Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (17 page)

Not even the most skilled courtesan had been able to bring him to this point so fast,
so artlessly, and with so little intent. He wanted her, of that there was no denying.
Craved her with a madness that made no sense. He was hard and aching, ready for as
much as she would allow.

But even as he reached for the buttons on her bodice, she trembled. A tiny, almost
shocked little moan rolled from deep inside her throat with a catch that made him
shiver back.

“Shh, lass,” he soothed. “Jest let it be. Let yerself be.”

He claimed her lips again, brushing them with long, gentling presses and tender pecks
that made her moan again, her body sliding in a sinuous arch against his.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

“Wh-what?” she murmured in hazy confusion.

“Your mouth.” He pressed his lips to hers—once, twice, then harder for the third time.
“Open for me. Now.”

Mercedes heard him as if from a distance—her mind clouded so she could barely think,
her body on fire as if her blood had turned to living flame. His kisses were intoxicating,
headier than liquor, his touch like nothing she had ever known.

She’d always been a romantic. Always longed for soft, tender kisses at the end of
a moonlit stroll.

But this, these kisses—with their raw, undeniable power and wicked persuasion—were
something quite apart. As different from the chivalrous musings about which the poets
wrote as night was from day.

No wonder everyone kept this a secret.

No mystery why the world went mad in search of such pleasure.

And ah, what pleasure it was, the most intense of her life.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she’d met his kisses with as much finesse as
she could muster, trying her best to keep up with his silent demands.

But then he’d broken their kiss and said something that had puzzled her.

“Open your mouth.”

She blinked at him, her heart beating so hard it was a marvel it didn’t burst wide
from the effort.

Open my mouth? Why does he want me to do that?

Before she had the time to ask, he was kissing her again, exerting just enough pressure
to show her what he wished.

Mutely, she obeyed.

She quivered, her stomach clenching low, as his tongue swept inside, wet and sleek
and soft as velvet. He stroked
the delicate inner lining of her cheeks, then moved on to slowly circle her tongue
in a dance that was nothing short of sinful.

Her ragged gasps echoed inside her ears, Daniel claiming her with a possession she
hadn’t known was possible.

If his kisses had been good before, they were devastating now.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t think.

She couldn’t do anything but surrender, fully and absolutely, until she was totally
his.

The front of her nightgown was suddenly open, the buttons undone and the sides parted
to expose her breasts. She’d barely grasped this change in her situation before one
of his warm broad palms curved over her bare flesh. He cradled her, rubbing a thumb
over the peak that throbbed with dizzying sensation beneath his touch.

She arched, her back lifting away from the mattress as if to fit herself more deeply
into his hold. He abandoned his kisses on her mouth to rove lower, gliding across
her cheeks and chin, then down the length of her neck. He paused at its base, nuzzling
the spot where her throat joined with her shoulder, suckling briefly on her skin before
continuing on.

Some small, distant part of her knew she should make him stop, knew it wasn’t right
for them to let this intimacy continue.

But for the life of her, she couldn’t think why. How could anything this good be wrong?
And why did the words refuse to come, the ones that would end this bliss?

No, she didn’t want to end this. No, not this, never this.

Her whole body gave a little jerk, shock rippling through her like a thunderbolt,
when his lips curved around her nipple, his mouth widening against her breast. She
hadn’t known people did such things, hadn’t realized how truly naive she was in such
regard.

Then he flicked his tongue over the aching peak of her breast in a warm, wet sweep
that made a low cry sing from
her throat. Her fingers clenched in his hair, unconsciously guiding him to the spots
she liked best.

After that, her thoughts dulled, the delicious stroke of his tongue, the bold suction
of his mouth, the tantalizing glide of his hands the only things in her world. It
was as if she’d been flung into the middle of a raging river and was being borne along
on its powerful current, bobbing as helplessly as a leaf spinning downstream.

He moved to her other breast and wove his magic around her yet again. Her skin felt
hot, too tight, her loose clothes suddenly too constricting against her body.

She made no complaint when his hands moved low and began inching her nightgown up
over her calves and thighs. One palm slid along her hip, then around to clasp her
bare bottom.

Her eyes flew open.

Clearly sensing her surprise, he looked up and into her eyes. His own were vividly
green, the lids heavy, his mouth ruddy and damp from their kisses and his attentions
elsewhere.

He squeezed the rounded flesh of her bottom ever so slightly and watched as a helpless
tremor raced over her skin. Then he bent his head again, his other hand already busy
on her breast.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound reverberated against the door like cannon fire. For a few seconds, she didn’t
even know what it meant.

“Missus, it’s me,” came a small voice from the other side. “Is it all right if I come
in?”

Mercedes didn’t say anything, didn’t think she could speak, even if she could have
found the words.

Above her Daniel froze.

“I’ve got yer dresses,” the maid continued through the wooden door. “Yer mister said
tae wake ye early so ye could be on the road.”

With a groan, he flung himself away.

Lying silent for a few moments, he visibly gathered himself before he sat up on the
opposite side of the bed.

Then he stood.

She gulped at the sight of him in his drawers, her eyes growing big as moons at the
protruding flesh straining against the material.

She squeezed her eyes shut and reached for the sheets, pulling them high.

He muttered something guttural in Gaelic and strode across the room. Twisting the
lock, he cracked opened the door.

She slitted her eyes open enough to see that he had left the door between himself
and the maid, who luckily could not see into the room.

“Come back in a few minutes,” he said in a low voice. “My…
wife
is still abed.”

“Oh,” the girl piped. “Of course. Might I leave these with ye now?”

She saw him hesitate before he reached an arm through the narrow opening to take the
gowns.

“Bring breakfast when you come back,” he said. “She’ll take a tray in here.”

The girl murmured her agreement, then departed.

Closing the door, Daniel turned around.

He regarded her briefly, then slowly approached the bed.

Involuntarily, she tightened her hands on the sheets and tugged them another inch
higher.

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. He laid the gowns on the foot of the bed. “Get dressed.
We’ll leave on the hour.”

Then, as if nothing had happened between them at all, he stalked into his bedchamber
and closed the door.

D
aniel didn’t speak more than a handful of words to her for the rest of the morning.

After eating a solitary breakfast of oatcakes and tea, she had trailed him silently
below to the waiting curricle. He’d helped her into the vehicle, and then they had
set off along the road south.

One hour melted into two, the journey quite similar to the one they had shared the
day before. He was brooding again, while she studied the passing scenery. But unlike
the previous day, her thoughts were elsewhere, centered on that morning and the kisses
and touches she and Daniel had shared.

The first kisses she had ever known.

She’d always assumed the first time would be tender and respectful, that the man with
whom she shared that initial touch would seek her permission, perhaps accompany his
request by asking for her hand in marriage.

She’d never been one of those girls who dreamed of running off to share stolen kisses
in a dark garden, or who looked for ways to be alone with a man so she could flirt
and do all manner of scandalous, forbidden things. Those were the kinds
of activities Ariadne wished for; Ariadne, who questioned everything and cherished
rebellion the way others cherished receiving pretty presents at yuletide.

To Mercedes, life had always been clear. She’d been born a princess and from birth
had been taught to accept everything that entailed—both privileges and duties alike.

But unlike Emma and Ariadne, she had never chafed against the restrictions or the
expectations. When she’d left school a few days ago, she’d known exactly what it meant.

She would return home, and at the proper time be introduced to a select handful of
eligible suitors. After an appropriate courtship period, she would choose from among
them.

Hopefully he would be a man she loved, but if not, then her life would still be good.
She would have the comfort and enjoyment of family—hers and her husband’s—and children,
should God see fit to grant her such a blessing.

The first intimate touches of a man’s hands would be those she found in her marriage
bed. Her new husband would show her what she needed to know, leading her carefully
and gently toward the sacred consummation of their marital union.

But there had been nothing particularly careful—and most definitely nothing sacred—about
what she’d experienced this morning in bed with Daniel. Her skin still flushed hot,
her pulse speeding in frantic bouts at the mere memory of his touch. Her lips throbbed
as well, slightly swollen from the delicious pressure of his kisses.

And oh, what kisses they had been.

Just the thought made her toes curl inside her shoes and the heat inside her spread
to the most forbidden parts of her body. Traitorously, her nipples tightened beneath
the soft cotton of her new dress and she squirmed on the seat. But unlike yesterday,
she couldn’t blame the warm day or the rough wool of her discarded gown for her prickling
skin.

She had Daniel to blame for that.

And he seemed angry. Was it because they had been interrupted?
Personally, she was relieved that the maid had put an end to their lovemaking before
matters had gotten even more out of hand.

And oh my, how out of hand they had gotten.

Just how far would she have let Daniel go? she wondered. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure.
She told herself those minutes of heavenly pleasure in his arms had been nothing more
than a case of temporary insanity—and lust, she blushed to confess.

Natural human passion,
Ariadne would have called it.

Emma, she knew, would have agreed. Only a few months ago, her friend had found passion
in the arms of a man with whom she should never have become involved. But she had
found far more too. She had found love, the kind that could not be put aside, not
even at the expense of her duty or reputation.

But her situation and Emma’s were entirely different.

For one thing, she did not love Daniel.

Yes, she liked him—when he wasn’t brooding, that is.

And it was true that she trusted him with a conviction many might say made no logical
sense.

Without question, she would put her safety, her very life, in his keeping, certain
he would protect and keep her safe.

But none of those things meant her emotions went deeper than those she might feel
for any man who served as her bodyguard. It didn’t mean she was developing feelings
for him. The idea was absurd.

But even as the thought passed through her mind, she knew it wasn’t absurd. Daniel
MacKinnon was far more to her than a hired guard.

When she awakened from one of her nightmares, she went to him not just for protection,
but for comfort.

This morning when she’d opened her eyes to find him sleeping next to her, she’d gazed
at him admiringly, seeing him not as a servant, but as a man. When he’d kissed her,
she’d had no thoughts of turning him away. Instead, she’d allowed him to take liberties
that should have shocked and
appalled her. She’d been raised strictly and ought to have been ashamed.

But in her heart of hearts, she knew she was not. Just as she knew she would have
let his kisses and caresses continue had the maid not intruded when she had.

Flags of color warmed her cheeks, leaving her grateful for summer heat that pulsed
in the air. If he turned to look at her, he would think only that she had taken too
much sun.

She stole a glance at him from under her lashes, then repressed a sigh. His black
mood had not abated.

Why was he so angry? Was he wishing he’d never touched her? Did he regret those minutes
this morning when she’d lain in his arms?

Did she?

To her chagrin, she realized her answer was no.

Daniel kept his gaze fixed squarely on the road ahead, refusing to let himself look
at Mercedes. In spite of his efforts, his attention was distracted at best. Thankfully
there was scant traffic and the horse could be relied upon to know his own way.

What in Hades was I thinking this morning?
he berated himself inwardly. But then that was the problem, wasn’t it? He hadn’t
been thinking, at least not with his brain. Another very insistent part of his anatomy
had been firmly in control and unfortunately it had no ability to reason whatsoever.

All it did was desire.

Hunger.

With an insistent ache that demanded to be appeased.

His only excuse, he supposed, was that he’d still been half asleep when he’d opened
his eyes to find her beside him, her hair wound around him like a fragrant vine. He’d
acted before he’d thought, instinct overwhelming intellect. The instant their lips
had met, all sense of caution and restraint had burned away like fire set to autumn
leaves.