Page 68 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Chapter 5
“Iain,mo dhuine…”
My man.
His Scot’s tongue flowed like honey from his wife’s lips. He placed a finger to her mouth. “Shhhh, my love.”
At thirty-one, Page was scant older than he’d been on the day he’d met her, but her hair had yet to show a hint of gray. She still looked like a maiden. The only lines she wore on her face were the laugh lines about those lovely lips—sweet, bonny lips that had pleasured him so verra well throughout their years.
“Iain,” she complained as he drew her into the stable. “We have guests, my love.” Still, her lips curved a bit mischievously and she reached down to plant her soft hand against the back of his. But instead of slapping him away, she merely caressed him, her eyes hooding with desire.
“I’ve a craving for plums,” he teased.
“Céadsearc,” she said.My first love.And her answering smile made Iain’s heart trip a beat. “You’ll find no plums beneath my skirt,” she chastised.
He pulled his wife close, his cock hardening beneath his plaid. “I disagree … for that is where I will find the most delicious plum of all.”
She didn’t fight him, so he drew her against him, whispering softly, “I have dreamt endlessly of that plum, the delightful taste, the tantalizing scent. I long to sink my teeth into that tender flesh, and lift my tongue along the cleft…”
Page shivered in his arms, and he knew by the way she melted against his embrace that his fingers would find her ready and wet. And yet, even as he rediscovered the treasure he sought, the silky feel of her body sent a violent shudder through him.
He was no longer a boy, she no longer a girl, but she was as beautiful as she was the day he first saw her, dressed in naught more than a flimsy chemise, her hair sopping wet. He loved her more fiercely now than he ever did before. Page—his heart, his only love—had given him years of loyalty and love, a daughter with a smile as beauteous as her own. She treated Malcom as though he were her very own, and his clan with every bit of affection as Iain did himself. They could not have been anymore blessed in his choice of bride. In truth, Iain would give Page anything in his power—anything at all, but alas, there was only one thing she ever asked for of late… and that he could not provide.
A reunion with her father.
“No one will miss us,” he coaxed. “Constance and Kellen have everyone’s attention, as it should be.” His shaft nestled happily against the crook of his wife’s thighs, lifting of its own accord to her most delicate place. “On the other hand, you havemyundivided attention.” He sent a hand to her bottom, pressing his arousal fully against her, so as to make his point.
Her eyes widened and so did his grin.
Page laughed. “You are insatiable,” she complained, although she lifted herself on tiptoes to kiss his mouth, automatically sliding her arms about his waist.
As she had done only seconds before, Iain melted against his wife, as subject to her wiles as she was to his. But then suddenly she put a hand to his chest, pushing him gently away. “Alas, but we cannot, Iain. There are too many people. How can we?”
Iain wiggled his brows. “Quite easily,” he argued.
She gave him a lovely, chastening glance beneath hooded lids. Her cheeks bloomed with high color. But she nevertheless shook her head.
Iain felt like a young lad who’d been shown a sweet tart and then had it ripped out of his hand. He pouted like a boy. “How about the tip … to whet my appetite for later?”
Her shoulders shook gently, but this time with quiet laughter. “Only the tip?”
Iain nodded quickly, excited by the prospect. “Only the tip,” he promised, “and then I will be a verra good boy and tend to all my guests.”
“All of them? Even the wet nurse who came with Broc and Elizabet? The one who seems to be all eyes for the verra handsome MacKinnon laird?”
“Nay. Well, not her.”
Page smiled sweetly. Reaching down between them, she lifted her skirt, allowing him access, “Only the tip, and no more, Iain.”
Iain nearly laughed, because she sounded like a mother rationing cookies to her son. But laughter was forgotten and his heart nearly leapt from his chest as he pushed his plaid out of the way, taking himself into his hands. They had not made love for days, and it was driving him mad. He could scarcely contain himself as his flesh touched her silky warmth and he shuddered savagely as her body welcomed him inside.
“Only the tip,” she whispered against his ear, her breath hot and sweet. It gave Iain yet another shiver.
“Aye,” he agreed with a guttural moan. “But how many times?”
Her lovely brow furrowed. “How many times?” It took her a full moment before she realized what he was asking.
She was silent so long that Iain made to withdraw, though she pulled him back, arching slightly, laughing softly. “Five,” she said.
