With a disgruntled sigh, she loosened the strings of her bodice and carefully peeled away the material. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ewan’s expression grow tight as he stared at her bare shoulders.
Fascinated by his intense regard, she took a little more time than necessary to ease the dress down her body. Her hair fell down her back and forward over her breasts. Just the nipples peeked through the strands, and Ewan’s gaze was fixed on them.
“Shall I lie down?” she asked softly.
Ewan cleared his throat. “Aye. That’s fine. Make yourself comfortable. This won’t take but a minute.”
She eased down on the bed but watched Ewan from underneath her lashes. While he was thon changing the dressing on her wound, his heated gaze dragged over the rest of her body, so tangible that it was like the brush of his hand over her skin.
She stirred restlessly as he finished tying the strip of cloth around her side. The action thrust her breasts forward, brushing against his arm. Her nipples immediately puckered, the rasp of hair over the sensitive tips sending a warm flood of pleasure deep into her body.
“Lass, ’tis not the time for loving,” he whispered. “But you tempt me. Aye, you tempt me like no other.”
She circled his neck with her arms and they stared at each other for a long, silent moment. His eyes were beautiful and they reminded her of the highland hills in the spring. So green and alive with life.
He lowered his mouth to hers, gently at first, just a simple pressing of mouths together. A gentle smooching sound, flesh meeting flesh. He kissed the corner of her mouth then returned to the middle and then over to catch the other corner.
“You taste of sunshine.”
Her chest tightened, and pleasure at the sweet words filled her to bursting.
She could feel him between her legs, hard and pulsing. He strained at his trews, pushing impatiently. She wanted him. Aye, she wanted him badly.
“Ewan,” she whispered. “Are you sure ’tis not the time for loving?”
He groaned low in his throat. “Aye, you’re a temptress all right.”
She lifted her body to fit it to his, unsure of what she was doing, but it felt right. She was hot and flushed and she needed something she was sure only he could give her.
“Kiss me,” she murmured.
“Oh, aye, I’ll kiss you, lass. I’ll kiss you until you beg me to stop.”
His lips closed around one taut nipple and pulled as he sucked it farther into his mouth. His hands stroked her body and she arched like a contented cat seeking more of its master’s touch.
“Easy, lass,” he murmured. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Hurt herself? She was going to hurt
He slipped his hands between her thighs and thumbed through the tight curls guarding her sensitive flesh. He brushed over the quivering point even as his fingers sought her moist opening. Despite his warning, she arched helplessly, unable to control her frantic response.
Fire stoked deep within her body and fanned rapidly through her groin, tightening each time his fingers stroked inside. This wasn’t how it was done, was it?
She didn’t care. Whatever he was doing felt so wondrous that she wanted to beg him never to stop. And she did. Over and over, the words spilling out between fractured sobs.
t='0em'>
He sucked at each breast, alternating as he drove her mindless with his fingers. She was hot and slick around him and she was fast building to an explosive end.
She whimpered and gripped his shoulders as she raised her hips, wanting more. He added a second finger to her sheath at the precise moment his thumb exerted more pressure.
She would have screamed—she did scream—but he raised his mouth from her breast to capture her mouth just as she did and swallowed the savage cry as she came apart in his arms.
Forgotten was her wound, the bandage, any pain or discomfort. There was only wave after wave of intense pleasure until she sagged onto the bed, too limp and weak to do anything more than gasp for air.
He rolled to the side and carefully pulled her into his arms. His lips brushed over her hair and he stroked the tresses with one hand. He caressed and petted every inch of her skin until a wonderful haze surrounded her and enfolded her in its warm glow.
“Sleep, lass,” he murmured. “You need your rest.”
Too fuzzy and sated to argue, she closed her eyes before she even realized she’d done so. Her last coherent thought was that he was far superior to ale as a sleeping drought.
CHAPTER 21
Mairin let out a lusty yawn and stretched her arms over her head. She was so limber from her bout of loving with Ewan that her side didn’t even pain her.
Then she realized that despite her determination to be out and about, she’d spent half the day in her chamber. With a frown, she rose, grumbling under her breath about husbands and trickery.
He’d done it apurpose, she was convinced of it. He’d taken her to their chamber on the pretext of tending her wound and then distracted her with loving. And to think she’d ever thought he wasn’t skilled in such matters.
He was too skilled by far.
This time when she left her chamber, Gannon met her directly outside her door. She looked at him in astonishment as he picked himself up off the floor.
