She heard him inhale. Was he finding her by the smell of woodsmoke that had settled into her hair and clothes from the bonfires? She stood still, lips open so her breath moved in and out silently. The large mass that was Joshua Sinclair pushed the stone stool out of the way as he walked forward.
Breath in. Breath out. She could not hear his advance, his feet setting down with predatory silence and the wind whistling over the opening above her cave. But she knew he was close, her senses attuned to him. If she put her hands forward, they would probably touch him. She shut her eyes, for there was no sense in trying to see through the dense shadows. Instead, she inhaled and took a step closer to where she knew he must be. Her eyes opened but it was as if they were closed, the darkness so thick. She inhaled again and caught the slightest scent of woodsmoke, wool, leather, and fresh air. He was right before her.
Standing there, listening to him breathe, inhaling his scent, Kára’s blood thrummed through her with anticipation. Who would touch first? What part of her would feel the warmth he gave off? Her nipples pulled taut as she waited there in the dark.
A brushing against her breasts. Then pressure as Joshua’s chest met her own, and she tilted her face up toward the darkness above her where his face would be. Did he wait for permission? The thought lit a wildness through her. Here was a man, a man who could bring all sorts of pain to foes, who could no doubt kill with his bare hands, and he was honorable and kind and waiting for her to direct him.
A small hum came from the back of her throat, her hands coming up in the darkness. Palms flat, she set them on his chest, which was already bare. She slid them up over the contours of his muscles. “Aye,” she whispered. “Aye, Joshua.”
A rumble of a growl answered her in the deep darkness. Hands, large and restrained, grabbed her upper arms, sliding up to cup her face. Powerful, wild, and fervent, Joshua’s mouth came down to meet her lips.
Like the driest kindling shot by lightning, throwing up a shower of sparks, the flame of anticipation exploded within Kára. Heat surged from within, and she slanted her mouth against his, her fingers scraping through his hair, wrapping it in her fists so he could not pull away. Hands stroked down over her shoulders and the boned stays under her wool dress. She pulled the thin lace at the top of her stays, letting it open enough to release her breasts. She shrugged her shoulders, letting her gown slip lower to expose her. It felt deliciously wicked to feel the chill on her skin, her breasts perched there, even if he could not see them. Finding one of his hands at her waist, she slid it up until he could feel the swell of her above the neckline.
“Och, lass,” he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation and want. The rumble of it seemed to vibrate in her blood, making it rush faster so that the ache between her legs grew.
Kára tugged on his belt until she felt it give. Thud. His wrappings dropped to the floor.
He groaned as she pressed into him, rubbing her abdomen against the huge erection she could feel rising between them. His hands slid down her back to lift under her arse, raising her up to rub the juncture of her legs against him through her gown.
Kisses. A tasting, a giving. They turned wild. They grew open and savage until Kára felt like she could lose herself within Joshua Sinclair. And tonight, that was exactly what she wanted, what she needed.
Unpinning the brooches at her shoulders, Kára’s gown slid the rest of the way down. She pushed him slightly back so she could step out of it, leaving her in her unlaced stays over a white smock. His hands rucked up the back, his fingers deftly exploring the contours of her bare arse. Shallow breaths, the distant whistle of wind, the scratch of cotton against skin, the thudding of her heart, and the brush of skin against skin were the only sounds in Kára’s world.
Joshua added a soft kiss sound as he trailed his lips from her mouth to her jaw and down her neck, sending tantalizing chills along Kára’s limbs. She untied the rest of the laces of her stays and shrugged her shoulders until her smock floated down around her hips to fall into a ghostly puddle around her feet.
She heard him work at the lacings on his boots and shove one off, the weight of it thumping on the floor. Everything about Joshua was heavy and hard, except his skin. She bent to untie her own boots, and he seemed to give her space to do it.
While down, she inhaled, thinking of how he’d pleasured her while they were in her den before. Never had she thought to use her mouth for something other than kissing. They were next to the bed, and she grabbed one of the furs that lay strewn across it, shoving it under her knees where she knelt on the floor before him.
She reached for him, knowing he must be right before her. His gasp added to the music of near silence around them. Without the sense of sight, touch and smell seemed heightened. Wrapping her hand around his length, she marveled at the softness of the skin stretched over something so hard and powerful. Tentatively, she leaned into him, opening her mouth.
“Sweet bloody hell.” His whisper came in a rush of breath as she took him into her wet, warm mouth. Massive and powerful, like the rest of her Highlander. She felt his hands fist in
