Chapter 20
Hew’s jaw fell open. He groaned as his long-neglected staff responded to her touch, pressing back against her groping fingers. Her warmth, her eagerness, her determination catapulted him to new levels of desire.
But long abstinence was making his response too sharp. Too swift. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed the attentions of a woman. And Carenza wouldn’t know what to expect. He was likely to explode all at once, frightening her with his passion and leaving her unsatisfied.
That was the last thing he wanted. Better he should sacrifice his own satisfaction than leave her unrequited. Safer anyway.
So, though it took all his willpower to resist, he gently pushed her hands away. Swiftly, before he could change his mind, he lifted her up, turning to seat her on the chair. Then he dropped to his knees before her.
Her eyes were languid. Her mouth was rosy and wet. He caught the back of her neck and tugged her forward for a long, slow, passionate kiss.
Then, releasing her, he reached down to catch the hem of her leine. He lifted it, exposing her slender, wool-stockinged ankles, pausing to see if she would stop him.
She didn’t.
He slid the linen slowly up her shins to where her stockings were tied.
Still she didn’t stop him.
When he rounded her knees, she gasped. But it wasn’t a protest. It was a gasp of anticipation.
Higher he slipped her leine, draping it above her knees, where the stockings ended and her flesh began. Then he moved his hands atop her knees to gently pry them apart.
She squeezed her eyes shut and instinctively resisted at first.
“May I?” he breathed.
After a moment, she nodded. Turning her blushing face shyly aside, she allowed him to spread her legs.
He bunched her leine around her hips then, completely exposing her to his view. Reaching his unbandaged hand behind her, he shifted her forward to the edge of the chair.
She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. Her legs were long and lissome, and the nest of curls at their apex was dark and delicate. He lowered his head, stroking one silken thigh while he kissed the inside of the other.
The higher he moved, closer to the core of her need, the faster and harder her breath came and the more she opened to him. Her yearning fed his own. It pulsed between his legs.
Finally he reached the damp warmth of her womanhood, steeped with mystery, fragrant with longing. Drunk on her desire, he nuzzled her curls, tenderly parted her supple petals, and took a tiny sip of her feminine nectar.
Carenza gasped. His touch felt like lightning. A current shocking her to life. Sizzling through her body. Making her writhe in a torment of pleasure.
Just as quickly, his tongue came to soothe the burn, bathing her flesh with a healing balm.
And yet, it wasn’t sweet relief she felt, but more exquisite torture. Like a punishing lash, he stroked her with his tongue again and again. And with each blow, she moaned in agony, sure she could endure no more.
She let her head fall back.
His breath was hot on her thighs.
Her face was hot with shame.
Nay, not shame. Something else.
Awe.
A great power was glowing inside her. A power he’d sparked the way flint sparked a fire. And now that he’d kindled the flames, there was nothing to stop her from bursting into a raging inferno.
She clutched the arms of the chair, fearful of what was to come.
But he clasped her fingers in his own, lending her reassurance. He would keep her anchored. He would keep her safe. He would be there for her.
She thought she could endure no more. But her body acted of its own accord. The power inside took control. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. She stilled as the flames roared higher and higher.
And then, with a taut squeal like a sleeping coal jabbed to life, she exploded into a thousand sparks. She gasped as waves of joy rocked her body and tossed her to and fro, shaking every last vestige of modesty from her.
How he managed to hold her, to keep her from flying in a thousand different directions, she didn’t know. The throes of her desire were powerful and demanding. She could no more control them than she could stop the rain from falling.
But she didn’t need to. Nobody but Hew was witness to her shattering. No one but he saw how she shuddered out of control, becoming a wild and wanton beast, and then gradually collapsed back into herself.
And he would safeguard her. He would keep her sins concealed. That the laird’s daughter, who always comported herself with dignity, grace, and calm, had allowed herself to become passion’s plaything would be their secret. No one else need ever know.
A sudden sharp knock at the door was all it took to destroy her sense of safety.
Panic leaped into her throat. She thrashed on the chair, freeing her hands and trying to tug her leine down.
“M’lady?” came a feminine voice.
Carenza opened her mouth to reply, not sure whether she should.
Hew scowled and put a finger to his lips. Then he whispered, “Who is it?”
“My maidservant,” she whispered back.
He nodded. This was clearly not the first time he’d had to cover an indiscretion.
He called out, “This is Sir Hew. Lady Carenza allowed me the privacy of the solar to bathe. I hope ’tis all right.”
There was a brief pause. Then she asked, “Do ye need help, m’lord?”
Carenza frowned. Did the saucy maid think while her mistress was away she could feast her eyes on the naked Rivenloch warrior? The man Carenza loved?
But Hew seemed amused by her expression. “Nay, thank you,” he replied. “I’m nigh finished.”
“What about linens for dryin’?” the maid asked.
Carenza’s frown deepened.
Hew’s grin widened.
“Nay,” he called back. Then he turned a smoky, adoring gaze on Carenza. “I have everything I require.”
At his words, Carenza’s jealousy dissolved.
When they were wed, she supposed she’d have to get used to lasses staring at her handsome figure of a husband. Just as he would have to get used to the men who ogled her.
But their love had nothing to do with what others saw.
The mask she wore as the well-behaved laird’s daughter was not her true self.
And it was the freedom and vulnerability to be exactly who she was without judgment—with all her naked flaws and faults, her shortcomings and her sins, her insecurities and her waywardness—that made their bond precious.
He pressed a fond kiss to her knuckles and smoothed her skirts back down over her legs before he stood to adjust his own clothing.
She stole a glance before he began to lace up his braies. Though his anatomy was as intriguing as ever, his proud lance had diminished now.
She felt a pang of regret. Hew had ignited in her the most beautiful bonfire. She still felt the ashes of passion drifting down around her. But she hadn’t been able to grant him the same gift. Time had run out, and now the moment was past.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He paused mid-lace. “Sorry? For what?” He looked wary, as if he thought she might be sorry for engaging in such behavior.
But nothing could be further from the truth.
“I’m sorry I could not repay ye in kind.”
He resumed lacing, and a wee smile played around his lips. “I assure you, ’twas nigh as pleasurable for me as for you.”
She knew that couldn’t be true. But it was kind of him to say so.
“Still, I would like to—”
“We dare not,” he interjected, firmly but gently. “I should not even have done…” He paused to let his eyes graze longingly over her body. “What I did.” He shook his head. “I leave for Kildunan on the morrow. And now I’ve made my time away from you even more painful.”
“Then don’t go,” she blurted out, even though she knew that was a ridiculous request.
“I have to go.” He slipped his leine on over his head. “You know that.”
She lowered her eyes and nodded.
He reached out to cup her chin. “But not a moment will pass when I’m not thinking about you.
About your bright eyes. Your sweet lips.
Your tender touch. The way you feel in my arms.” He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip and murmured, “I’ll miss your kiss and the warmth of your heart next to mine.
The softness of your breasts and the silkiness of your thighs.
” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “The taste of your womanhood upon my tongue.”
She gulped. Already she craved him again. How would she survive two fortnights without him? How would she survive a day?
“We have to find a way,” she croaked.
“A way?”
“A way to meet. I shall come to Kildunan.”
He gave her a chuckle as he pulled his plaid over his shoulder. “We’re absolutely not trysting in a monastery.”
She didn’t share his humor. The thought of waiting so long to be intimate with him again was unimaginable.
“It wouldn’t have to be a tryst,” she decided. “Surely we can at least meet somewhere for…conversation. Perhaps in the village.”
“’Tis too great a risk,” he said ruefully. “Father James has his eye on me. And you, my lady, can’t go anywhere without an escort. The laird’s daughter meeting the stranger from the monastery in the village?” He shook his head. “The gossip will spread like wildfire.”
He was right. She knew it. But that didn’t change the way she felt.
“Och, Hew,” she said as tears welled in her eyes, “I can’t bear the thought o’ bein’ away from ye for so long.” She retrieved his brooch and came forward to pin his plaid. “How can fate be so cruel as to tear ye from my side when I’ve only just begun to love ye?”
Like a magical incantation, her words broke the last link of chain mail surrounding Hew’s heart, leaving it completely unprotected. Now she could hurt him. Now she could pierce it with Cupid’s arrow and leave him bleeding.
But as he always did, he couldn’t stop himself from wagering everything on his heart. His love for Carenza felt so unique, so pure, so true, he convinced himself this time things would be different.
And as always, when he felt this way—over his head in the deep ocean of romance—his judgment was faulty.