“Nay, ye might tear it. I will do it.”
Allowing her to take over that chore, he ran a hand through his hair. “I tremble like some green lad.”
“Ah, and ye so weel versed in these matters,” she teased as she unlaced her shift but did not remove it.
“Though I am no innocent, neither would any call me a lecherous dog.” He attempted to loose his plaid, then cursed again. “’Twill be winter ere I am shed of this.”
She pushed his hands aside. His difficulty did a great deal to soothe her own trepidation. There were any number of possible reasons for his sudden awkwardness, and each was rather flattering.
“I am but too eager to be rid of our clothing,” he said as he took off his plaid and spread it upon the ground.
He sat down on the large cloth, then held his hand out to her. Feeling only a slight uncertainty, Jennet placed her hand in his and allowed him to lightly tug her down beside him. He wore only his braies, and one thorough look at his virile form told her why her passion for him could be so strong, while she remained so confused in her heart and mind. Despite her doubts about him, she instinctively knew he could show her all the rich beauty to be found in fleshly pleasure. She desperately wanted to taste a little joy, even if it might prove fleeting.
When he silently urged her to lie down, she offered no resistance. She trembled slightly when he eased her shift over her head. It was the first time she had been naked with a man. The way he stared at her made her all too conscious of her inexperience. She started to cover herself with her hands, but he swiftly stopped her. Gently clasping her wrists, he held her hands to her sides as he crouched over her.
“I am too thin,” she murmured, his silent gaze prompting her into nervous speech.
“Nay.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Even when the bite of hunger sharpened your looks ye were lovely. Now, even that has gone.”
“Ye feed me weel.”
“Tug my braies off, lass. I need to feel our flesh meet.”
The moment he freed her hands, she did as he asked. Despite her efforts not to, she looked as she took away the last piece of his clothing.
A man’s naked form was not strange to her. Through the giving of courtesy baths, nursing the sick and wounded, and even seeing the stripped dead upon the battlefield, she had viewed variations of that form. None, however, had been erect with wanting, a wanting inspired by her. Nor, she mused as she met his gaze and tossed aside his braies, had she ever contemplated joining her body with any other. She was suddenly not sure if the experience would be pleasurable. Hacon looked to be far larger than she could accommodate. She feared that her uncertainty showed in her face.
“Dinnae fear, my sweet plunder.” He slowly lowered his body onto hers. “This sword will ne’er hurt you. Though, if ye be virgin, ’twill draw some blood, I mean to make it a pleasurable bloodletting.”
For a moment all she could think of was how good it felt to be skin to skin with him. Then his words registered on her mind. “IfI be virgin?”
“Nay.” He quickly kissed her. “I speak no insult nor impugn your morals. Ye have told me of a life spent upon battlefields and in servitude. A maidenhead is often stolen in such situations. Aye, and ye have been alone, unprotected, for many a year now.”
Since his reasoning was sound and she could detect no insult in his gaze or voice, her anger eased. “Weel, my maidenhead hasnae been stolen. Howbeit, I will confess it would have been had I not fled to the convent when I did.”
Supporting some of his weight on his forearms and elbows, placed on either side of her, he cupped her face in his hands. “So, I shall be your first mon.” He slowly tangled his fingers in her thick hair.
“Aye—my first.” And last, a small voice whispered in her head, but she ignored it for it hinted at promises she did not wish to make, not to a man of battle. Nor did she believe Hacon desired such promises.
Still cupping her face in his hands, he gave her another slow, deep kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and loving the feel of his hard, warm body pressed against hers. The way he gently rubbed his groin against hers set her to trembling. The depth of her desire, the speed with which it possessed her, was in itself a little frightening. That hint of trepidation was lost, however, when he began to caress her, his callused hands skimming lightly over her.
When he moved his heated kisses from her face to her throat, she began to stroke his body, as he did hers. The words he muttered against her collarbone were husky and indecipherable, but she heard his approval of daring. She gave a soft cry of pure delight when he filled his hand with her breast, then brushed his lips over the tip.
The desire that ripped through her at that gentle touch paled beside what followed when he first lathed her aching nipple with his tongue, then began to slowly suckle. She squirmed beneath him, burrowed her fingers into his thick, soft hair, and held him there. So strong were the feelings tearing through her that she found it impossible to be still. She lost all sense of time and place, knew only Hacon and the pleasure he was giving her.
A brief flicker of sanity returned, inspired by shock when his caresses reached the curls between her thighs. She tensed as he moved his hand over her groin. He stopped her from closing her legs in an instinctive response to such an intrusion by holding her thighs apart with his legs.
“Dinnae grow cold and afraid now, my sweet plunder,” he whispered, kissing her ear.
She gasped as his intimate stroking increased the knotting want growing inside of her. “Ye shouldnae touch me there, should ye?”
“Oh, aye, lassie. Aye. ’Tis the seat of all your pleasure. ’Tis the sweet haven of delight in which I will soon bury myself.”
“Should I touch ye there too?”
“Aye, but not now.” He pressed his face in the curve of her neck, his breath coming hot and fast against her skin. “I hold back by only a wee thin thread as it is. Ye touch me now and I will be done ere ye are even readied.”
She was not sure what he meant by “readied,” but could not form the words to ask. All she could do was cling to him as he continued his seductive caresses, adding to the pleasure of his touch with soft yet feverish kisses upon her breasts. She immersed herself in the heated glory of all he made her feel. Then, when she thought she could tolerate no more, when the need grew nearly painful, she called out to him and tried to pull away.
