And she strained upward under his weight and pulled his head down and managed to reach his mouth and cover it with hers so he could not apologize as he intended.
He wanted to say he was sorry for so much. Sorry for not knowing what to do. Sorry for being so quick. Sorry for not tending to her body and understanding her needs. Sorry for wanting to beat Morpeth. And most of all, sorry for not coming to her long ago and making sure she knew that he wanted her to be Mrs. Alasdair Andrews.
She kissed him as his heart rate slowed and returned to normal. And then he settled on his side next to her and she pulled herself up so she was facing him and her head was even with his. He could feel her breath on his lips in the dark. One of her hands was resting on the hair on his chest and the other hand was in the hair on his head. Both of his hands were on her waist but he was thinking very seriously about moving both of them up to rest them on her breasts.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’m sor—”
Again she stopped his mouth with hers.
When the kiss was over, he said, “Thank ye.”
She fell back, supine on the mattress. “Now I can die.”
He chased her body with his, pressing into her side, pulling her into him, putting one of his legs over hers.
“I’d rather ye didn’t.”
“Well, what is left for me?” One of her soft hands cupped his unshaven jaw. “I’ve had Alasdair Andrews.”
“Well, maybe ye can have him again.”
The room was very silent then. Was she holding her breath in the dark?
“Is that a promise?” A whisper from her.
“In fact, if ye let me light a candle, I think ye could have him again very shortly.”
“A candle?”
“So I can see ye.” Was that a sigh now?
Her body pulled away from him and lifted up off the mattress and he could hear her touching something at bedside. Then the unmistakable sound of a match being struck and he could see her mane of hair in silhouette and then a candle was lit and she lay back.
Lying there in the candlelight, she looked like she was made of molten gold. Her beautiful breasts with their rosy areolas and nipples. Her perfectly smooth abdomen except for the divot of her umbilicus. And then her triangle of golden maidenhair at the top of her thighs.
He took her in, almost feeling that he could not dare to caress her as he had in the dark. And as his eyes feasted, he could feel his tumescence returning as he had known it would once he saw her body.
“Touch me, Alasdair,” she whispered.
He started. “I’m sor—” This time she lunged, cutting off the candlelight with the shadow of her body and her head as she kissed him. And as she put her tongue in his mouth, she took one of his hands and put it on her breast.
And when she broke the kiss and laid back again, he discovered the divine pleasure of using his mouth on her other breast. The skin so soft, the flesh so taut, the tip of the breast so responsive to his stimulation, tightening and becoming a nub as he lapped at it. The groans that came from her as he suckled her hardened him even further.
He didn’t need the candle, he realized, to be ready again. All he needed was her arousal. Although now that the candle was lit, he did not want it snuffed. He wanted to see her. And now she was moving on the mattress in an almost fretful way and her legs were apart and her pelvis was thrusting upward. He took his hand from her breast and moved it down to her mound.
He first felt her curling maidenhair. And then he dared to place a finger in her cleft. Warm, wet, so soft and silky. She groaned more loudly. But what would give her pleasure here? He suddenly felt he was rather a second-rate Adam. But his Eve would help him.
He released her nipple from his mouth.
“Arabella,” he said. “I dinnae ken what to do.”
“Do you want me to show you?” Her voice was graveled in a way that he had not heard before.
“Aye.”
“I get my fingers damp,” she said. She put her hand that had been in his hair down to her thatch of maidenhair and he moved his hand out of the way.
