Chapter 15
Iain was pouring himself a tumbler of whisky when the object of his thoughts entered. It looked as if he were going to fill the whole tumbler with the strong, fiery spirit, and she almost opened her mouth to tell him to stop, then she thought better of it.
He had been so enraged when he chopped the straw dummy to pieces that she was afraid some of that anger was still with him, and he might use it against her. She doubted he would hit her, but she was just as disturbed by his roars of rage.
“Claire,” Iain said irritably, “Today is not a good day for your games—please take your books and go.”
During the whole time he had been speaking, Iain had not turned to face Claire, but had resolutely kept his back to her.
In truth, he was afraid, not of Claire, but of himself. She was standing in front of him dressed in simple maid’s clothes, but she still managed to look as if she had just stepped out of one of his dreams.
And then, he felt furious again that he was not being given the chance to choose his own bride and follow his own path to happiness. He was a senior member of the clan, but he was being dictated to, ordered around like a servant, a child or a pet dog.
“What if I don’t want to go?” Claire asked.
Her voice was calm, and this infuriated Iain, who whipped around to face her, his eyes were dark with anger, darker than Claire had ever seen them before. She stood her ground unflinchingly, however, meeting his gaze without a blink.
“I do not have the time nor the inclination to play with you today, Claire,” Iain said furiously. “Please leave. I have business to attend to.”
“Have I said or done something wrong?” Claire asked. “If I have, please tell me what it is and I will put it right.”
Iain leaned back and let out a long breath of frustration. “Claire, you have not done anything wrong except for getting on my last nerve with your persistence,” he replied, trying to sound calm even though he felt as though a thunderstorm had begun inside him.
He tossed back the rest of his whisky and thumped the glass down on his desk, almost breaking it. However, he found that he felt no better; if anything, the tempest had intensified.
“I do not believe you.” Claire’s voice was firm. “I have done something to displease you.”
Iain straightened up, pulling his shoulders back, thrusting his chest out so that he looked even bigger than he already was.
He took a step towards Claire, expecting her to take one step back, but she did not move an inch.
She was stubbornness personified, he thought, but it was one of the qualities that made her so desirable.
“You have done nothing except to be yourself,” he answered at last. His face was so close to Claire’s now that their lips were only inches apart. “And I find you almost impossible to resist. I kissed you once before, but this time I may find it impossible to stop, Claire. I am afraid… of myself.”
“You might harm me, then?” Claire’s voice showed the faintest trace of fear. They both knew what kind of harm she meant.
“No, Claire,” he answered. “I told you before that I would never, never harm you, and I meant it. I would harm anyone who tried to hurt you, but that someone would not be me.”
He turned and walked away from her to lean on his armchair again, leaving Claire feeling completely bereft.
“For the last time, Claire, you should leave,” Iain told her without looking at her.
But once again, she didn’t move an inch, only stared at him.
In a moment, Iain turned rapidly and covered the distance between them in two long strides.
He cupped Claire’s face in his hands, and their eyes met for a second before he kissed her.
It was not gentle as their lips collided with each other forcefully, hungrily, igniting a storm of passion inside both of them that neither wanted to contain.
Claire felt the hard ridge of Iain’s arousal against her belly, and he relished the feel of Claire’s full breasts against his chest. After a few moments, they drew apart reluctantly to recover their breath, only to look into each other’s eyes and kiss again.
This time it was equally rapturous as they ravaged each other’s mouths, tongues tangling, bodies pressed together forcefully.
Claire could never have imagined anything like it.
This must be like heaven, she thought as she drew away from Iain and looked up into his ice-blue eyes, now dark with desire.
He was so strikingly handsome, the epitome of male beauty, and everything that was feminine in her called out to his sheer masculinity.
Iain, drowning in the warmth of Claire’s honey-gold eyes, he felt almost powerless to resist his attraction to her. This woman had the ability to reduce him to the status of her slave, but strangely, he had no objection to that.
When Iain smiled at her, a slow, wicked smile, Claire laughed softly. “My Laird,” she said, her voice low and suggestive. “That is no way to look at one of your maidservants.”
Iain laughed, his eyes twinkling. “I think we both know you are more than my maidservant now, Claire.”
“What am I then?” she asked, feeling a stab of apprehension.
Iain pulled her close. “You are my special,” he replied, his voice low and husky. “And if you let me, I am going to show you how special you are.”
For a moment, Claire was puzzled, then she felt the shaft of his manhood pressing into her even harder than before, and realisation hit her so forcefully that her knees weakened. He wanted to make love to her.
The notion was thrilling, but terrifying. She tried to step back, but Iain’s arms had too tight a hold on her, and when she looked up into his eyes, she saw that the expression in them was warm and gentle.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Claire,” he whispered. “I will never hurt you. All I want to do is give you pleasure. Will you let me?”
Claire looked at him for another moment, feeling something wild rise inside her. “Yes,” she breathed.
Iain smiled as he let go of her to shrug off his shirt, and she could see his chest, which was lightly dusted with dark hairs, moving up and down with his panting breath. The sight suddenly gave her the urge to touch him.
When she spread her hands across his hard, flat muscles, she felt a pleasant rasping under her palms as the bristly strands rubbed against them.
Iain moaned with pleasure as he felt Claire’s hands on his flesh, hands that had once been soft and pampered, but were now rough and coarsened with hard work. He did not mind, though, as her palms skimmed over his chest; she had no idea of the pleasure he was about to give her.
“Turn around,” he whispered.
Claire obeyed, and Iain began to undo the buttons at the back of her dress. When he had undone enough of them, he pushed the sleeves down over her shoulders, then slid his hands down inside the garment to cup her breasts in both hands.
Claire gasped as Iain’s thumbs gently circled her nipples, causing a jet of sweet sensation to shoot straight to her core. His big hands were infinitely gentle, and Claire leaned her head back against his neck, moaning with delight. She heard him breathing and felt him smiling against her.
“Good?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling next to her ear.
“So good,” Claire breathed.
Gently, Iain turned her around to face him then kissed her again, this time slowly and tenderly, sliding the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders as he did so. He unlaced her chemise so that her breasts were bare and open to his view, and he feasted his eyes on them.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
He lowered his mouth to one of Claire’s sensitive peaks, circling it with his tongue tip before suckling it for a few seconds, then scraping it gently with his teeth.
Meanwhile, he teased the other breast with his thumb and forefinger before switching sides, and Claire cried out in pure delight as bolts of heavenly sensation shot down to her core.
She plunged her hands into Iain’s thick black hair to stop him raising his head because she wanted him to stay where he was forever.
When he had finished teasing her, Iain stood up straight and looked at Claire with a strange expression in his eyes. He was unsure if she would enjoy what he wanted to do next, but there was only one way to find out.
He backed her up until she was against the desk of the elaborate library, then lifted her onto it, smiling wickedly as he did so. He pushed her skirt up to her hips and spread her legs apart, and her first instinct was to try to close them again.
“What are you doing?” she asked, feeling a little afraid.
“Nothing you won’t like,” he assured her, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “But if you want me to stop, tell me and I will, Claire, I promise. I would never do anything without your consent.”
With that, he knelt before her, then, starting at her knees, he placed tiny, tender kisses up one leg all the way to the top of her thighs to her drawers, then switched sides.
Then he gently pulled off her drawers and dropped them onto the floor before looking up at her again. “Do you trust me, Claire?” he asked, placing another kiss on her inner thigh.
Claire could only whimper and nod in answer, almost losing her mind from the anticipation. Iain dipped his head down to her sex, which was hot, wet and ready for him.
Claire jumped, startled, as she felt Iain’s tongue sweep once, twice, three times through her folds, then she cried out as she felt first one of his fingers, then two, push inside her.
Her flesh was stretching, but it was delightful, not painful, and as he began to thrust in and out, in and out in a regular rhythm, Claire felt herself begin to tense in anticipation—of what?
She jumped as she felt Iain’s tongue swirling around the most sensitive part of her body, then something else was happening, something the likes of which she had never felt before.
She had educated herself on the matter of sexual satisfaction, but she had never imagined it would feel like this. Iain was nibbling, suckling and licking the nub of flesh that was the tenderest, most sensitive part of her body.
As he worked his magic, Claire felt as though she was being tortured in a way that was almost unbearably sweet. This beautiful man was not only pleasuring her, he was taking her to heaven.
When he removed his fingers from inside her and replaced them with his tongue, Claire felt wanton and wicked, as if she was indulging in something forbidden, completely taboo, and yet she was revelling in it. If this was bad, then she never wanted to be good again!
A moment later, her resolution was confirmed as she felt a wave of indescribable pleasure sweeping over her, starting at her core and spreading to every nerve ending in her body. She cried out again, then Iain stood up and kissed her, letting her taste her own moisture on his lips.
Claire’s whole body was quivering, and when she looked up into Iain’s eyes, they were shining with an emotion she had never seen before.
“Good?” he asked huskily, looking down into Claire’s face, which was a study in amazement.
“Wonderful,” she said breathlessly. She waited a few moments, then asked, “And what can I do for you, my Laird?”
She reached forward and touched the front of his kilt, where the bulge of his arousal was still visible. Then, without waiting for an answer, Claire slid from the desk to stand in front of him, then she knelt down and pulled up his kilt, to see the hard shaft of his manhood.
When Claire felt the skin on Iain’s shaft, she was surprised to find it as soft as velvet, but the slightest touch of her hand was enough to make it twitch and consequently make Iain tremble.
Iain gasped as Claire took hold of him. It had been so long since a woman had touched him, and he could hardly remember how glorious it was. He felt Claire’s fingers grasping him firmly, then she began to pump him up and down, making him moan with rising delight as she worked him towards a climax.
He groaned, thrusting his hips forward, then Claire did the last thing he expected as she closed her lips around his mouth and began to suck him. He joined both hands around her head, urging her on, faster and harder until the pleasure inside him peaked and became impossible to sustain.
“Oh, god, Claire! Don’t stop… Don’t… Aaah!” he cried, as he pulled out of her mouth and spilled his seed away from her.
Claire stood up, smiling with satisfaction that she had managed to give him what he gave her in return.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Iain asked. “Has there been someone else?”
Claire laughed. “From a book, of course,” she replied. “I don’t just read silly romances and adventure stories, my Laird. I taught myself many things, although that is the first time I have used that kind of knowledge.”
“I am happy I was the one you got to practise on, Claire,” Iain said, grinning. He put his arms around her and held her close for a moment.
“I am happy too, my Laird,” she assured him.
“Call me Iain when we’re alone,” he told her, then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her again.
It began gently, but deepened into something fiery and intense, and when it was over, they stood for a long time in each other’s arms, both of them unwilling to let go.