Ruthless (22 page)

Magnus' blood seemed to boil in his veins.
His senses were so heightened he was aware of every quick breath
Muriele took. He knew her breasts tingled when his gaze studied
their form beneath the kirtle. She had unconsciously rolled her
shoulders trying to put distance between her nipples and the cloth.
From the look of distress a few breaths later, she must have felt
her body dampen with anticipation.

His nostrils flared, anticipating the heady
scent of desire he would encounter when he trailed kisses from the
dip in her belly to the soft nest of hair guarding her sex. He
gritted his teeth as his cock swelled even more. He knew he wept
for her as surely as she did for him.

Lucifer's horned prick! He would have to
control his mind, else he would spurt his seed afore he even
entered her.

"Take off yer clothes and get into bed," he
ordered.

Without waiting to see she obeyed him, he
turned his back and went to the table beside his chair. Someone had
placed two goblets and a pitcher of wine, chilled from the looks of
the sweat beaded on the outside, on the table. And the fireplace
blazed to take the chill from the room. Neither wine nor the
fireplace was Brian's doing. He knew Magnus preferred a cold room
and seldom drank chilled wine.

Curious, he poured some into the goblet.
Lifting it to his nose, he sniffed then took some into his mouth
and let it roll around on his tongue, tasting it. 'Twas the same as
at the feast below, but he would bet something enhanced it. He
swallowed, feeling its warmth as it traveled down his throat.

He did not fear poison. Nay, 'twas something
much more subtle. He had encountered it afore. It made a man or
woman more, hmm, pliable. And eager. He swirled the wine around in
the pitcher, thinking as he watched it.

Who wanted them to mate? Whoever it was could
be no more eager than he was! Not Olaf. He believed they already
had. Not Feradoch. His foster brother wanted Muriele for himself.
Not Sweyn or any of his men...or women. He could near see the
person who did. Her eyes would brighten and flash now where they
had frowned on finding him up and about when the sun first
rose.

He chuckled. Old Grunda. What did she hope to
gain by his taking Muriele? Did she think he would petition the
king for Muriele's hand once he had swived her? He had no need of
her for a wife. 'Twas as likely to happen as bluebells pushing
their bright blossoms up through the snow.

He smiled. Knowing Muriele's old friend
approved of his lustful intentions was a hurdle he wouldn't need to
clear. Had it been the other way around, he would not look forward
to one of her dire forebodings. They too oft came true. Too oft? He
snorted.

They
always
came true.

Hearing a soft rustle, he turned to find
Muriele stood beside the bed still fully clothed. Instead of
ordering her to remove her clothes, he poured a generous portion of
wine into his goblet and walked over to her.

"Scarlet becomes ye, lady. From the moment ye
put it on, I have thought of naught else but removing it."

When he held the wine out to her, she took it
and sipped. He knew her thoughts. If she held the goblet and drank
slowly, how could she undress? She meant to stall him. He hid a
smile, for when he lifted his hand toward it she pulled back and
raised it to her lips. He would let her sip enough to soothe her
fears, but he didn't want her muddled.

Walking back to his chair, he removed his
boots and stockings. Though he pretended to ignore her, he felt her
watching him. He lined his boots alongside his chair and stood. His
heavy sword belt wrapped twice around his waist held his kilt in
place. He held onto the scabbard as he unbuckled and pulled the
belt free. His kilt dropped to the floor with a soft rustle. He
sensed rather than saw her turn her back as he finished
stripping.

Naked, he padded over and stopped behind her.
When he reached around her to take the goblet from her fingers, she
startled.

"I see ye wish me to undress ye?" His breath
fanned the hair falling over her ear. Bending his head, he trailed
wet kisses on her long slender neck.

"Nay. I wish to leave my clothing on."

"On? If it be yer wish." He clucked his
tongue with regret. "Hm, but it would ruin such beautiful
clothing."

He put the goblet on the floor at their feet
then reached up and lifted the circlet from her hair. He laid it
atop the helmet stand then pulled her back against his chest. His
hands reached around her and removed the silver girdle riding low
on her hips. He placed it beside the circlet.

His fingers sought the laces at her bodice.
Slowly, he pulled the ends. Over her shoulder, he watched the gap
widen, displaying the pink tunic and the creamy breasts beneath.
She jerked forward as if his body scalded her. No doubt, his
engorged member pressed against her back made her uneasy. He
nuzzled the back of her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair. She
shivered then tightened.

"Muriele." Magnus whispered her name as he
ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms. His fingers grasped
her wrists, then, with both their arms, enfolded her in a warm
embrace.

"Nay."

The word was more a groan than a whisper.

"Aye."

His right hand dipped unerringly down her
tunic bodice to cup her left breast. His calloused palm rubbed the
straining nipple as his fingertips prodded the plump flesh. Wanting
to taste her, he bent his head and nibbled her earlobe, then laved
it as he ran his tongue around the dainty shell of her ear.

He sucked her skin where her neck met her
shoulder, gently drawing it into his mouth. So sweet the way she
leaned her head to the side, yielding her neck to him. Her breast,
warm and firm, filled his hand. When his fingers slid off, he
gripped the nipple by his thumb and middle finger then used his
forefinger to tease the tip relentlessly. His left hand finished
untying the laces then pulled her kirtle off her shoulders, letting
it fall to her elbows.

"Ye are so beautiful," he whispered between
kisses as he nudged the pink tunic off her shoulder to join the
kirtle. When he had bared her to her waist, he turned her in his
arms to press her breast against his naked chest.

Muriele gasped at the feel of Magnus' hot
flesh against her. Like the man himself, his body was hard and
unyielding. She had expected it to be. His mouth swooped down,
hungry and demanding, in a kiss that turned her body to fire and
her mind to want it all.

She was no innocent about what happened
between a man and a woman. Expecting to wed soon, she had yielded
to Duncan after her father had promised her to him. Her only regret
had been 'twas the only time, for soon after, Lord Colban had
died.

Now, she felt her blood rushing in her veins,
felt heat first in her breasts and then in the pit of her stomach.
He moved back a space and hooked his thumbs in her clothes, sending
them slithering down her sensitive skin to the floor. She felt
strange, standing there naked, except for shoes and her stockings
tied with ribbons above her knees.

Magnus pulled back further and trailed his
tongue from the small hollow in the base of her neck, ever so
slowly, down until it dipped into the hollow of her belly. His
hands followed his progress down her back. When he swirled his
tongue there on her stomach, he trailed one finger down the joining
of her nether cheeks. Muriele trembled, wondering if he would dip
between her legs and touch the part of her that burned so
hotly.

Her fingers grasped his thick hair, wanting
to hold to something. He looked up at her, his eyes hooded with
lust, his breath deepening. He untied the ribbons holding her
stockings and peeled them down. Grasping each ankle in turn, he
urged her foot up enough to slip off her stockings and shoes.

As he stood, he brushed his naked body
against hers, his hands hovering with but a breath between his
palms and her flesh. His chest pressed against her long legs. He
felt tremors begin from her shapely calves, up her quivering
thighs. He halted, his lips playing with the soft curls protecting
her womanhood, his hands now gripping her firm buttocks. Her
fingers tugged at his hair, urging him upward. He attended her
wishes. When the black hair feathering his chest brushed over her
breasts, she sucked in a sharp breath.

"I throb for ye, Muriele. Dinna deny me."

Magnus stood, lifted her in his arms and near
threw her on the bed, coming down atop her covering her completely
with his massive body. Had she wished to move, she couldn't.

His smoldering black regard said
ye are
mine.
Only mine!

Threading his fingers through her hair, he
held her still while his mouth eagerly plundered hers. He groaned
at the sweetness he found there. She tasted of sweet berries and
tarts dripping with honey. When she kissed him back, her tongue
followed his into his mouth. He growled his delight.

With one knee, he prodded Muriele's legs
apart. 'Twas when his engorged tarse nudged between them her body
began a veritable shower, readying for him. She opened her legs
further as he placed himself there with a sigh.

Though his hips were trim, still the size of
his body spread her legs further apart than she had expected. She
wriggled and bent her knees, bringing her feet up even with his
arse. What should she do? Was she to grasp her legs around his
buttocks? Or should she be still?

Muriele had felt drawn to Magnus when she had
first seen him at Blackbriar. She thought hate made her blood
quicken, her pulses race. Mayhap it
was
hate at the time.
Now Muriele's body thrummed with an emotion equally strong...hot
desire.

His hand reached between them, his fingers
parting the hair protecting her opening. One finger slid between
her plump nether lips. She felt him searching, knowing he tested
her to see if she was ready to receive him. She squirmed when his
fingertip teased the small nub and sent a flash of desire through
her. She thrust upward, inviting him. He played with her sex,
making her near beg him to enter her.

Would Magnus be surprised when he took
her?

Disappointed?

She would soon find out, for he nudged her
opening and angled his hips as he started brushing his tarse
against her eager flesh. Her hips rose slightly to meet him. She
clutched his shoulders, her body tense and waiting. His size was
more than she had expected.

His tarse was so full. So hard. Her heart
raced, waiting for him to fill every bit of her.

Magnus held Muriele, savoring the feel of her
supple body thrashing beneath him. Breath rasped from his lungs
when his exploring fingers felt how ready she was. He circled her
opening. She was hot. Wet.

Taking hold of his cock, he guided himself
into her, entering slowly. He stopped to savor every little inch,
his heart drumming faster and faster. He found no hindrance in his
path. He hesitated for a moment, surprised. Yet, why should he be?
She had shown evidence of having been in love with her suitor.
Sharp talons of disappointment tore into his mind. He had wanted to
be her first! Needed to be. Never had he felt such before. Jealousy
filled him and he reacted.

He shoved hard. Fast. Punishing.

Driving her upward on the soft bed. Hearing
her gasp, he tried to control his feelings. He had no right to feel
betrayed. He moved in to the hilt and stopped. Burying his face in
her neck, he took deep, calming breaths. He squeezed his eyes tight
and counted, willing his heart to calm its racing. Once he knew he
had control over his body, he relaxed.

She felt so right. A perfect fit. He
increased his tempo until he was rocking into her. If she didn't
come soon, he would disgrace himself. Wanting to feel the spot
giving him such intense pleasure, he reared up on his knees and ran
his finger through her curls until he felt himself at her entrance.
His finger circled his cock, plunging and retreating in her flesh.
He stopped, all the way to the hilt. He found her nub. When he
teased it, she jerked and tried to make him move. He denied her.
Held her hips immobile as she thrashed beneath him.

For certs, from this point on, he would
banish all thoughts of her first lover from her mind.

He could stand no more or he would explode.
He thrust and retreated, faster and faster. Then, of a sudden, fell
forward on his elbows and held still to enjoy the feeling of being
inside her. And to show her he was in control.

She tried to move. He lowered his body atop
her to keep her still. She pounded her legs on his buttocks. He
didn't budge. Her head pushed back on the pillow, straining. He
nipped her neck then ran the tip of his tongue around the outline
of her lips. She rooted for his mouth, much as a child searched for
his mother's dripping breast. Finally, she begged. Pleaded.

"Please! Please!"

"Please what, Muriele?"

"Please, dinna make me wait!"

"Wait? For what, lady?" He gasped the words,
still holding still.

"Ye torture me." She tried to arch her back,
struggling to move beneath him.

"Please what, lady?"

"Let me find release!"

He reached between them again, circled and
rubbed hard on her nub as his cock lunged rapidly. She exploded
with rapture, her legs clamping his waist tight, her hands clawing
his back as she convulsed beneath him. He felt her muscles ripple
as she tried to milk him of his seed. He held tight to his control
and waited until her quaking slowed. Finally, he pulled from her.
He grabbed his engorged cock and gritted his teeth to keep from
shouting as he spurted his release on her soft belly.

He would plant no seed until he could claim a
child as his own.

Never had he felt the desire to conquer a
woman as he had Muriele. Sweat dampened their bodies as he clutched
her to him again. Finally, his cock stopped throbbing. When they
both gained their breath, he rolled off her.