Page 49 of Highland Crown
“Be my wife?”
Her throat was dry. She nodded. “In name. Of course.”
His blue eyes caught the candlelight as he pressed a hand to her brow. “Now you’re the one who is feverish.”
“I…”
He kissed her. Or was it that she kissed him? Isabella’s wasn’t too sure. What she knew was that she did not pull away, but rather leaned into him and clutched his shoulders gently. His weathered lips were surprisingly soft and giving. He angled his mouth over hers and was about to deepen the kiss when sanity quickly returned, and she dragged herself away and sat back. The heat in her face was scorching, her hand pressed to her mouth. Her lips tingled.
Kisses weren’t supposed to undo people. Or at least this was the way she’d always lived her life.
“I… you’re not well enough for such things. I should wrap your shoulder and arm again. Jean will be coming up soon. She warns me when the kitchen is hard at work and the rest of the household is stirring.”
She didn’t wait for him to say anything but picked up the candle and put it on the table. Grabbing the blankets off the floor, she became a whirlwind of movement, folding her bedding and storing it away, trying not to look at him. Cinaed said nothing, but she heard him push to his feet.
Going to the table, she chose the cloths she needed tobind his shoulder and turned around. He sat on the edge of the bed, exactly as she’d found him before. She thought he must be Adonis, sent by the gods to tempt her with his beauty and fan her desire.
She forced herself not to admire his body and stared at the dark beard. The long lashes framed the blue eyes that looked so dark in the candlelight. Her gaze fell on his lips. She ran a hand down the front of her dress and wondered if he would ever kiss her again.
“I’m ready.” He tilted his head and smiled. “Whenever you are.”
Oh, was she ever ready, Isabella thought, approaching him. She went to work on his arm first.
“Your wounds are healing nicely. But to be safe, I’ll wrap them for another couple of days.”
He caught her hand, and the bandages dropped onto the bed.
Their gazes locked. Isabella didn’t know what was happening to her, but she was uncontrollably drawn to him. He pulled her between his knees. Her fingers were on his skin, working a slow path up his neck. They were eye to eye, lip to lip. The memory of the kiss from a few moments ago filled her mind. She wanted it again. Now.
Wordlessly, she brushed her lips against his—once, softly, gently, and then again. His lips were warm, inviting. He patiently waited, leaving Isabella in charge of what she wanted to do.
Summoning her courage, she let her mouth linger a bit longer. Her tongue hesitantly teased the seam of his lips.
His hand slipped around the back of her head. Isabella felt his mouth open beneath hers, drawing her in. Enthralled with her position of control and by the heatthat was spreading through her, limb by limb, she deepened the kiss. Their tongues danced and mated.
A hungry groan escaped Cinaed’s lips, and his fingers delved and fisted in her hair. She answered and matched his urgency with hers.
He inched back farther on the bed and she followed, climbed up and moved on top of him, straddling him. Her hands caressed his face, and she threaded her fingers through his hair. She was lost in the play of their lips and tongues and the power of a kiss that continued on and on.
Thirty-four years in age, six years of marriage, and she had never kissed anyone like this. The joy of this one act far exceeded any physical encounter she had yet experienced in life.
Her head tipped to deepen the kiss, and Cinaed’s passion surged. Suddenly his arm tightened around her. He was cupping her breast, feeling the nipple hardening through the dress. Her body and her hips moved restlessly, instinctively seeking a better fit. His hand found the hem of her skirt and slid upward along her bare leg.
The tap on the door was sharp, and Isabella, breathless and mortified, tore her mouth away and jumped off the bed.
An instant later, the door swung open and Jean came in.
“Yer fever’s gone only a few hours, and here ye are restless as a salmon running upriver,” Jean declared, seeing him sitting up in bed. “Damn me, but I’m thinking yer a man who can’t wait to be up and going.”
Carrying the pitcher of water she’d brought up, she disappeared behind the screen.
Cinaed’s attention was only on Isabella. She had her back to him, her hands busily cutting strips of linenwhile more of it was scattered across the bed. But he knew her mind was caught up in the same excitement that had taken hold of him. Her body had to be as affected as his. If Jean had come ten minutes later, the two of them would have had more than their mouths to untangle.
He pulled the blankets across his lap. Watching Isabella, he took a deep breath, remembering the scent of her hair. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her skin, feel the texture of her willing mouth. Her tempting blend of innocence, experience, and desire drove his need. He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her. He couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman so much.
Cinaed ran a hand down his face to shake free of the lust that was keeping him hard. He needed to think of something else besides the woman across the room. He reminded himself Isabella wasn’t one you made love to and then left. She was a prize, a love-and-cherish kind of woman.
So what was he doing? Both their lives were complicated right now. She deserved better than what little he had to offer.
