Nessa’s Seduction by Jayne Castel

35

MY WILD SCOTTISH LASS

“WHERE ARE WE going?” Nessa asked, clinging to Hugh as he entered the great hall, made his way past a group of stunned-looking servants, an older woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Hugh, and a small brown-haired woman with a pregnant belly, and started up the stairs to the first floor of the rectangular keep.

“To my solar,” he replied. “Away from prying eyes.”

Excitement arched through Nessa, the sensation so strong that her breathing caught.

Hugh didn’t need to say anything else. She knew what he intended.

Moments later, they were inside the solar. Richly woven mats covered the stone floor, and tapestries of hunting scenes hung from the pitted walls. A large hearth burned at one end of the generous space. At the other hung a heavy curtain, beyond which was, presumably, the lord of Grosmont’s bed-chamber.

They didn’t get that far.

Hugh let Nessa down, allowing her body to slide over his as he did so. And then he spun her around, pressing Nessa against the door as his mouth captured hers.

She drank him in, devouring his lips and his tongue with her own. The kiss was savage, hungry—a song of how much they’d both missed each other. Reaching up, Nessa wrapped her arms around his neck, as she’d done during their last kiss back at Stirling.

But then, they’d had an audience—and then the embrace had been tinged with sadness.

This time, she pulled him against her, reveling in the feel of his large, muscular body. His time away from the fighting, and the injuries he’d recovered from, hadn’t weakened Hugh de Burgh at all.

She thrilled at his strength, his masculinity, at the possessive way his hands removed her cloak, tossed it aside, and then ran down the length of her back. Gripping her backside, he pulled her hips to his, grinding his arousal into her.

Wild need caught fire in the cradle of Nessa’s belly.

How she craved him.

Back in Dunfermline, back when they’d hardly known each other at all, Hugh had been a leisurely lover, taking his time with her. But neither of them wanted that today.

This was a claiming, one that couldn’t be delayed a moment longer.

Their clothing came off, the garments rippling to the floor, the rasp and pant of their breathing filling the solar.

And then when he’d stripped Nessa’s clothing away, save for her hose, Hugh took a step back, his gaze raking over her. Likewise, Nessa drank him in, taking in the breadth of his chest, the whorls of crisp hair that covered it—angling down to his belly—and the erection that thrust toward her.

“Hades,” Hugh ground out. “I’ve missed you.”

Nessa flung herself at him, her mouth bruising his, her fingers splaying across his strong chest. Lust drove all coherent thought from her mind. She couldn’t speak; she could only reach for him.

Hugh kissed her back, his hands reaching up to remove the veil from her hair and loose the bun.

Drawing back a moment to view her hair as it rippled down over her shoulders, his mouth curved. “That’s better,” he rasped. “That’s how I remember my wild Scottish lass.”

Nessa huffed a shaky laugh, her blood roaring in her ears. “I wanted to do ye proud, Hugh … to appear before ye looking a little like a lady.”

He snorted. “I don’t need you to change, my love. I want you exactly as you are.”

And with that, his mouth claimed hers once more.

Still kissing her, Hugh picked Nessa up, carrying her to the large oaken table that dominated the solar. There, he sat her down as he gently peeled off her hose, caressing the curve of her calves as he did so. Nessa watched him, aching for him.

Hugh then spread her thighs wide and drew back, his gaze devouring her. “Lovely,” he whispered hoarsely. “Are you really mine?”

“Aye,” she whispered. “Claim me, Hugh.”

Needing no further encouragement, he reached for her. His big hands stroked her breasts, lifting them to his hungry mouth as he suckled her. Nessa writhed under him before wrapping her legs around his hips, drawing him to her.

She couldn’t wait. She had to have him buried deep inside her.

Reaching down, her fingers wrapped around the thick girth of his shaft. His rod pulsed eagerly as she gripped him, guiding him. And when he slid into her, Nessa let out a deep groan, her head falling back.

Maiden’s blood, how she’d yearned for this. How she’d yearned for him.

Hugh buried himself to the hilt, yet Nessa tightened her grip around his hips, drawing him in deeper still. She then circled her hips, whimpering at the pleasure that now pulsed through her loins. She cried out his name, and he groaned hers.

Gripping hold of her thighs, Hugh unwrapped her legs from around his hips, parting her wider still while he withdrew almost entirely from her. He took her then in slow, deep thrusts. Propping herself up, hands splayed across the scrubbed surface of the oaken table, Nessa arched her hips up to meet him.

They fitted together perfectly, and the feel of him, iron-hard, sliding into her softness, her heat, unraveled the last of her restraint. She sobbed out his name once more, her body trembling while wetness erupted deep within her.

Nessa reached up then, clinging to his shoulders. But Hugh didn’t let up. Sweat glistened upon his body as he took her, continuing in slow, deliberate strokes, his gaze fused with hers.

The intimacy of it caused another sob to rise within her. The love, the tenderness in his hazel eyes, undid her entirely.

“You are mine, Nessa,” he ground out, a nerve flickering upon his cheek. She could feel tension vibrating through his big body as he fought his release. “Say it.”

“I’m yers,” she whispered, her voice catching. “I’m yers, Hugh … for always.”

He let himself go then, as she wrapped her legs about him once more, arching up so that he could drive deeper still. It was as if he wished to lose himself within her.

And he did.

Hugh’s eyes fluttered shut, the expression upon his face almost pained as he gave himself up to her, to the passion that stole both their breaths. She urged him on, never taking her gaze from him, clinging to her lover when his body went rigid.

An instant later, Hugh flung back his head and—for the first time in all the occasions they’d coupled—roared his pleasure.

Lying upon the bed naked, sweat-slicked limbs tangled, Nessa and Hugh recovered from the storm of passion that had just broken over them. After their coupling, Hugh had carried Nessa into his bed-chamber.

They lay in silence for a bit, while they both recovered their wits. Then, murmuring an oath, Hugh rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes. Nessa propped herself up onto one elbow, viewing him under hooded lids. The man was a delight to look upon.

Hugh’s chest still rose and fell sharply in the aftermath of their passion.

“I swear my heart will give out if we do too much of that,” he eventually murmured.

Nessa laughed before she traced a line with her fingertips from the hollow beneath his neck, down his chest and belly, to where his shaft had started to stir once more. “Really? The rest of yer body disagrees, I believe.”

Hugh removed his arm from over his eyes, viewing her with a lopsided smile. “I’m not a lusty lad of eighteen, Nessa … I can’t go all night.”

She snorted, stroking her fingertips over his stiffening rod. “We shall see about that, Sir Hugh.”

He grasped her wrist then, pulling her up so that she lay on top of him. Grinning down at him, while at the same time acutely aware of his arousal pressed against her belly, Nessa’s gaze met Hugh’s.

He stared up at her, his mouth curving. Yet his gaze was limpid, tender. “You’re a wicked woman,” he murmured. “What am I to do with you?”

She lowered her eyelashes. “I can think of plenty of things.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest, although he caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he said huskily. “I’d resigned myself to having nothing more than memories.”

“So had I,” she whispered. “But I set myself free.” She paused then, noting the confusion in his eyes. “If we are to be wed this eve, Hugh, then there can be no more secrets between us. I must tell ye of my past … the real story.”

Hugh nodded, his gaze never leaving hers as he waited for her to continue.

Nessa inhaled deeply. “As I told ye, I was a foundling … abandoned by my parents to the woods. However, it wasn’t a hermit who found me, but a druidess … a woman who heads an ancient order. She raised me, and many others, as her daughter … and taught me her craft.” Nessa paused then, relieved to see that Hugh’s expression hadn’t altered. He wasn’t angry at her—not yet anyway. “We are the Guardians of Alba,” she said softly, “and now that I have been released from the oaths I swore, I can speak to ye of the order. Over the centuries, the Guardians have protected Scotland from invaders. That is why our paths crossed … why I tricked ye as I did … and why I was bid to return to ye en route to Stirling.”

Hugh swallowed. “And that’s why I’m alive.” He cast her a rueful look. “The physician told me I should have bled out from those injuries, yet I lived to see the dawn … because of your craft.”

Nessa nodded. “So, ye aren’t angry?”

“Why would I be?”

“I’m a witch, Hugh. Do ye wish to wed such a woman?” Fear fluttered up within Nessa as she spoke. Yet she had to say it; she had to know.

“That’s only part of who you are, my love,” Hugh replied softly, reaching up and brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead. “Just as being a knight is only a part of me. Perhaps we both let those roles define us … for too long. But those chapters of our lives are done with. Edward released me from service, and you have left your order.” He halted then, his throat bobbing. “Maybe that is what makes us right for each other … we’re both loyal, Nessa. But now it’s time we looked to ourselves … our own happiness.”

She favored him with a soft smile. “Aye … ye English will continue to harry my countrymen, with or without ye leading them.” Her smile faded as she imagined Fyfa at Stirling and Breanna helping to ready the order for what was to come. “And my sisters will continue the fight for Scottish freedom.”

“We both gave our lives to the things we believe in,” he replied, his hand cupping her face, the pad of his thumb caressing her lower lip. “And now it’s time to let others continue in our stead. I no longer wish to devote myself to the glory of England. I wish to give my loyalty to you.”

She stared down at him, tenderness and love swelling in her breast so keenly that it made her chest ache. “And I will gladly accept it,” she whispered.

Hugh favored her with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The moment drew out, and then he reached down, smacking her lightly across the bottom.

“Well, then, we’d better get ourselves up and dressed.” His smile widened at Nessa’s affronted look. “The priest awaits … and I’m eager to be wedded.”