Page 50 of A Temptress in Tartan

“Come over by the fire.” The tension that had been in his shoulders relaxed as he poured them each a glass of wine.

She accepted a glass before sitting in a chair by the hearth, allowing the flames to ward off the chill that had followed her from Hardgate Manor. “Are you improved today?” she asked, suddenly studying the contents of her glass. They both knew why she was here, and she was suddenly nervous.

“Better,” he replied, taking a seat beside her. “More like myself.”

She forced herself to look at him and wished she hadn’t. It was difficult to be casual when he was looking at her that way, with blatant sensuality. Elizabeth hastily drank a liberal amount of her wine, praying it would calm her sudden nerves as well as the anticipation and excitement that danced in her veins.

“Elizabeth.” He said the word softly as though sensing her distress. “Nothing will happen here that you do not want.”

Elizabeth nodded. She set her wine aside at the unveiled passion in his eyes. That passion found an answering response within her. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he pulled her into his arms and traced his finger along the ridge of her jaw. “You have the most exquisite skin.” He trailed his finger down her throat and across her collarbone. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to touch you? To cup your cheek in my palm and run my fingertips over your throat?”

“You’ve touched me before.”

“But not like this.” He ran his finger across the swell of her breasts then dipped his finger between the two lobes, making her breath catch.

A flush tinted his cheeks, his nostrils flared, and his breathing quickened. “Your breasts are quite perfect, you know.”

She inhaled sharply as he lowered his head and kissed her, skillfully parting her lips and laying claim. She knew why he was kissing her—knew what his purpose was—and this time she would not stop him. He wanted her, and she wanted him.

Setting all her reservations about him aside for the last time, she kissed him in return. From this moment forward, she wanted to forget who he was and who she was and only think about the way he made her feel. Tonight, their passion would be their only guide.

She parted her lips and surrendered. A groan of pure desire escaped his lips, encouraging her. She taunted and teased, then delighted when he deepened the kiss as though he, too, was tired of fighting the passion that flared so powerfully between them.

His arms tightened around her, crushing her breasts, already peaked and tight and aching, to the hard, solid plane of his chest. His hand swept down her back, pressing her to him, then sliding lower, over her hip, to grasp her bottom and angle her hips to his so he could move against her, so he could mold her against the rigid length of his erection, let her feel and anticipate having that hard length inside her, taking her to unknown heights.

He broke the kiss and stared down at her with those bright blue eyes, eyes alive with passion—passion she’d stirred to life, passion that had turned every muscle in his body to hard-edged steel. Carefully he unlaced the back of her dress, then pulled it up over her head before removing her slippers, garters and hose. All that stood between them was her chemise.

Only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the air as with careful fingers, he lifted her chemise up and tossed it aside, leaving her naked before him. He slowly lowered his head and licked her nipple lazily.

A hot shiver moved through her. His tongue was warm and moist. His teeth closed gently on the distended pink tip, and he moved his head teasingly back and forth. Before she could get used to the sensation, he opened wide and enveloped her, devouring her as his tongue explored her in the most intimate of ways.

She was beginning to tremble, the heat between her thighs increasing until it was nearly painful, and yet she couldn’t move away. She could feel the pull of his mouth with her every breath, could feel a part of her becoming a part of him. Licking a path to her other breast, he repeated his sensual seduction until finally he released her and opened his eyes, gazing at her with such pleasure that another wave of heat seared her. “Who could have known you would prove this sweet?”

Elizabeth could feel herself readying for him, feel the lust forcing away the last fragment of resistance from her mind. Waves of heat engulfed her, making her long for him in ways she’d never expected. “Lachlan—” The word was part whisper, part plea.

He straightened and she took the opportunity to unbutton his breeches, to loosen the waist and slide the garment down his legs that were almost healed of the painful red welts. All that remained of the pricker’s marks were scabs that would eventually vanish for good. Following his breeches to the floor, she also removed his boots and hose, until he was also naked before her.

Lachlan lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, careful to avoid his back, as he captured her lips once more. She gloried in a wave of intense pleasure at the feel of his hard, developed abdomen flexing between her thighs, fueling the fire that Lachlan had lit within her from the moment they first touched. Still locked together, he carried her across the room to the small bed and carefully laid her down. A heartbeat later, he stretched out beside her and slowly, seductively sketched his palms over her naked flesh.

Her skin burned wherever he touched, leaving trails of searing sensation across her breasts, her arms, her waist, her thighs. Wherever his hands went, his lips followed. Heat danced across her flesh. The tension built, higher and higher, until she thought she would burst from sheer pleasure.

She was breathless when he drew back to stare into her face. In his eyes she saw a fire unlike any she had seen before. “You truly are beautiful, Elizabeth. I am a lucky man.” His voice was hoarse, raspy.

The way he looked at her made her feel beautiful and so many other tumultuous emotions. She wanted him with the same urgent, scorching passion with which he wanted her. That knowledge made her bold as she splayed her fingers against his rock-hard chest. She brushed his nipples with her fingertips and was rewarded with a strangled gasp of pleasure. His hooded eyes only partially concealed his smoldering gaze. “I need you to say you want me, Elizabeth.”

The intensity of his passion tightened her chest. “I want you. Make love to me,” she breathed, barely able to force the words from her dry throat.

He pulled her against him, then rose up on his knees and, moving over her, he settled between her thighs. His lips claimed hers again with tormenting sweetness and her body responded to the intimate sensuality of his demand. She pressed herself against his hardening body, wanting more as the flames of desire consumed her and knowing also that what came next would hurt her.

As though sensing her thoughts, he pulled back and looked into her face. “If I could take the initial pain of our joining away, I would.”

“I know,” she replied, bracing herself, knowing as he tensed what was going to happen.

“From the first moment I saw you on that ridge, I wanted you with an intensity that went beyond reason,” he said, lifting her hips to receive him. “I even warned you that my motives for talking you away from that ledge were not altogether innocent.”

“You were a rogue from the moment we first met.”

“When it comes to you, aye.” He entered her then, with a steady thrust.