The Highlander's Bride Trouble (8 page)

“Admit it, Nareen, no tub of well water would please ye so much.”

He’d followed her, standing the same distance from her.

“Ye’re testing me.” She’d stopped short of exposing her breasts to him completely,
but the water made it difficult to move quickly. It was both comforting and confining.

“Aye, I am,” he admitted freely.

She turned to eye him, her hand stilling on her arm as she became more focused on
his words than her bath. “Why?”

“Strength begets strength.”

She was mesmerized by the way he moved closer and stopped just a foot away from her.
She’d never been so completely bare in the presence of a man before, but it was more
than their lack of clothing. Saer saw more than most. He stripped away her words and
stared at the raw wounds still open across her soul.

“Ye are a survivor.” He plucked the forgotten soap bar from her hand and cupped her
shoulder. “So am I.” He turned her away from him and swept her hair over her shoulder
before applying the soap to her back. She shivered, the knowledge that she was nude
becoming almost overwhelming. “Ye care not for the rules because ye did nae receive
the security they promised when ye were compliant.”

“Some would say I am simply making excuses to do as I please. I think they may be
partially right,” she warned him. “I am nae obedient.”

But a queer sort of compliance was taking hold of her, a rationale that made it acceptable,
because he was also bare. In that moment, they were simply the same, neither more
exposed than the other. Both of them being more honest than they might be otherwise.

“Ye are making yer way, in whatever fashion ye might.” He smoothed the soap over her
shoulders with slow motions. “Doing the best ye can for yerself. That is nae an excuse,
it is being resourceful.”

She grunted softly. “Be careful, ye’ll have the Church after ye for nae telling me
to accept me place as a woman.”

“I prefer ye being strong enough to face me without shivering.” He was rubbing the
soap into her hair. “The place for me woman is standing firmly at me side.”

She heard a soft sound of male approval from behind her.

“I am nae conceding anything to ye, Laird MacLeod.”

He snorted. “Insist on laying the sharp side of yer tongue on me, lass, and ye’ll
have to forfeit the rest of yer bath.”

She whipped around, the water splashing up into her face. “Do nae instruct me, Laird—”

The bar of soap went flying toward the shore, and he had his hand curled around her
nape before she heard it land.

“Saer.”

His teeth were bared at her, and his face was only a few inches from her own. The
warmth of his breath against her lips made them tremble and yearn for another kiss.

“If I want to let me title impress a lass, I do nae have to suffer sitting inside
the Earl of Ross’s castle.”

“Well, do nae do so for me.” She shoved at him but ended up with her hands flattened
against his hard chest.

He was going to kiss her.

But he didn’t.

She pushed against him again, but he didn’t give even a tiny amount of space. Instead,
he held her nape, keeping her in place as their gazes held.

“What do ye want?” she demanded, unable to remain silent. It felt like she was coming
apart inside.

“I want to know why I am drawn to ye.” His fingers gently massaged her nape, sending
a tingle down her spine. He moved closer, so close she felt his body heat through
the water. “I see yer face in me dreams.”

But she couldn’t admit it. She shook her head, fighting against his grip until he
tightened it.

“Do nae lie.” He bit out the three words. “Insult me. Slice me with yer words, but
never lie.”

She lifted her chin, trying to break his hold on her neck. With a soft snort, he let
her go. She dove into the water, swimming away, escaping. But her lungs burned, and
she had to surface at last. When she did, Saer was nowhere, the surface of the water
giving her no hint as to where he was.

He surged up from beneath the surface of the water beside her. For a moment, she was
stunned by the sight of his powerful body erupting from the water like some sort of
pagan god of centuries past. He shook his head, water flying off the ends of his hair
before he opened his eyes and looked at her.

“I’m going to teach ye how to enjoy yer own body…”

His warning hadn’t even sunk completely into her senses when he reached for her. Saer
proved his strength again as he plucked her from the water and tossed her over his
shoulder. Water streamed off both their bodies as he walked up to where they had left
their clothing. He grabbed his kilt and shook it out with one hand. The fabric fluttered
to the ground, the edges still rippling as he laid her out on it.

“What ye are doing is proving ye are no different than any other man I have ever met.”

He followed her down but didn’t trap her beneath his body. She felt no less pinned
though, for he settled beside her, his elbow on the ground and his head resting in
his hand. He laid his leg over hers, keeping her on her back.

A soft moan escaped her, as she bit into her lower lip to keep herself from voicing
how exposed she felt. She would never let him hear her cry.

“I will nae rape ye, Nareen, I promised ye that already.”

He had, and that strange sense of complacency moved through her. She refused to consider
it trust, because she would never trust any man.

“I wish to rise.”

He stroked the side of her face, his fingers delightfully warm. “Say me name.”

Her eyes widened, and she struck out and slapped him before being able to control
the impulse. That made no sense; an open hand would do little harm. So she tightened
her fingers into a fist, but he closed his hand around it.

“I prefer yer feminine claws, nae the skills ye learned from watching yer brother
train.”

She tried to break his hold, her heart pounding with the effort. “He did more than
let me watch.”

She’d meant it as a warning, a secret about herself that would prove she lacked a
submissive nature, but Saer responded with a deep, husky growl of approval.

“I wondered at the reason ye are so bold, lass.”

“Well do nae,” she said. “Because I do nae want ye thinking about me at all.”

“Humm…” He released her hand, and she jerked it away, but her triumph was short-lived.
A moment later, his attention had dropped to her bare breasts as he cupped one gently.

“That leaves me naught but action…” He held the tender mound with a gentle grip that
sent a shaft of pleasure through her. “Yet I will confess to enjoying action far more
than talking. Ye are more beautiful than a fae princess…”

He stroked her breast, running his fingers all the way around it before brushing the
puckered nipple with his thumb. She jerked, unable to remain still as sensation overwhelmed
her. Never once had she imagined her breast might be so sensitive or such a point
of pleasure.

“Saer—”

“Ah… I enjoy it when me name crosses yer lips.” He closed his hand around her breast,
holding her gaze. “I believe I understand the means necessary to claim what I want
from ye now, Nareen.”

Something flashed in his eyes. She felt it as much as saw it. He lowered his head,
his warm breath teasing the tip of her nipple a single time before he lapped the hardened
peak with his tongue.

“Saer!”

She arched in a crazy need to move, because she couldn’t remain still. It felt like
lightening had struck her.

“Even better…” he purred deeply—darkly.

He leaned over her, trapping her right shoulder with his own, and licked her nipple
again. This time, he teased the entire areola with his velvet tongue before closing
his lips around the puckered tip and sucking it into his mouth.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair, but that pleased her too, and she moaned softly
as her eyes slid closed. She didn’t need to see. The contact between their bodies
was unleashing a torrent of pleasure that washed over her, and she didn’t care to
fight it.

He sucked harder, and she arched up to offer her flesh to him. But it wasn’t enough;
she wasn’t close enough to him. The need to press herself against him was too great
to ignore. She rolled toward him.

“Slowly, lass…”

He released her breast and stroked her belly. Her eyes opened wide at the boldness
of the touch.

“No one—”

He silenced her with a soft kiss.

“That is the only reason yer cousin is still alive.” He rubbed the flat plane of her
abdomen, sending a hundred little bolts of enjoyment through her. But his expression
had hardened. “If she’d allowed ye to be used without yer consent, I would have hung
her before coming after ye.”

His tone was rich with protectiveness, and it washed over her, soothing the wounds
she thought would never be comforted.

“Do ye mean ye would have accepted me without me virtue?” She scoffed at him softly.
“I doubt it. Men enjoy dallying, but demand purity in their brides.”

“I value strength in a woman, and such will never be found in one who does nae admit
her own nature. If ye’d had a lover, I would have made sure I surpassed his memory.”

He teased her belly again with a warm brush of his hand. He leaned down and placed
a kiss against her chin, and then another farther up her jawline, and yet a third
just below her earlobe. She trembled, the tenderness of his touch undeniable. He had
the strength to take whatever he wished, yet he controlled it. That was true honor.

“Ye captivate me, Nareen,” he whispered against her ear, then inhaled the scent of
her hair. “And I know ye are fascinated by me.”

“I’ve said no such thing.” Yet she had felt it.

He lifted his head and flattened his hand on her belly. “Yet ye lay here with me,
without flinching. Why? Ye are no wanton. If ye were, ye would have found plenty of
lovers to satisfy ye at court.”

Her lips twisted with distaste, drawing a pleased growl from him.

“I saw that in yer eyes at court”—he captured her breast again, the hold striking
her as possessive—“and it made me want to impress ye.”

“I do nae—”

“Aye, ye do, lass.” He pressed a hard kiss against her lips, stilling her argument
with his mouth. It was demanding, and it stirred the flames he unleashed inside her.

She reached for him, seeking to touch what she’d been drawn to. His arms were covered
in smooth, warm skin, but the muscle was firm and hard. She stroked him, up toward
his shoulders and along the planes of his chest.

“Open yer mouth, Nareen…”

He cupped her nape, raising her face toward his. She slid her hands into his hair
again, gripping handfuls of it to keep his mouth against hers. The need to kiss him
was strong, overriding every other thought. There was only impulse and action left
in her.

He swept her lower lip with his tongue, setting off a riot of excitement. She stretched
her tongue out to mingle with his. For a moment, they stroked each other before he
boldly thrust his deep inside her mouth.

She gasped, stunned and excited by the invasion. Her body arched, pressing against
his. It was necessary to move, absolutely vital for her to strain toward him. His
body pleased her along every point of contact. Even where her thigh pressed against
his hard member.

She wanted to take his weight on top of her, even pulled at his shoulder, but he kept
her on her back with one large hand pressed flat on top of her belly.

“I’m going to introduce ye to passion, lass.”

There was a promise in his tone, an arrogant one, but it struck a chord inside her
that unleashed a surge of anticipation.

He sent his hand lower, venturing into the curls that crowned her sex.

“Saer—”

“I made ye a promise, Nareen.”

His fingers slid closer to the little nub throbbing at the top of her sex, and her
lips went dry. “What…what was that?”

“To teach ye how to enjoy yer body…”

He pressed his lips against the side of her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut.

But she jerked when he stroked her slit.

“Ye cannae…touch me…there,” she exclaimed, her eyes popping open.

“I am,” he assured her and sent his fingers back along the folds guarding her passage.
“And I intend to do much, much more.”

“But it must be…sinful.”

But it felt delightful, and she closed her eyes again. True ecstasy rolled through
her as he stroked the sensitive folds between her thighs. The skin was slick with
her juices, intensifying even the slightest touch.

“There was a time when a warrior had to prove his worth to a woman by bringing her
to climax without his cock. Only then would she pledge herself to him.”

She opened her eyes and found him watching her face. She felt exposed and helpless.
“I cannae do this…”

“All ye must do is trust me.”

Trust. The word “trust” broke through the intoxication holding her spellbound.

“No. I refuse to trust.” She felt empty as she faced the harsh, cold reality of her
feelings. “I cannae trust.”

His expression tightened. “Ye will, Nareen. Ye shall trust me.”

He crushed her retort beneath a kiss. His mouth took command of her lips, pressing
them apart. When she surrendered, he thrust his tongue deeply inside her mouth and
sent his finger between the folds of her sex.

Together, the twin points of contact were mind shattering.

Her hips lifted toward his hand, her clitoris sending an intense amount of pleasure
through her passage and into her womb. She gasped, breaking their kiss because her
lungs were starving for breath. Her heart was pounding, and so was the little nub
between the folds of her sex.

Saer rubbed it, sending her hips into a frantic bucking that she had no will to check.
There was only the need churning inside her and the delight his finger produced with
every stroke. She held on to him with a desperate grip as her need tightened into
a knot. When it broke, pleasure swept over her in a rush, stealing every last thought
from her mind as she cried out. It twisted through her, wringing her like a rag and
dropping her in a panting, spent heap beneath Saer’s probing gaze. His dark eyes were
full of savage hunger. He did nothing to disguise it, and for several long moments,
she was too exhausted to move.