Chapter 29 BRAZEN
THE KISS STARTED fiercely, but quickly gentled into a slow, sensual embrace that made Hazel’s toes curl inside her boots.
He kissed her with his heart. His soul.
A groan rumbled in his throat as he explored her mouth.
Hazel cupped his cheek, his stubble rough against her palm, drinking in his taste. Meanwhile, his hand cradled the back of her head, holding her steady as he deepened the kiss.
They stood there a long while, tasting and teasing, and allowing the tension that had knotted between them to slowly dissolve.
Hazel’s chest ached as his tongue slid against hers, as his teeth grazed her lips. Then he drew her lower lip into his mouth and sucked gently. Need started to pulse in her lower belly, and she let out a low groan, leaning into him.
Craeg murmured an oath against her lips and broke off the kiss. Then, resting his forehead against hers, he took a deep, steadying breath. “I should stop now,” he rasped. “Before we forget ourselves.”
In response, Hazel reached down and pulled his lèine free from where it was loosely tucked into his braies.
“I don’t wish to stop,” she said throatily.
“If tonight is the first day of our future together, let’s make a memory worthy of it.
” Her fingers slid across the warm skin of his flat belly.
“Today was brutal, Craeg. Give me something beautiful … something real.”
Grabbing hold of his lèine, she pulled it up. And then, she stepped in and lowered her head, letting her lips skim across the muscles of his broad chest, her tongue tracing the whorls of hair, and teasing his flat nipples into hard buds.
And as she did so, he unraveled her heavy braid with his fingers, letting her hair tumble free down her back.
His chest rose, fast and shallow, now.
Emboldened, Hazel kissed her way down the center of his chest to his navel. However, when she unbuckled his belt and went to unlace his braies, Craeg caught her by the wrists, drawing her to her feet.
His eyes glinted, even as his lips curved. “No, love … ye are getting all the attention tonight.”
And with that, he began unlacing her kirtle.
It took a while to get their clothes off, as they kept stopping and kissing. But eventually, they both stood naked in the chamber. The air was warm, yet Hazel found herself shivering in anticipation.
And when Craeg cupped her breasts in his hands and raised them to his questing mouth, her shivering slid into trembling. He drew each aching nipple into his hot mouth and sucked languorously, and each pull made her core pulse.
Tangling her fingers in his hair, she urged him on, loving the sensation. Never wanting him to stop.
But eventually, he did.
Only to pull her to the floor. A thick, soft sheepskin lay before the hearth.
Pushing aside the two stools in front of it, Craeg stretched out onto his back and brought her astride him.
Eagerly, she reached for his straining shaft, but he gave a soft laugh that made her belly clench and drew her up so that she sat astride his face.
“Ye might want to hold onto that stool, lass.” His warm breath feathered against her sex, making excitement churn through her. “I’m going to take my time.”
Hades. She was panting now, and he hadn’t even touched her quim.
But when his fingers tightened on her hips and brought her down against him, and his tongue found her, her body jerked.
“Oh, cods!” she gasped, grappling for the stool he’d moved aside and pushing it hard into the floor. “Craeg!”
There was something about this position, about the way his tongue was now swirling, flicking, and lathing her. It was intense. Vulnerable.
He pleasured her softly and slowly, using his mouth as he had when he’d kissed her.
Taking his time with a leisureliness that made sweat bead upon her skin.
Every stroke of his tongue, every graze of his teeth made her shudder.
But he carefully avoided the most sensitive part of her sex, teasing her until her thighs started to quiver.
She’d have collapsed onto his face if he hadn’t held her tightly, poised above him as he feasted on her.
Vaguely, she became aware of the desperate, choked noises she was making, of the incoherent pleas that slipped from her lips. This was delicious torture. One she wished to prolong, while at the same time couldn’t bear to.
Again and again, he made her climb, until her legs started to jerk, until pleasure built and built, but then, just when she was about to shatter against his mouth, he drew back, letting her recover before beginning his onslaught again.
He was relentless. Hazel lost track of time, of where she was. Suddenly, the violent, terrifying day she’d just lived through ceased to matter. All that did was his mouth. His lips. The scrape of his—
A high, thin cry escaped her as the tip of his tongue teased the swollen bud of flesh nestled above her entrance. The wooden stool creaked as she rocked against it, her knuckles white as she gripped on for dear life.
Lord, she couldn’t take much more of this.
Panting, she tried to grind herself against his face, but he held her fast. A low, sensual laugh escaped him, one that made wet heat flood her loins.
“Please,” she gasped. “Plow me!”
He lifted her off him then and edged her back.
Hazel’s gaze dropped to his face, marking his hooded eyes and swollen lips. His breathing was ragged, and it dawned on her that he was teetering on the edge too.
Indeed, when her fingers closed around his rod, she found it scalding hot and rock-hard. It jerked in her hand. Impatient. Demanding.
Sighing, Hazel lowered herself onto him, guiding him into her.
And as she slid down his solid length, a deep groan tore from her. Dear Lord, this position was intense. It took him so deep that she ached.
She started to tremble then, sensation sweeping over her.
Her loins turned molten, pleasure clenching and pulsing deep in her womb.
Craeg gripped her hips and rotated them in a slow circle over his.
And then, he moved one hand between them, the pad of his thumb sliding to her most sensitive spot. It was too much.
With a choked cry, she hurtled over the edge.
Pleasure spiked through her, in a shuddering, aching wave that made her spine curve, made her head fall back. Her scream echoed through the chamber, reverberating against stone.
She writhed against him, bucking and jerking as another wave hit her.
Craeg’s guttural curse followed, and then he was dragging her up and down the long, hard length of his rod. There was nothing slow and gentle about it now. He was relentless, sliding her up until only the crown of his shaft was still inside her, before hauling her back down on him.
Again, and again. And with each thrust, he lifted his hips to meet her, driving deeper. Hazel watched him unravel as her quim clutched at him and pleasure still pulsed through her.
She’d seen him climax before, back at Moy. But not like this. Then, he’d held onto control. Not this time.
His teeth were bared, the cords of his neck strained as he dragged her down his rigid shaft once more. Sweat gleamed off his skin. His eyes were wild. Desperate. He was a man completely undone, and it thrilled her to see it, to know that she had driven him to this state.
Riding him like this made her feel powerful. Brazen. She loved it. And she loved him.
This young laird who’d burn everything to the ground, just to be with her.
Who gave himself to her, who showed her all of him.
Craeg’s hoarse cry filled the chamber as he thrust his hips up again, slamming her down upon him and grinding them together. Ecstasy pulsed deep inside her core, heat flooding her womb yet again as he released.
Panting and trembling, they stilled.
Hazel hung over him, bracing herself against his heaving chest.
There were no words for this. Nothing that could describe the beauty—the perfection—of this moment. She’d asked Craeg to give her memories to blot out the ugliness, and he’d done just that.
The world had shifted, and now nothing would ever be the same again.
Rising from the sheepskin, Craeg fetched a clay bowl of water and a square of linen.
Then, returning to where Hazel still lay, her coltish limbs bathed in firelight, he knelt at her side.
He cleaned her up first, tenderly washing away his seed from the damp curls between her legs and the smooth skin of her thighs.
He then washed himself, aware that her gaze tracked his every move.
His belly tightened under her scrutiny, a familiar heat igniting low in his spine.
And then, his prick stiffened, rising like a pike between them.
Hazel gave a low, breathy sigh, and his lips curved. “Pay him no attention, lass … he’ll settle soon enough.”
She laughed, a warm sound that made his breathing grow shallow.
By the Saints, he loved this woman.
Putting the wash bowl and cloth aside, he stretched out next to her once more. He then propped himself up onto one elbow, his gaze drinking in the lines of her face. He’d never tire of looking at her, of reassuring himself that she wasn’t leaving.
She’d agreed to stay, to become his wife.
He needed to keep telling himself it was true. He hadn’t torched their relationship, after all. She still wanted him.
A fierceness rose in his chest.
This time, he’d ensure nothing stood in the way of their marriage.
Hamish Macquarie was dead. That seer’s prophecy had been right all along.
Hazel would be his downfall. And yet, the man had set his own course of destruction.
If he’d left his daughter alone, he’d still be alive now.
Instead, his paranoia, his lust for influence and power, set him on a road with only one end.
Craeg traced his fingertips down the swanlike line of her neck, to the outlines of her collarbones and the shallow valley between her pert, rose-tipped breasts. “Ye are lovely enough to make a man weep,” he said then, his voice choked.
A gentle smile curved her full lips. “Daft lad,” she chastised him gently, her own voice rough with emotion. “There are plenty of bonnier women out there.”
He shook his head. “Not in my eyes.” His hand splayed across the indentation of her belly button. “And I shall worship ye until ye agree with me.”
She gave another laugh, this one filled with sensual promise. “No, Craeg … it’s my turn to worship ye.” And with that, she sat up and gently pushed him onto his back. “I cannot ignore something so magnificent.”
His shaft thrust up between them like a standard.
Craeg snorted. “He’s a demanding bastard. As I said, don’t give him any—” His voice choked off as she leaned down and hungrily swallowed the swollen crown of his rod.
His body went rigid, heat flaring in his gut.
“Christ!”
Hazel ignored him; she was too busy drawing him into the heated cavern of her mouth, deeper, until the tip of him hit the back of her throat.
Her eyes watered then, yet she let out a low, animal groan and withdrew in a slow, sensual movement that made his fingers flex against the sheepskin, before plunging down on him once more.
He cursed. Loudly.
Hazel eagerly continued to work his rod, the play of her lips and tongue slowly unraveling him.
Before he knew it, Craeg was lifting his hips to meet her, marveling at how deep she was taking him and the raw sounds of pleasure she made as she devoured him.
His fingers tangled in her wild dark hair, helping guide her gently.
Reaching up, she pressed his hands harder against her scalp, urging him to be firmer. Rougher.
Surprise fluttered up. God’s teeth. She was earthy. Lusty and wild. He loved how natural she was with him.
Groaning, he tightened his hold, pushing her down his straining length, harder this time. His bollocks were aching now, heat pulsing low on his spine. He was close, yet he wanted more.
Pushing her down for one last, long taste, he then pulled her up.
Her mouth slid off his jerking prick, and she gave a cry of disappointment.
However, a moment later, she was on her hands and knees on the sheepskin, and he was driving into her from behind in savage thrusts. Hazel grabbed onto the sheepskin to brace herself, shoving herself back against him with each plunge.
Craeg reached down then, his fingers sliding between her thighs.
Her wetness made him gasp. His fingertips slid across the soft, slick petals of her sex, finding the hard pearl of flesh, rolling it between his finger and thumb.
Hazel gasped a bawdy curse that would have made a blacksmith blush, bucking hard against him, even as the walls of her quim clenched and pulsed down the length of his rod.
And then, Craeg’s own climax barreled into him, turning the world dark for a few moments.
The rasp of their breathing filled the chamber.
Holding himself braced above Hazel, Craeg traced a fingertip down the long sweep of her spine. Gripping her hips firmly, he withdrew from her, watching the point where their bodies joined. It was a lewd, erotic sight, one that made his already hammering pulse skitter.
His hunger for this woman was all-consuming.
Together, they collapsed on the sheepskins. Afterward, Craeg drew her against him so that her cheek lay on his chest, so that the dark curtain of her hair draped across him.
A contentment he’d never known in his one and twenty summers seeped through him then.
He was utterly at peace.
It didn’t matter what the future held; nothing could take this from him.
Hazel hadn’t spoken since they’d both climaxed in a wild storm that had left them shaken.
Instead, her fingers played with the dark curls on his chest. “Just so ye know … I wish to still work as a herb-wife at Moy,” she said then.
There was a slight edge to her voice, almost as if she expected him to try and deny her.
His mood shadowed a little then. Her response reminded him that he still had to fully earn her trust again. “Of course. We can extend the infirmary, if ye wish?”
Hazel lifted her head, her lips tugging into a smile. “I do … thank ye.”
He reached up and pushed a damp lock of hair off her cheek. “Ye have a gift, Hazel. I’d be a fool to prevent ye from using it. Moy and Lochbuie need yer skills.”
She nodded, as if testing the weight of his words.
“Ye will make a strong chieftain’s wife,” he said then, his voice lowering.
A faint blush rose to her cheeks. “I will stand by ye, always,” she replied. “Although ye will have to teach me a few things. I have no idea how to navigate my way in yer world.”
He smiled once more, his fingers lacing through hers upon his chest and squeezing tightly. “Just be yerself, my love,” he replied. “And all will be well.”