Page 46 of How to Woo a Highlander

With that, Jane took his face in her hands and leaned forward to kiss him. Her kiss was like a sweet memory, igniting his doubts and burning them to ashes. His emotions were wild as he was hit with a sudden pang, a realization of how much he has missed holding her. Memories of the night spent with her clouded his mind, sending him into overdrive, and he kissed her back with fervor, wanting her more desperately than ever.

He detached himself from her in a last-ditch attempt of self-control, averting his gaze so he would not be pulled in by the hunger in her eyes. He had told her father that the strings connecting them were severed. What would John Baxendale think of the way they held each other now?

"Ye cannae stay, Jane, I need to have one of me men escort ye back to the castle."

Jane pressed herself against him, pulling him to her by the back of his neck.

"Just for tonight, Alastair. I want to be with you. Let me touch you just for tonight," she added.

Just like that, all of his self-control was gone. She initiated a kiss again, and this time he ravaged her mouth thoughtlessly, all reservations lost in his lust.

He pulled her closer to himself, and she wrapped her legs around his torso. He groaned in his hunger for her, the flesh of her thighs soft in his palms.

She threw her head back in pleasure as he kissed his way down her neck, finding her sweet spot quickly and taking his time to tease her skin. His length pulsed beneath his kilt, jerking with his desire, fueled by her wanton moans.

He wanted her desperately and groaned, straining against his need and fighting for control. To his surprise, she lowered her hand and pulled up his kilt, grasping his member in her hand. He grunted at the sudden contact, the flash of pleasure, causing him to bite down on her neck in retaliation. She moaned even louder, moving against him so that it became difficult to hold her.

"Alastair, more… please," she pleaded. Grunting in response, he lowered her to the ground, hovering over her and moving her dress, freeing her breasts for him to feast on. She did not let go of his length, stroking him even as he took his mouth to her pink nipple and his hand to her wetness.

He was swimming in the pleasure, her soft hand moving over his hot, hard flesh and drawing moans from his lips. Her wetness was coating his fingers, and her hips moved of their own accord, exposing her to his touch. Her nipples were stiff beneath his attentions, and she continued to speak his name.

"Alastair… please… I want you. All of you. Right now." Her face flushed, and her eyes clouded with lust.

Alastair felt as though he had been struck by lightning, his member jerking in response to her words. He could not believe what she had said. Did she want him? All of the reasons why they should not flashed across his mind.

"Jane…" he said, doubt showing in his voice. He made to move away, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him back to her, tears threatening to fall from her eyes again.

"Alastair, I may never see you again!" she cried. He stilled at that, realizing that she was right. He was going on a deadly mission. He might never see her again, whether as his or as William's woman. What was one night before he faced death?

"Are ye sure?" he asked. She nodded fervently, moving so that she rubbed against him.

"I am. Please, Alastair," she gasped. He stared at her for a moment, seeing the hunger and certainty in her eyes, before obliging her request and sinking into her wetness.

Every part of his body caught aflame, and he shut his eyes, trying to fight against the onslaught of sensation.

"Oh gods, Jane," he groaned and began to move his hips. She grabbed him tighter than ever, crying out with each movement. He felt the same way, encircled by her warm wetness and feeling pleasure like never before.

Perhaps it was the looming possibility of death or the adrenaline from the danger they had just survived, but Alastair had never felt anything close to being inside her.

He was saying her name as her fingers dug into his back. His hips could not stop moving. He lowered his head to kiss her again, only breaking the kiss when the sensation nearly drove him overboard. She was pulsing around him endlessly in her release, as though her body was trying to milk his length.

He groaned into her neck, trying to clear his head. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to his climax. Her legs bounced against his back as he moved, and she kissed his ear, whispering his name. That was his undoing, and he crashed into his climax, speaking her name over and over as if she were his lifeline.

They held onto each other in the aftermath of their bliss. He would take this one night without regrets, loving her openly and without reserve. He knew that he should get up and check on his men, change into his disguise, and be alert all night so he could send Jane on her way at first light. He did not want to, however. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms, and that was what he did.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mary went to Jane's chambers that evening, after not seeing her for the whole day, to check how she was dealing with the news of the war. To her horror, Jane had gone. Knowing her charge, Mary descended into panic, well aware that Jane was reckless and willful and might have done something foolish.

She ran to inform John Baxendale in his chambers, silently worrying about his future son-in-law and hoping that the young man would be able to deal with the sudden problem. He could do nothing to help as they were not yet related, so the battle was not an English problem. If the young man were Jane's husband, however, he would be able to bring in his forces to protect his daughter's clan.

He had been rather tough on the boy, he knew, and he’d noticed that Jane had been displeased with his behavior. However, it was a toughness that the young man needed, not to be coddled. At least Jane cared enough about the young Laird to be concerned when he’d shouted at him. He was still troubled ever since she’d announced that she did not want the marriage.

On the one hand, he had his plans, but on the other, he also had the happiness of his daughter to consider. Of course, he only wanted what was best for Jane, and although he would never admit it, his resolve had already weakened after watching her mope around each day as though someone had stolen her joy. His conversation with the young man she claimed to love did nothing to steady his resolve as he found that he did not despise the boy. He seemed to be a strong, capable man who had earned the respect of the clan.

He was deliberating on these things when Mary burst into his chambers, flinging the doors open and yelling out in panic that Jane was missing. His thought process was thrown into chaos, and a deep fear gripped him.

Jane was all that he had left. All that he had left of his wife. Although he was not close to Jane, she was the rock of his life. Every time he went to war, he made sure that she was safe, protected by the trained soldiers who posed as guards at his manor for fear that the enemies would go after the thing he loved the most, just as they had with his wife.