The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (29 page)

Putting two fingers beneath her chin, Ian tilted her head up and touched her lips gently with his as he had earlier. Feeling her tremble, he pressed harder and eased his free hand from her warm shoulder down her back. Then, he urged her closer, wanting her to feel the length of his body against hers for the first time.

“I think I’ve dreamed this,” she murmured against his lips.

“Have you?” he murmured back. “I hope not
all
of this. That would be most unseemly for a maiden, lass. Did you dream this part?” he added, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Then, moving the hand at her chin to cup the back of her head, he held her so that she would not pull it back.

As he explored her mouth with his tongue, he deftly removed her veil. Then, casting it aside, he wove his fingers into the thick, silky coils of her hair. His tongue continued working busily, tantalizingly, in the velvety confines of her mouth.

He felt her soft breasts swell against him.

When she moaned softly, he eased his fingers through her hair, finding pins and loosening the coil and then her golden plaits. His free hand drifted from the small of her back to the curve of her bottom.

“You taste like honey,” he murmured against her lips. He savored the taste and tasted again.

She was silent but wonderfully submissive as if she
were willing to learn as he explored her, and once again, he marveled at her calm. But it stirred him, too, as it had in the past, when it had stirred him to mischief. Now, it stirred other senses.

He wanted her even more than he had anticipated. But, his father had often said that a marriage was a long and often thorny relationship. One did well to remember that and not proceed as if one had just received a new plaything.

“I see that you have set me a new challenge,” he whispered in her ear.

“What?” Her breath touched his neck, sending blood coursing through him.

“To make you want me just half as much as I want you.”

With a little gasp, she pulled back enough to look at him, her rosy lips softly, sensuously parted. Her eyes warmly reflected the golden glow of the candlelit room.

Sure of himself now, he reached for her kirtle laces.

Lina stiffened when he tugged at her laces. But he had said that he wanted her, and the sensations he had stirred all through her when his tongue had plunged into her mouth were still going strong. She did not want them to stop.

Since his hands were at her laces, he no longer held her head, and she was nearly certain that he would not seize it again if she tried to pull away.

How do you know that?
the voice deep in her mind asked. For once, the voice was too distant to heed. The sensations were stronger, especially when he put his hand on her bottom and pressed her hard against him. She could feel his body move and harden in a place she had not known
could
harden.

He kissed her again, thoroughly, even playfully, encouraging her tongue to dance with his in her mouth. Before she was ready to stop playing, he eased his tongue out again and murmured teasingly, “Well, have you?”

Feeling strangely bereft, she blinked, then swallowed. “Have I what?”

Chuckling, he said, “Have you dreamed all of this before?”

Trying to collect herself, she said, “I… I don’t know. I only felt as if I had dreamed of you, or perhaps someone else, holding me so. Have you not had moments when you’ve felt as if you had dreamed what is happening to you?”

“I never remember my dreams,” Ian said, knowing it for a lie but reluctant to admit to her that he remembered the sexy ones. He had not dreamed of her. But he was as certain as he could be that, after touching her, kissing her, and doing the other things he would do with her as soon as possible, he
would
dream of her, often.

Her hair smelled of summer and felt like silk. He had not yet completely undone her plaits, and he wanted to see how long her hair was. More than that, he wanted to measure himself against her and for her to be naked and in his arms.

On that thought, he parted her laces, giving himself access to the shift beneath, which had its own silken ties. To his delight, it was the kind of shift that, once untied, would open wide enough to slip down over her shoulders and her hips.

Suiting that thought to some action, he untied the bow
and spread the loosely gathered neckline wide open. When she shivered, he said, “Art cold, lass?”

“Nay, but I do not know what I am supposed to do.”

“You need do nowt yet,” he said, baring her breasts. “I want to look at you.”

Her lips parted in a gasp, and he needed no further invitation to claim them and keep them busy while he dealt deftly with the narrow chain girdle at her hips, released its clasp, and let it fall with a jingling sound to the floor.

Then, pushing her bodice and shift lower yet to see the smooth skin of her midriff and waist, he held her away a little to see how her breasts looked so. They were full and firm with rosy tips, their nipples hardening as he watched.

“It does not seem fair for you to take my clothes off whilst you keep yours on,” she said, eyeing him reproachfully.

“I am your husband now. And I want to undress you.”

“Another husbandly right, aye,” she said. “Is it not
my
right to undress you? Sithee, I do not know. Mag was undressed when the men shoved him in here.”

“
You
saw Mag naked on his wedding night?” He grinned at the image she had produced for him. “I thought maidens were barred from such events.”

“Murie was there, too, and Mag
had
managed to keep his shirt,” Lina said. “He held it in such a way that we could not see
all
of him.”

His breath caught with those last few words, when the amusing image of Mag abruptly shifted to a pulsing desire of his own to see all of Lina.

He stepped back a pace and said, “Push your kirtle and shift all the way off now, lass. I want to see you, every beautiful inch of you.”

At those words, Lina’ muscles contracted in unusual places and surprising ways. But she could not make her hands obey him. Cool air caressed her bared torso, making her nipples feel as if they led secret lives of their own.

“Look at me,” he said.

She didn’t want to. She wanted to savor the feelings his voice stirred in her body, the invigorating way it reacted to his commands. When an irresistible urge within her made her look at him, his gaze captured hers and held it.

“Push them off, or I will strip them from you myself,” he said, his voice low, compelling, and with a vibrant note now that stirred responsive vibrations in her.

Still unable to look away, despite a sudden blaze raging through her body that stirred new feelings everywhere it touched, she obeyed him. Standing in the pool of clothing, she experienced more stimulating contractions when he reached for her. A light touch on her breast made her shiver again. But she was
not
cold.

He stroked her breasts gently with his fingertips, his expression intent, his breathing faster than before. His fingertips were rough enough to make her nipples leap in response to their touch. He seemed pleased with what he saw. Her whole body reacted no matter where he touched her. She could hardly breathe.

“Now,” he said, his voice harsh, even raspy, “turn around and walk away from me to the bed. I want to watch you climb into it. Don’t pull up the covers.”

Every fiber of her had come alive. If she had ever been aware of his presence before, it was nothing to what she felt as she obeyed him. She could barely feel the chilly
floor. Every skin cell, every tiny hair of her body was tinglingly aware of Ian.

“Stop and shake out the rest of your plaits. Show me how long your hair is.”

She did that easily, quickly, just as she did whenever she brushed her hair. Then she stepped toward the bed again, feeling her hair brush against her bottom.

“Pull your hair forward now,” he said, his voice even lower, raspier. “I want to see all of you, and it’s in my way.”

Reaching back to do his bidding, she felt her breasts rise and tauten. She had never been so aware of her body as she was now, knowing that he watched her.

She was one of those rare women who were more stunningly beautiful naked than clothed. Her skin was like gilded ivory by candlelight, and smooth. He had known she was slender but not how exquisitely so or how soft and smooth her luscious curves would be. The Fates had formed her hips perfectly. Her firm bottom was a delight to the eye and an undeniable temptation to touch and squeeze.

Her legs were slender, well formed, and exquisite from her firm thighs to her delicate ankles, feet, and wee toes. The play of her muscles when she reached the high bed and climbed onto it took his breath away. She had tensed just before putting her right knee up, telling him that she felt a little uncomfortable. But she did as he had bidden her anyway. Looking heavenward, he prayed that the rest of his wedding night—sakes, his entire marriage—would proceed in the same way.

“Now lie back, leave the covers as they are, and wait for me,” he said. He wasted no time but stripped off his
clothes and strode to the bed, deciding to let the candles gutter. He wanted to watch her as long as he could.