The Highlander's Yuletide Love (17 page)

Sophy looked at
her pale skin against the dark hair on his defined chest, and slid her hand
down to his pantaloons, cupping somewhat uncertainly the large and intriguing
hardness that lurked within.

Ranulf groaned. “No,
do not worry, I like that very much,” he assured her noting the uncertain look
on her face. “But you are still wearing entirely too much clothing.”

Quickly, with a
skill Sophy realized vaguely came of long experience, he unbuttoned the rest of
her bodice and removed her belt. Her dress dropped open, revealing her ripe
bosom, her already stiff nipples betraying her excitement through the thin
fabric of her chemise and stays. He grabbed a handful of her skirt, and then
another, and pulled it up.

“Stand up for a
moment,” he whispered, and she obeyed a bit unsteadily. With one motion he
lifted the full skirt with its rows of ruffles at the hem up over her head,
leaving her wearing nothing but her stays and chemise over her stockings. He
peeled the chemise off her as well, and pushed the thin cotton of the cups on
her stays down. The pink silk stays, ornamented with lace, emphasized her
slender waist, and he stood back a moment, looking at her with the eyes of a
connoisseur.

“I think we
shall keep these,” he said. “They emphasize delightfully that you are otherwise
naked.”

Sophy blushed,
suddenly shy at standing before him thus arrayed, but he only chuckled and took
her hand, drawing her back down on his lap. Settling her carefully astride him,
he lifted one breast in his hand, weighing it gently for a moment before
lifting it to his mouth, planting tiny kisses along it, laving and teasing, but
avoiding the tips, which grew even more sensitive for the lack of his touch.
Sophy felt as though she was melting into a pliant being, wholly dependent on
the pleasure he brought her. Empty spaces within her she had never thought of
before encountering him demanded that he and he alone fill them. She squirmed,
anxious for more.

“What do you
want, darling?” murmured Ranulf. “Do you want this?”

Very delicately
he touched one hard nipple, and she jumped at the sensation that shot through
her body. He laughed softly in the back of his throat and then raised the
breast to his lips, biting down very gently on the tip and then, at her shocked
gasp, laving it gently with his tongue, soothing her before suckling gently. Sophy
clenched her thighs against the rush of moisture she felt between them, but to
no avail. Ranulf felt her movements, and even as he moved to attend to her
other aching breast, one strong hand slid over a rounded thigh, pressing it
outward slightly, exposing her to his questing fingers, which dipped between
the soft curls to slip along the tender flesh they hid. Sophy moaned, and hid
her face in his shoulder, suddenly conscious of the both the impropriety and
the excitement of her situation, sitting naked on Ranulf’s lap in an open room,
the light of the late afternoon slanting across her exposed flesh.

Ranulf lifted
his head. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “Don’t hide from yourself from
me.” He lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes as his fingers continued to
explore the hidden folds between her thighs, finding a spot so responsive to
his touch that she gasped. Sophy, bewildered by the flood of erotic sensations
assaulting her, suddenly felt a powerful wave of pleasure building and, as it
swept through her, she felt herself as taut as a bowstring. Her fingers
clutched Ranulf’s forearm, and she heard herself cry out as it peaked, and she
collapsed boneless and panting against him.

She vaguely
heard a soft laugh of satisfaction from him, and her eyes fluttered open to see
a pleased look on his face. “Oh, Sophy,” he said. “I see that I am very lucky
man, indeed. I had no notion you might be such a responsive lover.”

Beyond the bliss
of the experience, she felt vaguely embarrassed, but that soon dissipated as
Ranulf gently shifted her off his lap and onto the settee, careful to ensure
that the back and pillows supported her. He slipped to his knees on the floor
and gently pushed her thighs apart, his fingers running up the inside of them,
savoring the tender flesh he found there.

“Let us see how
soon you can do that again,” he murmured wickedly, spreading her legs still
wider, holding them open for a moment and admiring what he saw, before reaching
forward to open the lush, warm folds. Before Sophy had quite processed the
thought of being so exposed to him, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her
in a kiss she’d had no notion was possible.

Panicked, she
instinctively attempted to clamp her legs shut, but Ranulf’s broad shoulders
and strong hands made it impossible. “No, sweetheart, there’s a great deal more
pleasure to come,” he assured her.

“I’m not sure I
can bear any more,” she said, her voice weak.

“Oh, I assure
you that you can, and it will be entirely my pleasure to prove it to you. Trust
me, my sweet.”

He smiled up at
her briefly and then urged her legs open again, before pressing his tongue to
the slick and receptive pink flesh that nestled there. As he licked and sucked
at her, Sophy sagged against the pillows, unable to think of anything but the
insistent sensuality of his touch. She felt him slip one finger inside her and
then another, separating them slightly to stretch her virgin channel. As he
continued to lap at her with his magical tongue, he placed one hand just above
her pubic bone, and then pressed the fingers exploring her against a spot that
suddenly seemed to be afire with a need so compelling that Sophy found herself
convulsing once again, wracked with pleasure and flushed with the heat of her
climax.

Ranulf watched
her with tenderness and a certain complacency, her face soft with satisfaction,
limbs relaxed and flung wide in abandon in the aftermath of the joy he had
given her. He sat down next to her, holding her hand, his fingers caressing her
wrist as her eyes fluttered open. She struggled to sit up a little, licking her
swollen lips, uncertain of what to do. But then her eyes were drawn to the
bulge in his breeches, and she reached for it, feeling the stiffness and size
of him. Somehow, despite her satiation, a part of her wanted urgently to be
filled by him, and she knew the answer was to be found there.

Ranulf rapidly
unbuttoned his trousers, releasing himself. Sophy tentatively grasped his
thickness, slightly taken aback by his length and girth, but fascinated by the
silky soft smoothness of the skin that covered it. As she squeezed lightly and
slid her hand up and down, gauging his response, he groaned deep in his throat.

His hand stilled
hers her after a moment. “Sophy, your touch is going to unman me; I’m too
close. Wait a moment, sweeting.”

She dropped her
hand obediently, and he put a knee next to her on the settee, bending over her
to caress her breasts, licking and nibbling at them until she was once again
sighing her pleasure. Then, very carefully, he fitted himself to her creamy
opening, pushing in just slightly.

Sophy’s eyes
widened at the intrusion, and he paused. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I can still
stop.”

Sophy tipped her
hips up slightly to meet him. “I’m sure,” she breathed.

Ranulf cast
caution to the winds and slid in another inch. She was very tight, but the slickness
of her channel from his prior ministrations allowed him to push in farther, and
then still more, until she felt a sharp little pain as he slid home.

Sophy felt
filled, impaled with his masculinity, but in a way that permeated her heart
with satisfaction. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, holding his
chest to hers, enjoying the slight roughness the sprinkling of hair created
against her tender skin. Ranulf paused a long moment, waiting for her to become
accustomed to him, and then withdrew very slowly before sliding forward again
inch by inch. Sophy began to make little mewling sounds of excitement as he
repeated the movement, and she felt her muscles clinging to him, as the tremors
she had experienced earlier rose in her once more. She clutched at Ranulf’s
upper arms, digging her nails into them, and unconsciously bent her knees,
allowing her legs to open wider to receive him more readily, lifting her hips
to meet his stroke. Realizing he was not causing her pain, Ranulf allowed
himself to abandon some of the rigid control he had been keeping on his desire.
He lowered his head to lick and nip at the stiff buds crowning her lavish
breasts, as he allowed his rhythm to quicken, grow wilder, while still
observing her response carefully, wishing to bring her surpassing pleasure. When
Sophy’s every breath was a little gasp, and he saw a flush on the pale skin of
her chest, he thrust harder, once, twice, and then as she moaned, and he felt
the telltale clenching within her, he took one rosy nipple in his lips, nipping
at it gently as, with another deep slide, he watched her achieve bliss, before
following her into it.

After long
moments Ranulf rolled onto his side and gathered Sophy up against him, tucking
her head under his chin, and indulging in the joy of holding her close. Nestled
against Ranulf’s bare chest, breathing in his scent and that of their
lovemaking, Sophy felt liquid, insubstantial, almost as though her body had
merged with his. This open sensation, as though their breath mingled and skins
united, filled her, leaving her thinking that it might be possible to touch his
soul. A sudden moment of clarity infused her, and she saw the boy ignored by
his parents, the young officer facing the hardships of Spain, the hardened man
enduring the heat and disease of India, all to return to a place he’d been
absent from nearly all of his adult life. In that instant she understood what
was missing in her portrait, the hollowness she sensed in her depiction of him
and her fingers itched to be in the studio once again.

Instead, she
held him closer, and allowed herself to adjust the painting in her mind’s eye,
thinking of the colors and shading required, as the new vision formed within
her. Minutes ticked past as she thought. Eventually Ranulf hugged her more
tightly for a moment before loosening his hold.

“I wish we could
stay her longer, but we will be missed,” he said in a regretful voice. “I told
your brother I would go down the burn a ways with him to do a little angling
this afternoon.”

Sophy surprised
him by seeming quite cheerful about this. She popped up from his arms and
looked about for her dress and chemise. “I’m sure Douglas will enjoy that,” she
said in a muffled tone as she pulled the chemise over her head. She picked up
her discarded gown and looked at him playfully. “I will need you to be my
lady’s maid, I fear,” she added as she struggled to gather it sufficiently to
slide over her head.

Ranulf arose,
tugging up his pantaloons and buttoning them, and Sophy gave a little sigh at
the sight of his powerful torso. She reached out to touch him, but he caught
her hands in his.

“That way lies
another hour on the settee—not that I wouldn’t enjoy that,” he said. He smiled
at her look of disappointment, and then helped her arrange the wide skirts of
her dress and drop it over her head. She began to button the bodice, but he
pushed her hands away.

“A lady’s maid
would do that as well,” he said, and took the opportunity to stroke her breasts
before he slowly closed the bodice. Sophy felt them peaking again, and a
familiar tingle between her thighs, and wondered at her constant ability to
respond to him.

After a few
moments spent adjusting Ranulf’s cravat and waistcoat, rearranging Sophy’s
hair, and brushing a few wrinkles from the back of his coat, the pair left the
dower house, Ranulf carefully locking the door and returning the key to its
hiding place. “Another fond memory to add to those of afternoons with my
grandmother,” murmured in her ear, before drawing her to him and kissing her.

“I am sure your
grandmother would have disapproved,” Sophy said.

“Perhaps not; I
did tell you she had little time for retiring women who refused to seek what
they wanted.”

There was a
pause. “I hope you and Douglas find the fishing good,” said Sophy in a cheery
tone.

Ranulf glanced
at her. “Are you not sorry I have no more time for you this afternoon?”

“Oh, not at all.
I am going to my studio. I still need to complete your portrait after all.”

He surveyed her
with some confusion. “You don’t wish me to accompany you?”

“Oh, I will need
you very soon—in more ways than one.” She glanced at him flirtatiously. “But
now I really must work on the portrait. This afternoon has given me some ideas.”

“Please reassure
me that I will remain fully clothed when it is completed,” said Ranulf with a
little smirk.

Sophy grinned. “Unfortunately,
yes. Though I’d like very much to have you model nude for me.”

“I don’t think
we’d get much done.”

“Not much
painting, perhaps.” Sophy smiled. “Will you come to the studio in the morning?”

“Of course. Will
you walk with me to the dower house again afterwards?”

“Of course.”

They shared a
smile. “Sophy, are you sure—what we did—are you sure you don’t need me to be
with you?”

“I’m not such a
ninny as that,” said Sophy cheerfully. “I should thank you, after all, for
obliging me in this way.”