Page 67 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
Offering a shy smile, she nodded. This was the first chance for them to be alone since he’d walked with her to the cottage the previous night.
Although she’d glowed with excitement at being able to purchase a few delights at the market, thoughts of their kissing and way he’d held her, his hands stroking her to rapture, had stayed with her all day.
Would he kiss her? At the very thought of it, she fizzed with anticipation. Ripples of sweet, crazed, pleasure began coursing through her, stealing her breath and causing her cheeks to burn like the flames in the fire. All she could think of was losing herself in his arms again.
The courtyard was bright with moonlight as they strolled along the path, Everard holding Feather’s basket while his other arm encircled Davina’s waist.
“’Tis a bonny night,” Davina said, the slight breeze tossing the curls about her face.
Everard brought them to a halt, drawing her close. “Nay as bonny as ye, lass.” He smoothed away the wayward tress. His finger trailed down her cheek, along her jaw, chasing the arch ofher throat as she turned her face up to him. “I’ve won nae wager this day, but may I claim a kiss all the same?”
She laughed softly. She could see his smile, but the rest of his face was lost to shadow. “Me laird, ye dinnae need tae win a wager tae claim a kiss from me. ‘Tis freely given.”
He grunted, as if pleased by her answer. “The thought of kissing ye has been taunting me thoughts all day.”
“Even as ye went about yer business?”
“Ah.” He sighed. “Most of all, as I went about me business.”
He placed Feather’s basket on the path, and with a muffled moan, he folded her into his arms, lowering his head to take her lips.
As his mouth took hers and their tongues joined in a fierce tangle, she lost herself, his smoky, salty, scent filling her nostrils, the taste of whisky on his tongue. She cared not that whoever cared to look toward the courtyard would see them entwined in their passion.
She had wished to feel his hard chest crushing her breasts, his heart pounding in time with hers, the rasp of his beard on her soft cheeks. She seized his shirt in her hands, dragging him even closer. His deep-throated growl was all it took for her to wind her arms about his neck and plunge her fingers into his hair.
She pressed her wanton thighs against his hardened rod, mindless, demanding, wanting more of him. Throbbing with need, she was swept her away to that other world of bliss hanging on the edges of her being.
He was everything.
His hands roamed her body, causing little moans to spring from her throat. He took her buttocks in his hands, urging her hips against him. His shaft met her core between her thighs igniting the heat there into a raging fire.
Her kirtle was above her knee, his hand sliding over her thigh. She thrust her hips to meet his hand, and he slipped his fingers between her thighs, into the swollen wetness there.
He groaned. “I want ye lass, more than ye ken.”
Lowering his head again, his kiss was fierce, demanding, and she returned it, submitting to the maddening sensations that threatened to take her even higher, whimpering her surrender.
As if it took all his strength, he groaned, jolting his head away. “Nay here. Nay like this.”
Melting against him she stifled a cry. She would beg. Plead. “Dinnae stop now,” she gritted.
He bent his head, drawing in a ragged breath. “Ye’re me lady, Davina. Ye deserve more than tae be taken naked on a moonlit pathway, where anyone passing can catch sight of ye.”
She groaned, only half aware, even now, of their surroundings. At her feet came a full-throated ‘meow’ plunging her back to the reality of the castle and the growing chill in the air.
“Oh. Feather. I had forgotten ye.” She slapped a remorseful hand to her mouth, shaking herself to dissolve the voluptuous wantonness that excluded her from any sensible, plain thinking as she luxuriated in Everard’s embrace, tasting his kisses.
He stooped to collect Feather’s basket. “Apologies fer keeping ye out so late, wee moggie.”
Taking Davina’s elbow, he guided her along the path to the door of her cottage.
Once she had opened the door, he lowered the basket and Feather immediately scrambled out. They watched as she raced to her bowl to lap some water and then took herself to Davina’s bed where she quickly settled.
He laughed. “She’s none the worse fer being kept late in the cold.” Davina chuckled softly beside him and he turned to her. “And ye, are ye none the worse fer me bold invasion?
The breath hitched in her throat as she shook her head. Raising her eyes, she glimpsed his face in the moonlight that hadfollowed them through the door. Never had there been such a look of tenderness in the gaze of one who met her eyes. She could have wept for joy.
A strange, altogether pleasant sensation bloomed in her chest, warming her heart, before spreading like honey through her veins. This feeling was nothing she’d experienced before, yet a part of her that she’d thought lost forever, recognized it at once.
