A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) (108 page)

“
Lachlan?
”
she whispered timidly.  His gaze was still hot and hungry.  He still looked like a man desperate to devour her.

“
More,
”
he rasped, twisting his fingers in the fabric of her shift and gently tugging it up her body.  Muira couldn
’
t stop herself from tensing and trying to stop him.  She pushed at his hands.

“
Wait?
”
she begged. 
“
Next time-
”

“
This time,
”
Lachlan growled softly.  He looped an arm around her back, dragging her against his chest. 
“
You
’
re my wife, and I love you,
”
he panted, moving his hand to the small of Muira
’
s back, as he tilted his hips and pushed her forwards. 
“
Can
’
t you feel what you
’
re doing to me?
”
he groaned. 
“
You have to trust me, Muira,
”
he grunted.

Muira gave a tiny, hardly perceptible nod.  She did want to taste again the magic that they shared before, but she was also terrified that somehow it would have changed, that maybe reality wouldn
’
t live up to her memories.  How could it, she wondered, when her body was so completely ruined?

She shivered, terrified, as Lachlan pulled her shift off over her head, dropping it in a crumpled heap on the floor as he took a step back to regard his prize.  Muira kept her eyes closed, her face downcast; she knew that she wouldn
’
t be able to bear the disappointment in Lachlan gaze when he saw the tattered remains of her figure.

“
Muira-
”

“
You don
’
t have to say anything!
”
she cried, interrupting him before he could finish. 
“
I
know
,
”
she moaned.

“
You know what?
”
Lachlan breathed, taking a step closer.  Muria jumped in surprise when she felt his fingers whisper over the delicate skin of her back, stroking soothingly down her sides as he urged her to move against him.

“
That I- I
’
m ruined!
”
she croaked.

“
Ruined?
”
Lachlan repeated.  He sounded honestly baffled. 
“
You
’
re beautiful,
”
he swore, nuzzling at her neck and bathing her skin in kisses while his hands went about reacquainting themselves with his wife
’
s voluptuous figure. 
“
Even more beautiful,
”
he growled, urging her back towards the bed.

Muira gave a little snort of disbelieving laughter. 
“
Well, as if you can tell me the truth.  That I-
”

“
Which truth?
”
Lachlan murmured huskily. 
“
That you look like a woman who
’
s born my child?  Don
’
t you realise how beautiful that makes you?
”
he groaned thickly, clutching at her body, finally making Muira shiver with something that wasn
’
t fear of rejection.

“
You really don
’
t mind?
”
she whispered tremulously. 
“
Truly?
”

“
Muira!
”
Lachlan panted. 
“
Do you really have to ask that?
”
he groaned, laying her down upon the bed, and then following after he had her arranged on the mattress beneath him. 
“
I love you,
”
he whispered reverently, kissing her lips, and then her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin, the curve of her throat
…
 
“
So much,
”
he breathed, the words seeping into Muira
’
s skin. 
“
So very much,
”
he murmured as he devoured her.

Muira mewed restlessly beneath her husband, her hands strummed impatiently at his shoulders.  He was still fully dressed, concealed from her view and touch by far too many layers of fabric.

“
Undress?
”
she purred desperately. 
“
I need to feel you,
”
she confessed breathlessly, as her inhibitions slowly melted away.

“
Not yet,
”
Lachlan chuckled, moving lower down her body.  His beard scratched against her tender bosom, causing Muira to shiver and start as she realised where he was heading.  Full, and swollen with milk, her breasts were almost painfully sensitive.  She was about to push him away, but Lachlan tongue had already darted out of his mouth to encircle one dusky nipple in its heat.  Muira gave a little squeal and arched up off the bed.

“
Oh!  Lachlan,
”
she gasped, horrified when her breast beaded with milk.  
“
The baby- you mustn
’
t- we can
’
t-
”

“
Spoilsport,
”
he chuckled, but utterly shamelessly lapped the tip clean before crawling back up his wife
’
s body to give her a swift, searing kiss.  She looped her arms around his neck as his tongue surged between her lips, dragging him closer as she tugged at his shirt.

“
Please?
”
she begged. 
“
Please, take it off?
”
  She slipped her hands under the warm fabric, raking her nails down Lachlan
’
s back, over his chest, feeling the powerful muscles flex and tense beneath her fingers.

“
Well, seeing as how you asked so nicely,
”
he laughed, but his voice was raw. 

He pulled back just a fraction, just enough to enable him to tug his shirt off over his head.  The second that he had toss it onto the floor he was covering Muria again.  The hard, hair spattered breadth of his chest was bearing down upon her breasts, making her wriggle and squirm, and long for more than she knew she could have.

“
And this?
”
she whispered playfully, dipping her hand to the thick, scratchy wool of his kilt. 
“
This definitely needs to go,
”
she teased, smoothing her palms over his arse, pushing him down as she bucked her hips up.

“
Careful lass,
”
Lachlan growled, clenching his jaw and fighting to restrain his baser urges. 
It had been so long since he had sank into her heat
…
 
“
Or you
’
ll be getting more than you bargained for,
”
he groaned gutturally.

“
Let me help you with that then?
”
she breathed into his ear, sounding wholly unconcerned by his warning.  She searched under the tartan folds, gathering him into her palm and starting to stroke.  Muira felt Lachlan
’
s entire body shudder as she began to pump him, coating his cock with the sticky dribble of moisture that had beading at the head of sex.

“
Wait,
”
he grunted, but it seemed to take a Herculean effort before he could force himself to brush her eager hands away. 

Muira pouted. 
“
But I-
”

“
But you are going to lie there and let me finish,
”
Lachlan panted, trying to catch his breath.

Muira opened her mouth in question, but Lachlan had just lowered his lips to her body, continuing his downwards trail from where he had left off, starting with the sensitive skin just under her breasts before moving down to her belly.  It was still soft and round, and Muira found an apology straining to bubble forth from her lips, but, almost as though he had anticipated such a move, Lachlan spoke first.

“
Out baby was here,
”
he murmured, awed it seemed.  He kissed each angry red slash where her skin had been stretched.  Muira had been promised that they would fade given time, but Lachlan made her feel
…
honoured, proud almost, to carry the reminders of the love they
’
d shared, of the life they
’
d made.  He pressed one final kiss to the centre of her stomach, and then shot his wife a wicked smile.