Page 72 of Seduced By the Reckless Highlanders
Bernard’s hands and lips were everywhere, and Janice pushed herself harder against him, trying to inch ever closer, although there was already no space between them. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, then cupped her bottom with both hands and squeezed them. They were firm but soft, and each cheek fitted into his hand perfectly.
“God help me,” he groaned. “You are driving me mad.”
When Janice let out a whimper of delight, he lost control and threw back his head, roaring his passion into the night. Fortunately, their position under the stairs and the hubbub of the party inside drowned out the noise, but Janice heard it, and it drove a surge of power through her. This big, strong, powerful man was completely under her spell, and she loved it.
Presently, Janice felt a tickling sensation on her leg as Bernard began to pull her dress upwards, and then he sank to his knees, his body sliding down hers, driving pulsing waves of pleasure straight to her core. She squealed as she felt his lips on her thighs, his mouth moving upward and ever upward, peppering tiny kisses on her tender skin as it went until there was an entirely new sensation as she felt something tug and lick her very center.
When she realized what he was doing, she was shocked, in a delicious, wanton way. Her hips bucked involuntarily, her hands fisted, and she threw her head back as she felt something like the throbbing of her arousal, but much, much, much stronger.
It felt as though a strange sensation inside her was straining to reach for something even stronger that was just out of reach. What was happening to her? What was Bernard doing to her? After a while, she decided she did not care. This was too glorious for words. When she finally reached what she had been seeking, she felt as though she had just experienced an explosion. Herwhole body shuddered with what she could only describe as ecstasy for a moment before she fell back to Earth and into Bernard’s arms.
CHAPTER 13
Bernard was no longer using his rational mind. His actions were those of his primitive animal self as he delved with his tongue into the soft folds of Janice’s vulva, driven on by her cries and moans of satisfaction.
He went on inflicting sweet torture upon her until he heard her screaming his name and knew that she had come to her climax. Reluctantly, he stood up and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her once more as she shuddered against him, whimpering in the aftermath of the strangest and most wonderful sensation she had ever felt.
Janice was still innocent, and no one had ever explained to her exactly what went on in the bedroom between a man and a woman. She had always been too shy to ask her father, and although she could possibly have asked her maid, she did not want her lack of experience to become fodder for household gossip. Kitty would never hurt her on purpose, but she had a loose tongue.
She had heard the maids whispering about it and knew there was more to know. There had to be because although she had been through the most glorious experience of her life, she still had a sense of being unfulfilled.
“Make me yours,” she whispered. “Here. Now. No one can hear us or see us—they are all too busy. Please, Bernard. I need to know what it is to love a man, and I know you will be gentle with me.”
Bernard took a deep breath in and slowly let it out again. The last few moments had almost reduced him to a state of helplessness, but he had to deny himself and Janice, even though it was the most difficult thing he had ever had to do.
“No, Janice,” he replied. “It would be wrong. You will have to marry someday, and this would ruin you for your husband. As well as that, what if you conceived a child? Besides, your first time should not be leaning against a cold stone wall with a man you don’t know very well, but in a soft feather bed with the man who marries you. I am not that man, and I never can be.
“I am sorry. I wish I could grant your wish. You have no idea how much I want to because it is my wish too…but I cannot. Please forgive me.
“I must go now. Before I change my mind. Goodnight, Janice.”
His voice was husky as he turned and walked away, and his head was bowed as he looked downward, feeling ashamed. Presently, he began to descend the stairs and was lost from her sight.
Janice watched him, her eyes moist. She had thought about using her feminine wiles to bend him to her will. Feminine wiles, indeed! She almost burst out laughing at her own naïveté. She obviously had none, or none to speak of, or perhaps she was too inexperienced and had given in too easily. Whatever the reason, Bernard had been unimpressed.
Bernard could not bear the thought of going back to the room he shared with William. Instead, he went down to the kitchen to ask for some hot milk to drink before he went to sleep. He entered the big room and looked around.
The kitchen was well-organized, much more so than the one at William’s castle. The kitchen maids were methodically scraping the dishes clean of food, handing them over to be washed, washing and drying them, then putting them away. It was like a military drill, and he wondered if Janice’s hand had been at work here. Then he dismissed the thought. He really was a sad case. Janice was only one woman who had a flair for organization, but she was not responsible for every well-run process on the estate.
He was standing behind a stack of barrels, unnoticed by everyone, when one of the kitchen maids came to place a dish on a shelf close to where he was standing. Suddenly she caught sight of him and squealed, then jumped back in fright, causing the dish she was carrying to fall and shatter on the stone-flagged floor.
Bernard leaped forward to catch her before she fell on her backside, gripping her arms with his strong hands. The young woman looked up at him, at first in fear, then in relief, and finally in admiration.
“I am so sorry,” he said, genuinely distressed by what he had done. “I did not mean to startle you.”
He looked down at the hundreds of shards of pottery that had scattered in a wide area around them, then stood up straight to face the small muscular woman who was striding toward him with a face like a thunderstorm.
Hettie McCafferty, the cook, was a woman in her middle years who had served the Stewart family for thirty years. She had started as a kitchen maid at the age of fourteen and learned her craft as she gained experience until she was now the head cook.
She ruled the kitchen with a rod of iron, and no one, not even six-foot-two warriors, intimidated her. Now, even though she had to tilt her head back to a painful degree, she glared up at Bernard without fear, and he reflected that he would hate to meet her in battle.
“Are ye mad, ye big eejit?” she yelled. “What dae ye mean comin’ intae my kitchen an’ scarin’ my lassies half tae death? Look at the mess ye made! That was one o’ my best bowls!” She punched him in the middle of his chest with enough force to make him take a step backward. “Ye nobs always think ye can just barge in here an’ demand things! Well, I am here tae tell ye that ye cannae.”
The little woman stood back and glared at Bernard in such a belligerent fashion that he felt quite intimidated for a moment before he rallied and said fiercely, “Mistress, I am not a ‘nob’ as you choose to call me, just a person who works for a laird, like you. I came to see if I could get a cup of hot milk. I had no intention of scaring anyone, and I am very sorry. I hope the young lady is well.”
He looked at the kitchen maid in concern, but she was already going about her business and had fetched a broom and a bucket to clear up the mess on the floor.
“Which laird?” the woman asked suspiciously.
