The Devil in Plaid(39)

The pink color of Esme’s cheeks deepened. “Did he truly say as much?”

Fiona nodded. “Indeed, he did.”

Just then a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Fiona called out.

A moment later, Julia stepped into the room. “If it pleases ye, my lady, I wanted to offer to help ye ready for bed one last time, so that yer maids can settle themselves in.”

“That is very thoughtful of ye, Julia. Thank ye,” Fiona said. Then she turned to Esme and Abby. “I will say goodnight, my dears.” She hugged each of her maids in turn. “I cannot tell ye how happy I am that ye are both here with me now.”

Esme glanced about the room, her brows drawn. “But where are ye going? I thought this was the lady’s chamber.”

“It is,” Fiona answered.

“Oh,” Abby said, knowingly. “Our laird has called for ye.”

Fiona shook her head. “That big, beautiful bed is yers to share. I am to share a chamber with my laird.”

Esme’s eyes widened. “Every night?”

Fiona nodded. “Aye.”

Abby giggled, and Esme rolled her eyes at her wee sister. “Should we still wake ye on the morrow?”

“Aye,” Fiona answered. Then she winked at Abby. “Only knock first.”

Abby’s giggles followed Fiona into Jamie’s chamber.

After Julia helped Fiona remove her surcotte and tunic, Fiona dismissed her and curled up in one of the chairs near the hearth, wrapping herself in the MacLeod plaid. She looked at the carvings that had once struck fear into her heart. Now, the wee demon faces told her a story. They showed how far a mother would go to protect her wee bairns.

Jamie entered the room a few minutes later. She shifted in her seat near the hearth and drank in the sight of his towering height and strong physique. As he crossed the room, lighter streaks of gold in his hair glinted in the candlelight. He slid into the chair next to hers and their eyes met. His hard expression softened.

“Ye’re thoughts are heavy tonight,” Fiona observed.

He nodded grimly. “I’ve spent much of the day engrossed in planning for the battle ahead. Yer father sent several messages with Alasdair, and I’ve had confirmation from my cousin that he will indeed send men to aid our strike.”

She shook her head. “It is all too horrible to believe. My heart breaks when I think of what happened to Adam and his father.”

Jamie reached out and took her hands. “I ken ye must still mourn for yer betrothed.”

She nodded. “I do. Adam was a good man, as was his father.”

Jamie looked at her curiously. “Did ye love him?”

Fiona remembered Adam’s youthful smile. “Nay, I did not love him, but I considered myself lucky to be betrothed to him. He was kind and gentle. My father might have promised me to an old man or a hard man.”

He reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “Ye mean like me, a hard man.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes smoldered.

“Did Adam ever kiss ye good and proper?” he asked.

“I…I do not ken what ye mean.”

“This is what I mean,” he rasped.

His lips closed over hers. He crushed her against his hard chest. His hand stroked down her torso, then back up. Weaving his fingers through her hair, he kissed her harder. His tongue pressed against her closed mouth. She gasped, her lips parting. His tongue delved into her mouth, stroking, caressing, stirring awake a need from deep within. The heat of his body surrounded hers. His scent, warm and masculine, teased her senses. Her fingers bit into his muscular arms as his kiss deepened further. She trembled. Soft moans escaped her lips. She leaned into him as a fire within her lit and grew, burgeoning into flames of passionate heat. Unbidden, her tongue met his, tasting, stroking, wanting.

Suddenly, he tore his lips from hers and thrust her away from him, holding her at arms-length. His eyes bore into hers, fiery with passion. His breathing came in great heaves as did her own.

“That is what it means to be good and kissed,” he growled. Then, he released her arms, turned on his heel, and thundered out of the room.

Her heart pounded. Her fingers flew to her bruised lips as she stared at the now closed door.

Dear God above, she never knew a kiss could be so consuming. In his arms, the world had fallen away and all that had existed was their bodies, hot and heaving, their lips, searching and hungry, their tongues, stroking, stirring. It had felt so good, too good. The pleasure had become an ache so sweet but so severe, building a hunger within her, which she knew not how to satiate.

Her heart continued to race as she continued to stare at the door. When her pulse had quieted, and her breathing returned to normal, she retreated to the bed. But she lay awake, the ache in her body refusing to go away.





*

Jamie stormed from his chamber, desire raging through him, fierce and hungry. He had never wanted a woman more. He stopped in his tracks.

She was his wife. Why had he stopped? Why was she not still in his arms, soft and wanting? He had been sure of her desire. Her response to their kiss had been innocent yet hungry. And that hunger had nearly driven him to unrestrained passion.

He shook his head.

When he at last made love to her, he needed to be in control of himself. He needed to make sure he didn’t frighten her, or worst of all…hurt her again.