Stranded With The Scottish Earl (12 page)

He smiled and brushed another kiss over her lips. She moved under his hand with a subtle, mysterious rhythm that set his blood pumping.
“There’s more.”

“I’m ready,” she said, still watching him with that adorably unfocused gaze.

The scent of her skin drove him mad. Madder again with those quavery sighs and the way she moved to encourage him. But when he slid one long finger inside
her, he felt her body’s natural resistance. However strong her desire, he’d hurt her if he took her now.

He’d face flaying before he hurt this miraculous creature.

Gently he began to move his finger in and out, until she rolled toward him. “Please. Now.”

“Not yet,” he said, forcing the words out.

“I want you,” she cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders. Tomorrow his body would bear her mark. His heart would bear her mark
forever.

He kissed her, drawing her lower lip between his teeth for a gentle nip. “Trust me.”

“I do,” she said helplessly, straining up until those luscious breasts brushed his chest.

He closed his eyes and prayed for strength. He tested her with two fingers. Then when she was gasping and restless, he slipped down the bed and with sudden
ruthlessness tugged her thighs apart.

He placed his mouth on her, seeking her hot honey with his tongue. She gave a sharp cry, and another when he drew hard.

She’d trembled close to the edge for so long. Now she flew over the brink into a shuddering climax. For uncountable moments, he lingered between her
straining thighs, relishing her body’s wild quaking.

Her hands were buried in his hair. At her peak, they’d tightened to the point of pain. Now they fell loose, combing through the damp strands with a
tenderness that sliced at his heart.

He lapped at her, bringing her down as the tremors subsided. His hands framed her hips. Eventually he raised his head. He’d intended to watch her
first ecstasy, but the need to taste her had overcome him.

Her face was flushed. Her eyes were heavy. She lay sprawled in voluptuous abandon against the rumpled sheets. “Ewan, that…”

Charlotte licked her lips, and the sheen of excitement on her skin shot another bolt of arousal through him. He slid up her body to kiss her wildly,
deeply, succulently. Her bent knees cradled his hips in silent invitation.

Lyle lifted his head and stared into those opaque eyes. With exquisite care, in denial of imperious need, he pressed into her body. Delectable resistance.
Even more delectable yielding.

When she made a faint sound of discomfort, he stopped, panting and desperate. Then her hands curled around his shoulders, and she bowed up to meet him.
“Keep going.”

Her bravery made his heart expand. He was overwhelmingly conscious of her body’s grip. The craving to plunge threatened to master him.

“It will get better,” he said, hoping to Hades he spoke the truth.

She pressed her mouth to his. “I can bear it.”

“Och, Charlotte,” he said helplessly. “It’s not a test of endurance. You’re meant to enjoy it.”

The curve of those lush lips in her strained, pale face made him commend her gallantry yet again. “Then you’d better make sure I do.”

“My bonny darling,” he whispered, and kissed her with all the unspoken love in his heart.

As the kiss lengthened, she relaxed beneath him. He loved the piquant taste of her mouth. He loved the snug clasp of her body. Hell, he just loved her.

He raised his head and edged ahead. She gave a soft cry. In his extremity, he couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain.

For a long moment, he lay unmoving, feeling her body flower around him. He pressed his cheek to hers and closed his eyes on a prayer of gratitude for
interfering fathers, and bad weather, and gorgeous, brave, clever lassies.

From the first, he’d recognized Charlotte as the other half of his soul. But this profound emotion as he joined his body to hers exceeded anything
he’d known. Buried deep inside her, he could swear they breathed as one.

He loved Charlotte Warren with a purity and steadfastness that nothing could shake. He would wed her and claim her as his with every bond of church and
state. But their true marriage started at this moment.

The transcendent glow receded under carnal demand. He lay in the arms of the woman he wanted more than life. And the urge to possess her was invincible.

Her eyes were closed, and her hands stroked up and down his back. He did his best not to crush her, but he must be heavy. He rose on his hands and began to
move with sensual purpose.

As he slid back, her eyes opened. Earlier, she’d looked tested, uncertain. Now the unalloyed surrender in her expression filled him with relief.

Her fingers dug into his biceps. “Don’t go.”

His laugh wasn’t much more than a grunt. “I’m not going anywhere, lassie.”

Charlotte tilted her head back and exhaled in leisurely pleasure as he shifted forward. Easier this time. Wonder slammed through him, as he felt again that
unparalleled sense of welcome. They were a perfect fit.

The next time, she angled up to meet him. He groaned, need surging like an ocean. His thrusts became less controlled. Through his urgency, he sensed her
rising towards another climax. Her breath emerged in sobbing gusts, and she met every stroke with a sigh of greeting.

But he reached a point where his own need became paramount. Since he’d met her, hunger had seethed inside him. Now it transformed into a primitive
storm, blocking out all but the drive to completion.

When his release came, it started in the soles of his feet and rushed up through straining legs. It burned through his buttocks and loins, and squeezed his
lungs to pain. Light flared behind his eyes. His mind turned black and turbulent. His balls tightened to agony, and as he thrust hard into her for the
final time, everything blasted to incandescent flame.

Through the wild tempest, he heard her cry out in astonished joy. Then there was only hot, blind, throbbing ecstasy.

Exhausted, emptied, elated, he caught her up against him and rolled to his side. She was shaking. So was he.

Lyle lifted leaden lids to discover a world that might look the same but had changed forever. Charlotte’s disheveled blond head was buried in his
chest. It took him too long, floating in the blissful aftermath, to realize that she was crying.

Horror blasted his satisfaction to ash. He reared back and placed his hands on either side of her head, forcing her face up until he could see her eyes.

“
Mo leannan, mo chridhe
, I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry. I tried to be gentle, but you were like fire in my arms. I acted like a
damn barbarian. Will you ever forgive me?”

She regarded him with drenched eyes as a frown drew her brows together. “Ewan, what on earth are you talking about?”

He dug his fingers into her thick, warm hair. “You’re crying,” he said flatly, sick with guilt.

Her lips turned down in disapproval. “I suppose you expect me to tell you why.”

“For God’s sake, just tell me I didn’t hurt you.” He leaned forward and traced kisses across her brow and down her temple where he
felt the deep beat of her blood.

“You didn’t.” Her hands encircled his wrists. “Well, a little. At first. But then…”

“Thank heaven,” he breathed, kissing the salty moisture from her fluttering eyelashes.

Under his wandering lips, he felt warmth flood her cheeks. “Then it was wonderful.”

“Nonetheless you cried.” He drew back to stare into her face, trying to see past her beauty to what went on in her mind. “Are you lying
to make me feel better?”

She released a choked laugh and tried to avoid his gaze. “When have I ever tried to make you feel better?”

“When have you ever cried?”

“Oh, curse you, Ewan. Can’t you leave it alone?” With some difficulty, she tugged free and sat up.

“Not when you’re unhappy.” He rose until he sat in front of her.

She scowled. “You’re going to make me admit it, aren’t you?”

By the second, guilt and worry faded. In their place came a great happiness that turned the whole world golden. “Admit what, Charlotte?” he
asked, hoping like hell he hadn’t mistaken where she was going.

She swallowed, her slender throat working. Her voice was low and vibrant with emotion. “I had no idea it could be like that. You made me feel things
I never imagined were possible.”

“Good things?”

“Now you’re just looking for compliments.”

“Charlotte,” he said warningly.

Her lips curved. “Marvelous, wondrous, extraordinary things.”

Lyle should be happy. After all, not long ago, the thought that she wouldn’t have him under any circumstances had tormented him. Hell, not much more
than a day ago, she’d baulked at letting him into the house.

Now she’d given him a promise of marriage and commended his lovemaking. He was a fool to want more, but for one luminous moment, he’d hoped she
might declare her love.

“It’s your first time,” he said in a gloomy voice. “I’m not surprised you’re feeling a wee bit floaty.”

She stared hard at him. “First time or hundredth time, I believe it’s something remarkable between us that made it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like the beauty tore my soul into pieces.” Her voice was husky.

His heart crashed against his ribs at her confession. Surely that was enough. Why couldn’t he accept what she offered? She told him everything he
wanted to hear—except the most important words of all. “That’s just pleasure.”

She gave him the familiar unimpressed look. “I’m no expert, Ewan, but I’m pretty sure that pleasure alone wouldn’t make me
cry.” She bit her lip, and her eyes deepened to dark honey. “Only love could make me cry.”

Charlotte felt like she ripped out her heart and placed it like a sacrificial offering before him. Even now, after their breathtaking passion, she
wasn’t sure whether Ewan was likely to stamp on it or treat it as a trophy.

Or say the words she longed to hear.

He liked her and wanted her. And for some absurd reason, he’d decided to marry her even before they met. None of that added up to love. Or at least
the sort of love she felt for him. The persistent, passionate, painful kind.

Particularly painful when a girl took the awful risk of declaring her feelings to a lover. And that lover treated her like some scientific oddity. And drew
away as if afraid that too much contact might encourage false conclusions.

“Say something,” she forced out, already bracing for an unfavorable reaction. Annoyance. Or amusement.

Or worst of all, pity.

Ewan still looked odd, as if he hadn’t quite understood what she’d said. “You love me?”

She supposed she could pretend it was a joke. By now, he must be used to her sarcastic ways. He might almost believe her. And if he did, it would salve her
pride, if not the gaping wound inside her.

But she’d ventured this far. She wasn’t coward enough to retreat. With shaking hands, she dragged the sheet up to cover her nakedness, hoping
the fragile linen might armor her against the hurt she’d invited. She pressed back against the bedhead. “Yes.”

The blue eyes continued to measure her with almost detached curiosity. “I’m….I’m astonished.”

Better than pity, she supposed. At least it should be. “You don’t have to love me back. After all, it’s absurd to fall in love in the
space of a few days.”

To her chagrin, a ghost of a smile played around his lips. “Absurd.”

Anger came to her aid. Thank goodness. She’d much rather feel angry than vulnerable. “This doesn’t have to make you feel uncomfortable. I
won’t cling, or pine, or make scenes.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he said steadily. His expression remained enigmatic.

“Well, good,” she said, at a loss. Her fingers tightened on the sheet. What on earth happened now? Had she expected him to tell her he loved
her too?

The shaming truth was that somewhere deep inside her, she’d hoped that if she was henwitted enough to crash headlong in love with him, he might love
her back. If only a little.

“Charlotte, I didn’t fall in love with you in a couple of days.” He spoke deliberately, making every word count.

She flinched at his honesty. Although she supposed the truth was kinder in the long run. Even if right now, she felt like he stuck a knife into her.
“You don’t have to—”

He raised his hand to silence her. “I fell in love with you at first sight. Before I met you.”

Bewildered, she searched his face for mockery. She liked the sound of him falling in love with her—of course she did—but he wasn’t making
any sense. “I don’t understand,” she said unsteadily.

His lips twisted with the self-deprecation that she’d found attractive from the first. “Seeing we’re in the mood for
confidences…”

Charlotte’s voice caught in her throat. She’d never felt so defenseless in her life. Should she hope? Or was he just being kind?

Ewan rose from the bed and reached down to his coat, which lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. His nakedness didn’t seem to bother him at all.

How she wished she could say it didn’t bother her. But that would be a lie. She was too new to all this not to find the sight of him fascinating. And
stirring.

She’d loved what he’d done to her, but now her body felt stretched and achy in unfamiliar places. After that rapturous explosion, she’d
imagined she’d exhausted desire, at least for tonight. But the way his muscles rippled over his tall, lean frame turned her breathless and edgy.

Why were they pursuing this pointless conversation? They had better things to do—and only one night to do them in, before he had to ride away to
preserve her reputation. She could join Ewan on another flight to heaven—a heaven of piercing physical pleasure and no awkward questions about love.

Charlotte swallowed to moisten a dry mouth, as he pulled something from his pocket and threw the garment over a chair. When he sat on the end of the bed,
she couldn’t see what he held. Whatever it was, it was small enough to hide in the palm of his hand.

“What are you up to, Lyle?” she asked in a suspicious tone. She was more certain than ever that he was making fun of her, however straight his
face might be.