She might be of sound mind, but she remained uncertain. The lines of his lips softened as he spanned his fingers over her cheek. “It was not my intent when I brought you here to ask why you agreed to come.”
“Should it matter?”
“Aye, I did not think it would.”
Just then, there was a patter of windblown rain against the sheaves and glass, yet neither of them looked away from the other. “I have discovered that I possess a certain honesty when around you, Ruark Kerr. ’Tis simple.”
She eased the blanket off her shoulders, bearing pale shoulders in the firelight. Then she lowered her arms and let the blanket fall to the floor.
She stood before him wearing nothing at all but the golden glow of firelight. His eyes swept over her. She had never seen herself fully naked as she stood now before him. She had never seen herself in another’s eyes as she saw herself now in his. Tonight it was as if she stood on the edge of the cliffs that bordered the falls, with all the rush and wild fury of the water churning at her feet and through her veins.
Only one small step brought his body against hers. His skin smelt of rain and sweet-scented soap, his hair smelt of cloves. The fire blazed hot on her back and on his arms where she raised her palms to the powerful cord and muscle that delineated his shoulders. Rivulets of water trickled from his hair to his chest.
He lowered his head. He traced the shape of her mouth with his tongue, parting her lips. “Lord, Rose ...” Hisbreath pushed hot against hers. “I am not myself around you. I need to slow down. Or I will hurt you.”
She clung to his arms, her fingers digging into the rigid flesh. He was thick and hard against her stomach, and as the storm outside raged, another more powerful one churned inside her.
He tangled his fingers in her hair and dragged her head back, and still she had not breathed. The silver earring caught some of the firelight and it shimmered like a star. “What is it you want, Rose?”
She wanted never to be responsible for another person’s pain again. She wanted this night with him. She wanted someone to wanther!
“Open your eyes to me, Rose. Look at me.”
She played no coy game of seduction and, with a blinding honesty she was not used to feeling, she knew that neither did he. He wanted her.
The pads of his thumbs stroked her lower lip, his touch feathered across her face. His warm mouth moved downward until it closed over the turgid hardness of her nipple. A shiver passed over her.
She melted against him and her head tilted back as his lips suckled the pulse beating wildly at her throat.
She felt something primal claw at him. Something that made him seek to narrow the space between them and do more than simply possess her body as he grasped the backs of her thighs and lifted her to the table, stepping between her legs.
She caught herself against her palms. The wine chalice on the table tipped, spilling wine over her fingers. He bent his head and kissed her nipple, rolling it between his lips, swirling the fiery lash of his tongue around the sensitive ruched flesh. Her breath caught and held.
“Ruark . . .”
His voice touched her senses. “Shh.” His strength surrounded her, consumed her, sweeping her into a sea of desire. He kissed the underside of each breast.
His want explicit, he reached between her legs with his hand and parted her, the melting friction of his finger sliding inside her turning her to jelly. On a gasp, she broke from the kiss.
His hair askew and half falling from the thong that held it, a lock brushed his cheek. Her breath came in little pants. And she seemed to hang suspended with him.
He stepped back, his hooded eyes surveying her nakedness while he worked to free his shirt from his breeches. She half sat motionless, unable to take her eyes off his hands. As he pulled his shirt over his head, she smoothed her hand over the hardened planes of his stomach, the intense pleasure of watching him undress heating her.
He tossed the shirt behind him, his expression remaining impassive, and she watched him remove the rest of his clothing and carelessly drop all aside. She remembered the way he had looked by the pond, taut of waist and narrow of hip, his thighs exuding strength.
But now she could see all of him. His member extended thick and long from a nest of black curls. The pattern of his man’s hair tapered upward in a narrow line that arrowed up his abdomen and sprinkled his chest.
His fingers closed on her shoulders as he eased her back never breaking the intimacy of his touch. He moved his palms between her thighs and with the gentlest of pressure nudged her legs apart.
“Bend your knees,” he whispered.
She did as he bid. Then his lips took hers again. His kiss was thorough. Sliding one hand around her bottom,he lifted her, spreading her legs wider. And somewhere in that touch, he pushed inside her heated body.
He used both hands on her waist to hold her. A gasp of pleasure punctuated her groan. He was large, and she was tight, despite how aroused she was. He leaned his cheek against her hair, then kissed a warm trail down her temple to her throat. Dark, silky hair brushed her cheek.
“Better?” His voice broke on a gasp.
She adjusted her bottom, and closing her eyes, felt him more deeply inside her. The burning had passed. The pressure intense. She felt ... “Much better.”
