Chapter Nineteen #2
“I think you are a kind man, Aulay Mackenzie. But you are a wronged man, there’s no denying it, and ’tis I who have wronged you.
I’ll go to my grave regretting it. But you must know that I.
.. How I...” She paused, seemingly unable to find words.
She sighed. “I would that you know how much I’ve come to esteem you. ”
Aulay had not expected her to say that, nor had he expected the words to softly wrap around his bruised heart.
“’Tis no’ a proper thing to say, I know. You’re a gentleman, a man of the world you are, and I’m a lass from a wee island. But I’m running out of time to do things properly, and I’ll have you know how I hold you in my highest regard. You’ve shown me kindness I didna deserve.”
Aulay was momentarily at a loss for words. But Lottie had found her words, and she stepped into the cabin. “These last days have been frightening, and devastating...and exhilarating and remarkable,” she said earnestly. “I’ve lived an entire lifetime in a matter of days.”
He understood her sentiment completely—his own eyes had been opened after thirty-seven years.
“I’ve changed in so many ways, Aulay, and no matter what awaits me, I find it impossible to contain my feelings, aye?
I’ve no’ always confessed my true feelings when it mattered most, but now I know—I canna leave you without saying that I esteem you,” she said, her hand pressed to her heart. “Beyond my wildest imaginings.”
Her voice broke, and Aulay moved before he thought, taking her hand, pulling her into the cabin and into his embrace, heedless of others who might see them.
He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her scent.
They’d been days at sea, and yet she smelled sweet to him, felt soft and warm.
Everything about her was, in his eyes, perfection.
Lottie slipped her arms around his waist and whispered, “I’ve longed so for you to hold me.”
“Lottie.” His head clashed painfully with his heart.
Lottie had captured him in body and spirit.
But he also loved his ship, and his life at sea—it was all that had mattered to him until a few short days ago.
He didn’t know what mattered any more. He couldn’t fathom what he had to do in Scotland, how he’d be forced to avenge his ship, his life, his good name.
None of it made sense. None of it seemed right. No matter what path he chose, it was the wrong one. He couldn’t even say with certainty if she was sincere now, or if she meant to seduce him into freeing her.
“I thought you hated me,” she muttered.
“Hate you? I could never hate you, Lottie. No matter what else, I could never hate you.” I love you. Can you no’ see it? Can you no’ see the source of my torment? I love you.
He picked her up, kicked the door shut with his heel, then turned her about and sat her on the table. He kissed her as he slipped in between her thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with vigor, stoking a hot, intense flame in him that he’d be a fool to touch.
But Aulay was weak—he not only touched that flame, he let it consume him.
His hands wandered over her body, down her arms, up her torso to her breasts.
He cupped them in his hands as he kissed her.
He could feel a strange tightening in his chest—he was not a superstitious or sentimental man, but he felt something pulling them together, some force greater than the both of them locking its arms around them.
He was, for better or worse, connected to this woman in a profound way.
She shifted, pressed against his hardness.
She was not shy, which made Aulay want her that much more.
So many deep-seated emotions were bubbling up in him, surprising him.
He wanted to hold her, to protect her. He wanted to make love to her, to be inside her.
But a nagging thought kept pressing against his wildly beating heart, trying desperately to slow it, to slow him.
She raked her hands down his chest, and Aulay caught her hands. “I donna want to give you false hope, Lottie.”
Her eyes shimmered in the low light. With desire. With need. “I donna care—”
“You do care—you, of all people, must care. No matter what happens between us, it doesna change the truth of what we both must face. Do you understand, me?” he asked, and caught her face between his hands, forcing her to focus on him. “Tell me you understand what I say, leannan.”
“Aye, I understand,” she said solemnly, and carefully brushed aside a thick strand of his hair from his eyes. “I’m no’ a fool, Aulay. I understand the stakes. But if my life as I know it is to end, one way or another, I will have it be worth the judgment. Do you understand?”
She touched him far more deeply than he would have believed his heart could be touched by sentiment.
His emotions were roiling again, waves crashing through him, each one rising higher than the last, falling harder and faster.
She’d sparked a helpless and powerful need to feel her body beneath his, her heart pressed against his chest.
Aulay moved his hands over her shoulders and down her sides, untying the knot in the tails of the shirt she wore, then lifting it over her head. He picked her up off the table, put her on her feet and unlaced her trews. They fell and pooled at her ankles, and she stepped out of them.
She was stunning, a vision of feminine beauty with heavy breasts, a curve of waist into hips, and long slender legs. Aulay’s blood was rushing in his veins, and he quickly removed his clothes as she unbraided her hair and let that glorious curtain fall around her shoulders.
He gathered her up, kissed the hollow of her throat, then groped for his greatcoat and threw it onto his bunk before laying her down on top of it.
“Diah help me, Lottie, but you’ve bewitched me, that you have,” he said, and kissed her lips.
“I am your servant.” He kissed her cheeks, her mouth, her neck, and moved down, to her breasts.
She slid her fingers into his hair, arching into him. “I donna want a servant—I want a lover.”
He’d thought he couldn’t be more aroused, but she sent him higher.
He wanted to explore her, every muscle, every patch of soft skin.
He wanted to absorb the feel of her body into his so that he’d never forget it.
He would fill her with his desire, would show her what it meant to love in a life worth living, to know what it felt to be loved.
He did love her. In these moments with her, he knew that he loved her.
A deep sigh of pleasure escaped her; she dug her fingers into his shoulders as he moved his attention to her breasts.
She arched her back into him, her legs moving against his, pressing against his erection.
He slid his hand down her body, over the flare of her hip and her leg, and then between them.
Lottie’s breath quickened, warm against his cheek.
Aulay moved from the primal place that resided in every man and pushed her thighs apart with his knee, then pressed against her.
She caught his face in her hands before he entered her, staring into his eyes, searching for.
..what? He was beyond control, lost in the ecstasy of her, impatient to carry on.
Lottie smiled. She kissed him, raking her fingers through his hair.
“Aye, what?” he whispered a wee bit desperately.
“You, Aulay. You’re what.”
He sank into those words. He moved his hand down her body, skimming her breast, her abdomen, and caught hold of her hip as he slid his body into hers and began to move.
This was not like their frenzied coupling of the other night, when they’d been driven by a lust born from heartbreak.
This was greater than that—this was a coming together in a more primal sense, a man and a woman performing an ancient dance of being one.
She had possessed him, and he possessed her, his strokes urgent, his desire swelling and taking ravenous shape.
Lottie gasped with her release; Aulay lost himself in his own. He sought his breath, clinging to the sensations of their coming together for as long as could. But at last he did prop himself on his arms and gaze down at her, pulling a thick strand of hair from her face.
Her eyes were closed, her expression one of utter happiness, free of pain and worry. She had never been more alluring to him.
“Tha thu breagha,” he murmured. You are beautiful.
She smiled, opened her eyes and touched her fingers to his chin, then kissed his jaw before pushing her face into his neck and shoulder and turning into him.
Aye, it was worth it, Lottie.
At least to him, it had been worth every moment.