The Arrow: A Highland Guard Novel (The Highland Guard) (18 page)

Nay, he realized, looking into her shimmering eyes. She didn’t. She had no bloody idea. She was innocent and sweet and despite what he’d said, without any feminine wiles of which to speak.

He would be glad she was so in the dark if it weren’t for the tears. Tears she was fighting to hide. Tears that told him he’d hurt her in a way that he hadn’t intended, in a place that was vulnerable. The air of womanly confidence was all for show. The dress, the hair, the perfect lady of the castle—Cate was testing her femininity in a way she never had before. All he had to do was look at her now, and see how comfortable she was in her peasant’s rags on the practice yard, to know that it couldn’t have been easy for her. Just as he knew that if he let her think she wasn’t desirable, it would crush her feminine pride to dust.

If he were honest with himself—which he didn’t want to be, damn it—he would also admit that, selfishly, he wanted to be the first to kiss her. That he knew how close his brother had been to kissing her, and just picturing it still drove him half-crazed and filled him with a new emotion: jealousy. Not even when he’d returned to Dunlyon and seen the woman he thought he would marry by his brother’s side had he felt this way. That had been more shock—and then stung pride and shame when he realized she’d used him. Perhaps he knew better than anyone how fragile a young man’s—or woman’s—pride could be.

He squared his shoulders as if preparing for battle as he stared at the freckled, dirt-smudged face turned to his.
One kiss
, he told himself. He could manage one kiss for the sake of her fledgling confidence.

“Come here, Cate.”

His voice was so gruff, she eyed him warily. “Why?” He didn’t answer, but just held her stare. Nervously biting her lip, she edged closer to him. “What do you want?”

He tipped her chin back with the crook of his finger, holding her gaze with his. Christ, she was pretty. Big doe eyes under straight, delicate brows, a slender nose, high cheekbones in the perfect oval of her face, a pointy chin and softly curved lips that were almost too red to believe they hadn’t been stained with crushed berries. Even mussed, with her hair pinned back and dressed in some of the most hideous garments he’d ever seen on a woman, she took his breath away.

“You have more than enough to tempt me, Cate, and I’m going to prove it.”

The delicate line of her brows drew together. “How?”

She looked so befuddled he had to smile. “By giving you your first kiss.”

Her eyes widened. “You are?”

He nodded.

“What do I do?” Her voice wobbled a little.

Christ,
now
she was uncertain? He laughed and shook his head, thinking if he didn’t shut her up this could go on all day. “Close your eyes.”

She did as he bid, but then immediately peeked one eye open at him. “Are you sure? Since this is my first time, I don’t want to miss anything.”

He chuckled huskily; just the anticipation of kissing her was making him throb. “Do you want me to kiss you or not, Cate?”

The eye immediately snapped shut.

He stilled, arrested by just looking at her.
Breathe
, he thought to himself, but his lungs couldn’t seem to take in air at the sight of her face turned to his with such trust and innocent surrender.

His heart pounded and his
cotun
suddenly felt like it had been made for Pip. Just a kiss. Something he’d done hundreds of times. But he wanted to make this good—really good. She deserved something special, and he would muster every bit of his skill to give it to her.

Slowly, wanting to savor every moment of this, he lowered his mouth to hers. He heard her sharp intake of breath as his lips brushed hers and felt something jam in his chest. His lungs? His heart? He didn’t know, but everything seemed to start aching.

She tasted so damned sweet, he wanted more. Nay, he
ached
for more.

He brushed his mouth over her velvety lips again. So soft. So incredibly soft. He had to let his mouth linger, press a little harder, but that was it, he assured himself. He held his mouth there, giving her the kiss, but not giving in to the urge pounding through his body. The urge to pull her up against him, open her lips under his, and taste every inch of that silky, sweet mouth with his tongue.

Pull back. You have to pull back
.

But God, it felt so good, and he’d been wanting to do
this for so damned long. Just a moment longer and he swore—

She moaned, and whatever promise he’d been about to make to himself was lost in the surge of lust that shot through him as her mouth opened under his.

He dropped the hand from the gentle hold on her chin and plunged it into the knot at the back of her head, to bring her mouth more firmly against him, while his other hand slid around her waist to bring her body against his.

Oh God, yes
. He groaned as sensation crashed down over him in a hot wave and dragged him under. There was no holding back.

One kiss? He was a damned fool.

Cate’s breath stilled as she waited for his lips to finally touch hers. The first brush was so light and feathery soft, she actually wondered whether she’d imagined it. But then he brushed against her again and the heat of the contact singed her all the way down to her toes.

She felt her heart try to jump out of her chest, but she caught it and dragged it back down. Yet she could not control the fluttering. The budding excitement. The overwhelming euphoria of knowing that she was being kissed by the man she loved.

Finally.

Cate had dreamed of this moment so many times, she thought she knew what to expect. But the feel of his mouth on hers was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. It was warm and possessive, tender and sweet, and so exquisitely perfect a thousand dreams could not have captured it.

She’d never dreamed how good it would feel. How soft his lips would be. How she would be able to taste the faint tinge of mint from the paste that he’d used to clean his teeth. How the heat of his body would envelop her. How her skin would tingle. And most of all, how the gentle
brush of his lips could stir such a powerful craving inside her for more.

A craving that only grew more intense when his lips pressed against hers and held. Softly at first, and then with increasing pressure that made her heart start to thud against her ribs with instinctive anticipation.

The sensations intensified and stirred faster. Hotter. Wonder and euphoria turned to burning desire and scorching need. She didn’t know what she wanted but sensed it hovering just beyond her reach.

She moaned in silent entreaty, and that was all it took to find out. It was as if a dam broke, and all the passion he’d been holding back came crashing out in a tidal wave.

She was suddenly in his arms, her body pressed against his. His fingers were digging through her hair to grip the back of her head and bring her mouth more fully—more possessively—against his.

Her gasp of surprise was followed by an even bigger one, when he took advantage of her open mouth to fill it with his tongue. Long, slow, incredible pulls of his tongue that demanded a response.

Tentatively she gave it to him, and the low groan that emanated from somewhere low inside him was all the answer she needed to know that it was the right one.

He kissed with the skill of a master craftsman, the experience of a rogue, and the expertise of a scholar. He knew
exactly
how to elicit every ounce of pleasure with each deft stroke. He showed her how to circle her tongue against his, how to stroke, how to thrust, how to tease, how to slant her mouth and take him deeper and deeper.

She became bolder, returning the kiss with a growing fervor that matched his own. But it wasn’t enough. Even when he bent her back and took her even deeper into the crook of his body, the hunger and craving only seemed to grow worse. The fervor became a frenzy—a violent storm
of heavy breaths, pounding hearts, clashing mouths, and tangled tongues.

It was nothing like the controlled kisses she’d seen him give before. It was raw and intense and fiercely passionate. Ravenous. He kissed her like he was starving and would die if he didn’t have her. Like she was the only woman in the world for him, and he would never get enough of her.

And she knew she would never—ever—get enough of him. Gregor MacGregor would be the first man she ever kissed and the last. If she’d ever needed proof that they were meant to be, she had it. She belonged to him, and he could not longer deny it. The hot possessiveness of his embrace did not lie. He branded her with his mouth, his tongue, his hands, claiming every part of her.

The sensations were coming harder now, barreling through her in a fast-moving panoply of feeling and perception. The scratch of his jaw against her sensitive skin. The wet heat of his mouth as it devoured her neck and throat. The crush of her breasts against his chest. The tender throb of her nipples as his thumb brushed over them. The imprint of his hand on her hip. Her bottom. Cupping her and lifting her against his …

God have mercy
.

Her stomach dropped at the size. She could feel him between her legs, thick and hard. A long column of steel riding up against her that sent a hot rush of dampness between her legs. Knowing what happened between a man and a woman, she would have thought the fit impossible.

But once he started to move, she reconsidered. The heat flooded. Her breasts grew heavy, and her body turned soft and melty. Pliant. Supple.
Ready
.

She caught her hands around his neck before her legs gave out. She was tingling—throbbing with something. She could barely stand and yet she needed to …

Move
. Cate nearly cried out in relief, it felt so good.
He
felt so good. The gentle circling of hips became a hard
grind as her body sought more pressure, more friction, more pleasure.

And God, how he gave it to her! His mouth, his tongue, his steely thickness.

Yet still her greedy body wasn’t satisfied. The ache intensified. Grew more insistent. Her soft moans quickened into gasps, pleading—begging—for relief from the frantic restlessness building inside her. She could feel his muscles straining under her fingertips, as he, too, fought the demands of his own desire.

Something wonderful was about to happen, and Cate couldn’t wait—she
really
couldn’t wait—to discover what it was.

Gregor had descended into madness. That was the only explanation for what was happening. What else but madness could explain the dark frenzy of need that had overtaken his mind, stripping him of rationality and turning the vaunted steel of his control to dust?

He knew he should stop, but he couldn’t force his limbs to pull back. She tasted too good. Her lips were too soft. Her skin was too sweet. Her mouth too warm. Her body too tight and firm.

Responsive? What a damned understatement. She was like a keg of Sutherland’s black powder, her passion ready to explode at the first spark.
His
spark. And the power of it—the danger—sent a thrill racing through him, even as he knew the threat.

Just one more taste—one more touch. But it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until he was inside her and she was screaming his name as her body shattered around his.

And even then it might not be enough
.

He pushed the errant thought away. That was ridiculous. It was lust—that was all.

But he’d never felt lust like this before. Lust that was raw
and primitive and filled him with a blind need to make her his. Lust that knew no bounds of honor. Lust that rose inside him and wouldn’t let go. It took hold and gripped—hard.

Aye, he was hard. So damned hard. And the feeling of her sliding against him, riding up on him as she made those breathy little gasps of pleasure, knowing how close she was to shattering just from the sensation of his cock between her legs, almost took him over the edge.

Right there in the practice yard, in the shadow of the barracks, in the middle of the afternoon where anyone could come upon them, he nearly made her come and lost himself like a squire with his first maid. The realization—the small intrusion of reality in his lust-crazed brain—gave him just enough strength to pull away. Harshly. With a few choice curses.

She stumbled, but managed to steady herself before she fell—which was a good thing, as he was in no condition to react.

His body was on fire. Every muscle was flexed and taut, as he fought to control the desire still coursing through his blood like wildfire. He felt as tight as one of his bowstrings, primed, drawn, and ready to unfurl. One touch, one push, and she’d be back in his arms again.

He couldn’t do that. He could never do that again. But he wanted to do that again right now. Especially when she looked up at him with her flushed cheeks, kiss-bruised lips, and dazed-from-passion-filled eyes. God, she was sweet. Responsive. Eager. Passionate. As passionate as he’d known she would be. Nay, more.

“What happened?”

I almost made you shatter. I lost my mind and almost went too far
.

But he didn’t say that. He found a grip on his sanity and forced his blood to cool. “I gave you your first kiss.”

And very nearly a whole hell of a lot more
.

“Why did you stop?”

“Because it was over.”

Her brows drew together over her nose. “It didn’t feel over.”

God help him. He nearly groaned. It would be nice, really nice, especially right now when he was trying
not
to think about it again, if she didn’t say exactly what was on her mind. “Well, it was. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

She stared at him, looking as if she were going to argue. But then a slow, maybe even slightly shy, smile turned her mouth. “It was wonderful, but maybe next time you could keep going—”

“Next time?” Something remarkably like fear made his voice come out louder and more forcefully than he intended. “There isn’t going to be a next time.”

The smile fell. “What do you mean? I thought …”

Her voice fell off and she gazed up at him with such confusion in her eyes, he almost reached for her. Almost. But nothing had changed—except now he knew how dangerous it was to touch her. He was not the man for her, and no matter how much he wanted to be the one to show her passion, he would not be the one to do so.