Devil in a Kilt by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

Chapter 26

Gradually, Linnet became aware of the mussed sheets beneath her, and the heavy weight of her husband sprawled atop her. His heart pounded, too. She could feel its thudding against her breast.

She also felt his gaze upon her.

Opening her eyes, a task that seemed a tremendous exertion, she found him staring down at her, his face mere inches from hers.

He raised himself on his elbows, but said nothing, only lifted a brow.

Linnet didn’t need her gift to know what he wanted to hear. She’d grown up around too many brothers not to recognize the look a man wears when questing for praise.

She tried to speak, then to smile, but was too drained to offer him more than the weakest of smiles.

“Were you pleased?” he asked, his self-satisfied expression leaving no doubt he already knew the answer.

“Aye,” she gasped, her breath still ragged. “It was startling at first.”

“And then?”

“I think you know.”

“Tell me.”

“It was … ah …” she stalled, snuggling closer against his side. “I’ll tell you I’ve learned why my sisters would e’er blush and grow silent each time I asked them about things.”

“What things?” he persisted, a gleam in his eyes.

“I vow you know, my lord.” She trailed the tip of one finger down his chest. “You only wish me to say it.”

“Aye, I do.” He captured her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each fingertip. “And will you?”

“Must I?”

“Nae, but hearing the words would please me.” He turned her hand, placing a soft kiss in the middle of her palm.

“Very well.” Her cheeks flamed to speak of such intimate matters, especially while she quivered at the touch of his tongue flicking across her hand and the base of her wrist. “I mean the sort of things I feel when you touch me thusly.”

“How thusly?” he asked, almost too softly. “Do you mean so?”

“Sir!” Linnet jerked when he gently rolled the crest of one breast between his thumb and middle finger.

Heat shot straight to her most sensitive places, bringing back the intensely exciting feelings that had only just faded. Her nipple hardened beneath his fingers, and the same languid waves of pleasure began stealing through her all over again, making her melt in his arms.

“I see your meaning, lady. Your lusty response speaks louder than words.”

She glanced at him, embarrassed and aroused at the same time. “Lusty? Me?”

“Aye, you, and I cannae recall when a lass has pleased me more.” He gazed deep into her eyes, stoking her passion by continuing to caress her breasts as he spoke.

His hands on her, working such delicious magic, while he held her captive with the heat of his gaze was almost more than she could bear. “Sir, I dinnae think I can-ohhh …” her words trailed off as he replaced his fingers with his lips.

When he finally raised his head, a slow smile spread across his usually stern features, and Linnet’s breath caught in her throat at the sight.

She’d suspected his smiles would be deadly, but never, until this moment, had she guessed how breathtakingly handsome he truly was.

Even his half brother Kenneth whose looks were so noble and fine, paled by comparison. How blind she must’ve been that day in the yew grove to think him the bonnier of the two.

“… and do you still doubt I find you desirable?” His words came to her as if through a passion-induced haze, a spell he seemed to have cast over her.

He’d bewitched her, turned her from a simple and virtuous maid into a brazen wanton. His touch filled her with longings so strong, so undeniable, she might scream if he didn’t soon resume his stimulating attentions.

“Is aught amiss?” he asked, his voice half-teasing. “Have I not yet proven my ardor to you?” As he spoke, he began caressing the sensitive skin of her belly, moving his fingers in slow, sensuous circles. “Do you require more proof?”

“Yes, please,” she blurted, feeling much the harlot, but not caring.

“Then so be it. Many are the ways I can show you. But first we shall bathe.”

Sliding from the bed, Duncan drew the coverlet carefully over her, so she wouldn’t catch a chill. But, were he completely truthful, he also sought to shield her sweet body from him, if only for a few moments.

Just long enough to regain hold of his emotions.

Holy gods! Emotions. Duncan recoiled inwardly. He hadn’t thought he possessed any, believed himself incapable of falling prey to such foolhardiness.

Yet his lady’s passionate response to him, her sheer innocence and desire to please, had awakened a part of his soul he’d much prefer to keep dormant.

Although he felt her gaze on him as he busied himself lighting a few candles, he didn’t turn around and wouldn’t until his barriers were safely erected again – or at least bolstered a bit.

Kneeling to stoke the dying fire, he fought to brace himself against the maelstrom she’d unleashed within his hitherto well-guarded inner self.

Unbelievable, the ease with which she’d made him forget he didn’t want to care, to feel again.

His lady wife with her angel’s smile and unbridled, wild-blooded passion, had brushed aside his defenses as if they were no more substantial than cobwebs.

By the ancients, the mere act of looking into her eyes, seeing the trust and adoration there, was enough to bring any man to his knees. For a man like himself, long shunned and feared by the fairer sex, ‘twas a potent brew she stirred.

Duncan bit back a bitter oath.

He didn’t want to be adored.

Trusted, aye. Desired in a carnal way, of a certainty. But not adored.

Not in the way she understood such things. Soon she’d be all misty-eyed and talking of love if he did not tread carefully.

Lust was what he felt for her.

And all he meant to share with her.

Lust.Pure and simple.

Naught else.

So why did his infernal knees go weak when she turned those gold-flecked eyes on him? Why had it been so hard to pull himself from her arms just now?

Getting to his feet, he dusted the soot from his knees, brushed a few clinging sprigs of meadowsweet from his calves.

Anything to prolong turning around.

By all that’s holy, he’d only meant to fetch water and a cloth to cleanse the blood from her thighs, yet he’d found it nigh onto impossible to wrest himself from her side.

Worse, and by far the most dangerous aspect, was his inclination to climb back into bed with her now and simply hold her. Not take his ease again, but gently draw her into his arms and await the dawn with her curled against him.

Such desires could wreak more havoc than the strongest pull in a man’s loins, cause more trouble than bedding a dozen willing tavern wenches.

He wanted no part of such fool notions.

Duncan drew in a long breath. Linnet MacDonnell was more than he’d bargained for.

Much more.

She left him no choice but to banish the stars from her eyes, convince her she felt nothing for him but lust. He knew he must lie and make her believe what had happened between them, what he hoped would often happen, was only of the flesh.

A need they shared and could reap much pleasure from, but one that had nothing to do with love.

Pouring water into a small basin, Duncan only wished it wasn’t so difficult to convince himself. He set down the ewer. Scowling, he snatched up a few linen cloths, laid them over his arm, and steeled himself to face her.

Then he turned around.

His misgivings flew at him like a horde of banshees the moment he saw her. She’d scooted up against the pillows, her naked skin gleaming, bathed by the soft glow of the rekindled fire.

Her hair spilled over her shoulders, even more tangled by their lovemaking, the peaks of her breasts poking through the silken strands.

Duncan’s loins tightened in immediate response. It was all he could do not to cast aside the basin and towels, dash across the chamber like an untried and overeager squire, and fall upon her once more.

“By St. Columba’s holy staff, woman, did I not cover you?” he said gruffly. “Do you want to catch the ague?”

“I dinnae fall ill lightly,” she said, that soft, dreamy look still on her face.

“Good. Then you willnae take a chill when I wash you. And I would that make haste about it, for I am weary and in need of sleep.” The words came out more abruptly than he’d intended and her eyes widened in surprise.

“But … I thought ... you said-”

“I ken what I said, but it’s only a night’s rest I desire now. I’m tired.” He avoided her eyes. The hurt he’d seen burgeoning there would’ve smote his heart if he’d had one. “There will be other nights for passion. A marriage of practicality need not be void of physical fulfillment. We can satisfy ourselves however oft it pleases you. Lust-”

“Lust, sir, is the reason men seek harlots,” Linnet informed him, drawing the coverlet over her breasts. “It should not be a basis for marriage.”

“And it is not.” Duncan set the basin on a small table next to the bed. “Our union is founded on my need for your sight.” He paused to dip a cloth into the water, then carefully wrung it out. “Even so, it is nowhere writ we cannot partake of physical love. I’ve shown you I desire you. I believe you enjoyed our coupling as well?”

She didn’t answer him, and the injured look on her face dug into him like the tips of a thousand fire-heated daggers.

But as if ridden by the devil himself, he went on, “It will not be an unpleasant arrangement. We are well suited for one another.”

“How so? In the same manner as the joy woman who barters her wares to any man in rut?” she asked in a cold, toneless voice.

Duncan swore beneath his breath. He’d extinguished the flame in her he’d so painstakingly kindled. And he’d cast himself into a roiling sea of regret somewhere between heaven and hell.

In one short night, he’d coaxed her into his arms, demanded a response from her, and when she gave it – what had he done?

He’d tossed her trust and adoration right back at her.

Even after she’d bestowed upon him the most precious gift a wife has to give, taken him closer to happiness than he’d e’er expected to go in this life.

Made him realize how easily he could fall in love with her.

And for that transgression alone, he had to temper the wild-hearted romantic dreams he knew swirled through her even now. Unlike his wife, he knew the danger of such folly. It was his task to spare them both later grief. Even if doing so was far from painless.

Saints, he’d become the heartless bastard the prattle-spreaders claimed him to be!

Striving to avoid the anguish he knew followed quick on the heels of love was one thing – hurting his new bride was another entirely.

He cursed himself for not having kept himself from her as he’d meant to do. But he hadn’t expected her to tempt him so, couldn’t have guessed she’d turn adoring gazes on him, thoroughly enchant him with her amber-colored eyes.

He certainly hadn’t thought himself capable of feeling so deeply.

Nor had he known this ridiculous farce he’d begun, this pretending to be unaffected by her, save for her womanly charms, would disturb him so.

Gods, but his conscience bothered him.

“Linnet, I-”

Lifting her hand, she made a quick, dismissive motion. “Please, sir, say no more. I believed you cared for me. Now I see exactly what it is you were after,” she said, her voice cold and hard. “How silly of me to have thought otherwise.”

“You do not understand. It isnae-”

“You said you wished to bathe me for ’tis weary you are,” she cut him off, snatching the damp cloth from his hand. “Don’t overexert yourself. I can wash myself and would rather. If you’ll do me the kindness of turning around.”

Duncan knew he should move away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Holding the covers to her chin with one hand and catching the washcloth with the other, she stared at him reproachfully. “I asked you for privacy.”

Cursing himself, Duncan did as she bid and went to stand before the fire. Feeling more a bastard than his half brother, he stared in brooding silence at the flames.

Behind him, he heard the soft sounds of Linnet cleaning the traces of her virginity from her thighs. He remained where he was long after quiet filled the chamber. Only when he was certain his lady slept, did he turn around. She lay with her back to him, the coverlet pulled high.

Duncan expelled a deep, ragged breath. On his life, he hadn’t meant this night to end thusly.

But he had no one save himself to blame.

Stifling a curse, he lowered himself into a chair. The same one in which he’d spent most of his ill-fated wedding night.