Chapter Seventeen
And what is that?”
The sweet huskiness of his lady’s voice slid through Ronan like honeyed wine. He stepped closer to her, letting his gaze rake
her up and down.
He almost envied his plaid.
Its soft woolen folds clung seductively to her lush, curvaceous body, the tartan — his very own — molding the generous swells
of her breasts and the ripe sweep of her well-rounded hips in ways that were dangerous for a man.
Especially a Highlander.
“ So-o-o?” She tossed back her hair. “What are you going to do to me?”
Ronan didn’t trust himself to speak.
Not that she needed his answer anyway. The flash in her eyes and the way she bit her lower lip revealed that she already knew.
She stood before him glowing and unafraid, her plaid-wrapped body gilded by firelight. His heart caught and the air around
him ignited, his need to have her beneath him almost bringing him to his knees.
“I do have an idea.” She pressed him, this time moistening her lips, letting him catch a quick look at the tip of her sweet,
pink tongue. “Can it be what I hope?”
Her eagerness pushed him over the edge and he tossed his shirt to the rushes, closing the space between them with three long
strides.
Reaching for the plaid, he hooked his fingers into its warmth and stared down at her, his blood alive and his heart thundering.
His entire body burned and he craved every sweet inch of her, ached to run his hands all over her naked skin, kissing and
licking her everywhere.
“Well?” She wet her lips again.
“Ach, lass,” he almost snarled, “I’m more of a mind to show than tell you.”
With one swift flick of his wrists, he jerked the tartan off her and tossed it aside. “Do you know what it’s done to me, watching
you prance about the room, naked in my colors?”
“So it’s my own good self in your plaid that brought you around?” She twirled in a deliciously bare circle, her eyes lighting
with delight. “And here I thought it would be my golden hip-belt and siren bauble that would sway you.”
“You swayed me! And if you think otherwise, then you know naught of a Highlander’s passion!” He grabbed her by the shoulders,
yanking her close for a hot, demanding kiss.
“I burn for you,” he vowed, speaking the words against her cheek. “I have done since that first day I saw you — in mist on
a slender sickle of shingled strand!”
“Ronan . . .” She spoke his name like a benediction, her soul breaking on his need for her.
She was falling into him, spiraling ever deeper into her love for him, losing herself while gaining so much. Her heart trembled
and sweet belonging rippled through her, sealing their bond.
“Lass.” The endearment made her shiver.
He thrust his hands into her hair and kissed her again, deeper this time, all the desire in him plundering and devouring her
lips. She cried out and opened her mouth beneath his, her tongue tangling wildly with his. Leaning into him, she melted with
her sighs, let him drink his fill of her breath and intoxicate himself on the taste of her.
“You have no need of adornments,” he panted, breaking away to drop to his knees before her on the discarded plaid. “Leave
such gee-gaws for a man unable to appreciate a woman’s sleek, hot flesh and all her lively allures. It is you, lass, and you
alone, who stirs me.”
He slid his hands around her hips, digging his fingers into her curves and drawing her close. “Your siren bauble is fine,”
he assured her, rubbing his face against the softness of her belly, “but it is this I couldn’t resist!” He looked up at her,
his gaze smoldering as he pressed his lips to her naked skin then dragged his mouth lower, raining kisses across her fragrant
female curls.
“Sweet lass — forgive me, but I canna resist you.” He tightened his grip on her, grinding his face against her heat. “I tried,
I swear, but —”
“ No-o-o!” Gelis twined her fingers in his hair, pressing him to her. “ ’Tis right and good, I say you! Everything between
us.”
“Then dinna deny me . . .” He ran his hands up and down her legs, kissed and nipped the inside of her thighs, circling ever
higher until his tongue teased round her most sensitive spot, that one heated swirl splitting her.
“Ach, gods!” she cried, her back arching when he continued to flick his tongue there. “What are you doing?”
“Naught that I willna be enjoying the whole night through!” He licked her then, a long-broad-tongued sweep the full tingling
length of her.
Looking up at her, he held her gaze, his own smoldering. “All that I’d heard of you did you no justice,” he breathed, the
words warm silk against her flesh. “I dinna think I’ll e’er be able to sate myself on you.”
“Then . . .” Gelis couldn’t speak. Just seeing his face poised so close to her feminine ache sent threads of delicious golden
warmth spinning through her.
Desire thrummed the air and he leaned closer again, his mouth less than a whisper away, but she could feel his tongue on her
even without touching, the sensation making her heart beat faster.
“You taste like molten honey.” He eased her thighs wider apart, licked her more fully. “I canna breathe for wanting you, need
your taste on the back of my tongue, your scent branded into my skin.”
“ Then — ach dia!” She jumped when his tongue parted her, its hot velvety tip slipping inside her.
He swept his hands up her sides to knead and plump her breasts, his thumbs sliding back and forth over her nipples as he licked
her center again, once more swirling his tongue over and around that sweet wee place that made such intense pleasure pulse
between her legs.
“Then what, lass?”
His voice a deep, sensual growl, he pulled back to peer up at her, his hand replacing his tongue, caressing and rubbing her
intimately. “I’ve told you — I am lost. Tell me your desire, and it is yours, I swear it.”
“Then make me yours.” She rushed the words, blurting them before his stroking fingers made her burst and shatter into thousands
of tiny, mind-numbing pieces.
Already she was spinning, the whole of her world whirling tighter and tighter until nothing remained but that bright, hot-throbbing
pulse at her core.
But her heart beat just as fiercely, and even through such blinding pleasure, she wanted more.
“Take me now, this night.” She pushed to her feet while she still could. “Unless” — she reached for his hand, the gesture
pleading — “unless you fear sealing our handfast?”
“I fear naught but losing you!” He grabbed her hand and upturned it, kissing the soft warmth of her palm. “That, and . . .
hurting you.”
“I know there will be discomfort.” She reached for him, curling her fingers around his need. “The greater pain would be missing
it,” she said, squeezing.
It was more than he could bear.
“Then so be it!”
He made to gather her in his arms, meaning to carry her to the bed, but she dropped onto the spread plaid, lying back and
opening her arms to him.
“Here, on your plaid.” She looked up at him, her eyes glittering in the candlelight. “I’d have you love me in the old way
— in honor of our hills and the ancients so that they might bless our union.”
“You bless us, sweetness.” Ronan bent to tug off his boots, then shoved down his hose, kicking them aside. He stretched out
alongside her, certain she was indeed his blessing.
He only hoped he could be hers as well.
But then she circled her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her and all thought fled. Only his need to bury himself
deep inside her remained. Burning with it, he shifted, covering her body with his. He kissed her long and hard, almost spilling
when she lifted her knees and clamped her legs tightly around him.
She rocked her hips, moving so that his hardness slid across her, the length of him pressing hotly against her slick, wet
heat.
He reached down between them, seeking that place again, rubbing and circling until she began to tremble and gasp with pleasure.
And always, he kissed her, slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her deeply, sharing breath and letting his tongue tangle
with hers until he could wait no more and a great shudder rolled through him, driving him dangerously close to losing control.
“Now, Ronan!” she gasped as if she knew.
“I must, lass.” He lifted up to look into her eyes. “I can stop no more.”
And then he plunged into her, her sharp cry muffled by his kisses. He froze, holding still for a few tight, agonizingly beautiful
moments, then began moving slowly, filling her inch by inch until he’d buried himself so deeply inside her he was sure he’d
brushed her soul.
“My Raven . . .” She raised her hips, intensifying their joining, then cried out when he lowered his head and began suckling
her nipples as he started moving in and out of her.
Slow smooth glides, long and deep.
And still he kept a hand just there, his finger circling faster now, in sweet hot rhythm with his pumping hips. His strokes
came harder and faster now, plunging deep, while the exquisite tingles streaming out from that other place dampened the dull
pain inside her, spinning her closer and closer to a brilliant edge looming ever nearer each time his finger swirled over
her.
Then his finger stopped circling and he cried out, a great stinging heat flooding her even as she sped over that glittering
edge, shattering and spinning, her own cry blending with his as she slowly drifted back down onto his plaid and the night-darkened
room once again took shape and form around them.
“Oh, dear saints,” she gasped when she could speak.
“Sweet lass . . . you are magnificent.” He’d stilled on top of her, but he rolled off her now, gently drawing her into his
arms to cradle her against him. “But I am sorry for the hurt —”
“The wonder of it more than made up for the pain.” She twisted around to kiss him. “And I . . . I knew what to expect,” she
added, sighing when he smoothed a hand down over her hip to toy softly with her damp maiden curls.