how she would explain to her family that she could never leave Warrick. He had truly become her husband today, and she his wife.

She wanted to hear him say that he felt as she had. But she was shy of the newfound love and could not ask it of him.

He gathered her close, feeling the need for her once more. He took her softly this time, wanting to create a lasting memory in her heart.

For hours he caressed her, made love to her, whispered endearments in her ear.

Night fell, and shadows crept across the room. The fire had gone out and was replaced by a chill in the room. "We should be getting back," Warrick said.

She moved reluctantly out of the comfort of his arms. "I never knew it could be like this between a man and a woman."

A sadness filled her whole being as she thought of Ian and how she had betrayed him. She realized she would have to tell him about Warrick.

He saw tears in her eyes and pulled her to him. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. I was thinking of Ian."

He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go, but her words brought him back to reality. She had just reminded him that her heart belonged to Ian Maclvors, a fact he had forgotten. Well, he would never forget it again.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember why he had brought her here today. "Ian may thank me for the lessons I have taught you here today, Arrian," he said.

She stared at him in anguish, not understanding why he had suddenly turned cruel. A sob was building deep inside her, but she clamped her hand over her mouth so it would not be uttered. He could not have hurt her more had he plunged a knife into her heart.

Warrick turned from her and began to dress. He bent to build up the fire, allowing her time to digest what he had said. When he heard her sob, he resisted the urge to go to her. Ian stood between them and always would. Warrick wanted only to remember the hate he felt for the Maclvors. He must not think of the love that she had planted in his soul.

Arrian dressed quietly, thinking what a fool she had been to fall into Warrick's trap. Oh, he had been clever. He had wooed her with honeyed words. He had known just where to touch her to make her come alive. She had been hurt by his harsh words, but she wiped her tears away and straightened her back. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Warrick walked to the window and propped up his foot on the low window seat. "What would you do in my place if our roles were reversed, Arrian? If you came upon the perfect object to use against your enemy— would you not take advantage of that object?"

"You are referring to me as an object?"

"Perhaps that was a bad choice of words."

She spoke through trembling lips. "I cannot answer you as you would like, Warrick, for I have never felt the ugly enmity that seems to possess you. But I think I would never use an innocent . . . object to strike at the heart of my enemy. My mistake today was in forgetting that we are enemies. I will not forget again."

"Perhaps we both forgot for a time. But, like you, I shall not forget again."

His eyes were probing as he looked for some trace of the Arrian who had surrendered to him. He saw only a cold, beautiful woman whose eyes defied him.

She pushed her tumbled hair out of her face. "I have never known what it felt like to hate until today, Warrick. Now you have drawn me into your blood feud, and I resent you for making me betray Ian."

Her eyes were glistening with the tears she was too proud to shed. "I fell in with your well-laid plans today. How you must have laughed at me. I gave you everything you need to wound Ian to the heart. Now will you let me go?"

He held his hand up to silence her and moved to the door. "Finish dressing while I see to the horses. I'll take you back to Iron worth."

When he left, Arrian ran to the water pitcher and splashed cold water in her face, trying to regain some of her composure. With trembling hands she pulled on her clothing and tied her hair back with a ribbon. An unwelcome tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away angrily.

When Warrick returned, she was still pale and shaken. "I feel pity for you, my lord, because you use people for your own aim and then act as if they should thank you for it."

"Don't pity me, my lady. I got what I wanted from you, and it took very little effort on my part. You were an easy conquest, Arrian."

She wanted to cry out at the coldness of his words. She wanted to run at him, pound him on the chest, and make him hurt as she was hurting.

She walked to the door and yanked it open. "I'll never allow you to touch me again, Warrick."

He followed her outside and placed her on her horse. "Never is a long time, Arrian. And just remember, I didn't take you by force. You were quite willing."

She turned from him, feeling as if her heart would break. "I will be happy to be rid of you, my lord. Should the chance present itself, I'll escape."

"I would expect you to try, Arrian."

They were both silent on the ride back to the castle. Arrian gazed at the first stars of the evening that twinkled against an ebony sky. How cold and faraway they seemed, and how devoid of warmth—just as there was no warmth in her heart.

When they halted their horses at the castle, Arrian allowed Warrick to help her from her horse. He held her hand for a moment, but she jerked it free and ran inside and up the stairs to the safety of her room.

Warrick stared after her, wondering why the sight of her tears had struck him like a knife. Why did he feel lower than the vilest creature on earth?

Arrian didn't bother to light a lamp. She stood looking at the sea that was no more then a darkened shadow creeping toward shore. She was filled with self-loathing. How easily she had allowed Warrick to use her. She had wanted him to touch her, to make love to her. She had to admit that she had thought she loved him. How could she love a man who was consumed by hate? Revenge had been his motive tonight, and that was what hurt most of all.

She pressed her hand over her mouth, but it didn't stifle her loud sob. She buried her face against the curtains and allowed the tears she had held back to flow freely.

Tomorrow she would feel anger, and perhaps remorse, but tonight she felt only betrayed by a love that had seemed beautiful and unique.

Soon she would find a way to escape her prison. Then she would never have to see Warrick again.