She watched, spellbound, as he lowered his head once more, his mouth blazing a molten path across her fluttering belly to her navel. A madness seized her as his tongue speared into the sensitive hollow at the same moment his fingers found the moist silken cleft between her thighs.
She cried out and arched wildly against his hand, her frenzy mounting when his darting tongue began to stroke and tease where his fingers had been only moments before. Her hips tilted instinctively as she opened herself for him, her jagged breaths a rising cadence to the sweet agony he inflicted.
“Garrett…no…oh, please,” she whimpered, quivering and shaking. A swell of intense pleasure was rising deep within her, with streaks of rippling sensation radiating from the secret point of his relentless onslaught. She ran her fingers through his hair, moaning and imploring until she felt him rise abruptly and cover her writhing body with his powerful weight.
“Maddie, my love, it will hurt only for an instant, I promise,” she heard him whisper, his lips capturing hers.
She sensed a hard, fervent nudging and innately arched against it, every fiber of her being striving for the unknown fulfillment she craved so dearly. She gasped as his pulsating strength plunged into her softness, a lightning stab of pain overwhelming her pleasure.
“Shhh, sweeting,” Garrett murmured hoarsely against her mouth, shunting his hips gently to and fro. “It will soon pass. Shhh…”
Calmed by his soothing whispers and tender caresses, she marveled at how swiftly the pain receded and disappeared. Her body seemed to have a will of its own as she matched his movements, slowly at first, then more urgently, her senses rocked once more by intoxicating waves of pleasure.
She trembled anew, a fiery heat engulfing her. Unwittingly she pulled Garrett to her, winding her arms about his muscled back, her slim legs tightly encircling his waist as if she would never let him go. She met his heightened thrusts with savage abandon, demanding everything he had to give and more.
Her panting breaths were one with his as they clung to each other, their bodies buffeted and tossed by a storm of passion. She heard him groan and hoarsely cry out her name as he exploded deep within her, a great, shattering release that catapulted her to unbelievable heights of shimmering revelation.
“Hold me, Garrett! Hold me!” she cried, certain she would die from the sheer wonder and infinite splendor of it. She drove hard against him, tears of rapture streaking her face as wave after cascading wave of tumultuous ecstasy finally revealed the mystery of love.
A shuddering sigh escaped Madeleine’s lips, and she suddenly went limp beneath Garrett’s weight, her limbs slipping from his body. Stunned, he realized she had fainted. He rolled over onto his side, bringing her with him, and cradled her in his arms. He kissed her tenderly, tasting the salt of her tears.
Long moments passed. Gradually Garrett’s labored breathing eased, returning to some semblance of normal.
He could not help smiling. He was sure he had never before loved anyone so completely. He knew he had never felt such an overwhelming sense of contentment. It settled over him like a soothing cloud, merging with his utter exhaustion.
He yawned, and his gaze drifted to the candle across the room. It sputtered and hissed, the yellow flame flaring in the cool night breeze wafting from the cracked window.
Better to let it burn itself out, he decided, hugging Madeleine closer to his chest. He did not want to wake her.
He grasped the tartan bedspread and pulled it over them. The thick wool would keep them snug during the night. He rested his chin gently atop her head, stroking her silken hair and reveling in the warmth of her lithe body. Her breathing had slowed, and its soft, measured rhythm was a sign that all was well.
“Mistress Madeleine Fraser,” he murmured quietly, closing his eyes. “Lady Madeleine Marshall, mistress of Farraline, lady wife of Rosemoor.”
Garrett smiled faintly. He was not surprised by the direction his thoughts had taken, or by the strength of his emotion. He was in love. He had never been more certain of anything in his life.
He was in love with a fiery Scotswoman who took his breath away every time he gazed into her flashing eyes. A beautiful, stubborn, and passionate Highlander. Some might insist she was his enemy, yet he knew he could not live without her.
Never until this night had he dared to hope such a love was possible. Now it seemed she truly cared, and in time she might consent to become his wife. Yes, he could hope. He could dream.
Garrett hugged her protectively, sleep stealing over him. “We’ve a new beginning, you and I,” he whispered softly against her hair. “After tomorrow, the worst will be over. The danger will be past. We’ll start afresh, Maddie Fraser.”
Chapter 17
Madeleine snuggled deeper into the warm mattress, rubbing her cheek contentedly against the soft feather pillow. Her eyelids fluttered open ever so slightly.
“Hmmm…” she murmured sleepily, closing them once again. It was pitch dark in the room and hours yet before dawn. Plenty of time until she had to wake Lord Lovat.
She swiped languidly at her tousled hair, pushing it away from her face. Her hand dropped back down and dangled limply over the edge of the mattress. Her fingers brushed against smooth velvet, and she toyed with it absently, waiting for sleep to lull her once more.
Funny that the bed curtains should be drawn shut, she thought sluggishly. The evenings weren’t that cool yet—
Realization suddenly flooded her.
“Och, surely ye havna overslept again,” she moaned, her eyes snapping open. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. She sat up, her hands groping at the heavy drapery. She found the fringed hem and flung the curtain aside, gasping as a blinding shaft of sunlight cut across the wide bed.
“Damn!” Madeleine fumed under her breath. Her gaze swept the illuminated interior, surrounded by opaque draperies on every side and the sloping canopy overhead. It reminded her of a silent green-velvet tomb. No wonder she had thought it was still night.
Her heart leaped to her throat. Oh, no! She had promised to wake Lord Lovat before dawn.
