Thirteen
“Nay!” she cried out, struck by fear at what he had offered. If he married her, he would go directly against his king’s wishes, and that would not have been a choice he would have made if it weren’t for her. If he only took her body, she could still be married to another at the king’s demand, since her innocence apparently did not matter to him.
Cameron jerked back, a wounded look passing swiftly over his face before a veil dropped in place like a thick fog, leaving his emotions unreadable. Her heart burst with joy that he would ask for her hand, though she realized it was his honor provoking his offer and not love for her. They had not had time to fall in love. He desired her, she knew, with the same all-consuming intensity that she desired him. She would do almost anything to feel his touch—except put him in a position of going against his king’s wishes.
“Ye find the prospect of marriage to me unpleasant?” he asked, giving her a bland half smile.
“I dunnae ken how I find the prospect until we have spent more time together,” she said matter-of-factly. “We have desire, but I dunnae believe a marriage could sustain on desire alone. And beyond those two things, I will nae lead ye to a choice that will cause ye to forsake yer king. The king dunnae care if I’m innocent,” she said, her cheeks burning at the blunt conversation. “But ye would directly betray him if ye married me. We could nae even consider such a thing, unless there was a way to convince David that our union benefited him.”
Cameron arched his eyebrows at her. “I’ll nae take yer innocence without ye becoming my wife. It would be dishonorable.”
The man was too stubborn, but she was moved by his honor. Still, she firmly believed that her way had the power to change their future. She would simply have to persuade him to see things her way.
Excitement and caution claimed her as she trailed her fingers down his chest. Unmoving, he gave her a wary look. It touched her deeply that he would deny something she knew he yearned for because he wanted to protect her honor and reputation. Slowly, hoping she correctly remembered the things Bridgette had said about bringing a man to his knees with enticement, she lowered her léine over her breasts, past her waist, and over her hips. Her heart hammered with every movement, but his eyes widened a fraction and his nostrils flared, making triumph rush through her veins. She knew in her heart that she had been no temptress before Cameron, and while she could not have imagined doing this yesterday, in this moment, it felt right and perfect, as if she was changing their future. Or at the very least, she was grabbing the one chance she may ever have to be held in the arms of a man she truly wanted and trusted, a man whose overflowing honor had him rigid with the struggle to maintain his control and protect her.
“If ye can resist me,” she said, infusing her voice with a challenge, “then by any means, do so.
“I’ll nae take yer innocence,” he growled, “until the day ye agree to take my name.” Her hopes disappeared, but he reached out and grasped her by the arms. He pulled her roughly to him, and his eyes burned into her as he looked down at her. “There are many ways to claim a woman’s body, Sorcha,” he said, his voice gliding seductively over her like velvet. “And I’m going to present every one of them to ye.”
Heat inflamed her body, and a throbbing commenced very low. Before she knew what was happening, he had her on her back and was hovering over her.
“Wait,” she gasped, her heart beating at a dizzying speed.
A knowing, predatory smile curved his lips. “Rethinking yer decision, lass?”
The pompous man! She saw the triumph in his eyes. Did he think his promise to show her the ways of seduction scared her? She trusted him too much to be fearful of him. She allowed a smile to curve her own lips. “Nay, my mind is set. But if I’m to be naked, then so should ye.”
His eyes widened considerably. “Bean bhàsail,” he accused. “Ye are my nightmare and fantasy in one.”
“Good,” she whispered, “Ye will nae ever forget me now.”
“Lass, I dunnae intend to release ye, so I’m nae fashed that I will forget ye.” With that vow, he stood and quickly removed his clothing. His thick, long staff thrust forward from his body, rigid. Awe and fright struck her speechless, and she found it hard to draw her eyes away from his manhood. But when a low chuckle rumbled from his chest, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Dunnae fash yerself, lass. When we join, I vow to ye that yer body will fit me like a glove.”
She nodded absently, aware that a sharp ache had sprung forth in her core. It felt suspiciously as if the only thing that could possibly assuage it would be the joining. She whimpered with the knowledge of what she had begun.
Cameron gave her a look of complete domination, and her heart skipped several beats. He lowered himself to the bed and was looming over her so swiftly that she found herself gasping. His powerful thighs settled on each side of her legs, heat radiating from the burning skin that brushed her. His abdomen rippled as he reached for her hands, caught her wrists, and yanked her arms above her head.
“What are ye doing?” she cried out.
He smiled wolfishly at her as he reached behind him and pulled out the twine that had bound his hair. It fell in a thick, tawny cascade to brush the strong line of his jaw. “I’m assuring I keep control,” he said smoothly, quickly binding her wrists and securing them behind her head.
Frowning, she tugged at the binds, but they didn’t budge. She arched her eyebrows at him. “Ye’re concerned that I’ll make ye lose yer control?” she teased.
“Aye,” he replied, lowering his head and sealing his lips over hers. As his tongue plunged into her mouth, retreated, and plunged again, scorching desire took her, causing her to moan.
When he pulled away and brought his mouth to her breast, he flicked his tongue around her straining bud, at first gently, then more aggressively. Her back arched upward as her body demanded more. He tantalized and teased until her breasts felt so heavy and achy that she thought she would go mad from desire.
“Cameron, please!” she begged, not caring at all that she was begging.
“Please what, m’eudail?” he asked with a lascivious look.
“Quit tormenting me!” she fairly snarled.
“Ah, lass, I have only just begun, but I’ll take pity,” he said, lowering his lips to her breast once more and drawing her bud in his warm mouth. He began to suckle, and a scream ripped from her throat as pleasure spiraled through her, accompanied by the razor-sharp pain of need.
She needed to touch him. She yanked and tugged on her wrists to no avail, and the desire to rake her nails over his back and demand he give her relief could not be assuaged. She tossed her head back and forth, panting from riotous lust coursing through her. He brought his mouth to her other breast and showed it the same sinful attention he had given the other.
“I kinnae take more!” she gasped.
He rose up, his leaf-green eyes glittering emerald. “Nay?” he purred.
She shook her head violently.
“I assure ye that ye can,” he replied as he ran his fingers over the hot, slick skin between her breasts, past her belly, and to the juncture of her legs. His strong hands came to her inner thighs, and rising up and moving back, he spread her legs, even as she fought against it, embarrassed.
“Cameron,” she hissed. “Ye kinnae—”
He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. “I vow I can. And I want to. I want to taste ye more than I want to live another day,” he said, lowering himself between her legs.
Suddenly his tongue was on her tender, burning, pulsing flesh. The feel of him there yanked a guttural sob from her chest. Need clawed at her as he repeatedly offered pleasure to a point, then sharply withdrew it. She wanted desperately to scream at him to take her, but she clenched her jaw until it ached. She bucked her hips upward to get nearer to his mouth, and his tongue touched her once more, hitting a spot that made everything inside her clench. Yet just when she could sense release was near, he pulled back again, panting, and came to his knees between her legs, his taut muscles straining beautifully.
“Do ye wish for release?” he demanded.
“God’s teeth,” she snapped, “ye ken verra well I do.”
“Marry me,” he demanded.
“Nay,” she replied.
“Then I’ll nae give ye what ye seek from me,” he shot back.
Her lips parted in shock. He had thought to force her to accept his offer of marriage by driving her mad with lust! Tears of frustration sprung to her eyes, and the determined look on his face instantly softened.
“Sorcha—”
She turned her head away as a tear leaked out of her eye. He gently cupped her cheek and coaxed her gaze back to him. Leaning in, he captured her tear with his tongue, then pressed his mouth to hers.
When he pulled back, he said, “This is just the beginning. When we join, ye will ken the most exquisite pleasure of yer life. Yer body is mine,” he said savagely.
“Aye,” she agreed, knowing his imprint, his claim, could never be erased from her memory or her heart.
He lowered himself between her thighs once more and stroked his tongue up her center to the spot he had touched before. He was gentle at first, but as her need built and her moans increased, his tongue provided greater pressure and the circles around the throbbing spot came faster. She felt strung like a taut bow, and as he suckled on her sensitive flesh, her entire body clenched, then unclenched all the way to her core, as waves of pleasure rippled through her and left her utterly lifeless as a newborn babe.
When he rose up, she forced her heavy eyelids open, and she could see his staff so rigid that it curled up against his stomach. It seemed to pulse with its own need. “Let me claim yer body. Let me give ye release,” she whispered.
Stark relief filled his eyes, making her realize he would have not asked it of her. His every thought was for her. A large lump lodged in her throat. He was stealing her heart like an adept thief. He leaned over her and deftly undid the twine that had bound her wrists. He sat back on his haunches watching her, his eyes seeming to drink in everything about her.
She shifted her body and faced him. She had offered to claim him and give him pleasure, but she had no notion how. “I dunnae ken what to do,” she admitted, heat rushing to her cheeks.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Touch me,” he replied. “Taste me as I tasted ye, if ye wish to.”
She did wish it with everything within her. “Should ye lie back?” she asked.
He grinned. “Do ye wish me to lie back?”
“Aye.” It seemed as if she would have more control that way.
He obliged, lying on his back and cradling his head in his arms so that he could watch her. Embarrassment heated her further, but she discarded it as the useless emotion it was. Crawling over him, she settled to one side and placed a hand on his thigh as she curled the other one around his thick staff. He groaned when she did so. Tentatively, she stroked the long length of him, and when another groan escaped him, she understood that he liked what she was doing.
She rounded her hand over the smooth, hot, slightly moist skin and repeated the motion of long strokes until his groans became a moan of need and his eyes grew heavy with lust. The slabs of muscles in his stomach strained, and his thighs muscles jumped with tension. Fresh desire swirled through her, shocking her and prompting her to lower her head to his staff and slide her tongue down one side and up the other before taking the tip into her mouth.
He growled, and his hand came to her hair and fisted it. “More,” he demanded, and she was desperate with her own need to comply. She suckled him with long, pulling strokes, and he guided her with his hand, showing her to move faster. She could feel him growing thicker and longer, and then his breathing came in sharp, short breaths.
“Sorcha!” he cried out and yanked her up, claiming her mouth as his chest heaved and he found his release. When he broke the kiss, she was panting, and he flopped back onto the bed, seeming spent.
After a moment, he rolled off the bed, and disappointment filled her as she thought he was going to simply dress, but he went to the bucket and cleaned himself. He brought a cloth back with him once he was finished and motioned for her to lie back, and he gently cleansed her. She stared at him without speaking, drinking in his beauty. He had the body of a warrior, ruthless and merciless, but his heart… Dear God above, his heart was so tender, so giving. When he was done, he returned the cloth, and then came to rest on the bed once more, pulling her into the crook of his arm.
As she laid her head against his chest, his fingers came to her shoulder and stroked her skin. “We have claimed each other in body,” he said groggily.
“Aye,” she agreed, feeling sleep tug at her, though sunlight streamed in through the window. “In body.” And she suspected, for her part, in heart, too.