She arched up, clutching at him, spinning.
And she did cry his name then, although to her ears, it sounded more like a sob.
He rode her through it, drawing out every last tremor.
Then he suddenly pulled free, twisting aside. She watched, half-dazed, as his seed spilled in milky jets upon the moss beside her.
Bracing one hand on her knee, he bowed his head, chest heaving. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the woodland.
Ailean raised his head, still struggling to catch his breath.
Christ’s blood. How he’d wanted to spill deep inside this woman. It had been the lustiest coupling of his life. But sanity had prevailed.
He might enjoy a sweaty tumble, but he had no intention of leaving a string of bastards behind him. He was a rogue, aye, but evenheknew that spending himself inside a woman carried consequences.
Wiping himself clean with a piece of moss, he glanced over at the beautiful woman lying naked on her back beside him.
He gazed upon her.
As long as he lived, he would never forget the sight of Fiona Mackinnon—her lush curves bathed in silver, her fair hair frosted in the moonlight. Her skin was flawless, pale as milk. And those magnificent breasts still heaved in the aftermath of her climax, their rosy tips swollen.
Hunger stirred in his gut once more.
How he longed to fall on her again like a ravenous wolf. Now.
He checked the urge.What’s the rush, lad?
This had been her first time. He needed to go easy on her.
Favoring Fiona with a sensual smile, he stretched out beside her, his hand sliding up her sweat-damp thigh, over the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, and the soft swell of her belly.
Then he met her gaze again. “Ye should have told me ye were a virgin,” he murmured.
She stared back at him, her expression unreadable. “Would it have made a difference? Would ye have left me alone, then?” There was a hint of challenge in her voice.
He sighed. The truth was that even a rogue like him had rules; self-imposed, perhaps, but rules nonetheless. She was the first chaste lass he’d ever taken. Innocent women weren’t usually to his taste. Nor did he wish to confess that her worldly air had fooled him into thinking she’d already lain with another. Such a careless comment would only earn him a slap across the face.
“I’d have gone slower,” he answered. “Been more careful.”
“Ye didn’t hurt me,” she replied. “Not after the first bit. And even that wasn’t so bad.”
Their gazes held for a long, intimate moment.
Too intimate.
In the aftermath of their coupling, Ailean felt strangely unmoored, as if he’d been knocked off balance and hadn’t yet found his footing. He didn’t welcome the sensation. He’d never felt it before.
Best not to dwell on it. Tonight was Bealtunn, after all. Fire, mead, moonlight, and a beautiful woman had carried him away. But it was time to claw his way back to reality.
“So, ye enjoyed yer first time, then?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Her full lips curved faintly, though he caught the shadow in her eyes as the haze of lust faded. She, too, was returning to the real world. And he sensed—without her saying it—that regret was already creeping in.
She swallowed. “This can’t happen again, Ailean. I took a terrible risk tonight. If one of yer kin had seen us—”
“No one did,” he assured her, brushing a stray curl of golden hair from her cheek. “I checked before we left the bonfire.”
She swallowed again. “Even so. People saw us dancing together all night. Tongues will wag. I can’t afford that. I love ithere at Dounarwyse. This is a new life for me … one I’m proud of.” Her eyes shone, as if she were close to tears—but then she mastered herself, jaw firming. “Tonight never happened. And it can never be repeated.”
