The Campbell Trilogy (23 page)

She felt relaxed, confident, and most important, eager to continue.

She kissed him again, rubbing her body ever so gently against his. The places where they touched tingled with sensation. But it wasn’t enough; she craved the weight and pressure of his hands.

She kissed him harder, trying to convey her wishes with her mouth. She could feel the passion stirring inside him but knew that no matter how hard she drove him, he would hold to his vow.

She would have to tell him.

Her mouth moved across his jaw, rough with stubble, to his ear. “Touch me,” she whispered. “Please, touch me.”

“Where?” he asked.

The heavy brogue of his voice seemed as rich and dark as molten lava, sinking deep into her bones. No man should have a voice like that—one that could seduce with a word. “Everywhere,” she answered.

He moaned and cupped her breasts lovingly in his hands, pinching her nipples to taut peaks. “Like this, my sweet?”

She threw back her head, giving herself over to the exquisite sensations wrought by his powerful hands on her body. Hands that could wield a claymore with deadly strength but could stroke and caress with painstaking tenderness.

His mouth clasped over one nipple as he drew it deep in his mouth, tugging it between his teeth until her body—of its own accord—started to move against him. She felt his erection hot and throbbing against her belly. Like the rest of him, he was a big man. Though she’d felt him pressed against her body, she hadn’t quite realized just how big until she’d released him from the confines of his breeches. For a moment, all she could feel was shock and not a wee
bit of trepidation—until she’d taken him in her hand. She remembered how he’d felt—like velvet over steel. But most of all, she remembered how it had felt to harness all that raw masculine strength in the palm of her tiny hand.
She
had the power to make him weak with pleasure, and the knowledge was both thrilling and emboldening, giving her confidence she would have thought impossible.

“I want you naked,” he said, and his eyes bored into her with a passion that was almost frightening in its intensity. It wasn’t merely lust, but something far deeper. Something that wrapped around her like a warm, fuzzy plaid. Something that she’d never thought she’d feel again: secure.

She nodded, and he deftly pulled her nightraile over her head, depositing it on the floor beside the bed. She was no longer on top of him, but stretched out beside him.

She didn’t have time to be embarrassed by her nudity because he was sucking her breasts again, lifting them to his face and nuzzling between the deep cleft. The scratch of his whiskers was a welcome friction against her fevered skin.

Never had she felt so cherished. He worshipped her with his mouth and tongue. As if trying to memorize every inch of her, he sculpted her with his hands, leaving nothing unexplored. The long, slow drag of his callused palms across her feverish skin made her prickle with awareness. It was exquisite, beautiful in its torture. Every touch, every move he made, was calculated for her pleasure. Desire gathered between her legs in a heated pool. She was warm and soft and desperate for his touch.

His lips covered hers again in a wet, openmouthed kiss that was dark and carnal. His fingertip skidded along the inside of her thigh. Her breath caught in anticipation.

“Tell me,” he whispered. She nudged toward his hand, but all he did was gently sweep over her with the tip of his finger. “Do you want me to touch you here, Caitrina?” She was in such anguish, her entire body shuddered from the feather-soft touch.

“Please,” she begged, pressing against his hand, craving pressure.

She moaned when he finally slid his finger inside her, bringing her to the very peak of pleasure with his deft stroking. He was pulling her down a long, dark tunnel of sensation where all she could think of was releasing the pressure building between her legs.

He murmured wicked encouragements in her ear, driving her wild. She was so close.…

But she wanted more. She wanted to share her pleasure with him. Instinctively, she reached out to take him in her hand, her fingers wrapping around his hot, velvety skin. “Show me,” she said.

His hand went still. His gaze met hers. “You’re sure?” She nodded.

Taking her by the hips, he gently guided her on top of him so that she straddled him with her legs. The feel of his thick, heavy column between her thighs gave her a moment’s pause, but all was forgotten when he moved her over his tip. Her body started to quiver as he nudged gently at her opening with the smooth, round head. She spread her legs wider and slowly lowered her body over him.

He made a sound that was almost pained as she sank down, taking the heavy head inside her. She stopped when she felt a bit of resistance and allowed her body to get used to the sensation of being stretched around him, trying to decide whether it hurt.

He held himself perfectly still, not moving an inch, though she knew that he was holding himself by a very thin thread. She could see the grim determination on his face, the muscles in his neck and shoulders drawn as tight as the string of a bow.

“It doesn’t hurt so badly at all,” she decided.

He made a sound that was like a strangled laugh. “I’m afraid we’re not quite done yet, my love.”

Love.
She knew it was a turn of phrase, an endearment
uttered in the heat of the moment, but it did not stop the pang of longing in her chest. “We’re not?” she asked.

He shook his head.

She tried to sink down a little more and stopped. “I’m afraid this is as far as I can go, you are simply too big.”

This time he managed to smile. “Words to warm the heart of any man, my sweet, but I can assure you it will work. I must break through your virgin’s barrier. I can make it go fast, but I’ll not lie to you, it will hurt.”

She nodded. Before she could reconsider, his hands grasped her waist, and holding her gaze, in one smooth motion he thrust up high inside her. Deep inside her. She felt a sharp pinch and cried out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tight with restraint.

Her body fought the invasion and her first instinct was to lift off of him, but he held her firm.

“Give it a minute,” he urged. “Try to relax. God, you feel incredible.”

He started to massage the tip of the opening between her legs with his thumb, and slowly her body softened. The sweet drowsy feeling spread over her again.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rubbing her a little harder. He was right: It did feel incredible, unlike anything she’d ever imagined. She never thought she could feel this close to someone. He seemed to fill her, his manhood providing all the pressure she had craved—and more.

Her body began to move, lifting up a little and sinking down on him again. She fell into a natural rhythm. Never had she felt so free.

She knew from the look of rapture on his face that she must be doing something right.

As her pulse started to race frantically, he clasped her hips and helped move her faster over him. Churning, plunging, harder and harder. Faster and faster. Until …

Her body contracted in the tight grip of pleasure and
started to pulse. It must have been all that he’d been waiting for, because she sensed him relax and let go.

“I’m going to come,” he said tightly, and thrust one more time, penetrating to her very core. Their eyes met, and what she saw there made her heart squeeze. The tender emotion was a sharp contrast to his usual cold implacability; she knew he’d revealed a part of himself that she’d never seen before—that maybe no one had ever seen before.

He cried out as his body tensed and the hot rush of his seed exploded inside her.

And she rose up to meet him, arching her back and crying out as her own release swept over her. It was the same as before, only much more intense. The slow breaking apart, the sharp pinnacle of sensation, the brief moment where her heart stopped and her soul seemed to touch the heavens. But this time, she was not alone.

I’m not alone.

She wanted it to last forever and clung to the sensations as long as she could, riding each wave until the last tingle of sensation had ebbed.

Breathing hard, she slumped forward onto his chest, their skin pleasantly slick with the sheen of perspiration.

Her cheek was pressed to his chest. Listening to the frantic beat of his heart begin to slow, she closed her eyes.

Jamie heard the soft, even sounds of her breathing and knew she slept. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t have words to describe what he was feeling and was glad for the time to collect himself.

What the hell had just happened?

It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. He’d known their attraction was strong, but it did not explain the connection he’d felt when deep inside her. A connection that had far more to do with sating his soul than with sating his lust. Never had a woman so completely penetrated his
iron-forged control. She’d revealed a part of him that he hadn’t known existed.

He stroked her hair, contemplating the strange tightness in his chest. The overwhelming feeling of tenderness for the tiny woman in his arms. His wife. He’d thought that would be enough, but it wasn’t. He wanted more, much more. He wanted her love, trust, and respect. For without the latter two, the first was impossible.

But what if she could never give it to him?

He was inextricably tied to his cousin—a man she could not abide—and his own brother had destroyed her clan.

How long would it be before she asked him to choose between her and his family—his duty?

He dreaded the day, though he knew it would come. For there were some things he could not—would not—do. He nestled her more firmly under his arm. Even for her.

A knock at the door stirred Caitrina awake. It took her a few moments to realize where she was and that she was alone. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved—probably a little of both. In the stark light of day, the memories of what they’d shared last night took on new meaning, and she was more than a little embarrassed by her passionate response to their lovemaking.

If she needed a reminder, all she had to do was look down at the sheeting twisted around her naked limbs to recall exactly how bold she’d been. Her cheeks heated. Quickly, she bent over to pluck her nightraile from the floor, then dropped it over her head, fastened the ties at the neck, and bade the person at the door enter.

It was Mor. She bustled into the room, a stack of drying cloths piled to her nose. “The laird bid me wake you so you had time to bathe before breaking your fast.” She placed the linen atop Caitrina’s chest and began to stoke the fire. “He wishes to leave within the hour.”

Caitrina stretched lazily, reluctant to leave the cozy warmth of the bed. “What time is it?”

Her old nurse walked to the windows and tore open the shutters. Blinding rays of sunshine poured across the polished wood-planked floor. “Nearly midmorning.”

“Already!” Caitrina exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. “We were supposed to leave for Ascog at daybreak. Why did someone not wake me?”

“The laird instructed me to let you sleep.” Mor didn’t
seem to be any more happy to take his orders in the morning than she had in the eve. She gave Caitrina a pointed look. “He said you needed your rest.”

Caitrina turned so Mor would not see the telltale blush creeping up her cheeks.

“You are all right?” Mor asked hesitantly. “He was not too rough—”

“I’m fine,” Caitrina said hurriedly. Better than fine. She’d never felt so … fine. She could still see the frown on Mor’s face, so she reached out to clasp her hands and look into her worried eyes. “Truly, Mor, I’m well. He was … gentle.” Surprisingly so. Completely at odds with the fierce, implacable warrior she thought him to be. Last night, she’d seen a side of him she hadn’t expected, and she didn’t know what to do with her newfound knowledge.

She still couldn’t believe what had happened. He’d surprised her on so many levels. First by his sensitivity to her lingering fears from the soldier’s attack and then by his ceding to her complete control in their lovemaking. Never could she have imagined that he would give her such a gift when his sheer physical strength, his natural authority and command, and the sexual virility that exuded from him all spoke of dominant male. And her confidence that he would stop at any point had calmed her fears like nothing else—he’d known what she needed even before she did. Had she once thought him cold and ruthless? Perhaps to his enemies, but to her he’d been understanding, tender … almost loving.

Satisfied by Caitrina’s response, her old nurse nodded, and she was saved from further conversation by the arrival of the wooden tub.

While she was relaxing in the warm water, her thoughts drifted more than once or twice to her husband. Instinctively, she realized that something had changed between them, but what? Would it be uncomfortable to see him? Would he pretend nothing had happened?
Had
anything
happened? She half expected him to open the door at any minute, but it wasn’t until after she’d broken her fast that she saw him.