Finally, with the horse panting beneath him, he drew to a halt outside the Keep. Fern had done her best to keep up, and joined them a few seconds later, letting out an irritated whinny as the rain pummeled them.
One of the groomsmen was already waiting for them at the entrance to the keep, as though he had sensed that they would need his help. As he climbed off the horse and offered Amelia a hand down, the groomsman took the reins and guided the horses inside, out of the hammering rain above them.
Amelia stood before him, shivering, clearly not entirely sure what to do. Her hair was clinging to her neck, her dress soaked to her skin. She looked almost naked as she waited for him to make a move, and, for a moment, his mind was utterly consumed by the desire to pull her into his arms and find some way to warm her up from the inside out.
But, instead, he offered her a hand.
“Come,” he ordered her, and, without a moment’s hesitation, she allowed him to lead her inside the Keep, where the warm air circled around them and the heat that had been growing in Arran since they’d been alone together began to get the better of him.
Once and for all.
13
Even though she was soaked to the skin and chilly, Amelia could scarcely pay attention to her discomfort. All she could focus on was the feel of her hand in his, the way he led her through the quiet corridors of the Keep. The place was almost empty, as though everyone else had retreated to their chambers to keep warm. As though this place had been left, just for the two of them to enjoy.
His footsteps echoed around them, and she caught sight of the blade that he had pressed into her hand back at the pond. She had been surprised by his willingness to teach her, given all she knew about him. Wasn’t he worried that she might try to turn such skills against him, if given the chance? But he had offered her the tutelage as though it were natural. Perhaps, things were different here than they had been back in England. Perhaps, there was more to this place than she ever could have imagined.
Finally, they reached the door to her bedchamber.
“I’ll call Effie,” she remarked, letting her hand slip from his. “Ask her to draw me a bath.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he just stood there, gazing at her, and she could see something in his eyes, something dark and wanting, the same thing she had seen that day when they had been in the carriage together, and he had moved to take control of her like she belonged to him. A warmth spread out along her pelvis, reaching over her hips and along her stomach. Did he know what he was capable of making her feel? Did he have any idea?
“Or…” she murmured, knowing that he was waiting for her approval. “Or… you could come inside.”
The words hung there in the air between them. For a moment, she was sure he was going to refuse, just like he had done before, thinking that she wasn’t truly willing, and therefore, he couldn’t take advantage of their marital status to give her everything she needed. But, to her surprise, he nodded slowly, and pushed open the door without a word to allow her to step inside.
She could feel her heart thrumming in her chest as she moved into the bedchamber, into the confines of those blood-red walls that had once seemed so dangerous to her, but now, seemed raw and lustful, rich with the promise of what could happen now that they were alone together.
She could not bring herself to so much as turn to look at him. She felt as though her face might give away more than she wanted him to know, at least so soon.
All at once, she felt him behind her, his body pressed to hers, like it had been on the horse, only this time, neither of them could pretend it was just a matter of practicality. She drew in a sharp breath, her body trembling from something between the cold and the heat she could feel burning off of him with every motion.
He reached up slowly, and brushed a strand of her soaked hair from her neck. His fingertips left a trail of fire on her skin,and she closed her eyes, her knees growing weak as the sensation began to get the better of her.
Moving in closer, he brushed his nose along her shoulder, her neck, inhaling the scent of her as though she were his prey and he was a predator ready to strike. His hand slid along the front of her collarbone, over her throat, applying no pressure, just resting there, half a threat, half a promise.
“You need to get out of these wet clothes,” he murmured to her, so close now that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her ear. “Or ye’ll catch a chill.”
She parted her lips to agree, but found that she could hardly speak at all. A small whimper emanated from her mouth, but he seemed to understand at once what she was getting at. He reached behind her, where the dress secured at her waist, and slowly undid the knot that Effie had helped her twist into it that morning.
The fabric was clinging to her skin in such a way that she was sure he could make out every inch of her body as it was, but the thought of being naked before him, so exposed… It wasn’t like before, when he had seen her in the river, when she had been utterly humiliated at the thought of a man viewing her nude form like that. Now, she wanted him to see her like this. She wanted to stand before him, to let him see every inch of her. To give herself to him completely.
Once he had loosened the knot at her waist, he pulled apart the edges of the dress, easing them away from her skin. She could feel him stirring against her as he had done in the carriage, his want for her evident, but he made no move to touch himself.
He pulled the dress from her body, and, finally, allowed it to pool at her feet below her. Beneath it, she was wearing a simple petticoat, and his fingers moved with a deft, practiced sureness as he undid it. Her eyes were still closed, her body responding to him in ways she knew she had never felt before. For all thefear and nervousness that coursed through her, it was overcome by the sheer certainty that she wanted this, and wanted him, so badly it made her head spin.
At last, the petticoat was undone, and he stepped back to let it drop. She was naked, utterly exposed before him. On instinct, she made a move to cover her body, wrapping her arms around herself. She was not used to seeing her nakedness as anything other than something to hide, but, as he moved behind her again, he gently eased her arms away from herself.
“Let me see you, lass.”
His deep voice vibrated against her back, and she softened back against him, allowing him to guide her arms with ease. His head resting on her shoulder, he looked down upon her, taking her in like he was drinking in the sight of some great sculpture.
He let out a low groan as he reached his hand to her shoulder again, this time smoothing it down along her arm and against the curve of her breast. She could feel herself swelling beneath him, as though her body knew exactly what she needed from him. As though nothing mattered more in the world than they way he could make her feel, or giving in to his wanting, needing touch.
His hand continued down on its journey, pausing for a moment on the curve of her stomach, and then grazing across the puff of dark hair above her sex. She watched the way he touched her, seeing her own chest rising and falling quickly as she took in the intensity of his caress. In that moment, she knew, there was nothing that she would have refused him, nothing that she would have been able to deny him, even if she wanted to. He could have asked her for anything, and she would have been helpless in the face of it.
Moving one hand to her hip to steady her, his fingers trailed down towards her sex, over the soft folds of her most intimate spot. She gasped, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned her headback against his shoulder, and he brushed his lips against her neck once more. She could feel his teeth against her skin, and she almost longed to feel them sinking into her, making her his, once and for all.
