Highlander Mine (17 page)

In fact, it had quite the opposite effect.

What I felt under his riled glare was a profound, soul-drenching relief.
’Tis me, Knox.
I silently thanked God and the thousand choirs of angels for that. My traumatic hallucination only shed light on my impending trek into some very dangerous territory, which, once I faced it, might end badly.

But I was here now. And so was Knox Mackenzie.

CHAPTER SIX

N
EITHER
OF
US
MOVED
.
He was straddling me, holding me down, his rage and also his concern illuminating the pale inflections of his eyes. They were extraordinary eyes. Dark-rimmed and lightning-bright.

He might have been making a point, showing his dominance as he waited for me to answer the question he had every right to ask.

Despite his grip, or because of it, the tension eased from my body. I lay quietly, supine yet receptive. My restless sleep had displaced my shawl, and my gown, which was loosely tailored across the shoulders, draped in a revealing, delicately haphazard line.

I could feel the flaming heat of his body through the layers of our clothing.

A note of pleasant discomfort under his weight caused me to shift and I arched slightly. The movement accentuated the fullness of my breasts, encased as they were in the snug, flattering fit of my borrowed gown. I wanted to irritate him, or stir him, as he so easily did to me. Already, I was responding to him. The very core of my body throbbed lightly with a warm, sly pulse.

I placed my hand on his chest.

Something wild and restless was taking place between us that I could neither explain nor deny. Behind the sober civility, larger forces were at work between myself and Knox Mackenzie that were both thrilling and mesmerizing.

I want him. I want him to infuse me with his glory. Before I disappear to do my duty and risk my life, I want him.

My hands slid higher. Over the nape of his neck. Into that thick black hair. I pulled him down to me, until his face was over mine. Reaching up to him, I kissed his mouth in a seductive claim. I arched closer and our bodies met in tantalizing harmony. Rigid, uncompromising hardness over supple, inviting softness. I moved against him as my tongue touched his lips.

It was then that Knox Mackenzie submitted to my sultry demands with sudden, fierce surrender.

I had broken through the floodgates of his desire. He kissed me and the force of him was enough to overwhelm me completely. He took my mouth aggressively and his hands slid over my breasts. He was big and rough and hungry. His mouth fed on mine in long, erotic kisses, deep, ravenous and all-encompassing.

My hands had wreaked havoc in his hair and he was unfastening the top button of the bodice of my gown. We were both shaking, too absorbed to stop or to question. He made a savage sound, like a growl-edged purr. Leaning down, he kissed my breast, searching for the tip. Finding my nipple, he drew it into his mouth in firm, articulate tugs. Each pull sent a bolt of sweet, bountiful pleasure to the very center of my being that threatened to somehow spill, or overflow.

“Knox,”
I breathed.
“Oh, God, aye.”
I couldn’t hold back my impassioned pleas. I wanted to tell him how good he felt, how much I wanted him.
“You feel so good. I want to feel you everywhere. Everywhere. Aye, touch me. Put your hands and your mouth on me.”

He was pulling my dress lower, feasting on my body like a starving man.

And he, too, was gushing, equally overcome. “Amelia,” he was murmuring against my skin. “God Almighty, lass. You’re driving me to the brink of madness. I haven’t slept since I saw you hanging from that tree, spilling to the ground and out of your gown, eating that juicy apple. I wanted to take you right then and there. You’re so lovely. Too lovely. I want you more than I can bear.”

It felt good to finally give him my complete honesty. “Laird Mackenzie,” I whispered into his ear, nibbling and kissing him as he groaned. “You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. So brave and good. I wanted you then as I want you now. Take me. Take everything.” My hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling it loose from his leather trews. He removed the garment, sliding it over his head and tossing it away impatiently. In the humid air of a rain-soaked night, the dark skin of his torso gleamed. He looked bigger and more muscled without his shirt, capable of overpowering me and dominating me completely, and the realization only stoked my frenzy higher.

Knox’s strong grip was on my bare leg, the fabric of my dress somehow bunched now around my upper thighs. My hand found the hard muscle of his upper arm, where the brutal power of him rippled and flexed. The sheer size and raw strength of him was stunningly arousing. Knowing I was wholly at his mercy, to do with as he pleased. I wanted him to do all of it. I wanted him to have his way with me, to take and to give.
Him, him, only him.
He was crouched above me. He pulled my legs open roughly, his hand gliding higher. The cool air on my hot skin made me gasp. And then he was there, searching into the slippery softness between my legs.

All my energies focused on this sinful, beautiful touch. I moaned at the invading glide of his fingers, the gentle skate of his thumb as he found and teased the hidden, honeyed nub of my sex.
“Knox,”
I cried out.
“Oh, Knox. Oh, God in heaven.”

“Aye, lass, moan for me. I’ll give you everything you want.”

He
was
giving me everything I wanted. The sensation was the most intense I had ever experienced. He was kissing my lips, still crouched over me. His fingers delved with expert intent, reading the pleasure points of my body as though he’d invented them. One of his hands was on my breast and the other continued to explore tenderly between my legs. His mouth took mine with supple insistence. In a careful rhythm, he coaxed the rise. His tongue prodded silkily into my mouth as his fingers pulled and twirled my nipple, elongating the sensitive peak. With his other hand, he sustained the circular momentum, spurring a starry, feverish throb of pleasure that began to consume me in a tidal surge. His fingers pressed and slid, delivering a gush of ecstasy so severe I lost myself. My intimate flesh spasmed in delighted, furtive bursts around his invading fingers as though my body was trying to draw him deeper.

My entire being was focused on that fluttering place where his fingers played. It was some time before I could think, or speak. My arms were wrapped around him.

“Laird Mackenzie,”
I whispered.

“Aye, I’m here. I’m here with you.” He removed his touch, laying himself over me as though to protect me.

My mind was muddled, still overwhelmed by the lingering, feverish sensations of my body. “That was...what
was
that?”

“Pleasure, lass. Relief.”

“Oh.” More than pleasure. Ecstasy as I had never known it. “Knox?”

“Aye.” He was kissing the skin of my throat, licking and tasting.

“What of
your
relief? I want to give you pleasure.”

“You are, lass. You are.”

My hands slid to his strong neck. I was fascinated by the lines of him, the curved muscles that defined him so elegantly. He was regal and beautiful to such an extent that I felt awed by him.

And he had come to me. There was a tender tightness in my chest and my throat at the realization. This beautiful, important man had chosen to be with me in this moment. In all his considerable power, he was power
less
to resist me, here and now. I felt mightily encouraged by this, by his close, heavy presence. As though he had somehow transferred some of his power to me. I felt strangely
invested.
In us. I knew this feeling would likely pass, when the dictates of our lives and realities once again defined us.

But here, on the gilded shores of his moonlit loch, we were untouched by all that. We were alone. He was on top of me, shirtless. I lay naked but for a loosened, shredded gown that covered only the middle of me. I loved the feel of his hair against my skin and the big, masculine weight of his body bearing down on mine. The night air caressed my bare thighs, reminding me of the echo of a blissful, undulating pleasure. I wanted more of it. I wanted to please him, too, and feel
his
pleasure.

“Knox?”

“Hmm?”

I kissed him again, taking his delectable lower lip gently between my teeth. I wrapped my bare legs around him. My hands wandered over the smooth, quilted muscles of his back. Down to his thick leather belt. I was curious. The way he felt, so big, so unyieldingly hard. I knew very little about the intricacies of male anatomy, but I wondered if he had somehow...escaped the confines of his trews. What if I was able to
feel
him and touch him so intimately, so inspiringly, like he had touched me?

He lay more heavily onto me, effectively stopping me. “Amelia,” he warned.

“I want to... I want you to—”

“Nay, lass. Not like this.”

Maybe he was having second thoughts.

He didn’t
feel
as if he was having second thoughts, however. With his body pressed against mine, I knew that there was more to this story than playful banter or soothing caresses. He was stunningly hard. Everywhere.

“Unleash your madness upon me,” I said, burrowing my fingers farther, touching the hot skin of his hip. “I want to feel you.”

His hand clamped around my wrist in an unbreakable hold before I could reach far enough to answer any of my questions. “Amelia,” he said again. “It would pay not to push me past the point of no return.”

I looked up at him. I couldn’t deny that my current outlook was tainted by a sense of impending doom, held at bay by the calm, formidable beauty of this man in this moment. It wasn’t fair that he might pull away, and revoke the pervading sense of safety his presence provided. What I wanted him to do was infuse me with his effect, to fill me and imprint me with his influence so I could feel that colliding perfection, and remember it.

Knox Mackenzie’s desperation was very different from mine. It was there; I could feel it. It lurked behind a carefully honed sense of discipline. In brief glimpses, that wild longing was detectable. I had tasted it when he kissed me, that exotic flavor of uncontrolled desire. But now his emotion was being corralled once again, restrained behind some judicious, lairdish, infuriating defense. The removal of this touchable, yielding connectivity was no less than infuriating to me.

Squirming underneath him, I tried to free my hands. But he held them tighter, his hold unbreakable.

I caught the soft flesh of his earlobe between my teeth, biting him. He exhaled a light growl and stilled for a moment, allowing us both a moment of reprieve. Into that stillness, my urgencies spilled, silent and abounding.

“Stop fighting me,” he said, looking deep into my eyes.

“I don’t want to
fight
with you, Laird Mackenzie.”

“There’s plenty of time. These things shouldn’t be rushed into.”

Such was my petulance, it took a few moments before I realized that Knox Mackenzie was smiling. In the rippling darkness, I could see the shine of his teeth, the dazzling amusement on his extraordinary face.

It was the sight of him, I think, that unraveled me. The gleam of his hair and the shape of his mouth. Or maybe it was the sanctuary of his embrace that did it. Either way, I felt the slide of a tear down my cheek.

His smile faded and he contemplated me with thoughtful concern.

I hadn’t meant to weep. Not at all. It was something I very rarely did. I wasn’t one to give in to my own vulnerabilities; my life didn’t afford me with the opportunities or the inclinations to indulge myself in this way. This whim, now, felt not like a weakness but, oddly, as a strength. There was relief in it and also empowerment. As though I was capable of more emotion and more depth than ever before, like hidden cloisters of my soul had been discovered and they were enchanting places that housed love and laughter and seductive ecstasies the likes of which were yet unknown on this earth. I wished Knox Mackenzie would allow me to grant him one of these secrets. “We can never know what time has in store for us,” I said. “This moment is our gift. A beautiful, magical gift. I don’t want to waste it, or deny it.”

His answering smile was kind, touched by that unruly desire that shone from his eyes with liquid, volatile fervor. The compassion in him was backlit by fever. He kissed me, touching his lips to mine. He might have known that giving himself in this way would calm me. I loved the feel of his mouth. The shape of it, the soft texture and the sensual intent. I responded to him, relaxing and submitting. Only then did he touch the tip of his tongue to mine. A hot current shot from the tip of my tongue to my silky core, renewing the sweet, eager pulse.

“I saw you from my window today,” he said, pulling back to study me. “I saw you walking toward the bluff. When the time for our meeting had come and gone, I followed your trail. I saw you there, asleep, and I sat with you and watched you for some time.”

Another sweet, slow, sensual kiss.

“And I was thinking to myself, as you lay so still and so peaceful, that there was something I wanted to do.” A lengthy pause. “To you.”

The curiosity was nearly unbearable, especially in the midst of his sly, prolonged pauses. “What did you want to do?”

He was tormenting me intentionally by stalling, playing with a curl of my hair. “Your hair, with all its winsome, vibrant curls. The inviting contrast of you, of innocence and supple, womanly beauty. The milky, flawless smoothness of your skin. Aye,” he mused. “There were quite a few things, in fact, that I
fiercely
wanted to do.”

He wanted me urgent and inquisitive, I knew. So I made a point of attempting patience and feigning disinterest.

And he continued, his voice condensed with feeling. “Your cobalt-blue eyes, so bright. Your delicate, rosy mouth. Your tempestuous, fiery spark.”

He paused again.

I simply couldn’t resist prodding for more. “What...what
kinds
of things?”

He smiled at my insistence, my insatiable curiosity. And he indulged me. “Lurid things,” he whispered, as though we might be overheard. “Shocking.
Lewd,
even. All manner of debauchery, aye. Completely and utterly inappropriate, each one of them.”

Shocking? Debauched?
Lewd?
I waited, even counting in my head in an attempt to stall my outburst, trying to think of anything but him and his lurid things. I tried to stop myself, I truly did. Despite it all, the soft bid came spilling out. “
Please.
Tell me.”