Page 32 of To Claim His Highland Bride

Chapter Thirteen

Rowena looked up into Marcus’s beautiful green eyes then pressed up on her toes. She held her breath as he bent his head to hers. Instead of kissing her, he pressed his forehead against her own, their lips so close and yet still not touching. His breath whispered against her lips, causing her heart to pound all the harder as the treasure they both wanted hung there between them. He was waiting for her, she suddenly realised. He would hold himself in this breathless torment until she initiated the kiss.

His fingers slipped around her neck, caressing her spine. “Rowena—” Her name spilled from his lips like the sound of a breeze across the deck of the ship, sending a stab of yearning to the core of her being. It was too late to pull back. Too late to stop whatever came next. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, slanting her face until her lips touched his as naturally as if they’d kissed each other a thousand times.

His lips were warm and firm and fit beautifully against her own. As he slid his lips against hers, reason washed away in a heated tide. Everything that divided them—their clans, their goals—seemed inconsequential as he deepened the kiss. Each thrust of his tongue evoked stunningly sharp reverberations deep in her womb. The kiss became the centre of her consciousness, all she knew or felt, even as she cursed it and craved it with equal measure.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Rowena surrendered. The protective walls she had built around her heart had been slashed open and could never be sealed again.

His lips left her mouth to brush across her throat. She arched her neck, giving him full access to her sensitive flesh. Marcus’s hand rode the curve of her ribcage until his fingers came around to cup her breast. His thumb circled, caressing the ripening peak beneath her leather tunic. Rowena gasped as heat spread from his fingertips across her covered skin. And suddenly the leather armour that kept his touch from her flesh seemed too oppressive. She pulled back and reached for the lacing.

“Allow me.” His voice was low and gravelly, already choked with desire. His fingers brushed hers away and he began to pull the laces. He peeled the leather from her then made short work of the stays beneath, tossing the cambric garment to the floor before reaching for the ties on her leather trousers and drawers. She’d never had anyone undress her before—not even a maid—as she’d always cared for herself. With Marcus standing so close, she could feel the heat of his skin and the growing bulge of his arousal against her naked flesh. She moved against him, blatantly inviting, her body demanding the intimate touch they longed to share.

He stared down at her, his green eyes dark with passion—passion she had ignited, passion that turned every muscle in his body to hard-edged steel. “No regrets?” he asked, his breathing unsteady.

“Not a one.”

He released her and in the moonlight and shadows of the chamber removed his garments then captured her lips once more.

Need and desire infused her, and him, potent and real. She could feel it as his lips moved against hers, as he ran his hands down her back to cup her buttocks. As the blood in her veins turned to quicksilver, he broke the kiss and lowered his head, capturing first one peaked nipple in his mouth then the other. She raked her hands into his hair, pulling him even closer, reeling from the effects of this new intoxication. He’d asked about regrets; if she had any, it would be that they had waited so long to come together as one.

His fingers traced the line of her waist then feathered across her hips, his tongue following in the same molten path until he sank down on his knees before her. His hands on her thighs, his thumbs stroked the dark thatch of downy curls at her apex. He parted her and probed the tender flesh as his mouth pressed against her and his tongue delved inside with the same determined boldness he’d used to conquer her elsewhere.

Rowena stiffened at the intimate touch. She wanted to pull away but then pressure gripped her and with a groan she surrendered to the need that flared deep inside. Caught in passion’s grip, her knees grew weak. She slipped to the floor in front of Marcus, her mouth searching feverishly for his, her tongue greedy for the taste and feel of him.

He let her explore every hardened plane of his body before he drew her to her feet, then lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He placed her in the centre then settled beside her. Their bodies came together again. Rowena revelled in the sinewy strength of his muscles and the devouring strength of his lips as they roved everywhere, explored every hollow and curve.

She savoured the silken skin beneath her palms as she found the hardness that pressed against her and greedily stroked, branding him as hers. Her bold strokes wrenched a groan of pure ecstasy from him. A heartbeat later, he moved over her, spreading her thighs and settling between them. With gentleness he entered her, tearing away the last fragile protest of her body until her warmth clutched his.

A groan escaped her as she surrounded him fully, deep within. Nothing had ever felt so right, so natural. She stared up into his eyes, into the unwavering, unshakable green, and felt herself reeling as he moved in and out of her in a rhythm that was slow at first then built to a more frenetic pace, just like the rest of their lovemaking. They had been denied this intimacy so long that neither of them were in control of themselves or their responses.

Opening herself as she never had before, Rowena gloried in the pleasurable feel of his muscular body pressing her back against the mattress, his hips pinning her as he drove deep within her over and over again. She thrashed her head from side to side as she began to quake with mindless urgency born of fire and flame. An all-consuming sensation filled her as she neared the edge of a precipice. She twined her legs around Marcus’s hips, fusing their bodies together as they rushed headlong over the brink of erupting glory.

Spent, he slumped upon her. A quiet, tender moment ticked past. She could feel his heart racing, felt the same tempo in her own chest as their heartbeats gradually slowed and their breathing steadied.

Finally, with a heaved breath, he withdrew and moved to settle at her side, pulling her against him as if he wasn’t yet ready to release her fully. They lay there, staring up at the carved canopy. As silence enveloped them a surge of emotion swelled inside Rowena. She nestled her cheek against Marcus’s, her hand drifting over the solid wall of his chest in a slow, sleepy caress until she closed her hand around his. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. Though I’m glad it did.”

Marcus remained silent for a long while. Rowena was half-certain he had fallen asleep when he finally kissed the top of her head and said, “I did not mean to lose control like I did. I apologise. The next time we will take our time.”

Heat infused her cheeks at the possibility of a next time. “Now we at least have this to share for as long as this adventure continues.”

“You know this means there is no going back for us. We are now married in every sense of the word.”

She shook her head. “I can still petition for an annulment. I will simply find a way to do so without a physical examination.”

He sat up and looked down at her. “There is more to consider than ourselves.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What if we created a bairn?”

Her tongue moistened suddenly dry lips. “We cannot have a babe together. I would never do such a thing—to bring a child into this world when both parents are not involved in his rearing.” She sat up and crossed her arms about her waist as fear chased the last remnants of pleasure from her body. “My father did that to Callum, Keiran, and me. With our mother’s death we were alone. Keiran paid the ultimate price, being taken by the fairies. But Callum and I were abandoned, with only each other to help us move from one day to the next.”

Marcus’s finger moved to her lips. “Fear not.” A smile so beautiful it took her breath away lit his dark face. “I will always care for what is mine.”

Rowena swallowed roughly. She knew Marcus would love and care for any child of his as he did the fallen crewmen from his ship. He would not let a babe suffer in any monetary way. But what about the more intimate things a child needed? A father to teach him about right and wrong, how to be brave and compassionate? How to know when to fight a battle or how to negotiate peace? To offer protection, devotion, stability?

She could teach a babe much, but some things were better coming from a father. Bryce was proof of that. Marcus and Bryce were from the same clan, had similar opportunities, yet Marcus had had his father’s attention while Bryce had not.