Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(102)

He bent his head and took one pink nipple in his mouth, nibbling and sucking until she writhed under him. Her skin tasted of honey and heat.

He forced her to slow, sliding his hands over her belly, down the insides of her legs, and up to the soft inner thigh. His finger brushed over her, and she shuddered.

She was so warm and soft, weeping for his touch. She tensed in anticipation. He slid his finger along her slick opening until she spread for him.

Releasing her breast, he gazed up at her face as his mouth slid down the pale curve of her belly. Her eyes were hot and heavy with desire, her breathing rough as she realized what he was going to do.

He could not wait to inhale her heat, to slide his tongue deep inside her. Holding both hands under her hips, he lifted her to his mouth. Then, holding her gaze, he pressed his mouth to her feminine core.

She cried out with pleasure as his lips nuzzled the delicate pink skin between her legs. As his mouth tasted her dampness. And then as his tongue probed deep inside her.

He loved to watch as ecstasy took hold. As her head fell back, her back arched and her lush red lips parted with hitched breath.

She pressed her hips against his mouth, finding that perfect spot of pleasure as her release shattered over her in wave after wave of pulsing pleasure.

It was too much.

He lifted his mouth and moved over her. He looked down between their bodies, his hard and stiff, hers soft and pliant, as he slid gently inside her and started to thrust with long, deep strokes.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips to take him deeper as their rhythm built to a frantic beat that matched the pace of his heart.

He gave over to the primal call. Heat washed over him and blood pounded through his body.

She was so tight and soft, milking him with her body. Drawing him back even as he pulled away.

His eyes closed as the force of his release built inside him. He heard her own cries just as pleasure erupted from deep inside him. As the love he felt for her poured from his body in a powerful explosion that welled up from deep in his soul.

When the last tremor had died away, all he could do was collapse beside her, trying to find his breath and the words to express the happiness he was feeling.

He rolled to his side so that he could look at her. His chest squeezed with love. Her breathing was uneven, her cheeks flushed pink, and her lips red and swollen from his kisses. His fingers swept a strand of hair that had tangled in her thick, velvety black lashes. A tiny smile curved her lips. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment.

“I’m so happy that you decided not to go through with it,” she murmured, sleep tugging on her lids.

Unaware that he’d stiffened beside her, that she’d just plunged a dirk in his heart, she drifted off into a happy, well-sated slumber.

Chapter 23

Caitrina woke with a start at the sound of movement below her window.

God, what time is it? She rolled side to side a few times and pulled the pillow over her head, trying to drown out the clatter. The lull of more sleep tempted, but awareness hovered around the edges of her consciousness, forcing her awake.

She opened her eyes to a room still shadowed in darkness. But she didn’t need light to know that she was alone. Sometimes it felt as if she were so aware of him, he’d become a part of her, as vital as air and food. And when he was gone, she felt his absence as acutely as a missing limb.

She frowned, wondering what had taken him from bed so early. She stretched her arms over her head and yanked them back again, retreating to the cozy warmth of the coverlet. The chill dawn had taken hold of the thick stone tower walls and wouldn’t easily let go. Glancing to the fireplace, she realized the fire had died long ago.

He’d been gone for some time.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face as she recalled what had happened last night. Jamie was usually so immovable; she’d been terrified that she wouldn’t be able to convince him not to take Niall to Dunoon. But love had won out after all.

The sounds of horses and raised voices returned her attention to what had disturbed her slumber. Something was going on in the barmkin below.

She lay back and contemplated the wood ceiling for a moment, but curiosity eventually overrode comfort. Taking a deep breath, she tossed off the warm bedcoverings, slung her bare feet over the side of the bed, and braced for the shock.

It didn’t help.

She jumped, letting out a little yelp as she reached for her sark and then scurried to her slippers across wood planks that were about as warm and inviting as an icy loch.

Chilled to the bone, she dressed as quickly as she could manage with stiff, frozen fingers. When she’d finished, she grabbed a plaid from the bed, wrapped it over her shoulders, and hurried to the window. She pulled open the shutters, rubbed the fog from a pane of glass with the side of her fist, and peered down into the barmkin below.

The first rays of dawn were just starting to break over the horizon, and a cold, misty rain cloaked the morning sky.

For a moment, she felt entrenched in that fog as she took in the scene below. Men dressed for battle gathered around the courtyard, readying to ride out. At the head of the procession was her husband. He sat upon his great black steed, his chest plate shimmering over his yellow war coat. The jewel-encrusted hilt of the claymore slung over his back flashed like a beacon in the low light.

Her pulse leapt as comprehension began to dawn. A minute later, her fears were confirmed when Niall and the rest of her father’s guardsmen were led out from the tower.