Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (25 page)

Why he was so eager to wed her, even he did not fully know. He wanted her, of that
there was not the least doubt. Even now he could barely stand not to slide her nightgown
high and claim her as he longed to do. A few more kisses, some well-placed caresses,
and he could have her so dazed with desire that she would let him do anything he wanted,
with or without promises of marriage.

But he wanted more than a few nights. He wanted far more than just her body. He wanted
her, whoever she might truly be.

What did it matter if she was still a bit confused about her identity? Such things
would resolve themselves with time. They would find out about her past when they reached
London, whatever it might turn out to be. As for the dangers plaguing her—and he was
beginning to believe there was danger in her path—those would be resolved as well.

The man trailing her would stop and anyone else causing her trouble would be dealt
with in such a way that she would never have anything to fear again.

From this time forward, he would protect her. He would keep her safe and free from
harm. And what better way to do
so than as his wife? No one would be able to separate them then. No one would be able
to steal her away.

From the moment they spoke their marriage vows, she would be his, to cherish and care
for, to comfort and bring joy. To love.

Do I love her?

He felt something, but love? He wasn’t sure.

Does she love me?

He thought she might; he hoped she did. His loins tightened at the thought, selfishly
wanting that from her.

He promised to wring a confession from her at his first opportunity. If she loved
him, he would know.

Yet whatever this was between them, it was strong enough to build upon, firm enough
to be the foundation of a lifetime spent together. Their friendship and desire for
each other was a great deal more than many couples had, and even if it was not a perfect
start, it was still good enough.

He slid his fingers over her skin, reveling in the sensation. He would have her and
soon. Just when he’d made that decision, he wasn’t sure either. But sometime between
their stargazing last night and their march up the stairs to this room tonight, he’d
decided that he was through resisting her.

She was his and he would make her his. Whatever that might take.

He waited, his heart pounding with far more anxiety than he might have expected. Surely
she wasn’t going to refuse him?

If she did, he would find some other means of persuasion.

“Mercedes?” he asked again. “What do you say?”

Her eyes were dark, too dark to read even by the firelight, but he saw her smile,
shivered at the gentle touch of her hand as she reached up to stroke his cheek.

“I say yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will be your wife.”

D
aniel’s mouth crushed down on hers, taking her lips with a fervid heat that literally
stole her breath. She gasped and gave herself over to the sheer delight of the moment,
letting him draw her deep. Giddy warmth shot through her veins, her skin tingling
everywhere he touched.

And touch her he did, the hand on her leg gliding from thigh to knee to hip and back
again in a dizzying circuit of exploration. Meanwhile, his other hand went to the
bodice of her nightgown and began to unfasten the buttons he discovered there, slipping
them loose one by one. He had half of them undone before she came to her senses enough
to realize what he was doing.

“Daniel, we cannot. Remember?”

He slanted his mouth over hers, letting her know with kisses rather than words exactly
how overjoyed he was that she was to be his bride.

“Och, how I want ye,” he murmured against her mouth. “Doona ye want me too?”

“O-of course, I d-do. So much. So very much,” she panted. “But we can’t, not now.
Tomorrow, once we’re wed, we can…be
together. Tomorrow I shall be your wife and I’ll do anything you want.”

He broke off, his breath warm against her cheek. “Anything, lass? Ye’d best take care
making a promise like that. I may just take ye up on it.”

Nuzzling her neck, he caught her earlobe between his teeth and teased it for a moment
before letting go to blow gently into her ear. Tiny spirals of pleasure rippled over
her skin like stones tossed into a lake, leaving her gasping and on edge.

He smiled. “Ye know, there are things we can do that willna steal yer innocence—or
no’ much of it anyway.”

“Th-there are?” Her eyelids fell closed, her pulse hammering frantically in her throat
as he continued to scatter kisses.

“Aye. If I swear that you’ll wake in the morning as much a virgin as ye are now, will
ye let me do a few things?”

“What things?”

“Say ye trust me and I’ll show you.”

She opened her eyes and found him smiling at her, a dual gleam of sincerity and devilment
alight in his green gaze.

She shouldn’t agree. She knew she ought to be firm until the vows were spoken. But
he was to be her husband. Had they not already made their pledges tonight? And she
had always trusted Daniel, from the instant of their first meeting. If she did not
trust him in this, in bed, then how could she trust him at all?

Anyway, what could he mean by “other things” besides more kisses and a few bold caresses
of the sort they’d shared the other morning at the inn? What true harm could there
be in indulging in a bit of intimate closeness so long as it did not go too far?

If he swore he would leave her a maiden, then he would not break his promise. She
would be safe in his arms.

As for herself, she might be innocent, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want him too.
Her body ached with the need he had awakened in her, and sinful though it might seem,
she
couldn’t bring herself to deny what she knew would bring her exquisite pleasure. His
touch was bliss. How could she refuse him—refuse herself?

“All right,” she whispered with sudden daring. “Show me these other things.”

He grinned, his teeth white in the darkened room. “It’ll be my pleasure, lass.” He
brushed a slow, seductive kiss across her mouth. “And your pleasure too. I promise.”

His hands began their tantalizing exploration again, fingers tracing in shiver-inducing
circles and gliding forays that made her toes curl and her senses spin.

He finished unbuttoning her nightgown and peeled back the edges of the material to
expose her bare breasts. Leaning up on one elbow, he took a moment to study her in
the low light. She trembled, feeling her breasts quiver, the peaks drawing up into
tight nubs.

Starting at her chin, he slid the tip of one finger downward, over her throat, to
the base of her neck, then on to her collarbone, where he drew a series of little
circles before continuing in a line down her breastbone. He stopped and flattened
his palm over her heart, the underside of her breast pressed against the edge of his
hand.

She knew he could feel her heart beating, as rapidly as a hummingbird’s. The traitorous
organ hurried faster still, almost impossibly quick, as he curved his fingers up and
over the breast above his hand, cradling it as if he were weighing its shape and texture.
He started his circling again, running his thumb around the outside of her taut nipple,
but not touching the center.

Never there.

She bit her lip, wondering if he planned to drive her mad. If he continued like this,
she knew it was only a matter of time.

“You’re pretty here,” he murmured. “Soft. But then you’re pretty and soft everywhere.
And delicious. Better than brandy and chocolate.”

Bending his head, he drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling, gently at first, then
with increasing pressure.

She moaned, the wet heat of his mouth as exquisite as she remembered, perhaps more
so. An arrow of sensation plunged straight down to the flesh between her legs, each
insistent pull of his mouth and flick of his tongue increasing the ache.

“Shh,” he hushed against the damp flesh of her breast. “Just close yer eyes and let
me take care of you.”

Her eyelids fluttered down and she gave herself into his keeping.

He blew on her wet breast, the contrast so sharp she nearly came off the mattress,
a ragged cry issuing from her throat. He chuckled low before transferring his mouth
to her other breast, clearly determined to lavish it with the same careful attention
as the first.

His other hand resumed its roving beneath the hem of her nightgown, caressing the
skin of her knees and thighs and hips as if learning their shapes before moving upward
to skim over the flat length of her stomach.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he paused to dip a finger into the indentation of
her navel, teasing her briefly there. His hand moved higher, finding and covering
her already sensitized breast. He kneaded her gently, in rhythm to the draws of his
mouth and tongue, then rolled the tight peak between his fingers, giving a light squeeze.

A moan came from her mouth and she shuddered, half mindless and awash in a shivery,
sizzling heat. She barely noticed as his hand left her breast and began roaming again.

His fingers curved around her upper leg again, teasing as he sought out the tender
skin on her inner thigh. He played there awhile until her flesh began to quiver.

Her eyes flew wide as he parted her and slid a finger into her sheath, where she was
throbbing and embarrassingly wet.

But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she got the distinct feeling he was pleased.

She had no time to consider further as he released her breast and leaned up to take
her mouth, claiming her with ravenous, wild kisses. He opened her body to his probing
touch,
even as he opened her mouth wider, drinking down her cries, their tongues tangling
in a mad dance.

He stroked her tender inner flesh, going a little deeper each time until he was inside
her as far as his finger could reach. Then he began to stroke with a purpose that
made her feel as if she were coming apart. The room spun around her in a dizzying
whirl, Daniel the center of her universe.

A great pressure built inside her, a pleasure that was half pain, half bliss. She’d
never known anything close to the sensation.

Suddenly she was gasping, moaning, and too lost in the moment to care how she sounded.
Nor was she self-conscious about her body’s response and how wet she had become around
his hand, on his finger that was lodged deep.

Instinctively she opened her legs to let him stroke harder, quicker, his movements
faster as her flesh throbbed with a deep, yearning ache that begged to be appeased.

“That’s it, love,” he said against her mouth. “Just right.”

Then he pressed his thumb against her in a way that seemed unendurable. He circled
again and rubbed.

She broke apart, crying against his lips as she quaked and quivered, ripples of pleasure
reverberating everywhere like a warm, blissful sun that spread through her flesh and
blood and bone.

Her mind went blank and she floated on a sea of delight.

She’d scarcely begun to recover when he started again, only this time he slid two
fingers inside her, stretching her so that she felt full and tight.

He went back to her breast, his mouth closing over her to suckle deeply. Each draw
came in a perfect rhythm to the gentle thrusting of his fingers, every touch better
than the one before.

Keening moans filled the air, sounds that she didn’t immediately recognize as her
own. He held her in complete thrall; all she could do was ride out the storm.

Trust him, he’d said.

Ah, heavens, what other choice did she now have?

She threaded her fingers into his hair and cradled him closer, mindlessly urging him
from one breast to the other. He smiled against her flesh and complied, making her
throb there too until she feared she might expire from the need.

He stroked her deep, her thighs trembling, her body limp and utterly his. His teeth
closed over one nipple and she arched upward, driving his fingers higher still.

And suddenly she was convulsing around him, his touch wringing pleasure from her body
so intense she wasn’t sure she could bear the sensation.

But bear it she did, falling back against the sheets as the world tumbled around her.
Seconds passed, or maybe it was minutes, she couldn’t tell, before she returned to
herself, a giddy grin on her lips.

“Liked that, did you?” he murmured.

She couldn’t speak, still trying to gather her breath, so she nodded.

He slid his fingers out of her, then to her astonishment touched one to his mouth.
“Delicious.” He put his hand on her bare hip. “I wonder,” he murmured almost to himself.
“No, we’ll leave that for later. I might shock you beyond words and ye willna marry
me after all.”

“I’ll marry you,” she said on a quiet rasp, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t
wait.”

He laughed. “Neither can I.”

Then he groaned, flopping onto his back beside her. “One more night,” he said, so
low she knew he’d definitely been speaking to himself that time.

The sheets had been kicked down to the foot of the bed. Even in the dim light, she
could see the outline of his body and the flesh that pulled the material of his drawers
high.

He was aroused. She might be innocent—although not as innocent as she had been at
the start of the evening—but she understood enough to realize that he hadn’t gained
the same pleasure as she.

She ought to go to sleep. If he was content to wait until tomorrow, then so should
she be. But she glanced over at him again,
noticed the rigid way he lay next to her, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Daniel?” she asked tentatively.

“Hmm?”

“I wondered…” She paused, trying to find the words. “That is…what about you?”

Silence fell, disturbed only by the logs crackling in the grate.

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Go to sleep, lass.”