Page 27 of Highland Fire

“Aye, give yourself o’er to me, sweeting. Dinnae shy from this or from anything that can bring us pleasure. I but seek to make ye more welcoming.”

“I dinnae think I can be much more welcoming.”

He laughed softly against the side of her neck as he trailed his increasingly feverish kisses back toward her breasts. “Such heat, such sweet fire. How can ye keep denying that we are destined?”

“’Tis the kinder thing to do—for both of us.” She clutched at his broad shoulders, wrapping her legs around him as a tightening in her body urged her to draw him closer. “Tavig,” she called, yet could not think of the words to describe what she was feeling.

“Ye are ready, sweet bonnie Moira. I fear I must hurt ye a wee bit, now.”

“I ken it. That much I do ken.” She grew still as she felt him probe for entry into her body.

“I dinnae wish to hurt ye,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Then mayhap ’tis best to do it quickly.”

Her eyes widening, she held him tightly as she felt him ease into her. Even in the shadowy light from the moon and the banked fire she could see the tension in his face. The light glistened off beads of sweat on his upper lip. Then suddenly he grasped her by the hips and pushed into her. A sharp tearing pain caused her to gasp and close her eyes, but it quickly became insignificant compared to the feeling of their bodies uniting. His heavy breaths heated her ear. He moved his hands over her body lightly, gently. So caught up was she in savoring the feeling of his being inside of her, of their being one, it was a moment before she realized he was not moving. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked barely able to recognize the soft, husky voice as her own.

“I hurt ye. Ye cried out in pain.”

“’Twas but a wee hurt, already forgotten.”

She trailed her fingers down the backs of his thighs. He jerked and trembled beneath her touch, his body moving inside of her. Moira gasped, the slight stroking movement causing her desire to flare up so intensely it was almost painful. Moira knew that the last things she wanted Tavig to be right now were still and gentle. Watching him closely, she slid her hands up the backs of his thighs until she cupped his taut backside. She pulled him closer, deeper. She savored his groan, his shudder, for she knew they were born of passion.

“Lass, if ye keep tormenting me so, I willnae be able to go slowly, mayhap not even gently,” he said in a raspy voice, his words broken by his strained breathing.

“I believe I dinnae want ye to be either, Tavig MacAlpin.”

Kissing him lightly, she wrapped her body more tightly around his. She teased his lips with her tongue, and that was all the added incentive he needed. He kissed her hungrily and began to move. Moira quickly learned to parry his increasingly feverish thrusts. The strokes of his tongue matched the rhythm of his body. The pleasurable tightening she had felt before her passion had been checked by the loss of her maidenhead returned in full force. It grew until she groaned beneath the weight of it, then shattered. Moira cried out as she was engulfed by a pleasure that stole all thought, all sense of where she was. She clung to Tavig as his movements grew briefly frantic, then he cried out her name, his hands clenching her hips as he pressed deep inside of her. Still tingling and dazed, she held him close when he collapsed in her arms.

Moira was not sure how long she lay there savoring the feelings that lingered throughout her body, but suddenly she began to be aware of other things. The hard ground began to impress itself upon her back. Her neck was growing hot and moist where Tavig was pressing his face against it. She tried to call back the intoxicating feelings, but they continued to fade.

“I didnae realize it could go away,” she murmured.

Easing the intimacy of their embrace, Tavig propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. “What went away, sweet Moira?”

“I am not sure what to call it.” Blushing and unable to meet his gaze, she admitted, “’Twas a feeling. ’Twas verra nice, but it didnae stay as long as I would have liked it to.” She heard him chuckle and looked at him, feeling the sting of embarrassment. “I have said something foolish.”

“Nay, loving.” He cupped her face in his hands, giving her a gentle kiss. “Ye are all sweetness and fire. My laugh is born of hearing ye say ye felt pleasure. I heard ye cry out, felt your body thrash around mine, but I fear I was so lost in my own hungers by then, I couldnae be sure of what I felt.”

When he rose from their bed, Moira frowned, tugging the discarded blanket over her suddenly chilled body. He returned a moment later with a wet cloth. Moira blushed furiously as he yanked her covering away, washed her off, and held the cool cloth between her legs for several moments. That felt good, but his grin at her embarrassment kept her scowling at him. Just like a man, she mused, tugging the blanket back over herself when he finished tending her. No appreciation for even the simplest of modesties.

Tavig laughed softly, tossing the cloth aside. Moira’s sudden concern over her nakedness amused him as did her irritation over his amusement. That touch of modesty did not hinder her passion in any way so he found it endearing. Checking to be sure his sword and dagger were close at hand, he slipped beneath the blanket and tugged her into his arms. The feel of her soft skin against his immediately restirred his desire, but he forcibly quelled it. Her first time had brought her pleasure, but he knew it had also brought her pain. He would let her have some time to recover from that.

“Now ye are mine, Moira,” he murmured, combing his fingers through her lightly tangled hair.

“Are ye going to start that mad talk of marriage again?”

“Most women wouldnae consider it mad.”

“I might not, either, had ye not started speaking of it from the first day we met. And, as I have told ye, verra clearly and verra often, ’twould be pure lunacy for us to marry. Ye dinnae have to wed me because of this, either.”

“Wedded or not, ye are still mine.” He smiled when she leaned back a little to send him a cross look.

“Ye are verra particular about that, I see.”

“Aye. I am. I thought it only fair to tell ye how I feel about it.”