The Raider (28 page)

For one moment she thought her words had penetrated and that he might reach for her. But he held his hands rigid at his sides, clenching and unclenching. “You might get your wish,” he snarled. “For a while at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean your brother broke the truce, and I do not intend to let that go without a response.”

Her calm, rational approach fell by the wayside. She rushed toward him and placed her hand on his arm. “No! You can’t do that! Have you not heard what I said? Cliff didn’t do this, and if you retaliate with a raid or exact some sort of other vengeance against him there will be no chance.”

He looked down at her, the handsome lines of his face drawn taut. He grabbed her by the shoulders, as if to keep her back. “No chance for what?”

Tears blurred her eyes; her throat burned. She barely got the words out. “For us.”

Their faces were only inches apart, his looking down, hers tilted back. He’d shaved, but the shadow of a beard already darkened his jaw. His chest seemed to radiate heat and the faint hint of pine-scented soap. Her desire for him reached up and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing.

She was not the only one affected. Robbie seemed pulled as tight as a bowstring, the steely muscles in his body flexed and taut. “There
is
no ‘us.’”

She quirked a brow at him. Couldn’t he feel how closely he was holding her? Her breasts were crushed against his chest and her hips were wedged solidly against his. “Then what is this, Robbie? Tell me why you are so angry if this means nothing. Tell me why your heart is racing as fast as mine. Tell me why you are fighting so hard for control.”

“You know why, damn it.”

“Aye, you want to—how did you so eloquently put it? Fuck me so badly you can’t see straight. As I recall, I offered that to you as well, and you refused.”

His voice fell to a low growl, which she ignored. “Because I was trying to protect you, damn it.”

That dainty brow arched again. “How noble of you. I’m sure my future husband will be very pleased.”

His hands tightened. “Rosalin…”

But she didn’t heed the warning. “I think you were protecting yourself. I think you didn’t make love to me because you know it would be different. You would feel it in
here
,” she tapped her finger against his chest, “and then it wouldn’t be so easy for you to let me go.”

At last the tightly held control seemed to snap. “Easy? How can you think any of this is easy? I’ve thought of nothing but how difficult it was going to be to watch you go since practically the first moment I took you. You have no idea how much I wish the circumstances were different, but they aren’t, and I live in the real world, Rosalin. Not some damned fantasy where the war is a mere inconvenience or the hatred your brother and I bear each other is overcome by a handshake. And I will not let my feelings for you interfere with what I have to do.”

Despite his anger, Rosalin felt a ridiculous gurgle of happiness. She knew it! He’d admitted he had feelings for her. Feelings that she suspected ran far deeper than he realized. It made her even more certain she had to stop him from doing something that her brother would not ignore. But how would she get through to him? “All I’m asking is that you do not act precipitously. Make sure my brother broke the truce before you retaliate.” She placed her palm on his chest, savoring the fierce pounding of his heart. “Please, Robbie—it’s only a few days.”

Robbie held himself perfectly still, but emotion was sparring and sparking inside him like a violent lightning storm. God’s blood, she didn’t know what she was asking! He wouldn’t compromise his duty and what he’d fought for for over half his life for anyone. His family’s death had to mean something.

Every instinct cried out to strike back at Clifford. Strike back hard, in the only way the English understood. And what did she offer in return? A dream? A hope? A damned faerie tale?

He’d never asked for this. But for a moment he wanted what she offered with an intensity that shook him.

“Please,” she said, leaning closer. The dream beckoned in the honeyed temptation of her mouth.
Kiss her
.
Take her
.
Make her yours
.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, mostly to keep her at a safe distance, but also because he couldn’t go another minute without touching her. From the moment she’d burst into the room—hell, from the moment he’d tossed her over his lap—all he could think about was putting his hands all over her.

But that wasn’t what she was asking for.
Us
.
A future
.

What she wanted he couldn’t give. He released her and took a step back. “I’ve made my decision.”

“But—”

He cut her off. “Don’t. Do not try to put yourself between me and my duty.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “This isn’t about your duty. Be honest about that at least. Your duty is to secure the truce—a truce you have in place, but which will be jeopardized if you attack without cause. If you have a duty here, it is to make sure you are right. This is about vengeance and the personal battle you have with my brother—the path straight to hell that you both seem intent on traveling down. He strikes, you strike back, he strikes back harder. Right, wrong, everything else is immaterial.”

His fists clenched. What the hell did she know about any of this? He wouldn’t expect her to understand. She was
English
. “We tried it your way for years, and look where that got us. An English puppet on the throne, English lords in our castles, and innocent Scots hung in barns. The English ignored our cries for justice for years.” He leaned closer. “But you know what, Rosalin? They are listening to us now.”

Her eyes scanned his face. She must have realized he wasn’t going to change his mind, because she brought out the last weapon in her arsenal—and it was a powerful one.

Tears glistened in her eyes and she grabbed hold of his arm as if it were the last lifeline of a sinking ship. “Please, Robbie, I’m begging you to reconsider. It’s only a few days. Won’t you do this for me—for us?”

The soft press of her breasts against his arm, the intoxicating rose scent of the soap that permeated the air around her, the gently parted lips that were lifted in sweet invitation were a full-out assault on his resolve. The walls were closing in. The bed loomed out of the corner of his eye.

She shouldn’t have come here like this, damn it. He’d warned her. He was hot and restless and in desperate need of the relief she so innocently offered.

Or was it innocent?

He stiffened, recalling the time her nephew had escaped. “It’s not going to work this time, Rosalin.” A confused wrinkle appeared between her brows. “First you offer yourself to save your nephew and now your brother? Is that the bargain?” She let out a sharp gasp of outrage, her eyes shooting to his. But he wasn’t done yet. He moved his hips against hers suggestively—crudely. “Should I take you up on it this time?”

She stared at him as if he were the lowest piece of scum, and at that moment he felt it. Instinctively he tensed, waiting for the slap that he no doubt deserved.

But she wouldn’t let him off so easily. Coolly—icily—she pushed away from him. “What I offered, I offered freely and without condition. You are just too damned blind to see it. Go ahead and have your war, Robbie. If that’s all you want, you will have it. I’m done fighting you. I’m done fighting
for
you.”

She meant it. He could see it in her eyes.

Let her go
.

His heart hammered in his ears. Muscles he didn’t even know he had strained against the urge to reach for her.

She waited for what seemed an eternity, her eyes on his face, watching for some kind of sign.

If that’s all you want
…

The muscle in his jaw ticked. Blood roared through his veins, pounding. But he stood perfectly still against the storm.

She turned.

To hell with it. It wasn’t all he wanted at all. He caught her wrist before she could spin away.

Their eyes met. “Damn it, Rosalin, I want
you
.” He didn’t know exactly what that meant, except that it meant something.

She lifted her chin and threw the gauntlet down right at his feet. “Then take me.”

He couldn’t let it sit there. Not this time. Every man had his breaking point, and the beautiful woman who looked up at him with her heart in her eyes and dared him to refuse what she offered was his.

Robbie didn’t snap or lose control; he simply threw the reins up in the air and let them fall where they may. He’d had enough. He would have her and be damned.

Robbie drew her into his arms and did what he’d been aching to do since the moment she’d walked into the room. His mouth fell on hers with a deep groan. It was as if a dam had broken and all the passion, all the emotion, all the desire he’d bottled up inside was set free the instant his lips touched hers.

God, they were soft. And so damned sweet he didn’t know how he could have resisted for so long. Why had he? If there were voices in his head trying to remind him, he wasn’t listening to them anymore.

He was too busy kissing her. Tasting her. Sliding his tongue deep into her mouth with long, slow strokes that she parried with strokes of her own.

It was incredible. The lass was a quick learner, God help him.

He could have gone on kissing her like this forever. But the longer and more thoroughly he kissed her, the fiercer her response grew and the hotter his blood fired. Heat radiated off him. And then there was that other pounding, the one against his stomach that was growing harder with every stroke.

He could taste her need, her hunger, feel the urgency building, and it sent flames licking through every corner of his body. The moans, the little whimpers echoed in his ears, ripping what control he had left to shreds. She was clutching his arms, his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but their bodies were already plastered as close as they could be without…

He swore against her mouth. Once the image was there it would not be dislodged. Skin to skin. Naked tangled limbs. Sweaty sheets. Him sinking inside her. The ultimate closeness. She wanted that. And God, he wanted it, too.

Swinging her up in his arms, he carried her over to the bed. He broke the kiss only long enough to set her down and slide in next to her. He wasn’t going to give either of them time to think.

Perhaps she had the same thought, because the moment her head touched the pillow she was reaching for him again. Circling her hands around his neck to bring his mouth down on hers. Bring him down on top of her. He let her feel his weight while he savored the incredible feel of that soft, curvy body under his.

But it wasn’t enough. Not now. Not with the image blaring in his head. He was moving faster now. His lips slid to her jaw, her neck, to the tender place below her ear that made her shiver, to her throat, and finally to her breasts.

The rapid beat of her heart and uneven catching of her breath hammered in his ears, egging him on faster and faster. Too fast. But she didn’t seem to care. She was right there with him.

Her hands were in his hair as he worked the laces of her gown and then her shift—neither of which garments he’d ever seen before. Only the thought of having to explain to Joanna how they’d become ripped prevented him from tearing both off her.

“Hurry,” she breathed, her impatience matching his own.

He muttered an expletive. Christ, she was killing him. His normally deft fingers felt twice as big and were practically shaking. Hell, they
were
shaking. So much for experience. When it came to Rosalin this was all new.

No skin had ever felt so soft, no lips had ever tasted so sweet, no one had ever smelled so damned good, and no woman had ever made him this hot.

But it was more than that, and he knew it. Even if he didn’t want to think about it. For the first time in his life, he was making love to a woman with more than his cock.

Finally, he had both the gown and chemise underneath loose enough to take her beautiful breasts in his mouth. He cupped her, squeezing gently as his lips closed over one taut nipple. He sucked it gently, circling it with his tongue and plucking it between his teeth. She gave a soft cry and arched into his mouth, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair. His whole scalp tingled as pleasure poured over him in a hot wave, dragging him under.

He wanted to strip her naked and worship every inch of that creamy white skin. But he wasn’t going to last five minutes. Not like this. Though he had to at least try.

“Oh God, Robbie…”

The soft plea took his intentions to go slow and ground them to dust. He gave her what she wanted and sucked her hard into his mouth. She was so beautiful, so damned responsive, it drove him wild. He couldn’t get enough of her. He ravished her breasts with his lips and tongue. Teasing, laving, sucking until he felt her body tremble with the promise of pleasure.

He wasn’t going to make her wait.

Rosalin knew what she was doing—she hoped. It was the biggest gamble of her life. But the reward…

The reward would be a lifetime of happiness.

He loved her. She was sure of it. It was right there in his kiss. She’d pushed him with far more confidence than she’d felt. She’d never seen him so near the end of his rope. Yet when he kissed her, instead of rough and punishing, his lips had been soft and gentle. Did he realize how he cradled her against him? How his big, battle-hardened hands caressed her skin as if she were a delicate piece of porcelain?

She had to make him see the truth before it was too late. She’d already offered him her heart, so she’d gambled with the only thing she had left: her body.

On some level she knew it was a fool’s wager, that she should value her virtue more highly, and that if he truly cared for her, she would not need to prove her love. But on the other hand, nothing had ever seemed more natural—or right. And somewhat brazenly, she admitted that she wanted the experience for herself. That no matter what the result, she wanted to know what it felt like to be joined with the man she loved.

And from the moment his mouth fell on hers, hungrily and with purpose, she knew there would be no turning back. The knowledge was a little overwhelming—frightening even. She was a virgin, and although she knew the basics (she’d seen more than one couple mating under a blanket in a crowded, dark Hall), she also knew there would be pain. But Robbie would have care for her innocence. She trusted him without reservation.

He would make it good for her. And she hoped she would make it good for him. She wanted desperately to please him.

But as she’d neglected to take advantage of the potential tutors she had at her disposal at camp, she had little knowledge of how to do so. All she had was instinct. She gave over to the desire, holding nothing back, and returned his kiss with all the passion he’d awakened inside of her.

She ran her palms over his arms and shoulders and down his back, the way she’d dreamed so many times of doing. He growled at her touch, the muscles flexing under her fingertips. His body was a thing of beauty. Sheer masculine perfection. Smooth skin pulled tight over rock-hard muscle, lean and chiseled. There was not an inch of extra flesh upon him, just slab after slab of perfectly delineated muscle. His arms were bulging with strength, his stomach flat, and his waist narrow. He was so hard. So solid. And so hot. His skin was practically burning under her fingertips. Fevered. And the fever infected them both with its scorching heat.

She sensed the change that came over him when he lifted her toward the bed. His kiss became rougher and more carnal, leaving her no doubt of his intentions.

His big hands covered her body, her breasts. And then his mouth…his mouth was sucking, and she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Tiny needles of pleasure shot to her toes and heat rushed between her legs. She felt the same hot restlessness she’d felt last time, right before he’d touched her with his fingers.

She desperately wanted him to do that again, so she arched against his mouth on her breast, lifting her hips with a gentle press.

He made some kind of tortured sound. It might have been an oath, but she was too lost in the haze of pleasure to notice.

Cool air washed over the skin of her legs as he tossed up her skirts. His mouth ravished her breasts, the scratch of his beard burning—marking—a trail on her sensitive skin.

He lifted his head from her breast. When he sank his finger inside her, she cried out. The damp skin of her breast prickled in the cool air.

“God, you feel good.”

Her half-lidded eyes fluttered. But then he stroked her again, and any response she might have made was lost in the wave of sensation that crashed over her.

His voice was tight and strained. “Damn it,” he growled fiercely. “I can’t wait much longer.”

Neither could she. She arched into his hand with a cry as he stroked her again. And again.

Then suddenly his hand was gone and he was holding her by the hips. If she’d had any inkling of what he intended to do, she was sure she would have objected. She would have locked her thighs tightly together and refused the wicked kiss. She would have been properly shocked and traumatized for at least a full minute. At least.

Certainly longer than the two seconds of stunned stiffness she’d managed before dissolving like a complete and utter wanton against his mouth. His glorious mouth.
There
. Between her legs. Kissing her. With his warm, soft lips and his tongue. Yes, with his tongue. His incredible, talented tongue that made her arch and moan, and then shudder and cry out in pure sinful delight. It came over her in molten wave after molten wave, flooding her body with heat.

When it was over, she was a puddle of sensation, warm, soft, and ready. She opened her eyes as he moved himself into position over her. His handsome face was tight and drawn with something resembling pain. A thin sheen of sweat had gathered on his brow.

She looked down. Somehow he’d managed to loosen his chausses and braies, and his manhood bobbed hard between them. His very sizable manhood. Some of the flush from her cheeks paled.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said through clenched teeth.

She lifted her gaze back to his. “I know.”

The trust in her eyes nearly felled him. Robbie wanted to deserve that trust, but if the size of the erection pounding against his stomach was any indication, it was seriously misplaced. The way he felt right now—that his skin was two sizes too small and that his entire body was on the verge of exploding, that the only thing he’d wanted to do when she was shattering against his mouth was sink into her and join her, that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his damned life—if he didn’t get inside her in about two seconds he was going to do something he’d never done before. Ever. Even when he’d been a lad.

“I’m not sure…” He couldn’t finish.

Her face grew serious. “No promises, Robbie—I know that.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.” Whether this was a good idea no longer mattered. “It’s just that I want you too much, and it can be painful the first time for a lass.”

An adorable smile curved her mouth and the soft pink flush crawled back up her cheeks. She gave him a shy look from under her lashes that hit him somewhere in the vicinity of his ribs. Above his ribs, actually. And maybe a little to the left.

“Well, then perhaps we should get on with this and get to the second time.”

And then she did something that put an end to talking—and just about everything else as well.

She slid her hand down the front of his chest, trailing her fingers over the flexed muscles of his stomach, and touched him. She took him in her sweet little hand, wrapped her soft fingers around him, and gave him a perfect squeeze that made him suck in his breath as pleasure shot from the base of his spine. He made a pained sound, gritting his teeth against the fierce sensations and the nearly overwhelming need to let go.

But he didn’t. God help him, he somehow managed to keep his body under control. But for how long, with her touching him like this?

She remembered too well how he’d taught her to stroke him. Remembered how to squeeze and milk with long, hard pumps that went from base to tip.

He had to make her stop.

He didn’t want her to ever stop.

His heart hammered. The muscles in his arms almost buckled as he fought to keep himself propped over her as she tortured him with her sweet stroking. It felt so good, he just wanted to…

He felt himself pulse and knew he couldn’t let it go on. The first time wasn’t the time to test the limits of his control. “Now, sweetheart,” he said tightly. “I need to be inside you.”

Their eyes met. She unwrapped her hand from around him and let him guide himself into position. He parted her legs, letting the soft skin of her thighs rest against his. They were both still half-dressed, and her skirts were bunched up around her waist. He was tempted to rip them off her once again but didn’t think he could take one more delay.