Never Been Bit (22 page)

Sorcha gave a gentle shove against his chest. He ignored it.

“Alec,” she protested as she slapped him a little harder.

He raised his head and looked at her. She wasn’t unaffected by his kisses. But she obviously had something else on her mind. She turned her back to him and pulled her hair over her shoulder. “Help me out of this dress, will ye?”

Alec didn’t need to be asked twice. He had her unlaced before she could even inhale and then shoved her traveling gown down over her hips just as quickly. When she stood before him in only her shift, he stepped back to look at her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

“Where do ye want me?” she asked, her voice terse and clipped.

He’d annoyed her? Of course he had. He was acting like an untried lad. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Alec turned away from her and swiped a hand down his face.

Maybe if he didn’t look at her, some of the ache to take her would ease. “We should get you to your own chamber,” he said quietly without even looking at her.

“Over yer dead body,” she taunted. He glanced over his shoulder to find her index finger pointed at him. “Alec MacQuarrie, ye
will
take me. And ye
will
take me now.”

“I will?” This was bloody confusing.

“I’ll no’ let ye be hungry. No’ when I can fill that need for ye.” She stepped forward and stroked a hand across his back. “And I
want
ta fill that need for ye.”

She thought he was hungry for her blood? Dear God, he was. But that was nothing compared to his desire to become one with her. “Sorcha, I’m not worried about dining,” he said as he turned and faced her.

“Ye have ta eat.” She pointed toward his mouth. “Yer teeth are tellin’ me ye’re hungry.”

Alec fought his grin. “My teeth do that at the strangest times. Not just when I’m hungry for
food
.”

“Ye’re sayin’ ye’re no’ hungry?” She was beginning to look a little irked, standing there in her chemise and stockings. She crossed her arms beneath her delightful breasts.

He
was
hungry, truth be told. But it was a distant second in the race to get inside her body. He shrugged. “It can wait.” He advanced toward her again.

She held up a hand to stop him. “Nay,” she barked.

“Nay?” He probably sounded like an addled parrot. But his teeth ached as much as his manhood did. His mind was not his own.

“Nay,” she said again as she walked slowly toward him and laid a hand on the center of his chest. Then she shoved him. He allowed her to push him back a step.

“Sorcha, I’m sorry,” he started. For God’s sake, he was going to marry this lass. He was going to be with her forever. Or at least as long as her forever lasted. And he was treating her like a common tavern wench.

She shoved him again. This time, the backs of his knees hit the edge of a high-backed chair. “Sit,” she commanded.

“I’m not trained to sit and stay, Sorch,” he remarked playfully.

“Sit, please?” she tried. Her pretty little lashes swept against her cheeks like dark fans as she smiled at him.

Alec was completely under her spell, and he sat like the most well-trained dog. He reached for her hips as she stepped closer to him. But then her hands landed on his shoulders and she moved to straddle his lap. “What are you doing?” he croaked.

“Makin’ it so that ye canna get away,” Sorcha said quietly as she slid closer to his body. Instinctually, he reached and grabbed her bottom, drawing her flush against him. She gasped at the rough movement.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but he couldn’t make his fingers let go of her bottom.

“I ken ye
could
force me from yer lap any moment, Alec,” she whispered, her lips a mere breath from his. “But I am also well aware that ye willna do so.”

There was nothing more than his trousers between his manhood and her softness. Sorcha wiggled her bottom in his lap, trying to get even closer. “Easy, lass,” he warned.

“Sorry,” she said with a giggle. “This is fairly scandalous, is it no’?” she questioned. Her heart was still thumping like mad.

“Perfectly scandalous,” he grunted. She was almost naked in his lap. Bloody hell, he wanted her.

Sorcha lifted her delicate little wrist close to his face and turned it toward him. “Do ye want me here?” she asked.

Her adorable little nose scrunched up. He took her wrist in his hand and brought it to his nose. The apple blossom scent of her, combined with the knowledge that those delicate blue veins pounded just below the surface, nearly had him disgracing himself in his pants.

“Something tells me you’ll find fault with it if I take you there,” he said. He had no idea why she would. But she obviously had some preconceived notions.

“It’s no’ where Blodswell took Rhiannon.” At his dumbfounded expression, she clarified, “I saw the marks when I helped dress her hair for the weddin’.”

Alec shoved Sorcha’s hair from her shoulder and tugged her chemise until it hung off her shoulder. Those freckles winked at him and tasted just as wonderful as he’d thought they would, like springtime and Scotland all rolled into one.

He pressed his lips where her shoulder met her neck. “Did he take her here?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “Right there,” she cried out as he very gently nipped her sensitive flesh.

“There are other places where I could take you,” he informed her quietly, but he continued his assault on that sensitive flesh. The scent of warm apple blossoms was driving him mad.

“Like where?” she breathed.

His hand reached for her knee and slid forward until he nearly found her heat. “Like here,” he said, stroking his fingers across the pulse that pounded in her inner thigh.

“Ye’d have ta put yer head down there?” She looked appalled at the suggestion.

“You’ll love it,” he chuckled. Then he raised his hand to stroke her center.

“Alec! We canna do that. No’ right now,” she chided him.

“Ye’re havin’ dinner,” she reminded him.

“Aye, I am. I can’t wait,” he mumbled against her shoulder. But he didn’t remove his hand; in fact, he used his finger to bring some of her desire forward, to slicken the little nub he knew would send her over the precipice.

“Alec,” she cried as she buried her face in his neck, turning her head so that her neck was fully exposed. Her hips began to move on him, and the friction between his trousers and his manhood was nearly painful. He reached between them, freed himself from his confines, and then pulled her forward so she could ride the ridge of him. The slickness of her desire washed over him, and he almost exploded.

Alec concentrated on gentling her, rather than stoking his own desire. He was past the point where he could stop.

She would be his in mere moments, and that seemed to be what she wanted.

“You’re certain you want to wear my mark?” he ground out, his lips heavy against her neck, his teeth poised and ready.

She rocked her hips against his hand, let out a healthy little mewling sound, and tugged the back of his head. Alec abraded her flesh with his teeth, allowing them to scrape over her delicate flesh as he stroked her higher and higher.

When she cried out, he pierced the tender skin of her throat.

Sorcha’s passion was unlike anything he’d ever tasted.

She rode the waves of completion, giving her pleasure to him as she took his in return. Her hands slipped around his body as she hugged him even more closely to herself. If he could draw her into himself, he would. He supped on her delicate life force, taking her into his body, into his life, into his very being, and she came willingly.

And then he did the same. He couldn’t even control it.

When she found completion, he found his along with her, spilling his seed between them. He groaned aloud and drank her in, taking in every last whimper and every last cry.

Finally, when she collapsed against him with her head on his shoulder, he forced himself to withdraw his teeth and lick across the wounds he’d made to close them.

“You’re mine now,” he grunted as he ran his hands up and down her back. He’d never felt like this before. Never wanted to hold and cuddle a lass after sharing her pleasure. But this was Sorcha.
His
Sorcha.

“I’m yers,” she whispered back. “But what about ye? Ye dinna get ta…” She let her voice trail off as an embarrassed flush crept up her neck.

“I did,” he admitted. When he slid her bottom forward, she must have felt the sticky wetness between them because she giggled. “And if you tell a single one of your coven sisters that I couldn’t even wait to be inside you to do that, I’ll not be very happy.”

“Quite shameful, is it no’?” she asked.

“Quite shameful that I wasn’t inside you when I did that?”

All right, his pride was aching a little. He might as well be sixteen all over again.

“No, quite shameful that I enjoyed it so much. I never imagined…”

“Neither did I, lass,” he admitted.

A heavy knock sounded on the door.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sorcha gasped and then leapt off Alec’s lap as the knock sounded again, a bit more insistent this time. She glanced down at herself and realized she couldn’t possibly open the door. Not so scantily clad anyway.

Alec frowned as he rose from the chair and buttoned his trousers. “Damn Lycan,” he grumbled under his breath.

It was Eynsford? Sorcha almost squeaked in distress.

They couldn’t let the marquess find them like this. “Alec!” she hissed as he started for the door.

With a look of chagrin, he shrugged. “It’ll be all right, lass.” Then he opened the door just a crack. “Don’t you have a wife to look after?”

Though Sorcha couldn’t see Lord Eynsford from where she stood in the corner of the chamber, she could hear him grumble, “You certainly don’t waste any time, do you?”

“It
is
of the essence.”

The marquess growled a warning. “I intercepted a tavern maid with a tea tray. Not certain why she was instructed to deliver her wares here, so I redirected her to
Mrs
. MacQuarrie’s room instead.”

Oh! Cait’s tea! “I’ll be right there,” Sorcha called as she retrieved her gown from a nearby chair. “I’ll need all my herbs and seeds.”

“And a bath,” Alec added. “As you’ve taken on the role of footman, Eynsford, would you be so good as to order
Mrs
. MacQuarrie a bath as well?”

Actually, a bath was in order. Sorcha slid her gown back over her head. “Please, my lord, if ye doona mind. That would be lovely.”

“I only live to serve, lass.” Eynsford’s sarcasm could be detected even through the door. Then he snorted. “You smell like you could use a bath yourself, MacQuarrie.”

“Do feel free to order me one then. Just see to Sorcha’s first, will you?”

“Just as soon as she sees to Cait’s tea.”

Sorcha slid her feet back into her slippers and started for the door, though Alec still stood there, blocking her from Eynsford’s view. She placed her hand at his back, and he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“I’m ready.”

“She’ll be there shortly.” Alec closed the door and then turned and raked his gaze across her once more. “The gown is about to fall right off you, Sorch. Let me get the buttons.”

“Why did he say ye smell like ye need a bath?” She inhaled deeply. “Ye smell fine ta me.” She lifted her hair from her shoulders so Alec had better access to her fastenings.

“That muzzle of his is much too sensitive. He can’t help being a beast,” Alec teased. A moment later, he kissed her cheek and took a step backward.

“If you need help undoing them for your bath, do send for me.”

Sorcha rolled her eyes. “Ye are incorrigible.”

“One of my better traits,” he agreed, though he looked a little more serious than she would have expected.

“Are ye all right? Are ye still hungry? I can—”

Finally a smile tugged on his lips. “I will survive for the time being, lass. Go bewitch that tea for Cait or we’ll never get rid of her overgrown mutt.”

Sorcha lifted up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his chin.

“Be nice ta him. We do all need ta get along.”

“Harmony?” he asked with one raised brow.

“Precisely,” she agreed with a nod. “Mama and Fiona Macleod had a fallin’-out and things were miserable for everyone else because of it for a very long time. We’ve been fairly fortunate with our generation, and I doona want ta be the one ta mess it all up.”

“I will try to be nice to him, but only for you.”

Only for her. What a sweet thing to say. Sorcha’s heart pounded in her chest. What a wonderful man she was destined to marry. Cait must have been exaggerating when she said they had obstacles to overcome. Sorcha couldn’t ever imagine not being in harmony with Alec. He was perfect. Or he would be once his heart started beating again.

She smiled at him once more and then exited into the tiny hallway to find the marquess still waiting for her.
Havers!

She had thought he’d returned to Cait as he hadn’t made a sound. “Are ye goin’ ta escort me ta my chamber?”

Eynsford winked at her, and she could still see the warmhearted man she had met all those months ago, the one desperately in love with Cait from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. “It would be my honor, Mrs. MacQuarrie.”

She took the marquess’ proffered arm and allowed him to direct her toward her chamber. “I suppose it will take some time to get used to that name,” she said conversationally.

“I wish you luck with it, lass.” He stopped in front of a room, took a key from his pocket, and quickly unlocked the door. “Cait’s sleeping. How long will your cure take?”

There was no
cure
for carrying a bairn, other than birth, but Sorcha could help make the journey more comfortable for her friend. “About ten minutes, my lord. But she’ll need ta drink all of it and more in the mornin’.”

The look of concern he’d worn all day once again settled on his face. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

Sorcha shrugged. Why wasn’t Cait awake to answer his questions? Sorcha was certain to make a blunder of it somehow. “Just a bit of travel sickness.”