Page 77 of Bride of the Mad Laird
She sucked in a breath, half with shock and half with pleasure.
“What? D’ye nae like that notion?”
“Mm.” She said, her body igniting under his forbidden touch. “Mayhap...”
He leaned over her so that she felt the hardness of his shaft pressing into her. A building excitement coursed through her limbs, burning its way to the place between her thighs where he rested.
Without thought she reflexively raised her hips to push against his shaft, rivulets of pleasure coursing through her from her core.
“Och, Tòrr,” she ground out, the delirious sensations robbing her breath as a new awareness thickened the air between them. Thoughts could no longer form coherently in her mind. She bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes, surrendering to the fever sparking in her blood.
She heard his groan. “God’s hooks, lass, ye dinnae ken what wildness ye are tempting.”
He smashed her lips with his mouth, his tongue relentlessly seeking hers. She writhed under him, meeting his passion, clutching the fabric of his shirt and twisting it, a hand tangling his hair, thrusting her hips against his.
His kiss held none of the chasteness and forbearance she’d experienced the night before in the solar, this was something that stirred feelings in her she’d never dreamed of, a throbbing and vibrating that came from nowhere but compelled her to cling to him and to open her thighs with wanton longing.
Then, with no warning he stopped his kissing and jolted his head back, leaving her bereft, her head on the pillow, her chest heaving, and she struggled to draw breath.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet, shaking his head. His hair was disheveled, his kilt awry.
“I must apologize me lady.” There was a hint of wry humor in his deep voice as he ground out the words. “Ye’re as intoxicating as a fine French wine and I made meself drunk on ye.” He ran a hand through the tangled mess of his dark hair. “I could easily lose meself in ye, but it would nae be fair. Ye’re convent bred and I fear me rough ways might nay suit ye.”
She rolled over and gazed up at him from under the tumbling waterfall of her hair.
“I have yet tae fully taste yer rough ways, Tòrr. But what I ken of them so far they are tae me liking. I look forward tae discovering more.”
“In that case...” he punctuated his words with a loud guffaw, “...little nun, I shall continue yer education tomorrow night. Fer now, I must bid ye good night.”
He strode to the door, leaving her pulsing, wet, and swollen, already longing for the next evening to come.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Tòrr was smiling to himself as he strode down the passageway to his bedchamber. His soul and body were on fire for Lyra, yet he held back, aware that for all her glorious passion she was an innocent and he must bide his time.
He was in a haze of her touches, her scent and her taste when to his surprise and dismay he saw Edmund approaching.
His smile faded as he opened his chamber door. “Come in lad. I wasnae expecting tae see ye again this night.”
Edmund cast him a knowing look. “’Tis a pleasant perfume ye have this night. Rose is it? Or lavender?”
Tòrr pshawed loudly. “Ye’re a cheeky lad. I warn ye, tread warily.”
“Indeed, Tòrr. I’d nae be here tae disturb yer pleasant musing, but I’ve had word from our guards.”
Tòrr’s stomach lurched. “What dae the lads tell ye?”
“Two of the four scouts we sent out tae patrol have returned.”
“And what of the others?” A stoned dropped into Tòrr’s belly. He was already anticipating bad news when Edmund shook his head.
“They dinnae ken where the others are. Their story is they were ambushed half a day’s ride from here. They fought hard and managed tae ride ahead of their attackers.”
Tòrr poured them each a whisky and handed the glass to Edmund. “MacDougall’s men?”
“They cannae be certain. It was dark and they had nay clear view of the numbers or whether the men wore the dun clothing that distinguishes them.” He gulped a mouthful of the amber liquid. “They heard them speak in a foreign tongue and believe them to be part of MacDougall’s party of gallowglasses.”
“Thank ye. I shall consult wi’ the men later when they’ve had some nourishment fer their trouble. We must go in search of the missing pair. How many were there that ambushed our lads?”
