The Border Hostage (25 page)

Heath did not ask Raven if she would ride with him, for he knew she would likely demur. He gave her no choice in the matter, but lifted her before him on Blackadder. When Raven opened her mouth to protest, Heath silenced her with a kiss and tucked her cloak about her. “Hush, sweetheart, I want to keep you warm.”

Raven was acutely aware of his desire. She also was aware of her own. She felt an unbelievable physical attraction for the dark, dominant devil. She had tried to build a
wall against him, but knew deep down that the edge was crumbling, for tonight she found him absolutely irresistible. She leaned back against his hard, well-muscled chest, looked up at him, and sighed. In the darkness his face was in shadow, but when he looked down, his white teeth flashed in a smile. His male scent made her nostrils flare, and she nestled against him listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. She was honest enough to admit to herself that tonight there was nowhere else on earth she would rather be than galloping through the velvet darkness of the Borders in Heath Kennedy's powerful, possessive arms.

As Raven nestled against his body, he became aware of how small she was. Desire pulsed at his groin with a savage ache that was almost unendurable. Resting between his thighs he could feel the warmth of her body mingling with his. Her delicate scent aroused him further, and he shifted in the saddle to ease the pressure of his swollen cock and the tightness of his balls. His arm brushed against her breast, and he knew he had reached his limits of restraint. He took a firm grip on Blackadder's reins with one hand and slipped the other beneath Raven's cloak. His knowing fingers found their way inside her bodice, and he cupped her bare breast with the palm of his hand and stroked over her nipple with his rough thumb.

She gasped as a frisson of purest pleasure shot from her nipple, spiraling down through her belly to her woman's core. As he continued to fondle and caress her, the rippling sensations of pleasure increased. The fiery touch of his fingers on her naked flesh almost burned her. She shuddered and suddenly fire turned to ice and she shivered uncontrollably until ice turned back to fire.

“Almost there,” he murmured against her ear, and the ache his words evoked became an unbearable, sweet torture.

W
hen they arrived at Eskdale Castle, Heath jumped from the saddle and lifted Raven to the flagstones of the bailey. A moss-trooper stepped forward to take Heath's horse, while another took Ramsay's. As the two couples walked to the castle, Raven broke the silence. “Thank you for a lovely day, Tina. I wouldn't have missed it for anything.”

“It isn't over yet.” Tina winked at her. “We made it home well before midnight.”

“Stop meddling, Vixen.” Ram picked her up, carried her to the Master Tower, and chided her again. “I know ye want tae aid and abet him, but Heath can lift the lass's skirts without your help.”

Raven and Heath paused at the bottom of the stairs that led to their tower. Their eyes met and held for long minutes; hers were shy, his directly bold. She lowered her lashes and without a word they clasped hands and ascended the steps. Anticipation of what was to come made Raven breathless and weak at the knees. Inside, her
excitement built with every step she climbed. One heartbeat after he closed their tower door, Heath had her in his arms. His lips told her of his raw desire, and his dark glance promised her forbidden delights and tempted her to recklessness.

Raven opened her lips and yielded the hot, sweet cave of her mouth to him. She tasted wine on his tongue and became intoxicated. She clung to him, loving the taste, the smell, and the feel of him as she pressed her soft curves against the hard length of his body. Raven loved his strength and his power; it made her feel small and feminine, and took all the responsibility for what he did to her out of her hands.

Heath swept her up in his arms, carried her through to the inner chamber, and sat her down upon the wide bed. He removed her cloak, then dropped to his knees and removed her riding boots. His hands slid up her legs beneath her petticoat to take off her stockings, then he changed his mind. He had imagined those silk stockings since he'd urged her to choose black at Carlisle Fair. So instead, he removed her white cotton drawers. Then he took her small foot in his hand and kissed her instep. A savage impatience to bed her had ridden him all the way from Hawick, but now he found that he wanted to savor every second of the loving he would give her.

Heath drew her to her feet, unfastened her gown, and slipped it from her shoulders. Then he traced her collarbone with one fingertip and anointed it with tiny, quick kisses. The pale green gown pooled on the floor, leaving her clad in the jade petticoat and busk. His fingers unfastened the ribbons at the waist of the petticoat, and it too pooled at her feet, revealing her slim legs clad in the black silk stockings. The tops of her thighs were naked, her creamy flesh contrasting with the black curls on her mons. As she stepped from her undergarments, Heath removed the busk, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her luscious, upthrust breasts, crowned with delicate pink crests.
He kissed his fingertip and touched it to each nipple, watching them tighten into hard little buds. Then he touched his lips to them and tasted her with his tongue.

As he undressed her, Raven felt like she was in a warm, delicious trance, but the moment his mouth touched her breasts, she almost came out of her skin. She arched against his tongue sensually, and when he took her nipple inside his mouth and sucked, she cried out her pleasure. Raven had a wild desire to do the same thing to him, and her fingers sought to open his doublet. She knew he read her every thought when he stripped off his doublet, then his linen shirt, and lifted her back into his arms. The coarse hair on his chest abraded the sensitive tips of her breasts, and she dug her nails into his shoulders, reeling from the delicious roughness. He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the carpet, and she felt her cheek brush across his male nipple. Her tongue snaked out to lick and taste and tease, then, in a little frenzy of passion, she took it between her teeth and bit down.

Heath watched her closely, enjoying her arousal and the sensual look it brought to her face. His hand covered her breast and gently squeezed, then he stroked his palm down across her belly and cupped her hot mons. He was rewarded by her cry of pleasure, and watched her eyes turn smoky with feral need as she arched her hot center into his hand. His fingers felt her wetness start, and he knew he could wait no longer to taste her.

Heath picked her up and laid her back on the bed. He spread her glorious black hair across the pillows and his eyes dilated at the beautiful picture she made. He opened her legs and traced his fingers up the black silk stockings to where they ended on the inside of her creamy thighs. Then he moved his head between her legs and tasted her.

“No!” she cried, shocked at what he did.

He raised his head and looked into her eyes with an intensity she'd never seen before. “Raven, don't deny me all I hunger for. Don't deny yourself.” He kissed her mons
reverently, then blew gently on the triangle of black curls and inhaled her scent. Very deliberately he touched the tip of his tongue to her tiny pink bud and felt her quiver at the strange, new sensations he evoked. When she made no further protest, he slowly thrust inside and, with a tantalizing rhythm, began to stroke her with his rough tongue.

Raven thought she must be dreaming, for surely it was impossible that she was yielding herself to Heath Kennedy and allowing him to make love to her with his mouth. The exquisite pleasure she felt was far too real for a dream, and she threaded her fingers into his hair to make sure it was really happening. She felt his thumbs open her wider, then felt him thrust deeper. She began to writhe, wanting to enjoy this arousal to the full, wishing the dark erotic sensations could go on forever. She began to pant with need, then heard him moan; it took more than a moment for Raven to realize the moan came from her throat. She held his dark head to her hot center, then the pleasure became too intense to bear, and she arched up off the bed and cried out his name, “Heath, Heath!”

He stripped off his breeches and, naked, came up over her. He held her possessively against his heart, then he lowered his mouth to hers, knowing she would taste herself on his lips. He began with tiny, quick kisses, then he kissed the corners of her mouth. His lips traced along her cheekbone to her ear, and he kissed her temples and her eyelids, before he returned to her lips. Then his kisses lengthened. They exchanged hundreds of kisses. For a whole hour they lost themselves in the bliss of slow, melting kisses. He caressed her tongue with his, tasting the nectar of her honey-drenched mouth. His senses reeled and his mouth became harder and more demanding. Their kisses went on and on: fierce kisses, wanton kisses, savage, sensual, and erotic kisses. Heath knew he would never have enough. His cock, harder than marble, pulsed and jerked. He felt her press her soft thighs against him and knew her need almost matched his.

Heath was in the throes of an agonizing dilemma; he had wanted her to be his bride when he consummated their union. To be honorable, he should wait until they were wed, but a mocking voice told him there may never be a wedding. He had nothing to offer her, no title, no wealth, no castle of her own. All he had to offer her was his love, and for most women, love was not enough. Christopher Dacre flashed into his mind and Heath made his decision. There was no way he would allow his enemy to take Raven's virginity.

He rose above her and gazed down at her lovely face. Her avid eyes devoured his rampant male shaft, jutting from its black nest of curls, and she reached out to caress the solid slabs of muscle that ran from his chest to his groin. The tantalizing touch of her fingers almost undid him. He positioned the head of his phallus against her cleft and, with one powerful stroke, thrust through her hymen. Raven cried out at the sudden pain and fullness, so he held himself absolutely motionless, allowing her to become more accustomed to the intrusion. She was so hot and tight, a primal cry erupted from his throat, and he knew he could remain still no longer. Fire flamed through his belly and groin as he slowly slid in and out of her satin sheath, completing the mating dance he had begun hours earlier.

She clung to him fiercely, sweetly, trusting him to erase the pain with exquisite, heart-stopping pleasure. Raven yielded her body to him generously and was rewarded a thousandfold as he brought her to blissful fulfillment. Heath withdrew before he allowed himself to spend. He would not take the chance of getting her with child. He enfolded her in his arms and held her against his heart. His lips brushed across her temple. “Raven,” he whispered against her skin. Heath buried his face in her fragrant hair, closed his eyes, and prayed.
Let love be enough.

Raven lay in the circle of his arms, enjoying the languorous afterglow that made her body feel warm and
replete. Her mind, however, slowly separated itself from her physical being and stood apart. Tonight, Heath had solved for her the age-old mystery of the male-female sexual ritual, and in doing so, he had empowered her. She knew that what had happened to her was cataclysmic and that she would never be the same again. She had exchanged innocence for female knowledge, and knowledge was power.

If there were only the two of them in the universe, how easy it would be to isolate themselves in their tower, indulging every whim while their attraction for each other lasted. But that was make-believe, and Raven knew she must live in the real world. It was impossible to think only of herself; she had her family to consider. They loved her and wanted only what was best for her. They had high expectations, and she had a duty to her parents to marry well. Raven could see the crescent moon through the chamber window, and silently spoke to the goddess Hecate.

When Duncan Kennedy sailed the new ship
Doon
into the mouth of the River Dee in Kirkcudbright, his father, Rob, almost collapsed with relief when he saw with his own eyes that no grave disaster had befallen his son Donal. Rob graphically catalogued the foul deeds the English had perpetrated upon him in Carlisle and, without mentioning the “curse,” warned Donal to be vigilant.

“Is there news of Tina? Has she delivered the babe yet?” Rob could not rid himself of a sense of impending doom and disaster.

“I've heard naught,” Donal said, “but ye mustn't worry about Tina, 'tis only a bairn.”

“Only a bairn?” Rob roared. “A bairn that could be my grandson! A bairn that'll keep the male line of Kennedys from dyin' out! When ye heard naught, did ye no' think tae ride tae Castle Douglas?”

Donal looked contrite. “I've been busy with the shearin' and then the lambin' … three thousand ewes lambed this month alone.”

Somewhat mollified that the wool they had lost would be replaced by Donal's fleeces, Rob shook his head. “Ye're a good lad, just thoughtless like all young men yer age.”

When Rob announced they would sail up the Dee to Castle Douglas on the morrow, Elizabeth balked. “I'll not set foot in Castle Douglas; I shall stay here with Donal and Meggie.”

Rob's face turned a dangerous purple. “Ye'll do as I bid ye, Lizzie. Tina needs her mother!”

“Tina has Ada; she won't welcome my interference, nor want my advice. You go, Rob. If Tina asks for me, naturally I will come.”

At mention of Ada, Rob changed his mind about forcing Lizzie to accompany him. Ada would give him the comfort he so badly needed. Without Lizzie there, he also would be able to lay the law down to Heath about his witch of a grandmother. “Aye, well, I suppose Beth can accompany me in yer stead.”

The following day when they dropped anchor at Castle Douglas, they found only Cameron in residence. He informed the Kennedys that Ramsay and Valentina were at their castle in Eskdale, as were his brother, Gavin, and Heath Kennedy. “I dropped them off at Annan, with the horses they recovered from Carlisle Castle.”