Chapter Nine
The next thing Dugald knew, Camille had disappeared in the crowd of the dance floor and Lady Sarah once again stood next to him. 'Slud, he was tired of dancing… at least this kind. He was hankering for a different sort of dance altogether with Camille… betwixt the sheets.
Grinding his teeth, he endured one more dance with the girl, then moved to the side of the dance floor. He could use some whisky, that was a certainty. He noticed MacVay standing beside the fireplace, drinking with another man. Dugald moved in that direction.
"Can I offer you a dram of whisky?" MacVay asked.
"Aye, indeed. I thank you."
MacVay poured him a bit in a small glass. The burning liquid slid down his throat and warmed his vitals. Not that he needed to be any hotter. Camille had already lit a bonfire within him.
Once the other man sauntered off, MacVay turned to him. "How dare you bring your French paramour to our home?" he asked in a hushed tone. "My daughter wants to marry you, but now I'm not sure I'll allow it."
"She is not my paramour," Dugald growled. Simply having one carnal encounter did not make a woman his paramour. Surely that implied a prolonged relationship.
"Come now, MacKerrick. I saw how you've watched her all evening. As if you wanted to pounce on her like a tasty morsel."
"That's ridiculous," Dugald said, even if what MacVay said was true. Dugald wanted to tell the whoreson off, but if he did, they'd all be kicked out in the rain at midnight. He would have to placate him until the morn, at least.
"I think not. My daughter is na?ve and innocent. She wouldn't notice what I do about the two of you."
"Regardless, the lady is not my paramour. I've only just met her. I'm taking her to her cousin's home near Perth. After that, I'll probably never see her again."
Damnation, why did that realization feel like a massive bull had gored his chest? To never see Camille again? He could not fathom it.
"I'm glad to hear it." MacVay sipped his whisky. "After you're rid of her, we'll discuss the marriage agreement again."
Like hell, Dugald thought. When he left in the morn, he was through with MacVay and his daughter. There were many other young ladies out there hoping for a chief for a husband. Surely, one of them would appeal more than Sarah.
But none of them would fascinate him as Camille did.
MacVay strode away and Dugald was glad. He scanned the room, searching for Camille but didn't see her.
Had she already gone up to her chamber? Noticing Sarah dancing with someone else, Dugald moved along the side of the dance floor away from her and stood for a moment by the spiral stone staircase.
Casually letting his gaze slide over the room, he didn't notice anyone watching him.
He slipped up the steps to the second floor above ground level.
He believed this was the one Camille had meant.
Thankfully, no one was in the dim corridor. He crept forward and noticed a slipper outside one door. Aye, 'twas hers. Excitement racing through him, he knocked lightly.
Moments later, Camille cracked open the door and smiled at him in the candlelight. A stunning feeling such as he'd never felt before burst through him. What was it? Happiness?
When she opened the door farther, he saw that she wore only her shift. Need rampaged through him, making him instantly hard as granite.
"What took you so long?" she whispered. Grasping his hand, she pulled him inside and closed the door. Saints, he liked her brazenness.
Taking no chances, he barred the door.
"I think Lady Sarah is smitten with you, monsieur," Camille said in a low tone.
"It matters not." He advanced on her, wanting to plant his lips on hers and silence her.
"She is looking for a wealthy husband."
"Without doubt. Aren't all unmarried ladies?
" Not giving her time to answer, he captured her lips.
Ah, her sweet taste, silken lips and mischievous tongue!
Feeling greedy and hungry, he wanted to devour her.
"You drove me to sheer madness during supper," he said between kisses.
He lifted her and deposited her on the bed, going down with her.
Camille felt scorched by Dugald's passion. This was exactly what she wanted—her own hard, hot-blooded and delectable Highlander plastered to her in bed. Dugald slid his warm hand up her thigh, pushing the silken shift out of his way, baring her hip, then higher, exposing her breasts.
"I've been craving you," he whispered, then locked his lips onto one nipple and drew it into his mouth. Delightful shivers raced over her skin. She gasped, burying her hands in his thick hair and holding him there until he'd ravished both breasts with his lips and tongue.
He moaned Gaelic words she couldn't understand and slowly moved down her body, kissing a trail, forcing her to relinquish her hold on him. Lest she go flying into the heavens, she grasped the pillow beneath her head and arched her back.
Dugald pushed her legs apart, then positioned himself on his elbow, observing that most intimate part of her in the candlelight. Groaning, he leaned in and stroked his tongue along her sensitive flesh.
"Dugald?" she gasped.
"Aye," he whispered, his hot breath teasing her. "'Tis sweeter than a strawberry tart." He proceeded to devour her much as he would a dessert, humming his approval.
The delight and desire which spiraled through her was more intense and spellbinding than any she had ever experienced.
Her back arched until it ached as she thrust herself more firmly against him.
"Ah! Mon amour," she whispered fiercely, trying to keep her voice down.
"Dugald." She breathed hard. "I cannot withstand it. "
He gave a brief chuckle. "Remember how you tormented me during supper?"
"I did naught but… touch your leg," she panted.
"Aye, but 'twas like lighting a cannon fuse," he growled, then thrust his wicked tongue within her.
Keen pleasure stabbed through her and she cried out.
"Shh," he hissed.
She covered her head with the pillow while he continued the erotic torture. When the overwhelming pleasure of la petite mort came over her, she held tightly to the pillow, hearing her own muffled screams and cries but unable to stop them.
Once her senses returned, she felt Dugald moving on the bed.
She shoved the pillow aside and saw that he was undressing.
An eager thrill overwhelmed her, for she wanted him so badly.
Within seconds, he'd tossed all his clothing to the floor.
Beautifully naked, he rose to his knees between her legs.
Grinning down at her like a rogue, he stroked his shaft against her most tender spot.
Need drove through her anew. How could she already want more? He made her insatiable!
She gasped. "Dugald, take me."
He hissed between his teeth and lowered his lashes. "Are you certain, lass?" His deep voice slid through her senses, seducing every fiber of her being.
"Oui, s'il vous plait!" she demanded.
"Shh. You must promise to be quiet."
She nodded, growing impatient. "Now," she whispered.
With one swift move, he plunged into her.
She cried out against the pillow and arched to him, lifting herself to meet his driving force. He framed her hips and thrust faster, harder, taking her mind, her reasoning. Intense pleasure bombarded her. She was shaking even before the next climax burst through her.
He paused and, once she came back to herself, breathing hard, staring up at him, he grinned and started moving again, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed.
Sacrebleu, she could not endure it!
"Dugald? Que faites-vous? What are you doing?"
He smirked playfully. "'Tis what you get for teasing me without mercy at the supper table."
"More pleasure than I can withstand?"
"Aye." He grinned like a demon and continued his sensual torment.
But she did not mind. In fact, her own arousal climbed to the heights again and she was soon demanding more.
After several more blissful moments, they joined in an astounding climax.
She could not believe how the passion exploded between them.
It was more than she'd ever imagined possible.
Certainly more than she'd ever experienced.
Breathing hard, Dugald dropped to the bed beside her and gathered her close into his arms. She felt so warm, safe and satiated. This was paradise, being held like this. She wanted to remain like this forever.
Camille must have dozed, for when she next became aware, her nose was pressed against Dugald's chest. She drew in a deep breath, savoring his masculine scent, then kissed his firm muscles, his hair tickling her lips. She flicked out her tongue against his small male nipple.
"Saints, lass," he hissed.
He liked that, did he? Well, she certainly enjoyed kissing every hard bulge and plane of muscle on his chest. His hand on her derriere, he dragged her hips flush to his. His erection pressed hard as stone against her lower belly.
Moving her hand down between them, she stroked her fingers along the solid length of him, then squeezed.
He moaned, which encouraged her to be even more wicked. She slid down, placing wee innocent kisses along the ridges of his abdomen, then flicked her tongue into his navel.
He muttered a curse and she smiled, excitement bolting through her.
As she neared his erection, his musky male scent intensified, intoxicating her, tempting her to do something she'd never done before, though she had heard about it. She kissed the tip of his erection, then boldly slid it into her mouth.
He growled her name along with curses as his muscles quivered and his hips shoved toward her. With his hand, he pushed her hair back and caressed her face, while she drew him even deeper into her mouth.
"Camille. You're killing me," he rasped, fierce and low.
Although she was inexperienced at giving a man this sort of pleasure, she could figure it out easily enough, given what she knew about carnal desires. She moved her mouth up and down on his shaft while holding the thick base and stroking it.