“I do.” He removed her hand and kissed her breasts. “I will,” he said, nuzzling her. “Ye have amazed me from the moment we met, with yer beauty, yer courage, yer kindness.”
She lay back, letting the pleasure grow and spread. “I am a simple woman, Iain,” she said.
“There’s nothing simple about ye—yer deep like the oceans, so deep, I wonder about ye all the time.” He nuzzled her ear.
She thought about the secrets she kept, and hated them.
“I want ye again, Alana, I always will.” His kisses went lower, down her ribs.
Her pleasure became a restless yearning; she moaned.
His fingers floated over her thighs, her sex. “And I’m fiercely pleased ye were a virgin—that I am yer first man.”
She could not speak as he stroked her.
Within moments, he moved over her and into her once again, eyes ablaze.
* * *
ALANAAWOKEANDrealized she had fallen asleep. She lay in Iain’s arms, upon his cloak and hers, in the dark cellars below the castle. Recalling their lovemaking, she was stunned.
What had she done?
He remained asleep, breathing deeply, his arms about her. Alana was afraid to move, but she finally inhaled.
Oh, God, she had let him make love to her—twice—and it had been glorious. He was her worst enemy, truly, but she was insanely attracted to him, in every way, and she had not thought once about denying him. Their passion had been beyond anything she had imagined possible. In fact, being in his arms felt right, not wrong! And now, love felt like it was filling every possible space inside her chest.
So why did she feel like crying?
She stared up at his face as he slept, her chin on his chest, some torchlight playing upon them. She did not have regrets, she could not have regrets. But dear God, Iain did not even know the first thing about her.
She could not imagine how he would react to the news that she was Buchan’s niece, or worse, that she was a witch.
He would certainly be angry to learn that she was a Comyn—that she was a part of the family that was his king’s worst enemy. Bruce meant to destroy the Comyns. His efforts probably included her. Would he be able to forgive her that deception?
She trembled, hoping the day would never come when Iain knew she was Sir Alexander’s daughter, but such a secret would have to come out, sooner or later. And she was frightened.
But it was so much worse than that, because they were surely not the first lovers to have opposing loyalties in a war. What would he think and do when he learned she was a witch? Wouldn’t he react like all other men when he learned of her sight? He would be horrified and repulsed; he would not want to share his bed with her then! He would probably end their relationship the instant he learned the truth!
Alana felt moisture rising up in her eyes. If only they could continue on this way, as if she were an insignificant and ordinary woman!
But that was impossible, wasn’t it? It was one thing to deceive the enemy, another, her lover. Surely she had to confess the extent of her deceptions. Didn’t she?
Because she could never walk away from Iain of Islay now to keep her secrets safe. She knew this was a beginning, if she could manage her deceptions.
“Yer awake and ye did not awaken me?”
She jerked and met his teasing blue gaze. “You were sleeping so soundly.” She touched his chin, a gentle caress.
He smiled and pulled her beneath him. “I am not sleeping now.”
He was stiff and hard and Alana went still, her pulse soaring. “Iain,” she began, knowing they must speak.
“Shhh,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “Whatever ye wish to say, it can wait.”
Iain wrapped her in his powerful arms and began kissing her, his lips feathery and teasing. Desire surged within her and she began to kiss him back. His grasp tightened on her and his kiss deepened. Alana tried to capture his tongue with her own; he used his powerful thighs to spread her legs wide. Alana moaned.
Iain moved slowly into her, with restraint, inch by inch. Alana clawed at his back. “Hurry. You are teasing me.”
