Highlander in Her Bed (32 page)

Drawing a great breath, he released its warmth onto her most sensitive place. "And me, lass," he said, flicking his tongue back and forth across that same spot, "I would be everything you e'er desired in a man. Pull down the moon and the stars for you if only I could."

"You are more! Everything to me." She arched her back, her entire body quivering when he traced a finger down the very center of her, slipped it inside. "I do not want the moon and the stars. Only you."

She trembled then, a great rippling shudder that swept through her so fiercely, its echoes streamed through him as well, the wonder of it spilling clear to his toes.

"Precious lass," he murmured, gliding his finger in and out of her. "Keep enjoying. Let me pleasure you."

"But I can't stand this," she moaned, writhing now. "It's too sweet, too—"

"Shush, and just relax." He opened his mouth over her, sucking gently, her scent and taste making him dizzy.

He closed his eyes and inhaled her essence, letting it saturate him as he drew on her musky, wet heat until he was sure he'd drown in the glory of her.

The saints knew he burned to lose himself in her!

Would that he could… truly.

She cried out then, clutching at him, her fingers winding in his hair, pressing him against her. "Don't stop," she moaned, rocking her hips, her breath coming hard and fast.

"O-o-oh, I dinna mean to, ne'er you worry." He pulled back to look down at her, touched a finger to the swollen, pulsing nub at the top of her sex, relief flooding him when that precious little bud disappeared beneath his circling finger.

She was almost there, he could feel it in the tremors washing through her and hear it in her whimpers, the hitching in her breath.

Saints be praised, he was still there, too.

Solid and thrumming with desire, his wounds screamed bitterest outrage, but his hands and every other part of him blessedly solid.

But the wood around them was fading, the birch scrub beginning to shimmer and weave. And strange, whirling clouds threatened to blot the sun. Even the bold colors of his plaid were running together, the grassy earth beneath it rolling like the sea.

Alex squeezed shut his eyes, denial lancing him. Dread gripped his heart, but he continued to drag his tongue over her quivering heat, willing her release. Ignoring the dangers closing in on them.

He kept his finger on her, circling and flicking as he licked her, not daring to peek at his hand.

Not that he needed to.

The darkness was seeping into him, squeezing past his tightly closed eyelids. Taunting him cruelly with each long slide of his tongue across Mara's hot, trembling flesh.

"No-o-o!" he roared, jerking up when his laving tongue met only air. "I feel and taste her!" His entire body tensing, he used his will to defy whatever sought to damn him. "I-am-drowning-in-her-pleasure!"

And then he was, for she clamped her legs around him, grinding her soft, moist heat so firmly against him even the fates couldn't rip them apart.

"
Yesss
!" Her release exploded through them both, and with it, the madness receded, spinning away as quickly as it had come, leaving only a brief and angry keening of the wind.

And then that, too, was gone.

The wood fell silent again, quiet but for his lady's soft panting and the wild thundering of his heart.

Alex bit back a cry of triumph, his teeth sinking so deeply into his lip he tasted blood.

Shouting victory against such powerful foes wasn't wise, however tempting.

He sat up from between his love's still-spread legs and raked a shaky hand through his hair, his heart too full for speech.

His shaft was full, too.

Ragingly so.

And aching. But before he could reach down and quell his misery with another hard pinching squeeze, his lady's hands were all over him. Smoothing and stroking, strong, warm, and firm, and pushing him down onto the plaid.

"Lie there and don't move," she insisted, her beautiful eyes glittering as she yanked up her skirt and straddled him. "That was glorious, but unfair. Now it's my turn to pleasure you."

"No!" Alex reached for her, seizing her hips in a tight grip before she could lower herself onto him. "You dinna understand," he panted, unable to keep his shaft from straining for her, bucking hard against the damp, soft curls hovering so close.

"I understand only too well," she argued, wrapping her fingers around him, stroking hotly, then reaching lower to knead his balls.

Balls drawn so tight, he couldn't bear it.

"That's it," she cried, throwing back her head as she rubbed her wet heat up and down his aching shaft, her massaging fingers making him crazy. "Spill for me, Alex. Now."

And he did, loosing a hot torrent of seed right onto her sweetness.

"Holy saints!" He went still, every ghostly inch of him sated and shuddering. Ecstasy whipped through him as the world splintered and darkened, leaving him to spin away into nothingness.

But this time, when he opened his eyes, it was to gaze into his lady's beloved face and not the whirling gray mists that had claimed him when he'd last dared touch her so intimately.

"Mara." He spoke her name like a prayer, would have sobbed with the wonder of her if he didn't want to frighten her.

Instead, he slid his arms around her, pulling her down against him for a long, soul-deep kiss. A searing, claiming kiss, but so soft and tender the sweetness of it spilled through her, making her tremble anew, filling her with indescribable bliss.

Until she remembered the strange words he cried as he'd pleasured her.

I feel and taste her!

I-am-drowning-in-her-pleasure!

Words that had sounded ripped from his soul, but as if he'd been speaking to someone else.

Her brow knitting, she wriggled out of his arms and pushed up on an elbow. "Who were you talking to when you called out?" she asked, smoothing his hair. "Then, when you were—"

"I ken when you mean." He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. "And I wasn't speaking to anyone. Leastways, nothing that has a face."

She blinked. "I don't understand."

"Praise God you do not." He sat up and pulled her onto his lap, holding her as if he meant to shield her from something she was certain she didn't want to know about. "I meant those
things
I mentioned earlier. The bad kind of things I can't begin to explain but that can plague the damned."

He looked at her, a strange blend of resignation and steely determination on his face. "See you, the pain from my scars is not the reason I canna love you so fully as I'd wish," he said, running his hands up and down her back. "I would suffer any pain under the heavens to lie with you, and completely. Again and again until the light fades or we were both too depleted to move. Whiche'er came first."

"But?" She began to tremble, knew just looking at him that whatever he was about to tell her would rock her world.

And not in a good way.

"What is it?" She had to know. "What else is there that might separate us?"

"Och, lass, it's only the minor complication that when I seized your face to kiss you back on the training ground, I could see your skin right through my fingers. I—"

"You
what
?"

He tightened his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her brow. "It would seem I am fading," he said, the calmness of his voice astounding her. "Growing faint at certain times. Such as when we are most intimate."

Mara gaped at him. White-hot panic sluiced through her. "But you are here now." She shook her head, struggled to breathe. "You didn't fade just now and we were incredibly intimate."

"Exactly," he agreed, slanting his mouth across hers in a triumphant kiss. "I did feel the darkness closing in on us. But I clung to you, refusing to accept its claim."

She slid her arms around his neck, holding fast to him. "You think we can ward off this darkness, this risk of you fading?"

"I do not know," he said, his answer making her heart plummet. "But so long as there
is
a we, I refuse to surrender hope."

And neither would she.

No matter that he'd scared her so badly she feared to let go of him.

"You know this means we must live with certain limitations?" He looked at her, then cleared his throat. "I was not the only one who noticed the fading. My friends saw it, and not just the ghostly ones."

Mara gasped, could feel her eyes widening.

"That's right, lass. And I willna see you or Ravenscraig turned into a spectacle," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "If the young flesh-and-blood Highlanders noticed, so will other mortals."

"If it happens again." She lifted her chin, blew a curl off her brow. "Maybe it won't."

To her surprise, he laughed. "You are a bold lassie," he said, pushing to his feet and pulling her with him. "If you are strong-hearted enough, we can share whate'er small joys the fates allow us."

Mara forced a smile, the best and brightest she could muster. "I'm strong-hearted enough to face anything—so long as I have you at my side," she said, putting back her shoulders. "And I would call the
joys
we share anything but small."

"Och, lass," he beamed, catching her to him for another kiss. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Yes, I do," she shot back, his high spirits and the beauty of the day making her bold. "But I am all ears if you wish to tell me."

He gave her an equally bold grin and chucked her under the chin. "Then be warned that I am so crazy-mad in love with you, I'd go down on my knee before your da to ask for your hand—even if the man is a MacDougall."

"He's a McDougall," Mara corrected, knowing he wouldn't hear the difference. "And he—"

She broke off, her cheeks flaming.

She didn't have the first clue how to tell him about her father's imminent arrival.

Her father and his second wife, the Cairn Avenue shrew.

A combination she wasn't sure Scotland was ready for.

Especially with all Hugh McDougall's airs and eccentricities.

"What is it?" He put his hands on her shoulders, a shadow flitting across his handsome face. "You've ne'er mentioned your da before. Is he… if he's gone, pray forgive me, lass. I didna mean to grieve you."

Mara bit her lip, searched for the right words. "He's not dead," she finally blurted. "He's very much alive and in better health than he's been in years. Such good health, he's coming here next week for the memorial cairn's unveiling ceremony."

"But that's a reason for gladness," he said, looking puzzled.

Mara swallowed, still not believing what she was about to say. "The trip will also be his honeymoon. He's recently married."

"All the more reason to celebrate." Hottie Scottie grinned. "Or is there something else you're not telling me? Are you afraid he willna like me?"

She almost choked. "Heavens, no. He'll worship the ground you walk on."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I can't stand his wife," Mara admitted, glancing aside. "She's a soured-up old shrew. The kind of female you'd probably call a long-nosed tongue-wagger."

She looked back at him. "Maybe even worse."

He hooted another laugh. "Then we'll just ready a welcome sure to sweeten her," he declared, sweeping her off her feet in a bone-crushing hug. "I've waited too many centuries for happiness to let it be marred by one ill-tempered woman."

And Mara had to agree.

Even if she hadn't waited a fraction as long.

It'd still taken the whole of a lifetime to find her one true love. And looking at him now, feeling his arms strong and tight around her, his sweet, golden warmth surrounding her, she knew without doubt that she was blessed.

Life could hardly get any better.

Chapter 14