Chapter Four #3
Tavig sensed her acquiescence, and covered her soft mouth with his.
She curled her slender arms around his neck.
He held her close, heartily savoring the sweet innocence of her mouth.
The promise of a fiery passion was there, and he ached to uncover it, but he knew he could not rush her.
Life with Sir Bearnard had left her wounded.
Tavig knew he would need a very gentle hand to smooth away those scars.
He moved his hands down her sides, lightly tracing her slender shape.
When she pressed against him, her body trembling beneath his touch, he knew it would be difficult to proceed as carefully as he needed to.
Only the thought of how easily he could destroy the very passion he ached to taste held him to his vow to move slowly.
When he lifted his head and looked at her, his breath caught in his throat.
Even in the dim moonlight he could see the flush of passion in her cheeks.
Her beautiful eyes were heavy-lidded. Her full lips glistened from the moisture of his kiss.
He could feel her small, taut breasts moving against his chest in a quickened rhythm.
“Part those bonnie lips,” he whispered.
“Why?”
“Do it and ye will soon ken why.”
Moira hesitated only a moment. He had done nothing frightening yet.
When she parted her lips and he uttered a low moan, she began to have doubts.
He allowed her no time to consider them.
He pressed his warm mouth against hers, easing his tongue between her lips.
She clutched at him as he stroked the inside of her mouth, each movement of his tongue sending fire through her veins.
Moira lost all sense of time and place, her mind rapidly filling with nothing but the thought of how good Tavig MacAlpin was making her feel.
When he silently urged her down onto their rough bed, covering her body with his, his touch growing bolder, she began to regain her senses.
She fought a stern battle with her own desire.
It felt so wonderful she wanted to continue, but, innocent though she was, she knew things had gone too far.
In her head she could hear Crooked Annie’s raspy voice saying, “Dinnae let a mon cover ye, lass.” She had let Tavig do so and must put a stop to it.
Just as she was about to try to say something to push him away when every part of her wanted to hold him close, he stopped. He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment as he took several long, unsteady breaths. A minute later, he rolled onto his side, but kept her tucked up against him.
“I believe that is enough of that, lass,” he said, his voice soft and husky.
“Aye, it certainly is.” Moira realized even the sound of his voice, roughened by desire, was making it difficult to rein in her passion.
“I shouldnae have let ye tempt me so. Ye shall have to behave yourself better, loving, if ye mean to hold fast to your chastity.”
It took Moira a minute to understand what he was saying and then to believe that she was hearing him correctly.
She muttered one of the many curse words Crooked Annie was so fond of.
When he laughed, she grew even more agitated and swatted him.
Her hand had barely brushed against his arm when she realized what she was doing.
Moira gasped, a tremor of fear banishing the last of her desire, and she hastily pulled away from him.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, tensing with the certainty that he would reciprocate with far more force than she had used.
“For what, lass? I deserved a wee slap.” He frowned. “Do ye now expect me to knock ye on your arse?”
There was a hint of anger in his voice that confused her.
It was clearly aimed at what she expected him to do and not at what she had done.
“Nay, of course not. And ye cannae do it anyway, for I am already on my arse.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, astounded and a little shocked at her own words.
“Oh! Listen to me. Ye are a poor influence, Tavig MacAlpin.”
Tavig laughed, gently kissing her on the forehead. “Nay. What harm in a wee bit of wit even if it is faintly coarse? Aye, and it shows that ye can be at ease with me. There is no harm in that.”
“Nay? I would think that growing at ease with a mon accused of two murders isnae verra clever at all.”
“How ye wound me.”
“I doubt that much can pierce your thick hide.” She yawned, not resisting when he tucked her up close to his side. “I believe I really must go to sleep, Sir Tavig,” she murmured even as she closed her eyes
Tavig waited for her to wish him a good sleep, but after a moment of silence, he looked at her.
It was evident she had gone to sleep within a heartbeat of speaking.
He smiled, nestling her slim form more comfortably against him.
His smile widened when she murmured, cuddling up to him as if it were already a habit.
“Ah, lass, ye will soon see that we are destined. Aye, I just have to soothe those hurts that bastard Sir Bearnard inflicted upon ye.” He sighed, kissing the top of her head. “I just pray that I have the patience and skill to do it.”