Chapter 13
Helena adored her Islay home. It was airy and comfortable and warm in the winter but not unbearably hot in the summer, the white plaster making the whole building feel cheerful.
When she’d had it built, there’d been no need for an extensive manor, and so the first level contained naught but her study and a few extra rooms to serve as offices for various employees, as well as the parlor and dining room and her informal sitting room.
A veranda encircled the house with pleasant oak decking and a beautiful overhang, which she’d insisted the architect include.
It had been her favorite part of her father’s home in Jamaica, and although the views were different, she loved it here in her home as well.
The second level had three large suites—she only needed the one, but had built with the vague idea of possible guests in mind—as well as smaller bedrooms for the servants.
Wulfie slept with her, of course.
But this afternoon, she was pleased she’d left the dog with Mister outside. Surely Amy would be able to send Huffington on his way? When Helena had claimed Hunter as her husband, she hoped that reminded the older man of her loyalties. And the fact she wasn’t available to him.
And never would be, if she had her way.
“And where are ye dragging me to, lass?” Hunter chuckled as he took the stairs.
Helena smiled over her shoulder at him. “My chambers, of course. Our chambers, although there are other rooms you could take if you prefer.”
“And miss a chance to sleep with ye in my arms?” His voice lowered deliciously as he tugged her back against him, halting her progress. Her hired husband propelled her toward the wall and planted a palm on either side of her head. “Do ye ken how much I’ve missed ye, Helena?”
“As much as I have missed you?” She surged up on her toes to kiss him, her hands on his hips, pulling him closer.
With a groan he complied, and soon took over the kiss, teasing her, tugging her lip with his teeth, reminding her how much she’d ached for him these last days.
“I am sorry,” Helena gasped as his lips moved from hers to kiss her jaw, her throat, tipping her head back with another little whimper. “Hunter, I am so sorry I left you. I only thought—oh God, yes. There!”
She felt him smile against her skin as his hand moved down her side.
“Ye were a naughty, naughty lass for haring off without yer escort. How can I protect ye if ye run away?” This rebuke was accompanied by his hand cupping her breast through her simple shirtwaist and she groaned, feeling quite naughty indeed.
“I am sorry,” she repeated, arching her back so her breast pushed into his palm. “I wanted…” Another moan as he squeezed. “Protect you—”
“Aye, ye have a good heart.” His lips blazed a trail down her throat. “But ye need to be taught a lesson. How can I punish ye?”
Helena’s heart was pounding madly, but at the implications of his words, her pulse skipped. Her eyes opened. “Punish?”
“Ye’re a wicked lass.” Another squeeze, and this time his questing fingers found her hard nipple through all the layers of fabric. “And naughty lasses need to be disciplined.”
Breathless with anticipation, Helena grinned. “Yes, sir.”
This kiss was punishing, brutal, full of days of pent-up longing and fear and emotion…
and Helena leaned into it, reveling in it, giving as good as she took.
Claiming Hunter as her husband might have put him in danger once more, but how could she do anything else?
How had she managed to even consider leaving him behind?
He was hers, and she was his, and this is where she belonged: in his arms, for as long as he would allow.
Finally reaching her bedchamber, Hunter released her, stepping back with his arms held out from his body. “I’m weary, lass. Undress me.”
Eyes sparkling with anticipation, Helena jumped to do as he ‘ordered’. She took her time, making certain to tease him with careful brushes and lingering touches. The way his gaze hungrily followed her as she moved around him told her he was looking forward to this as much as she was.
Which was a great deal.
Outside, a rain squall came through—common this time of year—and the breeze coming in through the windows was cool and fresh. She saw Hunter’s skin pebbling, and realized hers was doing the same.
But not only because of the cold.
“Helena,” he rasped, reaching for her.
“Oh no, love.” Helena laughed as she skittered out of his reach, moving toward the wash basin. “You have been traveling. Allow me to wash you.”
Hunter didn’t appear to object, standing still as she ran the cloth over his skin. The water was cold, but she did her best to warm him with her lingering touches. The bandage around his torso was a stark reminder of how close he’d come to death—all because of her.
But here and now they were together, and she wanted to apologize for his pain. Wanted to remind him how good they were together. Tell him, albeit without words, that they would never be apart again.
So when the cloth reached his cock—jutting proudly from its nest of curls—Helena dropped the damn thing and wrapped her hand around him. Hunter groaned, swaying into her touch, and she grinned as she stroked him. Though not too fast, of course. He wasn’t going to have it all his own way.
“What is my next penalty?” she whispered.
“Clothing. Off.” His hand caught the back of her neck. “I’m going to go lay on that bed, ye’re going to climb on top of me and ride me the way I’ve been imagining since the verra moment I met you.”
Oh my. He’d been thinking of that sort of thing all this time? Helena nodded eagerly. “Yes please.”
“Ye’re going to make me come, Helena,” her man growled, holding her as his nose brushed against her temple. “And ye’re going to like it.”
Oh God, would she!
As Hunter turned away to stretch out on the bed, Helena hurried to undress. Her hands shook in joyful anticipation, her breaths coming too quickly as across the room, Hunter’s eyes watched her greedily as he lazily stroked his cock.
Helena, now bare and vulnerable and yet precisely where she knew she should be, crossed to the bed, her heart thrumming a wild rhythm in her chest. Hunter’s gaze was intense, his hand slowly stroking his length, and she felt a fresh wave of heat between her thighs but paused at the edge of the bed, uncertain.
This was one of those occasions when one needed that book handy. How exactly was she supposed to—
“Climb on top of me, Helena,” Hunter commanded, his voice a husky rumble. “I cannae move as well as I used to.”
His wound! Of course, and she would do exactly as he commanded. Carefully keeping an eye on his bandage Helena straddled him, her knees sinking into the soft mattress on either side of his hips.
His hands gripped her hips. “Take my cock, lass. Take it in your hand and guide it to where you want it.”
Well, that needed no further explanation.
Helena reached between her legs, her fingers wrapping around his hard length, feeling the heat and pulse of him.
She positioned him at her entrance, already slick and ready, aching desperately for him.
Her breath hitched as she felt the head of his cock against her wetness.
“Now, slide down, slowly,” Hunter ordered, his eyes never leaving hers. “Do it. Do it now.”
She lowered herself, inch by inch, her body stretching around him. A soft moan escaped her lips as she took him fully inside—but this time, she was the one controlling the pace.
Hunter’s hands moved to her breasts, cupping them, his thumbs gently circling her hard nipples. “Good lass,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Now rock, Helena. Ride me.”
She began to move, tentative at first, finding her rhythm. His hands guided her, lifting and lowering her hips, setting a slow and sensuous pace. Oh, that felt—
Helena arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands, her head falling back as a moan escaped her lips.
“That’s it, lass,” Hunter praised, his voice strained. “Ye feel so fooking good. Faster now, Helena. Ride me faster.”
She quickened her pace, her body taking over, her hips moving instinctively. She wanted to fall forward, to support herself against his chest, but didn’t want to jar his injury nor disrupt this searing sweet rhythm. Instead her hips rocked frantically, claiming him as her own.
Hunter rolled her nipples between his fingers, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to her core. She cried out, her body clenching around him.
“Hunter,” Helena gasped, her hands gripping his forearms, her nails digging into his skin.
“Dinnae stop, lass,” he growled, his hips thrusting up to meet hers, doubling the pounding into her core. “Ye’re almost there—I can feel it.”
“I want…” she moaned, lost in the sensations.
“I ken what ye want.”
“No! I want…” Oh God, she was so close. “This was meant to be for you!”
He was silent for the span of three thrusts. Then his hands fell to her thighs, wrapping around them, holding her forward. “Together then,” he grunted. “Ye first.”
But if she climaxed, he would pull from her and spill against her skin, the way he had the other times. Helena didn’t want that. She wanted all of him.
He’d returned to her, placing himself in danger for her. Surely that meant he wanted this joining as much as she did?
Helena carefully leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his shoulders, allowing her weight to shift closer so his cock hit that delicious spot right behind her clitoris.
“No, Hunter,” she said softly, smiling down at him, knowing this was right. “Together.”
She saw the moment he understood, the moment he gave in, groaning with surrender. Yes.
His thrusts increased in pace, each one filling her core in exactly the right way and she rocked atop him, meeting his plunges, the rhythm familiar and precious.
Their rhythm.
“Helena!” Hunter stiffened beneath her, his hands moving to her arse, pulling her cheeks apart so his cock could reach even deeper. “Christ, lass...”