Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(20)

All of a sudden, she understood. She felt herself warm and then soften around him as her body awakened to the pleasure he could bring. Her fingers dug into his shoulders insistently as the kiss spiraled out of control. It wasn't enough.

He felt so hot and big inside her, and anticipating the pleasure he would bring, her hips nudged against him.

He growled in her mouth, murmuring an oath before he started to move. It was as if her small movement had set him free.

It was incredible. The sensation of him pumping in and out of her in long rhythmic strokes flooded her with heat. The jarring force of each thrust shuddered through her in wave after wave of tingling sensation. His big, muscular body posed hard above her.

She felt the heavy feeling building inside her again. Felt the tight coiling in her womb.

Her pulse raced and her breath quickened.

He sank deeper and deeper. Harder and harder. Faster and faster.

Her mind went black. All she could think about was him. He was giving her something, something that hovered just out of her reach.

God, right there.

She arched her back and cried out as the pressure crystallized, then broke apart. Her womb tightened as wave after wave of contractions spasmed through her.

He joined her, leaning his head back and let out a sound of pure masculine satisfaction. His big body stiffened and then shook as the power of his release tore through him—and into her, flooding her with warmth.

When the wave of pleasure had ebbed, he held himself still over her for a moment, looking into her eyes. “I've never felt anything like that before.”

The warmth in her heart spread to her cheeks. “Really?”

He shook his head, his dark hair slumping across his brow in a way that made him appear roguish and heartstoppingly young. He rolled to the side, but still kept her tucked under his shoulder and snuggled against the hard curve of his body. The warmth between her legs suddenly felt chill and empty in his absence.

They were silent for a moment, staring up at the canopy of stars. Jeannie was finding it difficult to figure out exactly what had just happened. One moment they were kissing and the next they were making love. The feelings he aroused in her had been too powerful to ignore. Nor could she feign regret for what had happened. Duncan Campbell had made her a woman. He'd awakened a new side of her that she hadn't known existed and given her a glimpse of heaven in the process.

Who would have imagined that the joining of a man and woman could be like that? With her rudimentary knowledge of the marital act she'd thought the concept somewhat … strange. Never could she imagine how her body would crave his like that.

She might not have planned to give him her virginity tonight, and admitted it might have been more prudent to wait at least until they were formally betrothed, but she was not sorry that it had happened. He loved her and she loved him. They were meant to be together, she knew that more now than ever.

Her elation, however, was somewhat tempered by his continued silence. He was quiet. Too quiet.

Jeannie ventured a glance at him from under her lashes, the implacable expression once more affixed to his face. He seemed lost in thought. Like her, he was probably contemplating the significance of what had just occurred. But unlike her he did not seem as happy about it. His next words confirmed her suspicions. “I'm sorry, Jeannie. When I asked you to meet me tonight, I never meant for this to happen.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know you didn't bring me out here for this, but I'm not sorry that it did.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “You're not?”

She shook her head. “We are to be married, aren't we? I'd wager it isn't uncommon for betrothed couples to anticipate their wedding night.”

The hint of a smile cracked his stoic demeanor. “Probably not.” The smile fell, the look he gave her was filled with consternation. “But you must realize that a betrothal is not a foregone conclusion.” Something flickered in his gaze—it looked almost like pain. “Your father might have a few objections.”

Because of his birth. Jeannie studied his face in the darkness. Except for the tightness around his mouth, his expression was still—too still. The lack of reaction spoke much. Though Duncan never let on that his being a bastard bothered him, for the first time Jeannie realized that it did.

It struck her that she really knew very little about him.

She dispersed the sudden pall that had been cast over the moment with a vow to change that as soon as possible—she wanted to know everything about him.

“I will just have to persuade him then that you are the only man for me.” When Duncan didn't appear relieved, she added, “Don't worry, my father loves me, he will want to see me happy.”

“I hope you are right. My father's support will help. I will speak with him immediately upon my return. With any luck we can be wed as soon as the banns are read.” He gazed up at the moon. “I better get you back to the castle before you are missed.”

He stood and helped her to her feet. She wobbled a little, her legs as unsteady as a newborn colt. Once she'd recovered her balance, she put her toes to the edge of the rock and turned back to look at him over her shoulder. “Race you back,” she challenged.

“You're on,” he said.

Together they dove into the blackness and raced toward the other side of the loch where they'd left their clothes.