Chapter 5
Chapter five
ELSPIT
She felt as if her body was on fire. For ten years she had not had a man touch her like that, whisper in her ear, making her clench her thighs, the flesh between them swollen and wet.
She had always been this way with him, but all she had had of late were her nightly imaginings, and they hadn’t brought her to the level of excitement she was feeling now.
He was going to make her his, just as he’d always said he would.
Pleading weariness, she had sent her ladies to bed, ignoring the suspicious glance Rosina had given her.
But as she waited and time slipped by, her thoughts began to twist and turn, overpowering her desire, filling her with doubts.
Was it such a good idea to give Ewen this one night before she left for the north?
Would it really bring her relief or would a taste of him only make her hungrier and lonelier than ever?
He was marrying another woman, and they would live here at Castle Tighe, while she would be far away.
Elspit sat down on her four poster bed and stared at the door. Perhaps she should lock it? Why wasn’t he here?
He might already have found another woman for the night.
The words dragged sharp claws across her heart. Jealousy or fury, or both. No matter how she pretended otherwise, Elspit knew with despair that she still loved him. The strength of her love had not changed and if tonight was all she could ever have with him then she was willing to pay the price.
With a sigh, Elspit rose and went to the window.
She opened the shutters a crack, peering down from her tower room into the walled garden she had designed.
Her father had sneered that her efforts to create something pretty was a waste of time, but she had enjoyed the process, and now she enjoyed walking among the flower beds, tending to the plants, dreaming away her days.
What else was she to do? Her advice was not wanted, and apart from being present when her father demanded it, she was mostly left alone.
She knew he was a bad man, and she did her best to help their people, sending out food to those who needed it, handing coins to others.
Now such kindness would be the prerogative of Ewen’s wife.
For the sake of her people, Elspit hoped the Stewart woman was generous.
She had heard that powerful people were often thoughtless.
The door opened behind her open.
Her heart jumped and her breath caught, as she turned to face the room.
Ewen stood there, big and dominant and silent.
Watching her. His face was as expressionless as before, nothing to show her what he was really feeling, but his gaze slid down over her body as it had in the hall.
Taking his time. She felt the brush of his regard on her breasts and before she could help herself she reached to cover them.
Now his eyes blazed and for a moment she thought he would lose all control and cross to her, catch her up in his arms and throw her onto the bed. Instead he clenched his fists and remained before the closed door.
“You are not in bed, lady,” he said as if something in his throat was restricted.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to be,” she retorted, her pulse thudding and her legs almost too weak to hold her up.
“And yet you are here, awaiting me,” he reminded her.
He was reading her, seeing her desire, and she could no longer hide it. Still watching her, slowly, as if seeking her permission, Ewen reached up and began to unbutton his jacket, and all the while those hot, lustful eyes were on her.
“Should I drop to my knees before you? Is that what the other women do?” she jeered, but her voice was breathless.
“You are not other women,” he told her curtly.
She knew then that this was going to happen.
He was going to join her in her bed and he was going to take her body with his.
For a moment her head swam, a pulse beating in her throat, her skin prickling.
Her nipples were hard and before she could stop herself her hands slid over them, pinching the taut buds with her fingers.
The sensation made her gasp and close her eyes.
When she opened them again he was still watching her, his chest rising and falling with each hard breath.
He shrugged off his jacket, and his white shirt was fine indeed.
He reached up to untie the cords at his throat and reaching over his head, dragged it off.
The muscles of his chest were hard and his stomach flat, and a dark trail of hair ran down from his belly button and under his kilt.
Elspit’s memories had not done him justice.
“Take off your gown,” he growled. “I want to see you. I’ve dreamed about you for so long ... I want to know if you really are the temptress of my imaginings.”
If he had stepped closer she might have refused but he stood at the door, waiting.
Elspit’s fingers trembled as she began to undo the fastening at her wrist and throat, the bodice of her gown opening to show her chemise.
It was of the palest pink, and when her gown fell around her feet, she stood in only that translucent garment.
His eyes flared and his gaze roamed over her again. She was certain that, with the only light a candle by her bed, he could see the shape and texture of her body through the cloth. The rose pink of her nipples and the dark curls between her thighs.
“You are even more beautiful,” he said it with reverence.
Elspit gave a soft cry. That was when he moved toward her, and she saw that he was all muscle. There was a scar on his side that looked barely healed, and she reached out, not quite daring to touch him.
“You are hurt,” she whispered.
“The only thing that hurts is here,” and he caught her hand and pressed it against his cock, hard and erect beneath his kilt.
Her fingers began to move, caressing him, tracing the length and girth of him.
“Lady,” he warned on a groan.
Elspit’s gaze lifted slowly to his. She felt as if she had drunk too much wine.
“I want to see you,” he told her huskily. “I want to see all of you.”
Somehow she managed to unfasten the tiny buttons at the front of her chemise, and when it fell to the floor the light from the candle made her skin glow.
His jaw clenched, and his hands fisted at his sides.
His gaze had dropped to her breasts and he reached out to trace the shape of one with his finger.
Then he unfastened his kilt, tossing it aside, and she saw how aroused he was.
His cock jutted up toward his belly, big and handsome, just as she’d remembered it.
“All yours,” he told her. “Always was.”
Before she could think to answer him or make a sound he had lifted her in his arms, cupping the globes of her bottom as he swung her up.
Her legs fastened about his hips and her arms slid around his neck, holding on.
All that bare flesh, hard muscle, and abrasive hair.
She wanted to rub herself all over him like a cat in heat.
She pressed her face into the warm hollow of his throat and licked his skin.
He tasted of salt and sweat and man. He tasted like Ewen Campbell.
“I’ve waited ten years for this moment,” he said, “and now here it is. I am going to take you until you can’t remember a time I wasn’t here. I’m going to take you until you become a part of me.”
“Yes,” she begged him. “Yes, Ewen.”
He turned to the bed and she felt the soft mattress beneath her bare skin, and the heavy weight of Ewen on top of her.
His mouth was feeding off hers, tongue and lips and teeth.
Sucking and biting. His hands were kneading her breasts, filled with the heavy weight of them, while his muscular legs pressed between hers.
Elspit moaned and arched against him, feeling the hard length of his cock sliding between her thighs. The head of it bumped against the sensitive nub above her entrance and she gasped and clutched at his shoulders.
“I’m going to lick you all over,” he rumbled. “Taste you and feast on you and mark every inch of you. But first I am going to fuck you.”
The crude words should have made her draw back but the look in his eyes as he said them …
Ewen was going to claim her in the most fundamental of ways.
She felt her core spasm, and then he drew his hips back and, staring into her eyes, thrust. There was no easing inside her channel, no waiting for her to adjust to his size.
He drove into her until the base of his cock knocked against her clit.
“Oh God,” she wailed. Because he was big and she had only been bedded for one brief week, before her husband died. And no, it had never been like this. Never.
Ewen held himself inside her as if he wanted to mark her, possess her, make her forever his. Before finally he began to move.