Their boots crunched on twigs and bracken. Ferns and nettles brushed up against their clothing. But Fiona barely noticed. Allshe could focus on was the warmth and strength of Ailean’s hand in hers.
A few yards in, they reached a spot that opened up next to a bubbling burn. Moonlight streamed in, illuminating the soft carpet of moss upon the banks.
Ailean put down the lantern and then turned to Fiona, his features frosted in silver light. She stepped forward to meet him, their hands grasping and mouths seeking.
There was something magical about being amongst the trees, bathed in moonlight. As if she had stepped out of time. She wasn’t living her own life anymore. Tonight, she was a temptress. Back on the hill before the Bealtunn fire, she’d held back a little. She didn’t now. Her kisses were as urgent as his. Their tongues tangled, their teeth clashed in their hunger for each other. All the while, her hands clawed at his clothing, desperate to reach the skin beneath.
Likewise, his hands slid across her body, cupping the fullness of her breasts before his fingers began to deftly unlace the front of her kirtle.
The shawl she wore dropped to the ground, and then they both heeled off their boots.
Moments later, her kirtle came off, and the thin linen lèine beneath it. Cool air brushed against her naked skin.
Meanwhile, she’d managed to help him pull off his own lèine and unlace his chamois braies. And then they were both naked. Breathing hard, his eyes glinting in the moonlight, Ailean hurriedly laid out their clothing to form a mattress of sorts upon the mossy ground.
Then he dragged her into his arms once more.
The kiss was hot, urgent, and Fiona drowned in it.
She was barely aware of her knees giving way, of the pair of them sinking to the ground. A moment later, she was on her back, and he was crawling over her.
The man engulfed her senses. Chased everything else away.
She was pure sensation. Nothing else.
And having him move over her, blocking out the starry sky above the treetops and the gleaming halo of the moon, made her feel as if she’d come home. As if she was where she was always meant to be. In this man’s arms. Fiona’s breathing grew shallow then, emotion tightening her throat. Finally, she could just let go and be herself. Finally, she was free of the hurts and insecurities that dogged her from her upbringing. Liberated.
He kissed her again—still hungry but checking himself now. Drawing the moment out. Fiona let him set the pace. She was new to this. He wasn’t. He was about to take her on a journey of discovery. About to teach her things she’d longed for ever since their gazes had locked on the day of her arrival at Dounarwyse. There was no point denying it. She’d been fighting a losing battle from that moment.
She’d never thought desire could be so powerful, so consuming. But whenever she was in this man’s orbit, it grew harder to resist the pull between them.
Now they were naked together in the woods, and he was kissing his way down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Cupping her heavy breasts, he pushed them up to meet him, then lowered his head.
The feel of his hot mouth on her aching peaks made her cry out. She’d never realized her breasts could be so sensitive—could feel so much. But the way he sucked and teased sent a deep, aching pulse blooming between her thighs.
“Christ’s blood, lass,” he growled as he transferred his attention to her other breast. “Ye have the most beautiful paps I’ve ever seen … or tasted. Ye don’t know how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on these.”
In other circumstances, she’d have slapped him. Had he spoken such words in daylight, within the walls of Dounarwyse Castle, she’d have been scandalized. Offended.
But not now.
His lusty words merely inflamed her. Freed her. Wantonly, she arched her chest, inviting him to take all he wished. And he did—sucking and lathing her sensitive nipples with his tongue until she was a gasping, whimpering mess beneath him.
Only then did he move on.
He traveled down the length of her body, his tongue leaving wet, heated swirls behind it—dipping into the hollow of her navel, skimming the curve of her belly. Then his mouth slid through the nest of soft curls between her thighs and into the cleft there.
Fiona cried out, pushing herself up, panting hard—but he paid her no heed. Instead, he parted her legs wider still and nestled his face between them.
Then he feasted on her as he had on her breasts.
Shuddering with pleasure, Fiona sank back onto the ground. “Christ,” she groaned. “Ye have a wicked tongue, Maclean.”
10: REMEMBER TO BREATHE
AILEAN GAVE A low chuckle that vibrated against her skin. “Aye, lass … and I intend to use it.”
With that promise, he returned to pleasuring her. Fiona’s eyes fluttered shut; she couldn’t help it. With each flick and swirl of his tongue, she pushed herself against him—craving, demanding more. And he gave it.
