Moments later, he’d inserted a second finger—and then a third. Stretching her.
Fiona gave a low, needy moan.
He was slowly unravelling her, as if she were a tight ball of yarn.
And this was so good. She couldn’t believe he was focusing entirely on her pleasure right now. She’d thought he’d unlace his braies and plunge into her, but instead, he was pleasuring her with his hands—those wicked, wonderful hands.
And then, as pleasure coiled and tightened in her womb, he bent the three fingers he had inside her downward, stroking a place she didn’t even know existed in her core.
A spot that, when touched, sent her over the edge.
Pleasure exploded, pulsing out as liquid heat gushed through her loins. She bit hard once more on her lower lip, hard enough to taste blood, but she didn’t care. This was incredible. She was spinning. She didn’t know what he'd just done, but he’d managed to wring every ounce of pleasure from her climax.
Shuddering and panting, she collapsed, her cheek hitting the warm, smooth tabletop, as her pulse pounded in her ears.
The room seemed to be rotating, and the feel of the warm air feathering across her naked skin only heightened the excitement of what they’d just done. She was breathing hard, the sound ragged, but she realized he was too.
Eventually, she pushed herself up on shaky arms and managed to stand, her skirts sliding down to cover her modesty. She turned to him then, leaning against the table for support.
And he was watching her with a look that made her breathing quicken once more, made her belly melt. His chest rose and fell shallowly, and when her gaze drifted down, she saw that his braies were massively tented. A damp patch now stained the material.
Swallowing, as wild need quickened within her once more, she reached out, intending to unlace his braies and release his rod from its prison. She wanted to go down on her knees before him, for him to teach her how to pleasure him with her hands, lips, and tongue.
However, he caught her by the wrist, stilling her. “No lass,” he said, his voice strained. “I told ye I wouldn’t take advantage … I’ve already just made myself a liar. Let’s stop while we can.”
Their gazes fused then, holding fast for a few long moments.
And then, he smiled and stepped in close. Reaching up, he cupped her face with one hand before leaning in for a slow, sensual kiss.
When he drew back, it took all her will not to reach for him.
“I should leave before I lose what’s left of my self-control,” he said huskily. “But know this: ye are lovely, Fiona Mackinnon. What I wouldn’t give to have ye for one night in my bed … for us to be able to take our time.”
15: AN UNFAIR WORLD
THE COOPER SWAGGERED into the hall. The man, no older than five-and-twenty, carried an air of belligerence. He bristled, as if being summoned by his laird vexed him.
Ailean tracked his path across the floor. The man had arrived late. The others were already here.
The others in question were the fur trapper and his comely young wife.
Seated upon the raised dais at the far end of the hall, next to his father, Ailean shifted uncomfortably in the carved chair. He didn’t enjoy these audiences, although he knew they were a part of a laird’s responsibilities. Craeg had told him a few tales of the disputes he’d had to settle. And there were other problems too—tenants who avoided paying their rents or thievery. Craeg had seen it all, and no doubt Rae Maclean had too, for he wore a weary expression this morning, as if he knew what was coming and wasn’t looking forward to it either.
“Keith,” he greeted the newcomer. “I’m glad to see ye decided to join us this morning. I didn’t wish to send Captain Jack out to fetch ye.”
The cooper smirked, and irritation quickened within Ailean. That wasn’t the best way to approach his father. However, to his credit, the chieftain remained unmoved. If the man’s lack of respect vexed him, he kept it hidden.
His attention flicked to the man and woman already waiting. The trapper was of the same age as the cooper—a whip-thin man with receding blond hair and piercing blue eyes. His wife, although bonnie, looked visibly upset. Her heart-shaped face was blotchy, as if she’d been weeping, and her full lower lip trembled. She cast nervous looks between the two men.
“Right then, Lennon,” Rae addressed the trapper. “State this man’s crimes.”
Keith snorted, muttering something under his breath, but Rae held up a hand. “Ye’ll get yer chance. Let yer friend speak.”
“He’s no friend of mine,” Lennon ground the words out. “Not anymore. Not since I discovered he’s been humping my wife.”
Silence fell in the hall.
A small group of men and women gathered at the rear of the space—servants, witnesses, and others who’d come to bend the chieftain’s ear—looked on, watching with breathless anticipation, their gazes gleaming with interest.
