"Do not do this, MacLagan," she pleaded in a final attempt to stop what seemed inevitable. "I am a virgin. I have known no man. My innocence should be a gift to my lawful husband."
The image of another man possessing what he now held seared through Tavis's brain, and it took him a moment to quell a nauseating rage he did not understand. "Ye ask too much, sweet. I am but a man. To turn away from this is more than I can do."
"Can ye not satisfy your lust upon your mistress? She would know better than I how to please you." Even as she voiced the suggestion, nearly choking upon it, a part of her prayed he would not heed it.
"Nay, lass, I cannae." He ran a hand down her side, luxuriating in the hollows and rises. " 'Tis a puzzle to me, but ye have entered my blood. Kate was in my chambers, waiting and willing, but for all I told myself 'twould be best to turn to her, I found myself sending her away." He slid a hand up her rib cage to gently cup her breast and experienced a small sense of triumph upon feeling the nipple bore into his palm with impudent invitation. "I have lost all taste for her charms. The time was o'erdue for her to be away."
"I know we are enemies, but must ye make me play the whore to gain my freedom?" she cried, stoutly ignoring the urge to pull him into her arms in reaction to the joy his words had given her.
Cupping her face in his hands, Tavis teased at her lips with his while saying, "Ah, lass, I didnae mean those words. They were spoken in anger. What I am about to do has naught to do with ye being my prisoner. Nay, nor your ransom we have yet to gain. This is solely the burning need of a man for a woman. I couldnae bear the thought of ye being sent back to Hagaleah without tasting the sweetness of ye."
His kiss was a gentle seduction, nearly clearing her mind of all thought save of him and pleasure. However, a small, rational voice hung on, telling her that the man was a practiced deceiver, a skilled charmer. He knew just what to say to break down the wall she had tried to build. Even so, as his tongue explored her mouth, she had to clench her hands into tight little fists to still the urge to touch him. Her body cared nothing for her mind's warnings.
As his lips moved down her slender throat, he groaned. "Touch me, lass. I want to feel those bonnie wee hands move o'er my flesh. Touch me, Storm. Discover the man that aches for ye."
"Nay, nay, I cannot," she moaned in a voice she did not recognize as her own. " 'Tis not right."
"Storm, bonnie Storm, dinnae make me angry. I am nay too sane just now and I could hurt ye, which isnae what I want at all." He brushed kisses over the swell of her breasts. "Touch me, Storm."
"Nay, I must not. I ... ah!" she cried softly when he cupped a breast in his hand and his lips closed over the hardened tip, sending shafts of fire through her as his tongue flicked over the nub, creating an ache that he eased with a gentle suckling. "I am lost," she whispered, her hands burying themselves in his thick hair while her body arched against him in graceful need.
" 'Tis the purest nectar," he murmured as he gave her other breast an equal service, his hand moving in a slow caress down her stomach. "Your skin is like the finest silk."
Storm bit her lip in an attempt to stop the soft sounds of passion trying to escape her. It was in vain, for they exploded in her throat, sounding very much like a contented purr. He was turning her into a mindless receptacle for his lust, yet she could not stop her body's response to his practiced caresses. Her hands touched him wherever they could reach, moving with a shy but greedy delight that she could not control. As his kisses moved over her soft midriff, his hand slid between her legs to caress and probe. She tensed slightly, briefly, then slid over the edge into a mindless state, aware only of her pleasure and an aching need that was rapidly growing within her.
Tavis sensed her final capitulation and gave a soft, triumphant laugh. He had felt the passion within her, felt her tremble as she fought to subdue it, and had used all his skill to make passion the victor. His reward was the way she was coming alive beneath him, her thrashings and the sounds of pleasure escaping her stirring him in a way he had never experienced before. As his mouth edged its way back to her breasts, his fingers sought out the heart of her, readying her for his final possession and luxuriating in the warm moistness of her, a warmth that would soon know him more fully.
He wanted to savor his passion, the like of which he had never known before, but soon reached the limit of his endurance. Her small hands with their shy, unpracticed touches were driving him near to madness, giving him more pleasure than he had
