Highlander Unchained (27 page)

Tears sprang to her eyes. He didn’t understand. Look at him—he was a rock. He’d probably never felt a moment of fear in his life. This was so humiliating. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

She buried her face against his warm neck and clasped his broad shoulders, her entire body shaking, his solid strength an iron tether to hold on to. He simply held her, easing her panic with the soft caress of his hand on her back. His hand slid down her side to her hips. To her bottom. And achingly close to between her legs. His touch was feather soft and deftly arousing. She stopped shaking. He stroked her until her body softened and the water no longer felt like a pool of lead, but lighter and freer—like a cloud. Until the panic receded and she couldn’t think of anything but his hands on her skin.

They were so close, his mouth was only inches from hers. She was achingly aware of her breasts plastered against his chest. The drenched fabric of her shirt was an insignificant barrier to the wide expanse of powerful muscle.

There was nothing decent about her garments now. Nothing of her shape was hidden from his view. And though he was taking pains not to make her self-conscious, she knew he was very aware of it as well.

“Is that better?” he murmured against her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shiver again.

She wanted nothing more than to dissolve against him. Her body felt warm and languid, but also aroused and aching for his touch. Which was exactly what he’d intended. She eyed him.
The rogue.
But there was some consolation. If the strain on his face was any indication, he was not unaffected.

“Yes,” she answered. “It is better. Your teaching method is somewhat unconventional, but effective.” She shifted against him, not surprised to feel the hard length of his erection nudging her bottom. Good, he was just as aroused as she. “And dangerous.”

His fingers trailed down the curve of her spine. A teasing stroke when she wanted pressure. “Aye,” he admitted. “Very dangerous.”

Realizing she’d best put an end to this perilous game, she lifted her gaze back to his. “What’s next?”

The passion still burned in his gaze. A simmering threat or a promise, she didn’t know.

“The next part you must do on your own. I want you to dip your chin in the water, up to your nose, keeping your mouth closed. You will still be able to breathe through your nose. Like this.” He demonstrated.

Her eyes widened. She wanted to refuse, but he was right: She would never learn to swim and always be vulnerable if she kept allowing fear to win.

Which, of course, was easier said than done. She tried three times, but each time the water started to close over her mouth, her head seemed to jerk up of its own volition.

He held her hands, murmuring little encouragements, but it didn’t help.

She looked at him hopelessly. “It’s no use. I can’t do it.”

He tipped her chin with his finger so that he was looking right into her eyes. “Your fear will not go away in one day, lass. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve already made great progress.”

“You’re not disappointed in me?” She bit her lip. “I know you’re busy, and I haven’t proved a very apt student.”

A lazy smile curved his wide, sensual mouth. A mouth that teased and spoke of so many unknown pleasures. “Rather the opposite. I look forward to more lessons. I can’t imagine a more”—he slid his hand down the curve of her hip—“delightful pupil.”

Flora’s cheeks warmed. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Every minute,” he admitted unabashedly. “Would you like to try one more time?” His mouth moved just a fraction of an inch closer. She felt the warm spice of his breath on her cheek. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Her pulse spiked, but not with fear. Every nerve ending was ragged with anticipation. She would agree to anything, if only he would kiss her.

“What did you have in mind?” she breathed.

“Another wee distraction.”

His dark voice seeped into her bones. She shivered as his hand slid achingly close to her breast. He could reach out and stroke her with his thumb.

He was driving her mad with his touch. With his gentle teasing. All she could think about was his mouth on hers, his hands covering her body and appeasing the wicked sensations firing through her body.

“Concentrate on my mouth.”

I am. Dear God, I can think of nothing else.
She could almost taste the warm spiciness of his breath. She nodded, her body drumming with desire.

He covered her mouth with his, and her heart slammed into her chest. Slowly, he lowered her under the water and then back up. It was just for a moment, but it worked.

He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes right into his. Her face lit with accomplishment. “I did it!”

He returned her smile. “You did. Well done, lass. It won’t be long before you are swimming like one of the
Maighdean na Tuinne.
”

She wrapped her hands around his neck, looking deep into those incredible blue eyes. She loved the way the light reflected off the rare strand of gold hidden deep in the chestnut of his hair. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said softly.

He pulled her to her feet to stand before him, so that she was stretched against the long length of him. The evidence of his desire pulsed hard against her stomach. His hand slid up to cup her breast, and a wave of delicious heat poured through her. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, and a rush of sensation spread between her legs. She felt as though she were breaking apart, just from his touch.

“A kiss,” he said, his mouth a hairbreadth from hers. “You can thank me with a kiss.”

A kiss wouldn’t be enough. Not for her. Her body ached for his touch. For his possession. She wanted him. Enough to throw caution to the wind. She knew well what she risked. But her virginity had never been a sacred object for her. Indeed, it only made her a more valuable marriage prize. In truth, she’d do well to be rid of it. But until she’d met the Laird of Coll, there had never been a man she’d wanted enough to risk the censure.

By rousing her curiosity, he’d already shattered her innocence. Since that day in the laird’s chamber when he’d stroked her body, bringing her to the point of something cataclysmic and beautiful. Something that set her body on edge every time he touched her. Something that needed to be satisfied. Maybe then she could think clearly.

Flora had never been one to allow consequences to rule her actions. She wanted him, and there was nothing to prevent her from having him. She wanted the culmination of the closeness she’d felt in his bed. The intimacy of sharing her body with this man. Instinctively, she knew he was keeping something from her, holding back a part of himself. This would bring them closer, and then maybe he would confide in her.

Rising on her tiptoes, she offered herself with a kiss. Never having attempted to seduce a man before, she acted solely on instinct. A slow drag of the lips, a wicked dart of the tongue along the seam of his mouth, a soft nuzzle of her cheek against the coarse scrape of his jaw. She pressed her body against his enticingly and ever so slightly brushed up and down against him, circling her hips against his erection and raking her nipples against his naked chest. Telling him in every way possible—except with words—that she wanted him.

He stood stone still, seemingly unaffected. But she could feel the furious pounding of his heart against hers.

She drew back and looked into the violent maelstrom of his gaze. “Will that suffice?”

She could see the pulse in his neck as he fought for control. “Yes.” His voice was strained and ragged. “That will do just fine.”

But it wasn’t enough for her. Emboldened, she brought her hand between them and trailed her fingers across the ridges of his stomach muscles, the heel of her hand brushing over the heavy round head of his erection, which just broke through the edge of the water. “Are you sure?”

“Flora,” he hissed. But she ignored the warning and covered him with her hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around his thickness. He swore. She could see the strain in his body, the tautness of his shoulders, the flex of his arms at his side. She felt empowered, relishing the exquisite sensation of harnessing such powerful masculinity in her hand. She felt bold and wicked as she touched him with her fingers. He allowed her to explore him, but she could see the toll it was taking on him. Every muscle in his body pulsed with restraint. But when she squeezed him lightly, dragging her hand down the long length of him, he snapped.

He pulled her against him and kissed her with the passion that had struggled to break free, sliding his tongue in her mouth, claiming her in the most basic way. He kissed her long and hard, with a dark carnality that hinted at the erotic pleasures to come.

She was drawn to the dangerous intensity that threatened just under the surface of this man. Sensing in him something similar in herself. The very thing that had made her touch him so boldly. A wild, base sensuality that was only waiting to be unleashed. Making love with Lachlan Maclean would be raw and powerful. And like a moth to the flame, she was helpless to fight the pull of attraction.

His mouth was on her neck, her breasts in his hands. Cupping her. Pinching her nipples lightly until she writhed in innocent frustration against him. The scratch of his beard on her skin as his mouth trailed down her neck drove her mad. She felt ready to explode. Impatient to discover all the pleasure he had in store.

Her hands splayed across the muscles of his back, feeling the tension waiting to be unharnessed. Her legs went weak with her need of him.

He’d untied her shirt, and his mouth had found the tops of her breasts. Her skin was so hot, every kiss blazing a fiery path in its wake. His tongue flicked her taut nipple, and the teasing, gyrating movements increased her frenzy. When he finally took her in his mouth, a sound of raw pleasure escaped from between her lips. She arched her back as he sucked her harder. Plying her nipple with the gentle tug of his teeth and tongue. She writhed helplessly, pressing urgently against his erection. Cradling him between the apex of her legs. At her very core.

He groaned, a deep guttural sound that hinted of danger. He was holding her against him, taking her with his mouth and hands, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more pressure, more of everything. She wanted to feel the weight of him on top of her. She wanted him inside her.

She wanted everything he had to give.

Blood pounded in his ears. The urge to explode in her hand was crushing. He’d never been this close to losing control. Never been so damned aroused as when she’d circled him in her hand and milked him so innocently—and so perfectly. He’d fought the urge to come and hadn’t been completely successful. His stomach clenched as he fought the pull, but a few drops escaped nonetheless.

He wanted to strip her down and caress every inch of her with his mouth and tongue. She was driving him insane with her innocent touch. With her eagerness. With her open desire.

The heavy haze of lust had crashed over him so completely, it took every ounce of his will to pull back.

She was offering herself to him, and the hardest thing he’d ever had to do was not take her.

He hadn’t known until this moment to what lengths he would go to see her bound to him. But his sense of honor, at least as far as she was concerned, went deeper than he’d realized. He might not be able to risk telling her the whole truth about Argyll’s complicity in arranging their marriage, but he would not seduce her and take her virginity. Not until she agreed to marry him. He just prayed that she didn’t wait too long. His body raged with pent-up desire. The fullness in his loins had long passed the point of pain.

Mindful of her fear in the water, he held her firmly but nonetheless pushed her away. “We have to stop now,” he said through clenched teeth. “I won’t take your innocence. Not without marriage.”

Her mouth was swollen and red from his kiss, her eyes hazy with passion. “I don’t want to stop.”

His heart paused for one long beat, not daring to believe what he’d heard. She would marry him. He looked deep into her fathomless blue eyes. “You know what you are saying? You would come to me of your own free will? You will not try to claim later that I seduced you into agreement?”

His voice was fierce, refusing to allow for the possibility until he heard it from her own lips. But every muscle strained. He wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

“I understand the consequences.” She took a step toward him and put her hand firmly on his chest. “I want you.”

Blood surged through his body, and he shook with the last threads of restraint. He clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips pressed against her damp fingers. “There will be no going back. If you give yourself to me, I want all of you.”

A flash of uncertainty flickered in her gaze, but she nodded.

Elation spread through him. The significance of this moment would be forever etched on his memory. Of this sophisticated, beautiful woman giving herself to him. A thick ball lodged in his chest. He was overwhelmed by the force of emotion swelling inside him.

He swept her into his arms and carried her to shore. God, he would make this perfect for her. With what she’d given him, he could give no less.

Carefully, as if she were the most precious treasure in the world, he laid her down on the plaid.

He sensed her uncertainty and, now that it was agreed, her rising embarrassment.

Bending over her, he took her chin in his hand and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “There is no shame in what we will share, Flora.”

She nodded shyly and circled her hands around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers.

He drank her in. Sliding his tongue in her mouth, he circled her slowly, delving into the deepest recesses as his fingers stroked the velvety softness of her neck.

Her tongue entwined with his, meeting the sensuous thrust with her own and making urgent little sounds that tore to shreds his intention to take it slowly.

His hands were on her. Cupping the heavy weight of her breasts, squeezing the fullness in his hands, as his tongue thrust against hers in the slow rhythm of lovemaking.