Page 36 of Highlander’s False Identity

“Och, there was never really anything between us,” Beathan concluded, with an odd look. “Ye must ken that, right?” he said. He placed his index finger on her chin, stroking it gently.

A strange tingle started in Edme’s neck, circling her shoulders and then slid down her spine in a delicious spasm.

“Nae?” said Edme, trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

“Nae, she married the Laird of MacDonald a few years ago. They have twins,” he said, with an odd twinkle in his eyes.

A couple of seconds passed, as Edme tried to imagine perfect Sheelagh Ross with twins. She wondered if Beathan regretted how things worked out, and if he still harbored a desire to be with her.

Perhaps reading her mind, Beathan pressed his face closer to hers, touching her lightly on the cheek.

“Why all this talk of Sheelagh? What matters now is me and ye!” he said. “That’s if… ye think there even is a me and ye?” he asked unsurely.

Edme did not speak. She let her lips answer for her, and soon they were kissing deeply.

“Och Edme!” Beathan murmured. “I’ll take that as an aye, then?”

But he didn’t get a chance to say much more. Soon the pair were entwined on the hard stone floor.

Edme didn’t answer him; she was too busy caressing his face and then bringing her hands down to Beathan’s wet and soaking léine. She hadn’t noticed just how wet he was, how wet they both were.

Beathan’s wavy red hair was dripping wet, leaving a puddle on the floor where he was lying.

They were lying before what would have been the fireplace, but there was no fire burning, nor any wood to make one. The only flame came from the flickering candle on the floor in front of them.

“Get those wet things off, Beathan, afore ye catch yer death,” she ordered, stripping him of his wet clothing. Beathan did not hesitate, ripping the léine off so hard it nearly split.

“Steady now, lass,” he teased. “If ye can bear the sight of me like this!”

Edme feasted her eyes on the sight of him, his naked torso showing in the glinting orange light. He looked both lithe and muscle-bound at the same time, every inch perfectly rippled and toned. She smoothed her hands over every contour and curve, moving slowly down towards his navel.

“Wheesht!” she said, putting an icy hand beneath his leine. Beathan gave a small yelp.

“Yer hands are so cold!” he said. But she put her finger to her lips and bade him be silent.

Playfully, Edme lifted his kilt. It was heavy and wet. Gradually, she began unfastening it.

“Och, it’s so wet. We need a fire in here to dry it,” she murmured, but Beathan grabbed her and flipped her up on top of him.

“We’ve got our own fire right here. It doesnae need to get any hotter,” he reasoned, and Edme could find nothing to argue with there.

Not that she got the chance to argue with him because, suddenly, he was undressing her, slowly and deliciously. He had her loosely fashioned léine off before she knew it. And now he was beginning to unlace her stays, the flat of his hand caressing her stomach as he worked on them.

“Och, I dinnae ken how ye can even breathe, lass!” he stated, slowly teasing open the lacing. However, getting Edme’s stays off was proving difficult. “Get them off; they’re too fiddly for my fingers!” he commanded.

But Edme just laughed, “Och, I bet ye can manage just fine,” she challenged him.

“Well, dinnae complain that I didnae warn ye!” he said, immediately ripping them apart with such gusto that it almost jerked her in two. Edme’s stays flung open, revealing her heaving bosoms.

“Mmm,” murmured Beathan approvingly. He placed a hand on each of her breasts, caressing them softly. Then he rolled his thumbs up and down repeatedly over her hardened nipples. “Ye like that?” he inquired softly.

Edme’s moans answered for her. But Beathan just laughed and placed his lips around a taut pink nipple, sucking and tugging until she could take no more.

“Beathan,” she gasped. Edme could feel her heart starting to race. Her body tingled and tensed with his every touch. As he sat back, gazing at the sight of her in the semi-light, she felt a slow trickle of wetness between her thighs.

Even when he was not touching her, Edme felt his eyes devour her. The tender anticipation of his touch was enough to set her senses alight.

Very slowly, Beathan lowered her trews, pulling them down from her waist to her thighs, in a gentle teasing motion. He did not touch but only looked at what was revealed, as if entranced by her body.