Page 52 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
Holding tight to his shoulders she rolled her head back. His lips grazed her cheeks layering a multitude of tiny kisses along herjawline and down the arch of her throat. His hand traced the curve from her waist, over her hips, and around her buttock, pulling her hips to his so that they were truly together.
She could scarcely breathe for fear of disturbing the glorious sensations coursing through her body. It was as if every part of her was buzzing and vibrating with this fierce and breathless heat, that was in danger of melting her bones and bringing her to naught but ashes and dust.
He moaned her name, and the flames rose higher still. She writhed against him, wanting nothing more than to have his hands stroking her fevered skin.
I want tae be naked with him.
He unlaced her shirt and pushed it aside, his fingers sliding over the bare skin of her shoulder. She was only dimly aware of the cool air on her naked breast before his clever, teasing, fingers caused the almost unbearably sensitized nub to harden and pucker. Deep pulses of delicious, sensual, desire shot through her from her breast to a place between her thighs.
She tried to cry out his name but only a low, guttural growl emerged from her throat.
He gasped, “Annora,” and made a slight move of his hips, pushing the steel-hardness of his shaft against the soft flesh of her thighs.
It was only at that moment Annora became aware that rain was dripping from her hair and her unlaced shirt was steadily growing wet.
Lost in each other as they were, they’d been oblivious to the play of lightning and thunder swirling around them. It was only when the heavens opened and torrents of rain began to fall that the haze of desire consuming them parted sufficiently for them both to register that they were already almost soaked to the skin.
She rolled out of Edmund’s embrace. “Edmund, ‘Tis raining!”
He hauled himself out of her arms and scrambled up, reaching a hand to assist Annora to her feet.
Pulling her shirt back over her shoulder, she giggled. “Our bewitchment couldnae survive a cold dousing.”
Edmund laughed as the rain splashed his face and ran rivulets across his shoulders. “Even the Faery Glen is nay match fer old Thor.”
Where they’d been on fire minutes ago, they now shivered as the icy rain beat down.
Edmund snatched up their cloaks and grabbed her hand.
“Come, I saw a cave up by the tall crag when we here before, let us shelter there.”
“The ponies,” she cried. The rain was so heavy it was only just possible to make out the two dark shapes under the trees.
“Ne’er mind them, lass, they’ll shelter well enough under the trees.” He tugged her hand and they set off in a mad dash up the slope and along the rough gravel track.
“There,” he yelled, pointing to a space at the bottom of one of the crags. They bolted toward the spot where fortunately, there was a hollowed-out space under the rock where two could huddle, safe from the deluge.
Once they were safely in, Edmund draped their still mostly-dry woolen cloaks around Annora’s shoulder. Then he took her in his embrace, trying to bring some warmth back to her frozen limbs.
Her teeth were chattering and she could hardly speak. Was it only minutes ago they were locked in each other’s arms, oblivious to the world, consumed by each other and lost in passion?
She giggled.
“Are ye warming up, lass?” The concern in his voice warmed her even more than the cloaks wrapped around her shoulders.
“We are truly bewitched, Edmund.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Aye. The fae in this place have worked their magic on us.”
“Is that why ye brought us here again?”
A bright flash of lightning illuminated his face for a brief instant. He was smiling. “Aye. I cannae deny it. I wished tae test the fae and see if they were able tae truly bewitch us.”
She dropped her head onto his shoulder and spread the cloaks over his knees.
“And?”
His voice softened. “I can only speak fer meself, milady Annora, but I am bewitched, and I cannae escape the witchery.”
