Child of the Mist (27 page)

The color drained from Niall's face. Then a studied mask replaced the fleeting look of surprise.

"What are you talking about? I never said anything about a traitor."

Anne wasn't about to let Niall's momentary lapse of control slip by. " 'Twasn't you. 'Twas my father who spoke o' someone betraying you to us."

"Damn that old man! He swore he'd tell no one!"

"And he kept his word!" Anne hotly defended her father. " 'Twas that day o' your clan's arrival at Castle Gregor. I followed my father to the parapets to hear them request your return. My father was so overwrought at the position he was in, he let slip the fact he'd entrapped you and that there was a traitor. No one heard his words but me. He refused to tell me more, even when I prodded him. And that's the truth o' it, Niall Campbell!"

"The truth as far as you know it," Niall retorted. "But how many others know?"

"My father's a man o' honor. If he gave you his word, your secret's safe. Besides, to betray you would be to endanger me. He'd never do that."

Niall scowled. "Mayhap not intentionally, but what if he let it slip again?" His fist pounded the mantle in frustration. "Damn, 'twas my only advantage over the traitor, and now I may have lost even that!"

"You don't know that. If I'm the only other one . . ." Anne's voice faded at the piercing look Niall shot her. "Aye." She sighed. ''And once again I am asking you to trust me, aren't I? But if Iain's the traitor and I in league with him, you have lost even that advantage."

A sharp pain lanced through her. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it, Niall? You can't find it in your heart to trust meand never will."

Niall opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. He stared at her, his dark eyes capturing and holding hers until Anne thought she'd scream from the tension. Tears filled her eyes. She saw the dream of a life for them slowly disintegrate in the face of Niall's continued distrust. There was no hope, not anymore.

The tears rolled, unchecked, down her cheeks. I said I loved you, but 'tisn't enough, is it?" she asked in a strangled whisper. "Well, I can't bear living with your suspicions. 'Tis better for the both o' us if you let me go back to my people."

"Nay."

She swiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "But why? What good am I to you, or to your traitor, be it Iain or any other? You've discovered my complicity and now will guard against me. You can throw me into the dungeons, I suppose, but that would only stir the feud anew. Far better to send me home. I swear the peace between our clans will stand."

"Do you think 'tis that easy?" Niall rasped in a pain-harshened voice.

He flung himself in the chair opposite her, his long legs stretched out before him. "If 'twas, I'd have done it long ago. But I was lost from the first moment I saw you in that little village, your hands bound, proudly defying my men. You
are
a witch, Anne MacGregor," he groaned the admission, "but your spells are o' the heart, not the body. And I can't let you gonot now, not ever!"

"Och, Niall!" Anne sobbed, running to kneel before him.

He straightened in the chair and his arms welcomed her, pulling her to him between his out-spread legs. She clung to him fiercely, her renewed surge of tears dampening the thick hair on his chest.

"I've never wished to cause you pain, truly, I haven't" Anne cried. "I know I've been foolish at times, concerned with only my needs and giving little thought to yours, but I swear I'll do better! I'll learn."

"Hush, lass," Niall murmured, gently stroking her hair. "I know, I know."

She raised her tear-streaked face to his, so close now his warm breath caressed her. "Truly?"

"Truly."

Anne sighed and laid her head back on Niall's chest. She knew there'd been no admission of trust in his words, no avowal of love, but tonight it didn't matter. That he accepted the fact she was there and wanted him, that he seemed to want her, too, was enough.

His deep, even breathing soothed her. A langourous warmth spread through her body. She inhaled deeply of Niall's musky, masculine scent. It sent a rippling current of awareness through her.

Her lips moved to his warm skin beneath her cheek and Anne, in a rising tide of excitement, tasted his flesh like one long-starved. Her mouth finally wended its way to his nipple nestled in a swirling sea of hair. She gently laved it before taking it into her mouth.

Niall groaned. "Och, Annie."

Clasping her head between his hands, he turned her face to his. His kiss was gentle, tentative at first, as if he feared the power building inside him. But Anne matched him in growing ardor, her response mirroring his own. She was an apt pupil, Niall realized, her passion for him no less than the passion with which she approached everything in life.

The thought gladdened him like none he'd ever known. Here, at last, was a woman to match his own fiery nature, both in and out of bed. An image of another Anne momentarily floated before his eyes, a vision of a lovely, gentle angel. The vision smiled.

His lips curved in an answering smile as he traced a trail of kisses down Anne's neck. She threw back her head in eager abandon. Her hands moved wildly over him now, spreading Niall's bed robe wider to expose even more of his hot, hair-roughened chest. She pulled back to gaze at his powerfully muscled torso.

Anne inhaled an admiring breath. "Och, you're so magnificent, m'lord!"

"And you're so beautiful, Annie lass,"

His husky admission filled Anne with joy. He did care for her, if only a little. It was enough.

Her hand stroked the side of his face in an attempt to ease the careworn lines that feathered out from his eyes. Tenderness and a fierce protectiveness swelled in her at the pain she saw burning in their depths. Och, how she loved him!

Niall smiled and slipped the bed robe from her shoulders. Before she had a chance to protest, he leaned down and gathered her to him. Lifting her into his arms, Niall crossed the room to his bed.

It was a huge, carven monstrosity, hewn from a giant oak. Though hung with dark green velvet cur-

tains, the bed still reminded Anne of some animal's den. Niall lay her on the soft furs, skillfully sewn into one huge pelt, then stood back to gaze down at her. His breath came raggedly now.

In the flickering firelight, his tawny eyes seemed to glow from his shadowed face. Glowed . . . like those of a wolf. A shudder of terror mixed with a delightful anticipation swept through Anne. Then, in one quick movement, Niall shed his bed robe.

Though darkness hid the details of his body, the outline of his huge form was totally masculine, from his wide shoulders and narrow hips to his firmly muscled arms and legs.
A fine body,
Anne mused dreamily.
A warrior's body
.

Yet though admirable in every way, that outward manifestation of Niall was already known to her. Tonight, she wanted more. She meant to have all of him, in the most intimate way imaginable. Tonight, she'd find her own path to his heart, a path different from his first wife, but one she hoped would someday hold equal importance. It was a sweetly glorious, improbable dream, but tonight Niall Campbell was hers, and hers alone.

At the thought, a delicious ache filled Anne. She raised her arms to him and, with a low groan, he came to her. The touch of his hard body, his long strong legs, pressing so intimately against hers, sent a tremor of delight rocketing through Anne. She surrendered to him in eager abandon. She felt his full, heated arousal brush against her belly.

For a fleeting instant Anne drew away, responding to an instinctive feminine fear. Then reason and her love for Niall urged her back. The hard throbbing shaft was the core of his pleasure. More than life itself Anne wanted to please him, to ease his pain in the age-old healing ritual of mating.

His hands moved over her, hot but strangely soothing, leaving her quivering in their wake. He eased the nightgown up her body while his tongue seduced its way into her mouth. Anne welcomed him with a soft sound of pleasure.

The nightgown moved up past her hips. Niall's hand lingered there, gliding across her belly with the lightest, the most tantalizing of touches, until she trembled uncontrollably in his arms.

"Do you like it, lass?" he growled. "Do you like what I do to you?"

"Aye!" Anne breathed.

His voice deepened to a fierce whisper. "I want you wild before I take you. Wild . . . begging me."

Before she could reply, he parted her lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth to retreat slowly and plunge again. Anne shuddered, each thrust of his tongue sending wild jolts through her body. Her hands moved over him in a crazed abandon, across his chest, down his arms, over the taut ridges of his belly.

Niall groaned and jerked against her, his hands grasping at her gown to pull it up, past her breasts and shoulders and over her head. The realization of her total nakedness, lying there so vulnerable and exposed beneath him, should have evoked a maiden's modesty. But Anne was beyond caring. She had yearned for him, dreamt of this moment for too long to feel anything but a woman's hot need, and an intense, soul-satisfying sense of power.

Niall's hands stroked the curve of her breasts, sending delicious waves of heat to feed the ache growing deep within her. Yet as wonderful as it all was, nothing could compare to the knowledge spiraling to full realization.

All her life, since the day Anne had realized the power men held over women, she had fought against surrendering even the smallest aspect of herself. She'd fought against their control, flaunting customs and strictures of everyday life if they went against her own desires. She'd paid the price in many ways, yet until this moment she'd staunchly maintained her right to guide her own destiny.

But no longer. Now it was joined with that of the dark man so passionately loving her. Yet there was no loss, no sense of defeat in the realization. Quite the contrary.

Her love for this wonderful, most magnificent of men had opened up the world to her, freeing herempowering her. Her love only made her stronger. It revealed new mysteries about herself, mysteries both wonderful and life-sustaining. There was no fear anymore, only a wild eagerness to delve further and, in the giving, receive.

The touch of his tongue on her nipple sent fine tremors through Anne. "Niall!" she breathed, arching against him.

He took her more fully then, gently suckling the tender flesh. Anne writhed beneath him, half-mad from the pleasure. Her breath came in sharp little gasps.

Niall sensed she was near her limits, yet wanted to prepare her a little further to ease the discomfort of their eventual coupling. In his heart, despite his accusations to the contrary, he knew Anne was still a maiden. The thought gladdened him in some fierce, primal way.

His hand trailed down her chest, past her flat belly to the soft mound of dark auburn curls. Gently, ever so carefully, he eased his fingers between the velvety lips to find her hot, hidden wetness. She gasped when he reached that secret core and began to massage it.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Anne cried. "Och, I can't bear it!"

"Hush, lass," Niall murmured, moving to silence her with the searing heat of his mouth. "You'll bear that, and more, before I'm done with you."

She went wild then, twisting, turning beneath him, her legs spreading to welcome further exploration. Her uninhibited response ignited a rising excitement in Niall. He knew he couldn't hold back much longer.

His mouth moved to her ear, his tongue caressing the delicate shell even as his hand maintained its frenzied touch upon her. "Do you want me, lass?" he breathed, his voice rough with desire.

"A-aye!" Anne cried, her eyes clenched shut in sweet agony.

"Then tell me." Niall whispered thickly, almost mad with his own need. "Tell me I'm the only man for you, that there'll never be another. I need to hear it. I need to know!"

Her lids snapped open. She gazed up at him, all the love in the world in her silver eyes. "Aye, I want you, Niall. I love you. There will never be another."

He took her hand in his, guiding it down his chest, to his taut-muscled abdomen, to entwine about his thickly engorged shaft. Niall went rigid, a hot, dark look in his eyes.

"Aye, lass," he coaxed, his hand covering hers to pull it up and down his throbbing hardness. "That's the way o' it. T-touch me. I want it. Och, Lord, how I need it!"

Niall gave himself over to the pure pleasure of her tantalizing strokes. He leaned on his arms, his head arched back. The cords of his neck strained with the exquisite sensations shooting through him. His fists clenched at his side. He moaned aloud at the effort it took to slow the fires of his passion.

A seductive, satisfied smile touched Anne's lips. It thrilled her that in her maiden's inexperience she was capable of giving him such pleasure. And it also stirred a need, far from maidenly, to drive him even wilder with desire.

"Please," she pleaded. "I beg you, let us join. I need you so badly."

With a harsh groan, Niall pulled her to him, his mouth parting hers for a deep, violently sensual kiss. Before she could recover from that boldly passionate assault, he shifted his weight on top of her and grasped her hips. In a strong, sure movement he guided Anne to him, fitting her to his need, sliding slowly, unerringly into her.

Anne cried out as he penetrated her maiden's barrier, but the sound was muffled by his insistent tongue that probed and thrust in unison to his hard shaft driving between her legs. The pain subsided quickly, melding with a fierce ache until she could scarce tell one from the other. The sensation of pleasure grew. She thought she'd go mad from the sweet torture. Then Anne could bear it no longer.

A myriad of tiny vibrations, of shimmering delights, coursed through her body until she shook from the ecstasy of it. Anne cried out again, but this time it was a cry of joy.

Niall's pace quickened, his breath ragged and rasping. His own control fled when Anne joined the rhythmic thrusts. Lord, but she felt so soft . . . so wet . . . so good!

He drove himself deeper and deeper in a frenzied race toward satisfaction. And all the while the woman in his arms urged him on, caressing him, whispering words of love and encouragement. No longer could he tell where his body ended and hers began. The fire grew to consuming proportions. At last, with a gutteral cry, Niall plummeted into a swirling abyss of pleasure.