Page 108 of Laird of Flint
“I mean to, aye,” he said. “But every king who wages war means to win. That isn’t always what fate decrees.”
She rested her head against his chest. Listened to the steady beat of the heart he said was hers.
Fate wouldn’t dare cross her. Not when their two paths had intersected at just the right time. Not when Sir Hew was a match her father actually wanted for her. Not when she was in love with a man who was politically perfect for her and her clan. It had to be.Theywere meant to be.
She knew he was only acting out of chivalry. He wished to protect her. To preserve her maidenhood. To safeguard her reputation.
But she didn’t need guarding. She wasn’t afraid. No one would find out. She was used to keeping up appearances, accustomed to hiding her emotions. Her trusty mask had always served her well.
She lifted languid eyes to his. “Just one kiss to remember ye by?”
He arched a scolding brow.
“One kiss…” Using the tip of her finger, she made a slow circle on the patch of bare flesh just above the neck of his leine. “To last a fortnight?”
He shivered. She saw his resolve wavering.
“And what if ’tis two fortnights?” he asked.
She gave him a sultry smile. “Two kisses?”
“You’re a wily wench.” He grabbed her finger to stop its circling. “Fine. One kiss.” He lifted her hand and gave the tip of her finger a quick peck.
She widened her eyes in disbelief. Then she closed them with diabolical purpose. Seizing the front of his plaid, she hauled him forward and smashed her mouth against his.
She meant it to be a crude act of vengeance.
But that didn’t last long.
Tasting him again revived her hunger. Had he been so delicious before? So savory? So mouthwatering?
Though he resisted at first, it was only a moment before he too began to feast on her lips.
Their labored breath coalesced. Their tongues entwined. Their bodies melted together.
Her senses responded quickly, knowing the path ahead. Passion’s hum rang in her ears. Even within their linen confines, her breasts tingled eagerly. And betwixt her thighs an aching thirst begged to be quenched.
She couldn’t wait. With fumbling fingers, she worked at the brooch of his plaid, sucking a sharp breath between her teeth when the point stabbed her thumb.
“Let me,” he whispered.
He placed her injured thumb in his mouth, suckling it gently as he unpinned his plaid. Something about his intimate gesture was alluring. And when he began swirling his tongue around her thumb, plunging it into the deepest recesses of his mouth, she felt faint.
By the time he cast aside his plaid, she was aroused to a fever pitch. And when she began scrabbling at his trews, his eyes glazed over with desire.
Chapter 20
Hew’s jaw fell open. He groaned as his long-neglected staff responded to her touch, pressing back against her groping fingers. Her warmth, her eagerness, her determination catapulted him to new levels of desire.
But long abstinence was making his response too sharp. Too swift. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed the attentions of a woman. And Carenza wouldn’t know what to expect. He was likely to explode all at once, frightening her with his passion and leaving her unsatisfied.
That was the last thing he wanted. Better he should sacrifice his own satisfaction than leave her unrequited. Safer anyway.
So, though it took all his willpower to resist, he gently pushed her hands away. Swiftly, before he could change his mind, he lifted her up, turning to seat her on the chair. Then he dropped to his knees before her.
Her eyes were languid. Her mouth was rosy and wet. He caught the back of her neck and tugged her forward for a long, slow, passionate kiss.
Then, releasing her, he reached down to catch the hem of her leine. He lifted it, exposing her slender, wool-stockinged ankles, pausing to see if she would stop him.
