Tyler, Lynn - For Her Honor [For Her] (Siren Publishing Classic) (7 page)

“Then why does it feel so good?” she asked, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him down gently. A shiver ran up her spine when his hair brushed her jaw.

“Lass,” he protested, even as he allowed her to pull him down. “Really, we should stop.”

“I find I do not want to stop,” she murmured. She could feel his breath whispering over her lips and strained to push her face closer to his, desperate for his kiss.

He moaned again and lowered his head, pressing his lips gently to hers. Jocelyn luxuriated in the sensations racing through her. His lips were like velvet, and he stroked them over her own softly, allowing her plenty of opportunity to change her mind. She couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped, and he deepened the kiss, licking his tongue across the seams of her mouth. She opened for him and tentatively stroked his invading tongue with her own.

His hands slipped down her arms and settled on her waist, where they tightened. Tangling her hands in his hair, she gave herself over to the feelings he was arousing in her. She could feel his cock growing harder against her belly and rubbed against it instinctively, savoring the triumph as she felt the last of his reservations melt away when he flexed his hips against her.

He tore his mouth away from hers, but she barely had time to moan in protest before he sent his lips down her neck. She shuddered as he discovered a particularly sensitive spot just behind her ear. The feeling between her legs intensified, and desperate for some kind of pressure there, she lifted one leg and wrapped it around his hip, grinding herself against the hard plane of bone.

He grunted and cupped her bottom in one hand, hoisting her farther up his body. “Hook your legs around my waist,” he said on a groan. He held her to him as she did as he requested. Her borrowed tunic rode up over her hips, and she gasped as his cock came into contact with the aching place between her legs, only the wet wool of his plaid separating them from skin on skin.

Jocelyn moved against him frantically, feeling the sensations gather and become stronger. She was striving for the same feeling she had achieved earlier in the morning when she had woken in this man’s arms. He stilled her by holding her hips firmly. “Easy, lass,” he whispered. “There is no need to rush.”

She disagreed but obeyed anyway, feeling oddly free when she submitted to him. She whimpered again when he returned his attention to her neck. She feathered her lips across his jaw and caressed the long scar at the side of his face with her mouth.

He froze and pulled his face back from hers, an expression of pain crossing his features. Surely the old scar didn’t still hurt him. It crossed her mind he was self-conscious about his scar, and her heart went out to him. She kissed the scar one more time to show him it didn’t matter to her and moved back to his mouth, kissing him until he responded again.

Tracing her hands across his shoulders, she marveled at how broad he was. He would fill the entire doorframe in her father’s humble cottage. His size comforted her rather than intimidated. He could keep her safe and was strong enough to bear whatever life threw at him. Not that she needed to be protected, she reminded herself before he scraped his teeth over the pulse in her throat.

Jocelyn soon became incapable of thought with the sensations racing though her. She moved her hips again, and this time he encouraged her rather than stopping her. Jocelyn was so caught up in the feeling building between her legs that his hand cupping her bare breast startled her. She gasped as his fingers tightened gently on one of her nipples, and she threw her head back, wondering how and when he had managed to divest her of her tunic.

She fumbled with the pin on his kilt, wanting to feel his skin on hers. He pulled away from her to help, and soon she was back against him, her skin pressed intimately to his. The feeling of his naked cock pressed between her legs sent shockwaves ripping up her spine. Jocelyn ground herself against him, the small, aching nub of flesh riding deliciously against his cock.

He began walking quickly, making her hot center rub against his cock with every step. Suddenly he lowered her onto a hard surface and she realized he had laid her out on the smooth surface of a rock. He had walked them to shore all while inflaming her passion higher and higher.

She vaguely felt his hand wandering up her leg and slipping between them. He slid his finger directly over the throbbing ridge flesh at the top of her mound, and she jerked against him.

“I have got you, lass,” he crooned in her ear as he fingered her gently. “Your poor little clit is swollen and hard. You have been needing this, have you not?”

She wasn’t sure what a clit was, but she guessed it was the little pleasure button he was busily stroking. “Oh…” was all she managed to say as he stroked his way down to her opening.

He eased a finger into her and groaned. “You are so wet,” he panted. “God, lass. Your pussy is on fire for me.”

Again, she had never heard that word directed at her before but she didn’t care what he called it as long as he kept stroking her. He leaned over her and began kissing her as his hand made its way back between her legs. She bucked her hips upward, desperate for him to start his sweet caress again. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured against her lips.

Grabbing his shoulders, Jocelyn pushed her mound into his hand. “Touch me again,” she demanded.

“Where?” he asked as his fingers started to wander. “Here, on your clit?” He circled it without actually touching it, driving her wild with want.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“You will have to tell me. Say the words, lass.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Touch my clit,” she pleaded. He rewarded her by flicking his finger directly over it and then stroking the exquisitely sensitive right side of it.

Beyond thinking, she began to chant his name over and over. Just as she was sure her body was going to explode, he stopped. “Why are you stopping?” she cried fretfully.

“Do you want me to put my fingers in you again?” he asked, stroking the opening without actually breaching her.

“Yes,” she moaned, pushing against him.

“Say it,” he demanded.

Jocelyn swallowed with difficulty and prayed for an end to the torture. “Put your fingers in me,” she said. When he continued to simply look at her, to make her brain work long enough to say the words, she demanded, “Put your fingers in my pussy.”

He smiled and slid two fingers into her. She gasped at the invasion, her body tightening around him as if trying to prevent him from leaving. “Oh, lass,” he groaned. “I want to be inside you.”

He curled his two fingers slightly, and she felt him rasp on a spot she didn’t even know she possessed. She followed her instincts and bore down on those fingers as he ground his thumb into her clit.

Jocelyn started to shake as she came apart at the seams, pleasure streaking through every part of her body. “Aye, lass,” she vaguely heard him saying. “Let yourself go. I will catch you.”

Her clit throbbed and jumped in a way she never knew it could. The entire world had narrowed to the pleasure concentrated at the small nub. She floated with the pleasure for some time until her breathing began to slow and the pleasure mellowed into a satiated buzz of sensation.

As she settled, Jocelyn became aware of Robbie starting to curse. He laid himself atop her, but it seemed now as if he had lost the urge to make love to her. Indeed, he seemed to be covering her from something. Or someone. She barely stifled her groan when she heard an answering curse. Her father had finally found her. And in the worst possible situation.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” her father shouted as he made his way quickly down to their position.

He yanked her out from under Robbie only to stare in horror at her nakedness. “Cover yourself, lass. The shame you have brought to our family cannot be repaired,” he growled, bending to pick up her discarded tunic and throwing it at her.

Her father’s voice was rising with every word until he was shouting. “I should beat you for your disobedience then disown you for your behavior. You are no better than a whore, you are!”

“Calm yourself!” Robbie shouted, putting himself between her and her father. He had managed to hastily don his kilt while her father had been yelling. “It should have been obvious she did not get in this situation on her own. And I can attest she is still pure.”

“Aye, well, no one will take your word for it. She is as good as ruined now. You have completely spoiled your marriage contract.” He rounded on Jocelyn again, “and I worked hard for that contract!”

Robbie spoke up before she could defend herself. “She wants to be a nun, not marry some strange man!”

“A nun, my ass,” her father retorted. “She does not want to be a nun any more than she wants to be a wife. Running away was simply a way to defy me.”

“You should not be forcing her to marry anyone should she be against the notion,” Robbie shot back.

Her father snorted at that. “You do not have any daughters, do you? Besides, she will not be marrying anyone once her actions are revealed to all.”

She pushed her way between the two men and faced her father, intent on setting the record straight despite the fear that raced through her. Her father had never hit her before, but there was a decidedly violent air about him right now. Before she could say anything, however, he grabbed her by the arm and jerked her toward him.

“Come, lass. Your betrothed has not yet arrived, and perhaps we can get you home and married before he hears of this,” Alasdair said lowly.

“And marry a man who would beat me for my actions, as you would?” she cried indignantly. “I will not go with you.”

Robbie removed her father’s arm from her arm and eased her to his side, shielding her from any further contact. “You will not force her. If you want to disown her, I will take responsibility for her welfare.”

Jocelyn bristled at the comment, her hackles rising defiantly, and pulled away from him. “I do not need you to protect me,” she said stiffly. “I will go to the nunnery as planned and live out my life in poverty before I marry against my will.”

Her father looked skyward. “Why, God, did you saddle me with such a hoyden? It is nothing more than a test of my will. A test by the name of Jocelyn MacKenna!”

She was gasping with outrage at the insult when she noticed Robbie stepping back, an expression of horror crossing his face. She opened her mouth to ask why he had gone so pale, but he cut across her inquiry. “Jocelyn MacKenna?” he croaked. “You said your name was Corrine.”

She shrugged and glared at her father again. “He bartered me off to the MacGillivray tyrant. I had to make for the nunnery or I would have been tied to the cold-hearted bastard forever. I would rather be a nun than tied to a murderer for the rest of my life.”

He paled even further, and his beautiful lips thinned out into a hard line. The scar stood in stark relief on his face, and, ever so briefly, a betrayed, hurt look shimmered in his eyes before he shuttered his expression and turned away. “I agree,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “You would be better off in a nunnery, for I will not marry you now. The marriage contract has been cancelled.”

Jocelyn stared at the back of his head, a horrible understanding settling over her. He wasn’t Robbie Gunn. He was Robert MacGillivray, her intended. What the hell was she going to do now?

* * * *

God’s blood, what the hell was he going to do now? Robbie stalked back to the camp site, not caring if the MacKenna shrew and her father followed or not.

He stormed over to his men and saw that Will was back. “Jocelyn MacKenna is missing,” Will told him cautiously, obviously noting his black mood. “I met her father and the priest on the way down. They had been travelling all night searching for her after her horse was found running home from this direction. We were just figuring out the best way to search for her.”

“Do not bother,” he said coldly. “I have already found the wench. She was running off to the nunnery to avoid her marriage to me.”

Jamie and Will stood silently, looking like fish with their mouths open and agape. “Do you mean to tell us the lass you so adored is actually your intended?”

“Aye,” Robbie grunted shortly. “Since she would rather be a nun than be married to a murdering, cold-hearted bastard, her words, not mine, I have allowed the contract to be voided. It seems you all got your wish. I will not be marrying the shrew after all.”

He readied his horse for the three-day journey home, ignoring the awful, tearing pain in his chest. Once again, the rumors had reared their ugly head, and he was left with a choice. Either live with his reputation as a wife killer or reveal his humiliation to the world. He would rather swallow a live fish and eat bugs than let people know his first wife killed herself rather than be married to him.

Alasdair MacKenna came rushing through the tree line, tugging his churlish daughter behind him, shouting about broken marriage contracts and blood feuds. Robbie’s heart stuttered for a moment at the momentary expression of pain that crossed the girl’s face. It was obvious her father’s grip was hurting her. He already knew there would be dark bruises marring the girl’s delicate flesh by the evening.

He almost jumped off his horse, ready to beat the man for treating her so roughly, when he remembered this was the witch who had broken his heart. God, what an idiot he was for allowing some strange lass to get close to the heart he had shielded for so long. He had been stupid to think she would believe the best of him instead of those blasted rumors.