Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(58)

Conall remained still for a moment, bemusement on his face, and then lowered her back into the water and peered at her solemnly. “Wife.”

“Aye?” she asked warily.

“I order ye to enjoy me lovin’,” he said firmly, and then frowned and added, “If ye’re enjoyin’ it. Do no’ pretend to, but if ye are, then I want ye to.” He frowned, not seeming pleased with his own explanation, and then asked, “Do ye understand?”

“Aye, husband,” she murmured, quite sure she did. He’d ordered her to enjoy it. She would not go to hell because she was just obeying her husband.

Claray smiled at him, and patted his chest. “Ye may kiss me again if ye like, husband, for I promise to enjoy it.”

“Do ye now?” he asked with a faint smile. Then bent to nip at her ear before trailing his lips down her neck.

“Aye,” she breathed, squirming against his body in the water. It wasn’t the kiss she’d meant, but this was nice too.

“And do ye like this?” he asked, his voice a husky growl as one hand covered her breast underwater and began to knead. “Or this?” His other hand pressed against her bottom as he moved closer to the stairs, so that she rode lower in the water and her groin rubbed against his.

“Oh, aye,” she moaned, arching her back and wrapping her legs around his hips so that their bodies rubbed together more firmly.

The action earned her another kiss, this one hot and demanding as he carried her out of the water and up the steps. A moment later he broke their kiss again and laid her in the overgrown grass beside the pond, then dropped to lay on his side next to her. He rested his hand on her chest just below her breasts, opened his mouth, then snapped it closed and glanced back sharply to the spot between her breasts where the baby stoat usually nestled.

“Where’s Squeak?” he asked with concern.

Claray smiled slowly, finding his concern for the wee kit adorable when he’d been so displeased at her for rescuing him. Hiding her smile when his gaze shot back to her face, she said, “With yer aunt.”

“Aunt Annabel?” he asked with amazement.

“Aye. He got annoyed with being jostled about every time I bent to pull weeds to see what was in the herb and vegetable gardens, so he climbed out o’ me gown, ran down me skirt, rushed to yer aunt and climbed up into her gown.” She grinned when his eyes went wide, and assured him. “She did no’ mind at all. I offered to take him back, but she said he was fine.”

Conall gave a disbelieving laugh at that news and Claray grinned and told him, “I like it when ye laugh.”

He smiled faintly at her words, and let the hand on her chest cover one breast through the damp cloth of her shift. “What else do ye like?”

“Yer smile, yer face, yer touch,” she listed off on a moan as he kneaded the tender flesh his hand was covering.

“I’ve thought o’ ye like this since that day at the river,” he admitted in a low growl.

Claray blinked her eyes open to see his gaze moving over her body.

“Yer shift wet and see-through, clinging to yer body. Yer nipples hard and eager, poking the material up,” he said. “Ye make me crazy fer wanting ye.”

He plucked at one erect nipple through the damp cloth, and growled, “I can see why MacNaughton was so determined to have ye.”

“He wanted MacFarlane, no’ me,” she protested, arching into his touch.

“I begin to think yer wrong about that,” Conall growled, and bent to claim her other nipple with his mouth, nipping and sucking it through the damp material. Moaning, Claray slid the fingers of one hand into his hair to cup his head, her back arching to press her breasts up into his dual assault as he fondled and suckled. He then stopped toying with the one breast and let his hand drift down below her hip. Her legs shifted restlessly when it began to skim back up, pushing the hem of her shift before it. Once he had it at her waist, his hand wandered back down, and she cried out when it suddenly dipped between her legs.

Claray gasped, and moaned, her body writhing and head twisting on the ground as his clever fingers caressed her. The sensations he was raising in her stole all of her focus so that she didn’t even notice when he stopped sucking at her nipple to watch her face as he pleasured her. But then he pushed a finger into her. Claray’s eyes shot open on a cry of excitement, her gaze meeting and caught by his as his thumb continued to caress even as his finger eased in and out. Her body responded without her mind’s input, her knees raising and feet planting to push her hips up into each thrust as she gasped nonsensical pleas. And then she couldn’t bear it anymore and reached up to pull his head down. She kissed him frantically as he continued to caress her, and then the tension he was building in her suddenly snapped and she broke their kiss on a cry as her back arched and her body trembled and shook.

For a moment, or maybe more, Claray was lost in the sensations washing through her. When she regained some of her sensibilities, Conall was pressing kisses to her eyes, her nose, her neck. Then his mouth covered hers briefly, his tongue stirring her, and she wrapped boneless arms around him and began to kiss him back. When her kisses became as hungry as his, he tore his mouth away and trailed it down her throat again. He found her breasts next, but didn’t stay there long before his lips followed an invisible trail down her stomach. Her stomach began jumping in anticipation at once as she recalled their wedding night, and Claray bit her lip and held her breath, almost afraid she was wrong and he wasn’t about to—