Page 60 of A Temptress in Tartan

He took the ring from her hand and slid it onto her right finger where she had worn it for years. “I found the guard you traded it with and offered him something of much greater value for its return. Every man has a price.”

“And what was his?”

A smile touched Lachlan’s lips. “A crofter’s share of our land here at Whittingehame for his wife and family.”

She smiled in return. “That was kind of you.”

“Nay,” Lachlan said, his gaze once more on her face. “I sacrificed nothing and received treasure in return.”

Treasure. She’d never been called such before.

“Now that that is done.” Lachlan held out his hand to her. “I have been dying to hold you in my arms since we left Berwick. Will you come with me, Elizabeth, to our bed?”

Elizabeth could feel her heart start to pound just looking at him, at the smile that brought a flare of passionate intensity to his eyes. “Aye,” she said as she placed her hand in his.

He led her up the stairs, down the hallway, and into their bedchamber. He shut the door behind them and she stood there, suddenly fascinated at the sight of him as he removed his boots and sword. Once he set those aside, he began to remove the tartan he’d changed into after he’d bathed upon their arrival home. He’d said it was so he could leave all traces of Berwick behind him. When his tartan pooled on the floor at his feet, he stripped off his shirt and threw it aside, until he stood naked before her. Her heart stumbled as she noted his pricker’s marks had faded to only pink spots that would soon be gone entirely.

And more than anything she wanted to touch his skin, blemished or not, to close her fingers on the golden, springy thatch on his chest, rub her palms over the smooth, hard, musculature of his shoulders, and try to cleanse from him the memory of all he had suffered, replaced with sensations of pleasure and passion.

The shutters were open, letting in the sweet heather-scented air as well as the moonlight that bathed him in a silvery glow, delineating each feature of his face, the tough, sinewy strength of his shoulders and his thighs. His every muscle was tense, and his manhood boldly aroused.

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe as the air in the room seemed heavy and vibrating with the same arousal she saw in him. She came toward him then, unable to resist him any longer, moving closer to him until she felt the heat of his body against her own. And when she looked up at him, he bent his head down and kissed her. Softly at first, just a brush of his lips against hers, until she heard herself release an appreciative sigh, and with a groan of his own, he took her mouth, urging it open, as though he needed to taste her very essence.

His hands came up to pull the pins from her hair, and he let them drop as he slid his fingers through her hair, fanning the heavy length across her shoulders and down her back. His mouth moved from hers and traced the sensitive flesh of her throat. He dragged down the sleeves of her gown, revealing her breasts.

The warm night air caressed her bare skin, tingling and curiously erotic. Then she felt his tongue, hot and wet, circling her nipples, urging them to taut, painful peaks until she nearly cried out with longing.

His hands moved behind her to release the fastenings of her gown. As his fingers brushed her flesh she inhaled sharply at the sensation. Her gown fell into a pool of damask at her feet. He bent his head down again and pressed the gentlest of kisses to her shoulder as his hands moved to push her chemise down the length of her body to settle atop her dress.

Elizabeth gasped at the loss of his nearness as he moved briefly away before returning with his tartan. He draped the cloth across the shoulder he had kissed, and wound the length about her waist, allowing the ends to trail upon the floor. He lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. She felt the thunder of his heart beneath her palm.

“Now you are truly my lady and I want you,” he said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more. It’s important to me that you know it was thinking about you, about this, that kept me sane during—”

She kissed the words away. There was no need to say them. She knew he spoke of his time in the gaol, and at the hands of John Swinton. “Turn around,” she said softly.

He tensed. “The wounds will fade with time,” he said, his voice tight.

“This moment for us is a time of healing. Let me heal you, Lachlan, to replace the horrors with new memories.”

After a slight hesitation, he turned and she saw the welts and cuts on his back had faded to slivers of pink and purple. The open wounds were no longer bleeding, but scabbed and healing.

Slowly, reverently, she bent and pressed her lips lightly to each mark. “I love you. I need you. Please be mine, forever,” she said the words in a litany until she no longer saw the wounds, but instead felt his strength, his hardness, his heat.

When she paused, he turned around and simply held her gaze with hope burning brightly in his eyes. “I am yours and you are mine with all our faults and all our glory.”

Tears of happiness she’d never thought to feel filled her eyes. The same emotion swelled in her chest and filled her heart to overflowing.

He kissed her again, a long deep kiss that stirred the flames between them to life once more. When he broke the kiss, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down on the soft coverlet, before joining her there, kissing the sensitive flesh behind her ear, following it with his tongue, stoking the fires as he trailed kisses along her collarbone and between her breasts. She arched against him with a silent moan, communicating her need.

He understood and gently unwrapped the tartan from around her before he knelt between her legs, parting her thighs. His arousal pressed against her as he entered her slowly, carefully, until he filled her completely. She clutched at the coverlet, so intense were the sensations rippling through her. His very slowness, deliberateness was unbearably erotic and sensual. She felt the hardness of his body against her, felt him sink into her, gently increasing the rhythm until Elizabeth felt pressure building, slowly, intensely.

She ran her hands over the smoothness of his heated shoulders and back, until she locked her legs around his hips and rocked with him. When she opened her eyes to look at him, her breath caught. He gazed down upon her with eyes darkened with passion, his throat sinewy with the strain of holding back.

Elizabeth rocked against him, feeling the slide of his body against her own, reveling in the exotic sensation of his chest hair brushing her sensitive nipples until the pressure inside her built, swirling, rising, filing her body and her soul until they scaled that peak, celebrating the beginning of a new life together. Love drove them, held them, and enfolded them until it felt as though the sun, the moon, and the stars were shining upon them all at once.

When at last they slumped together with warmth and satiation heavy in their veins and their heartbeats slowly returning to a normal rhythm, Lachlan shifted his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “We were destined to be together, my dear Elizabeth. No matter the obstacles that stood between us. We made it to this moment, and if I am not mistaken, we have accomplished yet another task the king has set before us.”

She leaned up on her elbow and stared down into her husband’s face. “What are you speaking of? What task have we accomplished for the king here in our bedchamber?”