Lessons in Loving a Laird (15 page)

“And the other?”

“I’m holding him right now.”

The corners of Conall’s eyes crinkled as he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Shona caressed his hair. “Do ye think that once Camran comes home, he’ll be able to claim Ravens Craig as his own?”

“He’ll have to fight Brandubh McCullough to wrest it from him. And speaking from experience, that will not be an easy matter. But Ravens Craig is his by rights, and he’s entitled to it.” He pulled back from her grasp. “Would you now like your second gift?”

Her eyes shone. “It couldn’t possibly be better than the first.”

The long dimple in his cheek deepened. “I have a feeling you’ll like it all the same.”

His head descended and pressed a passionate kiss upon her mouth. The sensation was pure heaven. Here, now, Shona felt safe. The world was no longer something she had to fight to overcome. The man in whose arms she hung had overcome it for her.

Her hand cupped the chiseled cheek, the sandy sideburns tickling her fingertips, as she returned the kiss with ardor.

Soon, her body began to respond in its own language. The pure maleness of him awakened all that was feminine in her, and her desire began to thread itself throughout her body. His chest was a wall of impenetrable muscle, imprisoning her in his embrace. His hands gripped her bottom possessively, rushing heat down to her nether parts. And now, his tongue speared into her mouth, demanding her surrender. Once the safe cocoon of his protection, now she felt as if his body were attacking her from all sides.

A vine of pleasure grew inside her and snaked itself through to her limbs, which reached for him. Of its own volition, her knee lifted, sliding itself up his kilted thigh. But her gown stopped all progress.

“Take me, Conall. Now.”

He smiled lazily. “No.”

“Why no’?” she moaned.

“It’s my second gift to you,” he said, guiding her to the brown leather Chesterfield sofa. “You’re going to learn precisely how much pleasure your body is capable of.”

Now, her face was at a level with the object of her desire—his cock. Impulsively, she reached for the sporran, which, though beautiful with its stamped black leather and silver cantle, stood between her and the feel of Conall’s manhood.

He slapped her hands away. “No touching yet. You mustn’t get ahead of me.”

She pouted up at him. “But…”

“It would give me great pleasure to just mate with you, Shona. But I want you to have much more than that.” He lifted the hairpins out of her hair, letting the black locks tumble down. “Open your senses and feel what I’m about to do to you.” His voice became chest deep. “I want you to notice everything.”

His nearness alone was making her breath quicken, but admittedly, the sensation of his fingertips in her hair made pleasure slide down her body. The hair tickled her cheeks and shoulders as he fanned it around her.

He knelt in front of her. Her predatory gaze burned trails all down his body, devouring him hungrily. She reached out her arms and drew him close.

He pulled away. “You are a stubborn creature.”

“I want to feel you,” she demanded. “You belong to me, and I’ve a right to what’s mine.”

“Right,” he said, yanking the cravat from around his neck. “You asked for this.” He began to entwine the fabric around her wrists. “If you think I’m going to let you dominate me in the bedchamber, you’ve got a harsh lesson coming your way.”

The silk fabric whispered across her hands as he tied a knot, awakening feelings of confusion … and a secret thrill.

His mouth was set in grim determination as he enforced his will. He took her bound wrists and raised them above her head. His mouth fell upon her throat, pressing hot kisses there. She felt it not just on her skin, but deeper, right into her flesh. His tongue flicked at a spot just below her ear, and it immediately weakened any resistance. Lower his mouth descended, planting small kisses along the exposed part of her chest. And when he reached a spot below her shoulder, just above her breast, his tongue darted out and danced upon the skin, sapping all the strength out of her.

Too late she realized that he was doing to her as he had done to McCullough. He was using his superior knowledge of the body to overpower her. Except now, he was going to overpower her with exquisite pleasure.

And torment. Liquid heat pooled inside her, and she ached for him. His mouth traveled down to her breasts, still cinched by the bodice of her wedding gown.

“The buttons are in the back, Conall. Reach behind me to—”

“The dress stays on.”

What torture was this? She wanted to rip off every stitch of her clothing and his. She didn’t know if the English made love with their clothes on, but if they did, she would have to teach him the way Highlanders do it.

Conall caressed the underside of her breast with a thumb. She cursed all the fabric that stood between her and that delicious hand. He watched her face as his fingers danced upon her breast, searching for a spot. When the back of his nails stroked her sensitive nipple, intense pleasure made her womb contract and she moaned. Conall smiled triumphantly, and clamped his mouth upon the spot.

She felt the heat of his mouth even through the silk and the boned chemise she wore, and the heat flooded her belly. But when Conall grazed his teeth over her imprisoned nipple, she could stand it no longer.

“Conall, please,” she mewed, arching into him.

He grinned. He reached down and removed her heeled slippers. Air bathed her sex as he lifted her exquisite blue dress to her waist. His mouth breathed hot kisses up one stockinged leg and down the other, driving her mad with desire. If he wanted her to be attentive to the sensations, it was working. Nothing else existed but the things he was doing to her.

Finally, he rewarded her patience by bringing his tongue to her womanhood. She grew light-headed as all her awareness focused on that area, which was weeping with need. His expertly trained fingers stroked and thrust, prodded and penetrated, until Shona was no longer sensible to her surroundings. Conall seemed to know her body better than she knew it herself. He was awakening sensations she never dreamed were possible.

Her breathing descended into panting as Conall’s tongue flicked a rhythm on her nub. White-hot pleasure spread from her
V
to her breasts, and across her arms to her bound wrists. She was keen for nobody but him.

And then, instead of hot breath, she felt cool air. Conall pulled back and sat down upon his haunches. Her half-closed eyes began to widen.

“Don’t stop,” she managed. “I’m ready for ye, Conall. It’s ye I want. Only ye.” She glanced down at his kilt. His sporran was lifted at an odd angle, his cock pushing the damned thing up. Clearly, he wanted her, too.

“There’s a lot more I want to show you. Come to the bed with me.”

She seized him by the shirtfront and brought his face to hers. “Conall, if ye don’t mate with me now, I swear to heaven I’ll kick ye in the pink parts. And that’ll make neither of us happy.”

Conall narrowed his eyes upon her. “I can’t believe I’m married to a wildcat. Right. If it’s mating you want, it’s mating you’ll get.”

He stood and lifted her up with him. With an unceremonious push, he tossed her forward over the tufted leather back of the Chesterfield. Brusquely, he yanked up her skirt over her waist. Cool air connected with her bottom.

She tried to raise herself up, but the bound wrists limited her movement. Behind her, she heard the chain of his sporran snap, and he threw it across the room. He kicked her legs open and wedged himself between them. Her womanhood thrummed in expectation as he raised his kilt.

She felt the slick plum-tip of his penis push between her well-licked folds. She had asked him to mate with her—no, ordered him—but now she was concerned that there might be pain.

Above her head, she heard his sharp intake of breath as he fought to control himself. There was a remarkable strength to him … and restraint … for which she was grateful. He pushed in an inch at a time, and she winced. There was no sharp pain, only pressure and stretching. But more of him came, and then more and more, and she never thought she’d feel the end of him.

Finally he was buried up to the hilt in her, and both of them were panting. He thrust in and out, slowly at first but with increasing speed. She was full of him, with not an inch to spare. Her womanhood became alive again, singing pleasure into her body. Over and over he hammered himself in her, and she was highly attuned to the delicious feeling that it gave her. His hands on her hips, his thighs between hers, his sex inside hers. It was glorious.

She had wanted him so badly that she had run out of patience for him. All that desire had come rushing upon her all at once. But instead of quenching her appetite for him, his thrusting only made it keener. Soon, the single note in her womanhood turned into full-blown harmony, and she climaxed. Her sex clamped down upon his, squeezing every last bit of pleasure from him. And when he too could stand no more pleasure, he buried himself inside her and came.

Shona absorbed every sensation of the incredible experience. She’d just been joined to the man of her dreams. And she couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

He pulled out of her and lifted her. Her legs were still weakened from pleasure, and she leaned in his arms for support.

He raised her bound wrists, and pulled apart the knot he’d made. Gently, he turned her hand over and placed a lingering kiss upon the
S
of her scar. He raised his eyes suggestively, sending her an unspoken invitation. He was so handsome, so dangerously intelligent. And he was hers.

“Know what I like better than a man in a kilt?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

A hungry grin edged across her face. “A man oot of one.”

The comment made him smile. “There isn’t a shred of modesty to you, is there? What on earth did I do to deserve you?”

“I dinna know. Let’s go over yer sins one by one.”

She kissed him, all the while pulling the white shirt from within the belted kilt. She exposed his back to her eyes before he ducked out of the shirt. Standing straight, naked to the waist, Conall looked every bit a fearsome Scot, his shoulders towering over his narrow waist. The only thing missing was a weapon. Except, of course, the one between his legs. And that one was all hers.

She unfastened his belt, and undid the buckle holding the kilt in place. How she loved seeing the awed fascination on his face.

He let her unravel the kilt from his waist, and the fabric slid down his narrow hips. Leisurely, she stared at the sculpted form of his body, and it stirred her desire once more.

“Ye’re a beauteous man, Conall MacEwan. And I want ye every night of my life.”

Conall kissed her. “I can’t tell you what good it does me to hear a wife of mine say that,” he whispered.

Pity crept into her chest for him. His first wife had abandoned their bed long before she died, and he hadn’t deserved her betrayal. She vowed that morning before God and witnesses never to do that to him, and she meant every word.

He unbuttoned her beautiful silk dress, and it slid down over her shoulders to the floor. He unlaced her boned chemise, and it puddled around her feet. As he undressed her, warmth began to suffuse through her womanly parts once more. She reached out and kissed his mouth, and she could taste herself on his lips.

“In the tollhouse, ye promised to teach me something. Something that ye were going to take yer time doing. Do ye remember?”

He brushed a thumb across her full lips, and she could swear that his cock began to stir once more. “I assure you I have not forgotten.”

“Well, we have the rest of our lives together. How long do ye think it will it take?”

“Not long,” he said, as his pupils went dark with lust. “But I have not had my fill of your moans just yet.” He lifted her hair and brought his lips to her ear. “I know a spot on your body that will make your body scream with pleasure.”

A smile slid across her face. “Really? Show me.”

Fortunately, the revelry below drowned out the noise.

St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by

MICHELLE MARCOS

Secrets to Seducing a Scot

Wickedly Ever After

Gentlemen Behaving Badly

When a Lady Misbehaves

PRAISE FOR MICHELLE MARCOS AND

SECRETS TO SEDUCING A SCOT

“TOP PICK! 4½ stars! Marcos brings her latest Highland Knaves book to life in a way that sends shivers of anticipation through readers. The depth of emotions, realistic characters, history, and sensuality make her novels keepers.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Michelle Marcos expertly weaves history and romance in this exhilarating tale. The action begins at the first page and flows effortlessly throughout the novel. Marcos weaves a Regency-era romantic tale with witty banter, romance, action, and drama into one tightly bound package. For fans of the author, this book is not to be missed. For new fans such as myself, you will enjoy it. I recommend giving Michelle Marcos and
Secrets to Seducing a Scot
a try!”

—Romance Reviews Today

“4½ stars!
Secrets to Seducing a Scot
has rocked my world! A wonderful breath of fresh air in the highly saturated world of sexy Highlander historical romance. Michelle Marcos most definitely knows her craft, her talent ultimately shining through her characters’ inner mettle, charisma, and heartfelt journeys. A winning read from start to finish!”

—Romance Junkies

“Michelle Marcos is famous for her interesting and intriguing heroes and heroines and she definitely does not disappoint in this new release! The interplay between Malcolm and Serena is rapier-sharp and fascinating. The story line is strong, filled with interesting secondary characters, and unanticipated happenings. This is a treat Scottish romance lovers will not want to miss!”

—Fresh Fiction

“Plenty of snappy banter, steamy sex, and a wealth of historical detail … make this a nice bridge between Regency and Highland historicals.”