Terri Brisbin - Taming the Highlander

Taken aback that he was comparing what would happen between them to the duties of a butcher or milkmaid, Jocelyn felt her mouth drop open. He held out his hand to stop any reply she would make and took a step toward her.

“I can see the argument building within you. Is this to be the way between us in all matters, then? I say something and you contest it?” His gaze grew dark as he spoke and his expression changed from smiling to intense.

Jocelyn considered his words before speaking. It had been that way since their first meeting, then in the hall at their meal, even now. She closed her mouth and found she had no words to answer him. Oh, there was an argument within her as he’d said, but the warmth of the room and his scent crowded around her and she remembered once more what awaited her. The heat of a blush flooded her cheeks and she touched them as she felt it.

“Ah,” he said, walking now to a small table at the bed’s side. He lifted the jug of wine there and poured some into two goblets. “I suspect that the true problem here is an innocent’s fear and not a wife’s challenge to her husband.”

He turned and held one out to her, waiting for her to take it. Jocelyn crossed to him and accepted it. Wine might soothe her nerves a bit and make the rest somehow easier to allow. Not that she had a choice. Her brother’s life, even the very life of her clan, all depended on her agreement to this bargain. If she were sent home in disgrace… She nodded in acceptance of the cup and then realized that she was inadvertently agreeing with his words.

He held his goblet up and drank it down in one mouthful. Over the rim of his cup, he watched as she tilted hers to her lips and drank it down as well. The wine slid into her stomach and she felt its warmth spread out to her limbs. Mayhap more would help ease the fear she did feel? Jocelyn held out her cup.

As he poured more of the wine into her goblet, Connor looked closely at her face. A deep pink filled her cheeks and a bead of sweat trickled down her brow. Aye, the fears of the innocent. In consideration of those fears, he poured a small amount in and handed it back to her. Wine to soothe her nervousness was one thing; a puking woman in his bed was another.

Connor put his own cup down and took a step toward her. The sooner started, the sooner finished, he thought as he reached out and lifted her hair in his hands. The woman nearly stopped breathing so he waited for her to swallow the last of the very strong wine before he came closer. Her cup had just settled on the table when he grasped the belt of her robe and, tugging her closer, pulled it loose. The garment fell away revealing a thin linen gown and her lush figure.

Jocelyn stiffened at first as he slid his hands inside the robe and took hold of her hips. In spite of her stance, she was soft in all the right places and he breathed in the scent of the oil she’d used in her bathwater. She was breathing, a good thing, but she stared off into the room above his shoulder.

“Put your hands on my waist,” he said.

She startled again but met his gaze. “What?”

“You said you knew not what to do. I am telling you. Put your hands on my waist.”

He wore a plain shirt and plaid, but he could feel the heat of her touch through it. And the trembling, which he forced himself to ignore. His body, tempted by the curves so close beneath his hands, readied itself admirably for what was to come. He waited for a moment and then drew her closer, sliding his hands behind her and pressing himself against her.

Her nipples tightened, whether in fear or anticipation he knew not, and he turned her slightly, rubbing his chest over hers. The gasp that escaped left her openmouthed, but he would not touch her there. Instead he leaned in to her and kissed the edge of her chin, and then kissed along the line of her jaw until he reached her neck. When her breathing became ragged and her fingers clutched at his waist, he knew he could proceed.

Connor released her from his grasp and lifted her hair from her shoulders. He kissed her neck and her ear and wrapped her hair around his fist, turning her head for easier access to the sensitive areas he discovered. He took the edges of the robe and slipped them off her shoulders. When she let her hands drop to her side, he pushed the robe to the floor.

Whether instinctual or simply protective, Jocelyn tried to cover her breasts as his gaze moved over her from top to bottom. She most likely had no idea of what the flickering light of the candles set around the room did reveal to him. The dark triangle at the top of her thighs enticed him to reach for it, but he waited. Stepping behind her, he began again at her neck, kissing and touching with his tongue and nipping gently with his teeth.

Waiting for some sign of resistance and receiving none, Connor moved the linen of her shift away from her neck and kissed the heated skin of her shoulder. She trembled now beneath his touch and her breathing became a series of gasps as he slid his hands around her waist and up until they rested just below her breasts. She leaned back against him and he took advantage of that movement to cup her and draw her back tightly. Jocelyn’s head fell back against his chest and he suckled there, on the sensitive skin of her neck as he touched her breasts.

She’d been kissed before. Aye, she’d even allowed Ewan to touch her breasts once, but nothing that had happened between them could have prepared her for this. In spite of the lack of love or even familiarity between them, this man was teasing and tempting her body in ways she’d never imagined. Her head had fallen back on its own to rest against the hardness of his chest once he covered her breast with his hands.

The sensations that his mouth created against her skin simply intensified the tightness in her breasts and the heat between her legs. The heat and the aching between her legs. And the wetness there. His fingers now teased the tips of her breasts to a tautness she’d not felt before and he cupped her in his hands and used his thumbs over them, rubbing and rubbing until they were hard.

It made her want…something. Something more. Jocelyn waited and hoped he would reveal the more of what they did before she asked him about it. Not knowing what to do now, she twisted the fabric of her gown and held it in her fists.

His hands were moving again and she held her breath as they slid down her thighs and caught the end of her shift. He tugged it higher and higher until she felt the touch of his fingers on her bare skin. He moved one hand back up until he held her firmly against him, over her stomach and cupping her breast. The other he used to caress the skin of her thighs and she bit her lip when he touched her belly just above.

The roughness of his tunic and plaid against her naked bottom and back and the strength in his arms and chest and legs as he held her in place intrigued her, for they were so different from the touch of his hand and his fingers as they approached the place that ached now. She could almost forget that this man was a stranger to her. That she was forced by obligation and need to marry him and not Ewan.

Ewan!

It should be him touching her so. She should be giving herself in this intimate touching and joining to the man who loved her and cherished her. Not to this stranger.

Everything within her tensed as she realized that by the end of this night all of her dreams would be gone. All hopes for a marriage made in love with a man whom she chose were gone. All hopes for living a life within a family who cherished her and appreciated her were over. Once this man, her husband, claimed her body, there was no hope.

She realized that he felt the change within her, for his hold on her tightened around her. His hands, which she now clutched in hers, stopped their sensual strokes and, although he kept his mouth near her neck, she could feel only the warmth of his breath and not his lips now. Jocelyn waited for his response.