suffuse his expression. And inwardly smiled all the more.
She hadn't been sure whether to bring him with her on this journey, not until he'd asked and sworn his allegiance. Then she'd known it was right-that he should be by her side when she faced Algaria at her cottage, and whatever truths awaited them there.
But she could do nothing about Algaria tonight, and, regardless of what transpired with Algaria, her own life would go on-and she had a goal, a personal aim, one vitally important to her.
She needed to show Richard she loved him. Needed to convince him of that fact-drum it through his Cynster skull so that, someday, he would be confident enough to openly show his love for her. She wasn't holding her breath, of course-she knew it would take time. Men as reserved as he did not change their habits overnight. But she was prepared to be patient; she would persevere.
The first thing to do was to start.
And now was as good a time as any.
Sliding the wooden eating bowls back into her saddlebag, she set it aside, then approached Richard where he sat on a round stool before the fire, staring at the flames. Resting her hands lightly on his shoulders, she brushed her lips along his cheek. 'Come to bed.'
The soft whisper had him standing immediately; he'd already banked the fire. Taking his hand, a soft smile playing on her lips, Catriona led him to the pallet lying on a crude frame in the corner. She'd had him fetch fresh spruce to slide into the dry straw, then she'd covered the whole with a blanket, keeping two others to wrap about them. The warmth in the cottage released a faint tang from the spruce; their warm bodies crushing it would release even more.
Stopping by the bed, he drew his fingers from hers and immediately reached for her laces. Laying aside the warm shawl she'd draped over her shoulders, she let him do what he did so well. He divested her of her gown and petticoats, then considered her fine lawn chemise.
'You might want to keep that on.'
Catriona considered her own plans for the night and shook her head. 'Not tonight.' Quickly, fingers flying, she slid the tiny buttons undone, noting his blink, his sudden stiffening as she opened the bodice. Then she grasped the hem and whisked the chemise off over her head. She dropped it on a stool with the rest of her clothes, then grabbed one waiting blanket, shook it out, and slid onto the bed beneath it.
Richard watched her, blinked at her, then undressed and joined her in record time. He pinched out the candle just before he did, plunging the room into a mysterious dark lit by flickering firelight. The pallet dipped beside her as he stretched beneath the second blanket; he was all dark, mysterious male when he loomed on his elbow beside her. And reached for her.
'No.' Catriona braced one hand against his chest when he would have rolled her beneath him. She wriggled the other way, pressing him back to the pallet. 'This time, I want to love you-not the other way about.'
Richard blinked again and swallowed the reassurance that had risen to his tongue. She always loved him- took him into her body with a joyous delight, a witchy neediness, that was all the loving he needed. But… if she wanted to love him even more, he'd grit his teeth and bear it. 'Just what form,' he murmured, as he rolled obediently onto his back, 'is this loving of yours going to take?'
'This, for a start.' Scrambling over him, Catriona found his lips with hers, and kissed him-gently at first, then with greater confidence as he parted his lips and welcomed her in, playing the role that was usually hers. She took his, wriggling so she was higher over him to deepen the kiss, to coax, to incite, to sexually stir him.
Not that he needed any stirring. Against her thigh, cocooned in the warmth of the blankets, she could feel the steady, pulsing throb of his erection-hard and heavy and all hers. Inwardly grinning, she shifted, trapping it between her thighs, artfully caressing.
It grew hotter, harder. His hands, splayed across her back, tensed.
She pulled back from their kiss. 'I want,' she whispered, already slightly breathless, 'you to tell me what you like.'
'What I like?' His voice was a gravelly murmur in her ear. 'What I like, sweet witch, is to feel your body close tightly about me, all hot and wet and urgent.'
'Hmmm, yes. But before that,' she insisted. 'Do you like this?' Discovering a flat nipple hidden beneath the crisp mat of his hair, she burrowed her head down and licked it-lovingly.
And felt him tense, just a little, beneath her. 'Very nice.' The words sounded a touch strained. In wriggling lower, she'd slithered over his erection, it was now cradled in her curls, pulsing against the rounded softness of her belly.
'Good.' Artfully sliding this way, then that, using her whole body as well as her hands to caress him, she pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses across his chest, down the ridged muscles of his abdomen, interspersing her kisses with well-placed licks and the occasional suck.
Beneath her. his body was hardening, muscles here and there flickered restlessly. Recalling in fine detail all the caresses he'd pressed on her-and which ones drove her the most demented-Catriona decided that what was good for the goose probably worked equally well with the gander.
The sudden hiss of his indrawn breath as, sliding swiftly further down, she curled her fingers about his rigid length, then caressed it with the warm swells of her breasts, suggested her reasoning was sound. Smiling to herself, she slid further yet, deliberately guiding his long length up from the valley between her breasts, along the smooth skin of her upper chest, then up, sinuously lifting her head to caress him with her throat.
Before turning her head and caressing him with her lips.
He jerked; every muscle in his body locked tight. His hands shifted from her shoulders; his fingers sank into her curls. 'Catriona?'
He sounded shocked. Inwardly grinning, Catriona was too busy to answer him. She didn't, however, have any real clue what she was doing, how much pleasure he was feeling, so, after kissing, licking and sucking to her own content, she decided to inquire about his.
'Do you like this?' She planted a soft, wet kiss on his pulsing tip.
Richard bit back a groan. 'No,' he lied. But he couldn't force his fingers to grip her tresses and haul her away.
'Oh. Well, perhaps you like this better?'
He did; Richard gave up and groaned as she closed her mouth, all soft, hot heat, around him. He withstood her torture for two more, exquisitely wracked minutes, before realizing that, no matter that he could tease her to
'Catriona-' In an explosive movement, he half-sat-for one fractured instant driving his shaft deeper into her mouth-then he caught her, lifted her, scattering the blankets they no longer needed. They were both burning with an inner heat.
An inner heat that poured over his teased and sensitive flesh as he set her on her knees, straddling his hips.
She blinked down at him. 'I was only trying to please you.'
He scowled at her; despite the poor light, he could see the witchy smile on her lips. 'You please me every time you take me in, you damn witch.'
His knowing fingers found her softness, deftly probed, stroked and readied her. It took only one flick to replace his fingers with his throbbing shaft. Gripping her hips, he eased her down, closing his eyes in ecstasy as she slowly slid down and enveloped him.
'That,' he stated his voice deep but weak, 'is what pleases me the most.'
He heard her witchy chuckle, then she rose on him and slid down, clasping him tight again. Sliding his hands about the globes of her derriere, he gripped and helped her rise-and felt the dew spring up beneath his hands as he stroked and caressed.
They settled into their usual slow rhythm; only then did he lift his heavy lids. Small hands braced on his chest, she rode him happily, a serene, definitely witchy, lustfully knowing smile on her lips. Her gaze was fixed on his face, watching, gauging, assessing his response to that ultimate, most intimate caress.
He only just managed to suppress his wolfish grin. He was blessed, and he knew it. 'If you really want to please me, one thing you could do is always come to me stark naked, with your hair down.' As it currently was, a rich, vibrant corona about her head, rippling fire over her white shoulders and down her slim arms. When he took her from behind, it was like a living veil, sliding sensuously over her back. He loved her hair.
