Page 77 of A Hellion for the Highland Hawk
It would have been perfect, if not for that strange pendant at her throat.
“We’ve done it now,” she said, her voice thick.
“Done what?” he asked, offering his hand.
She took it gingerly, allowing him to lead her into his chambers. “As I told you before, it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding day. Can’t help feeling that we probably should have erred on the side of caution, considering.”
“I daenae believe in all that.” He walked her to the windows, where hazy moonlight filtered in, adding a sort of aura to the silk of her gown. “I believe in meself and me sword, and in the fact that ye’ll come to me when I call for ye.”
He moved behind her, sweeping aside her tresses, lowering his head to press a light kiss to her bare shoulder.
“I almost didn’t,” she whispered, tilting her head to give him better access.
“Are ye afraid?” He kissed the sensitive spot at the nape of her neck.
“Of you?” She paused. “No. Of tomorrow, definitely.”
He smiled against her skin. “Lucky for ye, I keep me promises.” His hands smoothed down the hard lines of her stays and came to rest on her hips. “Let’s see if we cannae clear yer head of everythin’ but now. As if there isnae a tomorrow.”
“I… I’d like that,” she murmured as one of his hands slid down the side of her thigh, the other gliding across the front of her bodice and up toward her breasts.
It was all well and good, trying to tease and tempt her, telling himself that he would take it slow. But she was bewitching, intoxicating, and he didn’t know if his discipline would hold out.
He’d been imagining this since the moment he had leaned over her in the interrogation chamber. He’d dreamed of it, tortured himself with it whenever he looked at her across the dining table, forced down glasses of whiskey to stop himself from thinking about it, and with tomorrow’s outcome uncertain, he knew he’d never feel more alive than he was about to.
Ye woke somethin’ in me that I didnae think I possessed,he wanted to tell her.Ye already made me feel alive again, when I feared I’d lost me soul on the battlefields.
He kissed along the curve of her neck, his heart pounding as he felt her tremble against him. Her hand reached back to map the hard lines of his muscled thighs, gripping his flesh as if to anchor herself.
“Och, lass,” he growled, pressing his loins against her, letting her feel the effect she had on him.
No woman had ever had such power over him before. He just needed to imagine kissing her, and his loins would ache. Right now, it wasn’t just an ache, but a torment that only sinking deep inside her would quell.
Sneakily, her hand moved toward his rock-hard length, running her palm along him through his plaid. A soft gasp escaped her throat, a sound of pleasant surprise.
“Make me forget tomorrow. Make me choose to stay,” she whispered.
That unraveled him.
In one swift motion, he turned her around and cupped her face, his mouth finding hers in an urgent kiss. She didn’t hesitate to respond, kissing him back with equal fervor, her arms looping around his neck as she pressed herself into him, like she couldn’t get close enough.
Pushing her against the window, his hands tore at her dress, peeling apart the bodice and pulling the sleeves down her slender arms. He was mostly careful not to damage it, but as their kiss deepened, their breaths ragged, their tongues dancing together, he needed her out of that dress as soon as possible.
Dispensing with a sea of petticoats, underskirts, overskirts, and a shift, she stood before him in nothing but her stays and those unusual undergarments that he’d so appreciated before.
He stepped back for a moment to admire her, a pleased smile curving his lips.
“It would have been easier if you’d told me to come in fewer clothes,” she said with a grin, her eyes gleaming with a hunger that fed his own.
“Easier, aye, but I wanted to see me bride,” he purred. He moved back toward her, leaning in to whisper close to her ear, “Seeallof me bride, bit by bit, until there’s nothin’ between us.”
With deft hands, he reached behind her, and as he dipped his head to kiss her again, savoring the eager graze of her mouth, he unfastened the knot at the base of her stays. Tugging on the laces until they were loose enough, he pulled the undergarment up and over her head.
Their kiss paused for no more than a few seconds, but as they came back together, fervent and fierce, it was as if they hadn’t kissed in weeks, needing more of one another.
As if to prove the point, Nancy’s hands went to the belt at his waist, unfastening it with ease. As the heavy plaid dropped to the floor, she grasped the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head, before tossing it away.
Breathless, she put her hands on his chest as if to hold him back… and took a moment for her own private admiration.
