“I guess they don’ have mirrored glass on the battlefield, sir…because…aye, ye are braw an’ handsome…an’ many if no’allwomen would agree with me.”
She stared at him with a slightly defiant expression on her face. Her eyes scanned his features one by one: the dark eyes that promised sunshine or storms depending on his mood; his hawklike profile, sharply etched out by the aquiline arch of his nose and the clear definition of his jawline; the determined set of his mouth and chin; his dark red hair that was never well tamed enough to know which way to fall.
“D’ye ken that ye are the first man to have ever kissed me? When we were at the castle gates, I ken it was only pretendin’, but still…”
Isla shook her head as if she was trying to clear the memory out of her mind. The laird’s son did not say anything, but he smiled at her as if she had said something that delighted him.
Then he leaned forward and kissed her, and all other thoughts were chased away. All she could focus on was how wonderful it felt to be kissed by this man when they were alone together and with no one to interrupt them. It was a completely different sensation from being kissed in public.
Slowly, inch by inch, Isla felt herself laying back on the cloak, pulling him by the neck so he would know she did not want him to stop. In fact, she wanted him to do so much more to her, even if she was unsure what came next after kissing. She no longer needed the heat from the fire because a fierce heat was radiating out of her lower region. That sweet spot between her thighs throbbed and pulsed with a yearning desire so deep and powerful that Isla was tempted to touch herself down there.
She sighed and whispered so that her warm breath blew into his mouth with a thrilling buzz, “Kiss me deeper. Let yer mouth move everywhere over me body. I have never felt like this before.”
Isla did not know if she was suggesting or begging. All she knew was that she wanted the laird’s son to make free with her body any way he wanted to.
As his kisses grew deeper, Isla’s body began to crave him even more. It felt as if her clothes were strangling her and she needed to be rid of them. Drawing the laces of her chemise open with two trembling fingers, Isla ripped open the thin lawn fabric so that she might feel his hands massaging her breasts without a barrier in the way. Her nipples strained against the stays before finally pressing over the top, free for him to do with them whatever he liked. It was as if they were begging to be licked and fondled, eager for his gentle stroke as much as the rest of her body was.
The laird’s son obliged her. If Isla thought the sensation of his fingers running lightly over the chemise had been lovely, the way he played and teased her unrestrained breasts was beyond exhilarating.
They were lying side by side on the cloak. Isla was lost in a world of heavenly experimentation. Every time he touched her, she became more stimulated. The stirring blood between her soft thighs had grown so intense that Isla had to wrap her legs around the laird’s son’s thigh. She pressed and rubbed herself against him, undulating and grinding her hips as she became more and more excited.
“Don’ stop,” she moaned, half to herself and half to the only man who held the power to bring her to complete fulfillment. “Whatever ye are doin’ to me, please don’ stop.”
But he stopped. Reluctantly, Finlay Dougal stopped kissing her and began to untangle Isla’s arms and legs from his limbs and torso.
“If ye shout to the angels, Isla,” he said, “then I’ll want to…needto relieve meself in a similar fashion, lass, an’ that will never do. I did no’ expect ye to reach yer peak quite so quickly.”
He explained the reason why in such a way that Isla understood he was not rejecting her but looking after her best interests.
Isla lay panting on the cloak, no longer caring about what might be the proper thing to say or do under these circumstances.
“I have been longin’ for something like this to happen to me all me life,” she whispered, biting her lower lip to stop herself from begging him to continue. “I apologize if it was unmaidenly for me to behave in this way, but…” She looked up at him and gave a hesitant smile. “But how ye made me feel is… I feel—I’m no’ sure how I feel. Did ye stop because I was too eager an’ unrestrained?”
He was immediately contrite and lay down beside her again, sweeping her back into his arms.
“Never say so, lass! Every man dreams about havin’ a woman respond to his caresses in such a way.” He kissed the top of her head, whispering, “Promise me that ye will never change, Isla? Promise me that ye will always be the wild and uninhibited woman ye just were with me. Even if anything happens to me, never let some auld cat tell ye that a man does nae enjoy a young woman takin’ her pleasure from him.”
“Can I take me pleasure from ye now then? Please, sir?” She moved her hand to stroke the hard muscles on his thigh.
He threw back his head and laughed. “I think ye better start callin’ me Finlay now, don’ ye agree, Isla McDonnell?”
* * *
When Isla woke the next day, the light slanting through the shutters showed it was a rosy dawn. She sat up and yawned. She had never spent the whole night sleeping in a man’s arms before and found the experience entirely delightful. Leaving Finlay sleeping, she crept outside to attend to early morning ablutions. When she went back to the croft, Finlay had gone.
