Chapter 20
Nothing would warm Ailis faster than Killian could. He could take her shivers and turn them into tremors of pleasure, thaw the ice in her veins with a wildfire of bliss and make her forget that she had ever wanted to be far from his side.
We’ll be wed tomorrow. She’s already mine.
That thought was a jar of whiskey tossed on the fire of his longing that not even the rushing sea or the hammering downpour could have doused.
He kissed Ailis with all the pent-up yearning of the past week. He kissed her with all the frustration of being forced to keep his distance, and all the relief of being allowed so close again. He wouldn’t waste the opportunity.
She kissed him back with equal fervor, clinging to him as if they were back out in the icy-cold water and he was her only hope of survival.
Fingernails sank into his upper arms, her mouth hungry, her body pressing against him insistently, as if she meant to draw all of his heat into her. He would have given it gladly.
Ye daenae ken what havoc I’d cause if ye’d been stolen from me. Ye daenae ken the fury that would seize me.
He pulled her roughly to him, his hand cradling the side of her neck, his thumb running up the column of her throat.
After the past week, he didn’t want to be gentle with her; he wanted her to understand that he would never be parted from her again.
He wanted to leave his mark, so everyone would know, without a doubt, to whom she belonged.
With that in his mind, he kissed away from her lips and down her throat.
He considered leaving a bite there, to stake his claim, but he thought about what had made her run from her bedchamber and considered a more discreet spot.
She didn’t need to have a bruise to fret over, however small and seductively created.
At her shoulder, he gently nipped her soft flesh, his loins stirring as he heard her gasp. With a smile against her skin, he sucked, feeling her neck arch as he did so, the movement pushing her breasts against his chest.
Now, nay one can argue…
He pulled back slightly to admire the small bruise, then sought her mouth again in a searing kiss of pure need, pure desire. After almost losing her tonight, there was no way he would ever get enough of holding her close and kissing her as he pleased.
But that was just the beginning.
“Thank ye,” Ailis whispered against his mouth as she held his face and kissed him harder.
“For what?” he murmured. He had done nothing yet.
She paused, breathless, a shy smile on her lips. “For bein’ there when I thought nay one was comin’.”
“I told ye,” he said, kissing her brow, her cheek, her mouth, her jaw. “I’m here. Ye’re mine to protect… and more.”
Her body melted into him, his arms wrapping tightly around her as their kiss deepened, their shadows intertwined on the cave walls.
The drum of the waves striking the cliffs outside could have been the percussion of his heart as he indulged in the slow, sensual moment. It would be a long while until the downpour stopped; he didn’t have to rush anything. Indeed, if the rain became a storm, they might have all night.
Ailis could have kissed him forever. That cave could have become their home, away from the chaos of the clans and the war, and she would have been overjoyed. A peaceful bubble, where no one could find or threaten them.
With her arms looped lazily around his neck, her fingertips running through his damp hair, she relished the ebb and flow of his lips. A tide that could never give her nightmares.
Indeed, it was strange to think that he was the first man she had ever kissed, and would be the last, and that didn’t seem to frighten her at all.
Tomorrow, he’ll be me husband.
Instead of the overwhelming panic that had sent her fleeing from her chambers, a warm sensation fizzed in her chest. A pleasant possessiveness that made her kiss him more fiercely, as if to let him know that he was as much hers as she was his.
He responded in kind, whirling her around like they were at a gathering and he had asked her to join him in a reel. A yelp escaped her lips, for she had never been much of a dancer. Rather, she had never had much opportunity to dance.
“Did I hurt ye?” he asked, pulling back to search her face.
She shook her head. “Nae at all.”
His eyes gleamed in the dim light. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he slowly walked her backward, the light push of his body directing hers.
Only when the back of her knees struck the flat rock where they had been sitting earlier did she stop, the bump knocking her off balance. Killian kept his arm around her as she sank down onto the blanket-covered rock and peered up at him, uncertain of what was happening.
Oh…
Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of her, his strong hands resting on her thighs.
Kneeling, he was still a head taller than her, but there was an unusual power in seeing a man like him on his knees before her, looking at her like that.
A sort of… confidence, a feeling that she might be beautiful after all, if his appreciative gaze was any indication.
“I daenae think enterin’ yer chamber that night was an accident,” Killian said in a husky voice.
“What do ye mean?” Ailis asked breathily, her heart racing.
He leaned in to kiss her, his hand gripping her thigh. “I think I was guided to ye,” he murmured, scooping her closer with his other hand. “I think ye were always meant to be a MacNairn. A Lennox.”
Lost in the slow burn of his kiss and the security of his embrace, she couldn’t muster a single argument. All of her suspicions and doubts were swept away, disappearing in the fog of desire that had rolled in at the press of his lips.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as his kisses wandered southward, charting a course down her throat and along the slope of her collarbone. As if he were a seasoned sailor who knew exactly how to navigate her through still waters and stormy tides.
In truth, he also seemed to know how to turn still waters into storms, like the one that began to rise within her as his mouth moved lower.
In one impressive maneuver, he grasped the hem of her borrowed shirt and pulled it up. Her arms rose for him, entirely unselfconscious for the first time in her life as he tossed the garment to the cave floor and immediately pulled her in.
Rather, he didn’t give her the chance to be self-conscious.
His kisses savored her, his tongue tasting her tingling skin, exploring her with stirring admiration, leaving no part of her unattended.
The worship of a man who, though it seemed ludicrous, seemed to want her.
Not for revenge or to win a war or to stir up trouble, but just because he wanted her.
“Oh, Killian… Oh!” she cried out as his lips closed around her nipple.
He drew the erect flesh into his mouth and sucked, the intense pull somehow tugging at an invisible string within her that vibrated all the way down between her thighs. She gasped, grasping for his arm, while her other hand held the back of his head, needing more.
When he sucked again, it was clear that he had taken control of her entire being… and she didn’t mind one bit. Her hips bucked at his bidding, her back arching, a breathy moan rising with the woodsmoke toward the dark ceiling of the cavern.
And I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. I told him I didnae want to be touched.
She could have laughed at the idiocy of that command, and was almost grateful that she had run away from her bedchamber. Otherwise, she might never have experienced this.
He released the delicious tension around her nipple, flicking his tongue against the hard flesh, before he resumed a path that only he seemed to know.
But the air had shifted inside the cave, thickening. His kisses, too, had transformed into something… more. The moment she had felt that crackling wave rushing downward, his kiss and his touch had become more heated.
Each graze of his lips had her shivering in the most delicious way, each light stroke of his tongue coaxing a gasp from her, each grip of his hand or brush of his fingertips like striking flint, igniting a flurry of exquisite sparks.
Then, with one arm around her, he rested his palm on the valley between her bare breasts and gently pushed her down. A slow descent, his arm ensuring that she wouldn’t fall, until she lay on the fleece and the blankets that covered the flat rock.
“It’s nae yet our weddin’ night,” he purred, “but that doesnae mean I cannae show ye what it means to be me bride.”
She was about to ask what he meant when his mouth returned to her skin, kissing the rise of her stomach. Still kneeling, he hovered his upper body over her as he explored and worshiped and appreciated every contour, every speck, every curve.
Ailis doubted there was a more stirring sight than that of her future husband absorbed in pleasuring her.
The firelight haloed his warrior physique, his broad shoulders even more impressive, his arms and chest flexing with raw power.
Yet his effort was not focused on fighting, but on something far more pleasant.
She was just enjoying the sensation of his hand running down her thigh, and the way he closed his eyes when his lips brushed against her skin, when he suddenly lowered his head between her thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue was an all-consuming reminder that he was the one in control of her body.
She was his; she just hadn’t realized it fully until that moment.
How could she be anyone else’s when the roll of his tongue could make her back arch up off the rock, her hands grasping at the fleece beneath her?
“Oh, Killian! Oh… oh, God!” she cried out, the sound echoing off the cave walls, drowning out the rhythm of the waves crashing against the cliffs outside.