Part 23 (1/2)

”Siobhan. Siobhan, nay, la.s.s.” He pleaded, even as she bent to him, taking him into her mouth. He flinched violently, curling up to watch and feel and absorb this woman unleas.h.i.+ng her pa.s.sion on him. His heart thundered so hard he swore she could hear it, his body bleeding with fiery sensations, demanding that he toss her to the ground and pound into her. But her pleasure, the feel of her flesh brus.h.i.+ng over his, was a prize he would savor and cherish, her surrender a step to winning her trust.

Her mouth played. He thickened and hardened, and he called her name over and over, begging her to cease and let him pleasure her. But she refused, her tongue sliding, her lips pulling until he was too near exploding to care, yet he did. He wanted her, her, and caught her beneath the arms, dragging her over him, thrilling at the feel of every inch of her laid bare to his touch.

Her skin was on fire, pure heat against the cool air.

His broad hands mapped her contours, hands coa.r.s.e with calluses, fas.h.i.+oned to wield a sword and crossbow, an ax and a javelin-hard, unyielding. Yet when he held her, the sensations of war turned to vapor and he knew he held a woman, ripely shaped, soft, with skin of silk and tasting of honey. His life was battle, survival and conquer, yet here she was the victor, leaving him vanquished and weak.

And he cherished it, wanted more of it, a willing prisoner to her power.

No woman had ever touched him as she did. No woman gave of herself in a single kiss, in a tiny stroke of his flesh, and Gaelan knew he would do aught to keep this woman his, close and private and in possession of his soul.

In the seclusion of a tiny dale, she abandoned the cloak of her position. Hidden beneath the shade of trees, the wall of shrubbery still thin from the winter's cold, she spread her thighs, toeing his braies further down with an eagerness that stirred him to explosion. When she rose up, sliding, slicking him, Gaelan could stand no more.

He sat up sharply, grinning at her started look, his arousal pus.h.i.+ng between her thighs, seeking the warm nest, and he reached between their bodies, his gaze never leaving hers as he guided himself deeper into her. He filled her, loving the flare of her eyes, the way her tongue pa.s.sed over her lips, the breathy pants ... and the feminine muscles flexing wetly around him.

”Oh-oh-husband,” she repeated over and over and threw her head back, gripping his shoulders and he shoved upward, sheathing himself to the hilt. Gaelan groaned, his body quaking.

Suddenly he pulled her hard against him, chest to breast, taking her mouth with all the heat and raw desire grinding through him. Her arms wrapped his neck and he gave her hips sweet motion, lifting her and lowering her, obliging the impatient whimpers of his bride. He could feel her body pawing his. He heard her whispers of encouragement, the telltale signs he was just beginning to know; a tuck of her hips, a fractured breath.

Then she spoke, whispering how delicious he felt inside her, that she could feel him throbbing, his blood pulsing, her words bold and meant to drive him mad. And they did.

He yanked her legs around his hips and pushed her to her back on the soft mossy earth, bracing his weight on his arms. He shoved and withdrew, his mouth whispering an apology, yet she gripped his hips and demanded more of his long torturous strokes. Her heels dug into the cus.h.i.+ony ground, her hips rising to greet his. The cadence buffeted, smooth motion, and Gaelan gazed into her eyes, watching her rapture climb to a peak.

Her eyes never closed, looking over him, watching his body disappear into hers. And each time, she bit her lower lip to hold back a cry.

”Let me hear you, princess.”

She did, her gasps coloring the air, her emotions cresting with the tightness peeling through her undulating body. Delicate muscles gripped him.

Gaelan plunged, taking her mouth, wanting to taste her pleasure on his lips.

”My lord!”

He chuckled and she pounded his shoulders, then cupped his b.u.t.tocks and drove him deeper. He retreated and plunged, tight and hard and spearing.

Gaelan conquered, only here, only now.

Siobhan surrendered, receiving him, skin to bare skin.

Carved bronze against ivory silk.

Seeking, seeking, hastening toward the prize.

Then they found it, the clash shattering, swelling.

He drove her across the earth and touched her soul, and she arched, bowing beautifully beneath him, her fingertips digging into his chest as he slammed into her, once twice, and she cried out, scattering birds from the trees and begging for more. Gaelan gave, unable to contain even a shred of restraint and threw his head back, pleasure roaring through him like a caged beast set free.

Siobhan felt his climax skip through her, every cell breaking, his throbbing arousal elongating to spill his seed into her. The hard base of him pressed and rubbed, sending exquisite convulsions down to her toes and she flinched over and over, taking all he had and finding her rapture in his release. She held his gaze, watching it, the flutter of his lashes, the softening of his creased features, the blaze in his eyes as she held him vulnerable inside her.

Suspended on the edge, Gaelan couldn't move, wracked with tremors trapping him in the grip of desire. He stared at her, his chest heaving for air, sweat rolling down his temples and the center of his chest as he took in every detail of her. A vapor simmered over her hot skin, her red hair spread in a halo around her exquisite face. G.o.d above, she was beautiful, headstrong, rebellious, yet here, in his arms, beneath him in loving, she was a magnificent savage, her release as untamed as she was, as if capped for too long.

Then she reached, playing with his nipple, outlining the contours of his breast before her fingers curved his neck to bring him down to her mouth. Her kiss was probing and turbulent, stirring him deeper than before, and with a groan, he sank onto her, rolling to his side and taking her with him. Her calf rubbed over his, her fingertips drawing patterns on his damp back.

He was still lodged inside her and her hips pushed deliciously to his.

”Did I hurt you?” He'd never pounded into a woman with such ferocity before.

”You did not hear me complainin', did you now?”

He grinned. ”So then, you are still hungry for the dragon?” he teased, stroking her hair from her face as she tipped her head to look at him.

”You would deny me the pleasure now?”

He chuckled, kissing her again. ”I would indulge you all day, but we will be discovered soon.” His gaze swept meaningfully to the lowering sun.

”I do not care.”

He scoffed, running his hand over her slender back, enjoying the peace and the feel of her skin. ”You will when the entire keep sees your bare behind.” He patted the tender area. ”I am surprised Driscoll did not come a'running to see if I was killing you, your cries were so loud.” Her gaze snapped to his, searching for the admonishment, but found only a tender humor.

”My cries?”

He arched a brow.

She shoved at his chest. ”Oh, do not look at me as if you were not roaring like a beast too long in a pen.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ”You opened the cage, woman, and let the dragon out.”

Her gaze lowered briefly to where their bodies joined. ”When one knocks long and hard enough,” she said with a moan, thrusting softly against him, ”one must answer the door.”

Suddenly Gaelan rolled her to her back, plunging deeply and gazing into her eyes. ”Knock, knock.”

Siobhan watched him walk from the stream, his naked body glistening with water like fairy dust. The sight of him made her heart skip, and she tipped her head as he neared. Truly a beautiful man, she thought, proud he was hers. Their marriage was unbreakable now, sealed before G.o.d, and Siobhan did not have a single regret. She had kept them from being truly husband and wife. She had drawn a battleline between them, and the needs of her body and her heart had melted into one and she recognized hours ago that if she wanted a new life, she had to break from her own rebellion and give into the sweep of it. There had been no question that she'd wanted to be physically loved by him. 'Twas a pleasure she would never forget, a pleasure that would be remembered with a look and a touch. Her gaze followed him as he dressed, constantly astonished at the power he harnessed for her this afternoon. Muscles rippled and flexed as he stepped into his braies, then pulled on a poorly made lawn s.h.i.+rt, the cuffs and sides gathered. She could not take her eyes off him as he laced the boot thongs over his thighs and fastened the leather, unadorned codpiece over his manhood. Even flaccid, 'twas substantial, she thought, desire for him stirring through her again.

”Siobhan,” he warned. ”That look is dangerous. Want to find yourself on your back?”

”I would prefer my knees,” she said tartly, and his head shot up, his eyes flying wide. She nibbled on a cube of cheese, looking at him through a curtain of hair. ”I have shocked you, I see.”

”Aye,” he admitted.

”Forgive me.”

Squatting, he reached, tipping her face up, frowning softly. ”Spare naught from me.”