Page 98 of The Forest Bride
She startled in his arms at a loud rumble followed by a deafening crack. A bright flash bathed the room in silver light. Rain began to slam against the window and the outer walls. “Oh! I did not expect the storm to hit us so hard, so quickly.”
“Nor did I. Some of us were planning to ride out again on patrol.”
“Stay,” she said. “No one was in the glen earlier, you said. They would not come out in weather like this.”
“Unlikely, true. I will stay for a bit. You should go to your room and rest.”
“I would not rest. Do not go yet, Duncan. There is something else to say.”
“What is that, love?”
“The question I was considering.” Her breath quickened in anticipation.
“Ah, that. Now that we know we are still betrothed, it truly is a question.” He paused, and she knew he waited for her answer. “Have you decided?”
“I have. The betrothal—just makes me more determined to accept your suit.” She lifted her chin.
“I see,” he murmured, and bent to kiss her slowly, tenderly. “Well, then, Margaret Keith. Marry me.”
“I will. I want to.”
“Here. Now. Marry me.”
She stilled in his arms, leaning back to look up at him. “Now?”
“Tonight. The bishop could marry us this evening, or in the morning. Your brother already offered his approval—though heknows his sister will do what she will regardless of what he thinks. But he seems pleased.”
“I am glad of it. But tonight?” She pushed a little on his arms so that he opened his hands and let go. “I am not sure.”
“It is quick. You want to think on it.”
“We have done enough thinking on the matter of betrothal and marriage. I just—it would not be the sort of wedding I imagined.”
“The faster we marry, the better I can protect you from what others might try to do—De Soulis. Menteith. Edward,” he finished. Thunder boomed outside, rolled into new flashes of lightning. He glanced toward the window. “The men were planning to go out. I should tell them to wait.”
“No one should go out on patrol just now,” she said. “Wait until the storm passes. Let me stay here with you.” A feeling, insistence and need and something more, a deep, luscious pull, began to fill her.
His arms went round her, drew her close. “Here?”
“Here. Forever.”
“Forever, a bit at a time,” he murmured as he leaned to kiss her, and she felt herself melt again in his arms. Whatever he wanted, she wanted too. Her dreams came together, a golden net that wrapped her in desire, in relief and gratefulness too. What had come about between them had suddenly become seamless, flowing as if it was always meant to be, and some barrier had finally broken away. Curving against his body, she felt a pulse begin within her—not just the drubbing of her heart, but the beat of her very blood, surging, craving, eager. She arched in his arms and gave herself to each renewed kiss, gave herself to him, opening to the gentle tip of his tongue, hard strength of him, the throb of his body against hers.
He swept her up in his arms, carried her a step or two, paused. “What do you want,” he asked low. Lightning flashedagain at the window as he spoke. “What do you want here and now—”
“You,” she whispered with a rush of boldness. “I want to be with you. I do not want you to leave.”
“You know I must. When the storm is less, aye?”
She nodded, and he turned to carry her to the great bed in the shadows, a curtained alcove of dark plaid, and inside, layered blankets and piled pillows. When he set her down, the mattress was soft enough that she sank, and sank again when he set one knee beside her. The mattress, when pressed, gave off mingled scents of lavender and heather and something piney, so fragrant that she inhaled, closed her eyes, leaned her head back. Duncan paused in the shadows, lightning and candlelight behind him, and tugged off his tunic and linen shirt. The light slipped along the hard and smooth contours of his shoulders, his arms, his torso. Lightning brightened the room again, sparkling through the weave of the plaid as he stretched out beside her.
He touched her cheek, turning her face to his in the darkness, in the fragrant cavern. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, his lips soft, tender on hers, drawing, pulling, easing open. His fingers trailed downward, tracing over her collarbones, then lower. Her body responded, ached, craved the feeling of his hands on her. With a little moan of wanting, she pressed closer, fingers spread on his chest, his heartbeat fast and sure beneath her touch. His hands at her bodice pulled at the crisscrossed ribbons threaded there, and she helped him, fingers impatient and trembling, quicker and smarter on the ties than his. A tug, a pull and draw, and the pretty moss-green gown pooled on the floor, leaving her in a linen shift.
The cloth was soft and light, so that his hands slipped easily beneath its folds. The warmth and spread of his hands over her, up and down, over her breasts and abdomen, shaping her, coaxing her to answer his touch with soft moans, kisses,inviting arches that her body simply knew—all was sheer pleasure, unexpected and so natural that she followed, curving and flowing beneath his touch, his kisses. She tugged the shift away as his lips traced over her breasts, kissed until luscious sensations surged through her, sudden and powerful. Within, her body pulsed like the thunder and rain that pounded outside, flashed within like the lightning that glimmered beyond the curtains.
Though she had long dreamed of this man, this love she felt, she had not been able to imagine this, the merging that drove thought away and let heart and desire take over, the need so strong that only her body could express what she felt now, and felt for him. She pressed against him, rolled with him, opened as he coaxed, plummeted further as his hands, fingers, found and caressed her as she burned for more, breath and heartbeat pulsing.
When he slid over her, her body instinctively knew what to do, what he wanted, what she deeply desired, so that she arched and took him into her, a sudden rich heated plunge and thrust between them that left him gasping, his breath hot against her throat and her lips. She took his breath into hers, moving like a wave with him; she could not tell where he began and she ended, a feeling of freedom such as she had never known.
