Page 98 of Bride of Ice
And in that moment of torturous restraint, hovering on the edge of desire and sin, of what they longed for and what was forbidden, a dangerous notion flickered to life in Hallie’s fevered brain.
Why should they hold back?
Why shouldn’t they simply follow their instincts? Let nature guide them? Strike while the iron was hot?
She wanted him.
He wanted her.
What would seal their union better than consummating it?
And then an even darker thought intruded upon her reasoning.
If she surrendered her virginity to him, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to undo their betrothal and deny their marriage. No one could foil her plans. Not her parents. Not even the king.
Coupling with the handsome Highlander was not only a desirable option. It was a damned clever strategy.
Colban was going to shame himself. He could feel it.
It had been a while since he’d unleashed the beast. And it was roaring for release.
He had to stop the lovely lass before it was too late to stop. The last thing he wanted was for his bride to see him gushing in the bath like a beardless lad. She might have second thoughts about marrying a man with so little control.
So he reluctantly withdrew his fingers from her warm and lovely nest, ignoring her sigh of dismay.
Grasping her shoulder, he lifted his head and, with a wordless look of apology, pushed her gently away. He pulled out of her grip, shivering in spite of himself at the divine sensation.
At the interruption, her eyes narrowed with impatience. But impatience rapidly turned to confusion and then disappointment. She assumed he was rejecting her.
Moved by the bleak hurt in her eyes, he knew he couldn’t simply abandon her. There was but one thing to do to convince her of his devotion. He had to finish what he’d started, one way or the other.
He had to act swiftly, before her desire could wane. He emerged from the bath like Lir, the sea god, dripping as he caught her under the arms and lifted her to her feet. Stepping from the tub, he swept her onto the bed.
She made no protest. Indeed, her gaze burned even brighter with craving as he laid her on her back atop the linens. For a moment, he could only stare down at her in wonder.
How had this happened? How had he won the hand of the beautiful Valkyrie? Did he even deserve such an amazing reward?
Now was not the time for second thoughts. She was aching. And he knew how to ease her.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
“I’m not afraid,” she protested.
He smiled. “Nor should ye be.”
He eased himself onto the bed beside her. Lying on his side, he used the tip of his finger to trace a line down her center, from the top of her brow, between her closed eyes, down her nose, over her lips, which parted at his touch.
Before he was through, those lips would sigh with delight, beg him for mercy, and cry out in ecstasy. Soon they would recite wedding vows. And he hoped one day they would utter words of love from her heart.
He continued on his journey, tracing her chin and her throat, where her heart throbbed in anticipation, sinking into the hollow of her collar bone, smoothing the silky flesh between her breasts.
The pounding need in his groin was only growing worse. And he would find no ease from her today. But it was a small price to pay to earn her trust.
His fingertip grazed her abdomen, circling her navel, and slipped into the golden curls guarding her womanhood.
She arched up to meet him, and he pressed the heel of his hand down, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from her.
She stiffened when he threw his leg over her thighs, anchoring her to the bed. But once he began ministering to the throbbing ache betwixt her legs, she relaxed back on the feather-filled pallet.
