It was not easy for Aimil to quell her nervousness when Malcolm left her alone with Parlan. She may have chosen to come to him, but what she now faced was new, unknown, therefore frightening. As she sought to restore her calm, she studied his quarters. Heavy drapes kept out the chill, and a large fire aided while also controlling the damp that too often plagued a keep. The furnishings were simple but strongly hewn. Rich carpets kept the cold from one’s feet. The focal point of the room was the massive oak bed, high and enclosed with rich velvet hangings, drawn back at the moment. It was somewhat barbaric in appearance.
Quickly she turned her gaze to the man who leaned against a bed post with an indolence she knew was false. He wore a heavy robe and, she suspected, little else. The lingering wetness of his long hair told her he had recently bathed. She did not know whether to be flattered by his efforts on her behalf or piqued that he was so confident that she would come to him.
“I had begun to wonder if ye had decided to gift me with your horse.”
“When pigs crow the coming day.”
He grinned. “Have ye made a close study of all that is impossible?”
Shrugging, she eyed him intently. “I dinnae suppose ye may have changed your mind.”
“Nay. I was determined to have ye as soon as I kenned ye werenae a child too young for the having.”
Inwardly, she sighed with relief. “Leith will kill ye for this.”
“I would think less of him if he didnae try. ’Tis the reason I will try not to kill him when he makes the attempt.”
Even though she suspected his confidence in his ability was well-founded, his arrogance annoyed her. “He could weel kill ye.”
“That is a chance. A slim one though.”
“I think ye have far too high an opinion of yourself.”
Her last word ended on a squeak as he scooped her up in his arms and gently deposited her on the bed. It astounded her that such a large man could move with such silent speed. When he partially covered her body with his own, she shivered slightly. His large, strong body made her feel very small and very fragile, yet she was not really afraid. Instead, she felt the desire she craved to taste eke into her veins.
“Dinnae be afeard of me, sweeting. I mean only to pleasure ye,” he whispered, brushing soft kisses over her cheeks.
“Pleasure yourself, ye mean,” she grumbled, but felt an odd tingling where his lips touched her skin.
“Aye, but ye as weel, Aimil. Just relax and give yourself over to me.”
“I will give ye naught.” She hoped he believed her protests for she had no wish to let him know she was there for reasons other than his bargain.
“Oh, ye will, Aimil Mengue.” He trailed kisses down her nose to her mouth. “Aye, ye will.”
When his lips brushed and nibbled at hers, she almost sighed. It was very nice, conjuring up a pleasant warmth within her. Soon her mouth itched for something more, and she felt her hands creeping to his broad shoulders. When his tongue probed for entry, her eyes flew open in surprise for she was unsure of what he was doing.
“Part your lips for me, sweeting. I crave the honey of your mouth.”
“There is none there. My teeth are rotted and oozing.”
Parlan laughed softly. “Such a liar ye are, Aimil Mengue. Part your lips.”
Another shiver tore through her when his tongue eased between her lips to caress the inside of her mouth. Each kiss grew hungrier. He paused briefly between each, letting her catch her breath while teasing her slim throat with gentle kisses. She burrowed her hands into his thick hair even as her body arched, seeking his. The slow warmth that had begun in her started to grow. Tender noises of pleasure escaped her as she succumbed to the heady persuasion of his kisses. The sudden removal of her shift broke through the fog he had created in her mind.
“Nay,” she protested in a soft, husky voice, trying to cover her breasts with her oddly limp arms, embarrassment dimming her growing passion.
“Aye,” he growled as he gently tugged her arms away to gaze at her breasts with ill-concealed hunger. “So lovely.”
Her body bucked slightly when his tongue flickered over each taut nipple. Pure white heat shot straight to her loins. As his hands cupped and fondled the soft flesh, his kisses touching their every curve, she returned her hands to his hair. She pressed his head closer when his mouth closed over one hard, aching tip to draw upon it slowly. A litany of pleasure’s sounds escaped her throat, but she was too caught up in delight to restrain them. She ran her hands over the warm skin of his back. The way he groaned and trembled slightly only heightened her pleasure. She was glad when he tore off his robe for now she could touch even more of him.
As he heatedly spread kisses over her satiny midriff, Parlan reveled in her response. She was fire beneath his hands, far more than he had dared hope for. When he began to remove her hose, his hands touched the warm silken skin of her thighs and before he bent to kiss her there, he found that he had barely skimmed the surface of her passion.
Aimil nearly flew off the bed when he touched her bare legs. Parlan took quick advantage of her sensitivity there, his hands and lips moving over her greedily, leaving no spot upon her long, slim legs untouched. The pleasure grew so intense Aimil thought he would kill her with it. His large calloused hands both caressed her legs and held them steady so that he could kiss her, lick her, and nibble her. When he finally made his slow way up her body, his hand slipping between her thighs, Aimil was too frenzied to do more than twitch when he touched her so intimately.
Feeling that faint sign of rejection, Parlan lifted his head from her breasts only to hear her make a sound much like a purr and to see her open for his touch. “God, so lovely. Ye are melting for me.” He moved his mouth greedily over her breasts as he stroked her and probed her secrets. “Aye, lass,” he groaned against her throat, “let your sweetness flow. I mean to taste it soon. Nae this night but soon.”
“Please, please,” she moaned, having no idea for what she begged but only certain that he could give her what her body now craved.
