The Beauty of the Mist (21 page)

John reached deep inside of himself, though, to remind himself that this moment must have its limits.

Maria let her fingers work themselves inside his shirt. She touched the crisp hair covering his chest, all the while her mouth seeking more.

John tried to think of sea battles that he’d fought, of blood, of rough seas and burning ships. Anything but the softness and beauty of the woman in his arms. His muscles were tight as a stone, and his manhood–aroused and throbbing–ached with the primal need of the male.

His eyes were cloudy and his expression grim when Maria pulled back, peering in the near blackness at his face. His hesitation in taking charge as he had done before puzzled her, and she shifted her gaze uncomfortably. “Has your interest in me disappeared with the mist, John?”

The Highlander filled his great chest with air and let it out before pulling her hips tightly against his hardened arousal.

She paused for a moment as the sensation registered. Well, there was an interest. Quite a large interest for that matter. Smiling at her own inexperience, she pressed with a shy but irresistible curiosity against him.

“Then why...” She stopped, unable to bring herself to say the words.

He leaned down and kissed the bridge of her nose, then placed another kiss on her cheek. His lips were now only a breath away from hers. His fingers cradled her chin. “Because I gave my word to your aunt that I will not take you to my bed on board this ship.”

His voice was strained, and she thought he sounded as if he were in pain. Maria bit her lips to stifle her laugh. My God, she hadn’t even thought about what would follow. But as he spoke the words, she knew that their love play would have to end up in a bed. A bed. She tried to remember. Her marriage bed had not been such a memorable place for her during those four years of marriage. But then again, kissing her husband had not been particularly notable, either.

“So my aunt made you give her your word.”

He nodded as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Aye, lass. I gave her my word.”

“And you honor your word.”

John pulled back and gazed into her eyes, deep green and magical and, seemingly, lit from within. His words were barely more than a growl. “Until the end of time.”

Maria now understood why Isabel had not objected to the two of them leaving unattended. Her fingers stroked his hair. She stretched up and placed a kiss on his brow, trying hard to swallow the disappointment she felt at having to end their play. But the Scot was an honorable man and that she must respect. “So does that mean you’re ready to return me to the cabin?”

The Highlander paused and turned his gaze out to sea before answering. Then, abruptly, he sat down on the cask beside then and maneuvered Maria between his legs. His hands held her there firmly. Their eyes were now at the same level.

“Took me a lifetime to get you away,” he rumbled, bringing her closer and brushing his lips across the skin beneath her ear. “It might just take me a lifetime to get you back there.”

“But you just said...” She tilted her head to give his lips better access.

“I just needed to let you know that there are limits.”

“Limits?” she repeated vaguely as his lips suckled her ear.

She turned slightly in his arms as his hand found its way inside her cloak. His fingers cupped the roundness of one breast, and her breath caught as he stroked the nipple through the soft wool of her dress.

She edged closer into the angle of his muscular legs, pushing against the cloth of the kilt until she felt his arousal press intimately against her thigh. She pressed her lips into his hair as he pulled at the laces that held the low neckline of her gown together.

“Tell me more about these limits,” she whispered. “How far...”

Her last words came with a sharp intake of breath as John’s fingers pulled open the dress, exposing one of her breasts. She sank against him as his hand touched her bare skin.

A shudder rushed through her, searing her with an excitement unmatched by any sensation she’d ever experienced before. As if from afar, she watched with wonder as he parted the front of her cloak and lowered his mouth to her breast. Her body flared, and she rose to his lips, her hands gripping his hair. A liquid heat poured through her, igniting a fire deep within. A fire soared and danced at the very core of her womanhood, and Maria had no knowledge of how to contain such magic. And she had no thought of trying.

John tasted and teased her breast. Moving deliberately from one to the other, he forced himself to go slowly, to lose himself only to a degree in her sweet taste and her abundance. But Maria wouldn’t stand still. Her hands were everywhere, her firm body now pressing intimately against his loins, her thigh rubbing provocatively against his throbbing manhood. But he refused to let his desire take control. He couldn’t have her. He wouldn’t have her. Not on board his ship. But that didn’t mean they were finished.

Maria welcomed his hand as it roughly gathered her around the waist and pulled her even closer into his embrace. His mouth never paused as he continued to suckle her flesh, but she gasped in shock as his other hand pulled up the front of her skirts and reached in beneath them. She closed her eyes, her arms clasping him tightly to her chest as his fingers pulled at her hose. Royalty be damned, she swore wildly, praying his fingers would find their mark. Her body screamed for his touch.

It was an appealing sound. Her undergarments tore away in his hand, and Maria almost cried aloud as she felt the touch of his hands.

As his fingers delved into her moist opening and began their stroking play, the Highlander tried desperately to close his ears to the sound of her moans. There were limits. That’s what he’d told her. But those limits had been only set for him. That had been all he’d agreed to. Giving her pleasure, bringing her fulfillment, had not been part of their agreement. He could give–he
would
give–but not take.

This was not as Maria had ever guessed it could be. She bit hard on her lower lip as she felt his fingers pushed deeper inside. Unaware of anything now but the sensations that were vibrating though her body as he stroked her sensitive flesh, she rocked against his hand, opening more and more to his touch, and to the rhythm that was steadily obliterating all conscious thought. And deep within her, a desire was growing for something she could not even name.

His mouth was rough as it covered her lips. He muffled her cries as his fingers continued to slide within her. She was so close, now. So close to letting go. Her breaths were coming in short gasps, her moans were quick and wild. Like a bird impatient to take flight, her slender body arched in his arms. And then she soared.

Torrents of liquid light and color–scarlet reds and brilliant yellows–burst in fiery waves before Maria’s eyes, melting in a lava flow of passion and ecstasy. Wave upon wave thrilled her to her very core, illuminating a world that had been shuttered and gray, stripping away every vestige of restraint, every trace of control. Maria was free, truly free, and she ascended unencumbered, gliding on the currents, her life unfettered, her horizons limitless.

Wrapped in his arms, Maria continued to shudder with rapture. Moments passed, but she was unable to fix upon such trivial things as time or space. But then, eventually, conscious thought gradually returned to her. As the blazing power of the moment gave way to a sublime and amber glow, a melancholy thought occurred to her. Maria realized that never once in her marriage had she felt such bliss. Never once had she even thought it possible to feel such ecstasy. And then Maria smiled and the thought was gone.

As he slowly lifted his mouth from the swollen peak of her nipple, Maria continued her descent to earth. John’s hands caressed her back, and his lips rested in the sweet, clean softness of her hair. But his brain was on fire, and his heart slammed mercilessly in his chest. His loins were screaming for release, but he tried to ignore the animal instincts that were threatening to take him were he’d vowed he wouldn’t go. And, for a moment at least, the Highlander was certain he would prevail. But then, pulling one arm free, Maria lowered her hand to his thigh. Slipping her hand beneath his kilt, she wrapped her fingers around his erect shaft.

Maria gasped as John brushed her from his lap as if she were no more than a feather. A whirlwind of action, the giant drew his dagger and slashed through the ropes that held the casks. Then, in a single motion he lifted the barrel high over his head, dumping the cold water over the top of his head. Astounded, she watched as he reached for a second cask.

“Old Highland custom,” he said simply, emptying the second barrel.

Maria peered through the dark at his face, dripping with water. His hair was plastered to his head; his shirt was soaked, as well, and clung to his heaving chest. But the protrusion beneath his kilt was enough to make her heartbeat race all the more.

“It’s not working,” she said, stifling a giggle and shaking her head. “The custom, I mean!”

“More cold water, lass.” John looked about him. “I need more water.”

“Perhaps I can help...while you’re looking.” There was undeniable pleasure in watching him struggle. Moving closely to his side, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her body pressing tightly against his wet torso. “This is only the month of March, remember. The sea air is cold. So while you are looking, perhaps I could keep you warm.”

“Maria,” he threatened as she pressed her lips to his neck. Resolutely, John placed his hands on her shoulders, but when it came right to it, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away. Instead, his hands gathered her in. Biting her earlobe, his voice was a low growl. “You are playing with fire, woman. But in spite of what I’m feeling at this moment, I will do the honorable thing.”

“Aye,” she sighed. “I’m certain that you will.”

She raised herself on her toes and kissed him.

John gazed deep into the smoldering depths of her eyes. Drawing her lips to his, he kissed her back with a passion that threatened to ignite once again the molten waves that lay at her very core. Angling his mouth over hers, he sought out the deepest recesses of her soft sweetness, his tongue thrusting and tasting until he felt all tension go out of her body. His own body could not take much more. He had to stop. Releasing her, he watched as she pulled away a bit, breathless and unsteady on her feet.

“It’s time to go.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s time I took you back to your cabin.”

The tall, blonde woman stood ramrod straight by the railing amidships, her eyes boring into the twosome standing so close together on the high deck far to the stern. To a casual observer’s glance, Caroline Maule was merely gazing backward at the clouds of white sails billowing over the two stern decks rising above her. But the truth was that if her eyes could unleash arrows, then Death would command the
Great Michael
.

“You left the cabin without this, lass.” The booming voice of her husband approaching her from behind brought a sneer to the woman’s face. But before turning she was quick to plaster a smile on in its place. “You’re a hardy woman, to be sure, but this is only the month of March. We’ve a fine stiff breeze this sunny morning, and I can’t allow you catch a chill now, can I?”

The man’s burly hands wrapped the leather traveling cloak around his wife’s rigid frame, and he looked past her at the ship’s commander, standing on the top stern deck with his arm around the shoulder of the pretty young thing that they’d picked out of the sea. Smiling broadly, Sir Thomas pulled Caroline tightly to his side and looked into her face. The wind was cold, but it was a fine, clear morning indeed.

“We’ll make Antwerp in no time with a good breeze like this, my dear.” Sir Thomas turned and gazed forward beyond the high forecastle deck toward their destination. There was no land in sight. Flanking them on both sides, he could see the warships that made up their expedition. The ships were rising and falling only slightly as they plowed through the wind-whipped white caps. The aging knight took Caroline’s hand as he leaned against the railing. “I still say, old warriors like me belong on a strong horse, a lance in one hand and a shield in the other.”

“Old warriors, as you say, are renowned for such sentiments.” Caroline’s voice was cold and passionless, as she looked out at a pair of gulls hanging over the blue-green sea.“Eh? What was that?” Sir Thomas’s gaze narrowed.

“Nothing. I’m not feeling quite myself this morning.”

“Hmmph,” he grumbled, unappeased. “Well, if you’re feeling ill this morning, lass, then perhaps rushing out as early as you did was a wee bit ill-advised. Why, you left our warm bed before the sun was high enough to wake a curate’s housekeeper.”

“I don’t know how anyone could have slept through all the caterwauling these sailors were making this morning.” The ship’s crew had leapt into action at first light, unfurling the sails and getting the
Great Michael
underway.

“I thought it comforting lying abed, listening to the sound of competent men plying their trade.”

Caroline fought to keep herself from responding to that. Turning her eyes away from him, she glanced involuntarily at John Macpherson and the Spanish wench. A wave of revulsion swept through her at the sight of the protective and affectionate grip that the Highlander had on her arm.

“I felt ill,” she complained. “I still do. I’ve already lost everything I ate yesterday. I’m just not used to traveling at this speed.”

“Aye, you’re a lass that enjoys a good hard ride, yourself.” Sir Thomas smiled at his own joke, but looked away when he saw Caroline’s chilly gaze upon him. “Ah, Caroline, it won’t be so long now. We’re almost there. Two days, three at the most. And then we’ll be enjoying the comforts of one of the finest palaces in Europe. They say the Emperor Charles has fifty servants to attend each of his guests. And until we arrive, I’ll stay right by your side, holding your hand...or your head if need be. I’ll do whatever you need done, just to make your journey more pleasant.”

To most women, the elder man’s tender words would have brought comfort, but Caroline hated hearing them. She hated him. She hated the whole lot of them. Her husband, the daughter, and the group of useless nobles they traveled with. She had tried to spread the seed of suspicion among them, ignite some feeling against the two tight-lipped Spaniard women, but not one among them had shown even a glimmer of interest. Dolts, every one of them.