He thrust a little deeper, swirling his fingers as they discovered a sensitive spot that made her gasp. Her eyes took on a dreamy appearance as he rubbed harder and faster, sliding in and then rubbing along her cleft. Allowing him his way, Robenabreathed in shallow gasps as he felt her arousal grow. Then, she grasped his cock in her hand, encircling it and stroking it. Now it was his turn to hiss in pleasure. When she moved out of his grasp and fell to her knees before him, he shook his head.
“Nay, lass,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders and bringing her to stand. “There’s no time for that now.”
He waited for any hesitation in her gaze before he lifted her to her feet, guided her legs around his waist, and entered her in one swift thrust. The sigh she released as he filled her warmed his old heart. Iain could not describe the way it felt to be so deeply inside her body. Her nipples tightened and pressed against his chest.
Robena slid her hands around his shoulders and loosened his hair from its leather tie, entangling her fingers as she grabbed hold of it. She lifted herself up, sliding along his length, and then pushed back down while meeting his gaze again. The second time, he aided her with his hands under her arse. The third time, the need to make her scream out in release overwhelmed him, so he dropped to his knees, taking her with him, and then guided her to lie back on the pallet.
“More,” she whispered, arching her hips and taking him deeper still. “More, Iain.”
Everything blurred then into a fury of passion as he touched and took her. In spite of thinking that his release would be a quick one this first time, Iain’s seed did not spill until he had made her scream out three times in pleasure. When she tightened around his cock that last time, he let go with a roar.
For a time, the blood rushed in his ears and every sound seemed magnified. His breathing and hers echoed within him. The creaking of his boots as he shifted to keep most of his weight off her. The long, soft sigh she released as she stroked his back.
“There was no need to rush so, Iain,” she whispered, merriment filling her voice. “Ye could have taken off yer bootsfirst.” He laughed in reply, falling on his back and tucking her to his side.
“Ye do that to me, lass,” he admitted. “I thought of little else on my journey here, or through what felt like the longest meal ever consumed.”
Robena would be the first to admit that his words made her feel as warm inside as his attentions had. The look in his dark blue eyes told her he wanted her for she’d seen the desire there when she opened the door. It did not take a whore’s knowledge to recognize the readiness of his flesh beneath his plaid. She stroked his arm now, even while she rubbed her leg against his leg. And against his boots.
Sitting up, she shimmied down along his body and loosened his boots. Unconcerned with her lack of clothing, she knelt at his feet and tugged them off, tossing them into the same pile that his plaid and shirt had made when they’d hit the floor. Grabbing up a few more blankets, she shook them over him and then joined him once more. The heat pouring off his body more than made up for the lack of clothing in the coolness of the cottage.
“Have ye eaten, lass?” he asked. She settled against him, sliding her leg over his.
“Aye. But there is stew and bread and cheese, if ye wish it,” she said. The lady had sent over food and ale in anticipation that Iain would spend his nights with her. She could send for more, or go herself if needed, for Iain was an honored guest here in Dunnedin.
“I think I ate,” he said. His laughter rumbled deep in his chest and she could feel it under her hand. “I told ye, I wasna thinking about the food.”
Robena pushed herself up, climbing from the warmth of the blankets and him to ready some food for him. It took little time to scoop some stew into a bowl and return to him.
“Would ye like to sit at table?” she asked, nodding to the table and stools in the corner of the cottage near the hearth.
“Nay,” he said, sitting up and crossing his legs. “I will take that.”
Robena handed him the bowl and poured ale into two cups before sitting with him on the pallet. Watching the way he shoveled the thick, savory stew into his mouth with barely a pause, she realized he had rushed here to be with her.
“So, tell me of the villagers,” he said, nodding at her to talk.
She fell into her stories easily, telling Iain about the people who lived here and what had happened since his last visit almost four months before. That he knew them and seemed interested in them was something that Robena liked about him. He could have remained a visitor, an honored one at that, and yet he’d become part of the town. ’Twas not unusual for Iain to work with Rob’s warriors, or even to spend time working in the village as needed.
“Moira and Pol are discussing marriage,” she began.
“Again?” He laughed, and she loved the sound of it.
“I think it has become their end-of-year ritual. As the dark of winter, and Christ’s Mass, approach, he asks once more. She thinks on it through Hogmanay and the new year, as he tries to convince her to say aye. By spring, they forget and continue on as they have been for years.” The blacksmith and the healer had two daughters together and were inseparable, so the whole village loved to watch his yearly campaign. Wooing at its best.
Robena watched the way Iain’s eyes sparkled and how easily he was moved to laughter. He was almost a score of years older than her, but he was yet filled with the vigor and enjoyment of life. He asked about this one or that, and she gave him bits about each one until he finished eating and she finished telling him about the changes and happenings in Dunnedin since hislast visit. But mostly, she just looked her fill at the breadth of his chest and the masculine angles of his face.
It took a few moments of silence before she realized he’d emptied his bowl and cup and was sitting and staring back at her. She stood and reached for those and put them in the bucket near the door to be washed . . . later, from the desire that filled his gaze now.
“’Tis not late enough to sleep,” she said as she watched him stand. His male flesh did as well.
“Aye, ’tis not.” Instead of reaching for her, he walked past her and picked up her gown and shift. “And there will be plenty of time for that,” he said, understanding her expectation. “I need to walk a bit after riding for these last days. Do ye mind?” He held out her garments to her.
“’Tis yer time to do as ye please, Iain.” And his coin. She would naysay him not at all during his time here.
His gaze darkened, and a flash of something moved over his expression. She, who could read men and their needs and wants, was mystified, for it was either anger or disappointment. At her? What had she said to cause it? Then it was gone, and he nodded at the clothing in her hands.
“Join me?” He’d surprised her, which startled her even more.
