I must be mad, she thought quite clearly, yet her fingers continued to move without her conscious permission, opening the front of her gown and sliding the fabric back from her shoulders.
She wore nothing beneath, and felt his gaze touch her, tactile as his fingers might be. The soft night air poured over her skin, and her arousal intensified unbearably. Why did he not reach for her? Must she beg?
As if he heard her thoughts, he moved suddenly, jerked to life, and caught her with both hands. His palms slid against her skin, gentle as the air, until they cupped her breasts.
Pleasure kicked through Jeannie, so intense her knees nearly failed her.
But she could not fall; he held her now—his strength and grace suddenly possessed her, and he spoke her name once again, bent his head, and laid his mouth to her breast.
Chapter Twenty
Steady on, Finnan MacAllister told himself even as he tasted the sweetness of Jeannie MacWherter’s flesh.You do not want to abandon the target here, nor lose your head.
But he knew he had quite possibly already lost his head, at the precise moment she loosened the fabric of her bodice. Beautiful she was, and he could not ever remember being so hard.
Still, this was a boon to his plans. No question he had her on a string; this proved it. He had not expected her to offer herself so soon.
And now the night sang its song all around him, the rowans—enchanted trees—lent their blessing overhead. He had Jeannie MacWherter in his arms, and a right fine armful she made, too.
He parted his lips to take more of her into his mouth, let his tongue swirl around her nipple—the hardened pebble of it made a delectable friction—and suckled deeply. He felt her tremble and then, distinctly, take flame.
As easily as that, she was his. The wanton baggage—she had no doubt given herself to countless men in the past.
Then why not Geordie?The question appeared unbidden in his mind. Was it because Geordie was a highlander, and foreign to her? But so was he, Finnan, yet she clung to him as if she might never let go.
She moaned in wordless protest when he released her breast, and he let her hang there wanting it while his eyes feasted on her, even as his mouth had. His desire raised another notch.
By all the spirits of the fire and air, she was lovely to look upon, and even better to taste. Her breasts, full, round, and high, made a potent temptation. The skin of her throat shone in smooth perfection, and her eyes…
They reached for and beseeched him with a look such as he had never seen.
Slowly and deliberately, he reached up and put his fingers through the soft, silken mass of her hair, found the pins, and let the locks fall one by one. They whispered against her bare shoulders, and he leaned forward to taste the place where curls met flesh.
Aye, and he could lose himself in this woman, right enough. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor of her skin, but those tight nipples below made far too tempting a lure. He slid his tongue down and latched on again.
“Finnan,” she breathed, and her hands came up to cradle his head, to urge him closer. She tangled her fingers in his hair, her touch like fire.
Aye, and he wanted to feel her beneath him, willing, hot, and pleading. He sank to his knees, taking her with him, and laid her down in the soft grass.
The rest would be easy as cutting butter with a hot knife, he told himself. But he wanted to relish this. And he wanted her thinking of Geordie when he entered her.
Without taking his mouth from her breast, he reached down and slid his hand beneath her skirt, traced a path up along her leg. Her heat increased as he moved upward—the gods bless her, she wore only a thin pair of bloomers, no real barrier to his invasion. He let his fingers brush her curls and felt her reaction all through her body.
He released her nipple, kissed a trail to her lips and said, “You have only to tell me ‘no,’ Jeannie. I will take nothing you are not willing to give.”
She whimpered like a distressed child. The little trollop, did she even have the ability to say no? And if she did, could he stop now?
But she failed to utter the word, and he let his fingers brush her intense warmth more closely. Wet for him she was, and ready.
He had the sudden, overwhelming desire to plunder her first with his tongue, but that would come later, when she was utterly and completely his.
“Ask me, Jeannie,” he bade her. “You must ask.”
Instead, she reached for his mouth, captured it, and wooed his tongue until it entered her mouth again. At the same moment, she parted her legs just enough to let him inside.
Ah, so that was the way of it. Nothing loathe, he thrust a finger into her slick heat, testing the waters. A helpless sound came up from her throat and into him.
Aye, he had her where he wanted her now. He had only to make her remember Geordie, and complete the deed.
