She’d brought a lantern into the dye-house with her to see by while she put away the pails. Its lambent glow highlighted the harsh angles of his face. His expression had turned feral, his eyes now savage and dark.
And as he speared his rod into her yet again, she went over the edge, twisting and writhing against him, digging her heel into his naked buttock, urging him on.
He should have ceased then, should have reared back and spilled his seed over the packed-dirt floor, but she didn’t let him. Instead, she canted her hips up, bringing him so deep that her womb ached, bracing herself against his broad shoulders as he pounded into her.
He drove into her once more and then stiffened, his spine arching, his head snapping back.
She watched, fascinated, through the haze of her own pleasure, as ecstasy rippled over his face. His eyelids fluttered, a nerve jumped on his cheek, and his deep, masculine moan reverberated through the dye-house.
Heat flushed through Fiona.
What a sight he was.
They clung together in the aftermath, sweat-slicked and panting.
Whispering an endearment, he buried his face in her neck, while she reached up, threading her trembling fingers through his sweat-damp hair.
And there, they remained, too shaken by what they’d just shared to speak.
Fiona closed her eyes and tried to catch hold of the moment. Somehow, she just knew that they’d reached a crossroads. Something subtle had shifted. Nothing would be the same between them after tonight.
All good things had to come to an end, even tumbling Fiona Mackinnon.
And so, it was with reluctance that Ailean withdrew from her. And as he did so, her breathy groan made his belly tighten.
Christ spare him. The sounds she made. They turned him into a beast.
However, as he hauled up his braies and did them up, refusing to let his stiffening rod rule him this time, a chill feathered across his skin.
He’d spilled inside her—that was a mistake. A foolish, reckless one.
He wasn’t usually so careless. The last thing he wanted was to get her with bairn; that would cause huge problems for them both. Especially since, in just a few days, he was due to sail to the Isle of Lismore to meet Sorcha MacDougall.
And despite the languid pleasure that still pulsed through him, anger twisted in his belly. He was sick of his father’s heavy-handed behavior.
He can’t force me to wed the lass.
What if he refused to go to Castle Coeffin? The laird couldn’t oblige him to do anything he didn’t wish to.
All the same, whether or not he toed the line, he needed to rein himself in. There was a fine line between recklessness and idiocy, and he was straying toward it.
“I’d better let ye return to yer bed,” he said huskily.
She nodded, watching him under heavy-lidded eyes, and the sensuality on her face made hunger quicken once more. “I suppose so,” she whispered. “Although it can’t be long now until dawn.”
“A few more hours at least,” he replied, reaching up and brushing a curl off her forehead.
With his other hand, he readjusted her skirts, letting them fall around her ankles. He then helped her pull up her bodice, obscuring those magnificent breasts from view. “Go on,” he murmured. “Ye leave first … I’ll wait and then follow.”
She nodded, even as her gaze roamed his face. She stepped into him, lifting up onto her toes to brush her lips across his. “Good night, Ailean.”
“Good night, Fi.” He drew her close then, wrapping his arms around her soft body and burying his face in her smoke-scented hair. The urge to apologize boiled up, and his chest clenched.
It’s a bit late to develop a conscience, isn’t it?A voice taunted him.Ye weren’t sorry when ye were buried inside her.
Pushing aside the heckling whisper, he stepped back and let her go.
Fiona smiled, turned, and carefully opened the door, slipping outside.
