Page 30 of In Bed with a Scot

Unable to hold himself back anymore, Madden pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her. She responded with a fiery passion that swept over him with a strength that he could not resist. Lifting her up into his arms, he stood and carried her over to the bed. Laying her down, he turned to the door and placed the bar in front of it to keep anyone from entering unexpectedly. Turning back to the bed, he walked to the edge, his eyes holding Isabelle’s. “I want ye. Will ye have me?”

Isabelle nodded. “Aye, I will have ye,” she whispered, holding her arms out to him.

Relief flooded Madden’s mind and heart while passion fueled his body. He removed his clothes, then lowered himself onto the bed, his body hovering over hers. Reclaiming her lips, he kissed her deeply, then moved down her neck, to her breasts. Unable to get to them sufficiently through her clothing, he pulled her up into a sitting position and pulled her dress, then her shift up over her head, dropping them onto the floor. Her body glistened like a pearl in water in the fire’s light.

“Ye are bonnie beyond belief,” he whispered, his eyes taking her in. He traced the lines of her body with his hands, his fingers passing softly over the bruises that dotted her skin. “Och, lass, I could kill him fer what he has done tae ye. Only a mad man would harm such perfection.”

Tears slipped from Isabelle’s eyes, disappearing into her hair spread out across the pillow below her head. “Kiss me,” she whispered, her body trembling under his gaze.

“With pleasure,” he murmured, bending down to reclaim her lips.

Isabelle wrapped her arms around him, her breasts pressing against his bare chest. He could feel her nipples against his skin, simultaneously hard and soft. His tongue flickered lazily in and out of the opening between her lips, slowly building up in rhythm and intensity, their tongues intertwining passionately until they could hardly breathe. “Madden,” she moaned his name as he lowered his mouth to lick and suckle her neck, her chest and then each hardened peak in turn.

Madden continued down her abdomen to the juncture of her legs. His tongue reached out and parted her nether hair to flick the hidden pink pearl beneath. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Sweet as honey.” Delving his tongue into her inner most folds he let his tongue explore every bit of her hot wetness, to then return to her bud, driving her crazy.

“Madden, I need ye,” Isabelle breathed, her voice strained in desperation attempting to keep from crying out and drawing unwanted attention to them.

Madden did not need to be told twice. Raising himself up over her, he positioned his hardened length between her legs. “Are ye ready fer me, lass?” He confirmed. He did not want her to have any doubts or regrets.

“Aye, please, Madden. I need ye inside of me.” She gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers into his back as she pulled him closer.

Reclaiming her lips, he kissed her passionately as he teased her with his tip until she could no longer take it and raised her hips while she held on to his as if her very life depended on it. She grabbed him with all her might, and he plunged inside her soft, slippery, welcoming body from tip to base in one thrust. “Isabelle,” he breathed, as her wet warmth wrapped itself around him. It was as if he were coming home. It was as if her sheath was the only one in the world for him to rest his sword. Driven by a madness born of passionate need, Madden began moving inside of her slowly and then with a fervor that would have scared a lesser lass. Then tantalizingly slowly again, stopping to gaze into her eyes, until Isabelle took him and returned his previous fervor with equal passion.

Their love making became fierce, deep, and all encompassing. The sensations that swept over the both of them were unlike anything that they had ever felt before. They moved together in a frenzied rhythm as old as time itself. As he slid in and out of her, Madden felt as if he might burn alive from the inside out with his desire for her.

He looked down into her eyes, liquid pools of need and pleasure. He could feel her breathing getting faster and he her tightening around his manhood until the spasms started and she gasped his name into his ear. It was his undoing, he instantly fell over the precipice, lights exploding behind his eyes. They climaxed together, each reaching their fulfillment at the exact same moment. Madden felt as if he were falling into the abyss of eternity. It was the most profound, intense orgasm he had ever experienced, he couldn’t stop the fall. His mind went blank and his body limp before he slowly started coming back to reality. He rested his head on her forehead as they both tried to catch their breath.

“Isabelle…”

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke into their peaceful cocoon. “Madden Kinnaird?” a maid’s voice filtered through the wood. “The laird has enquired about yer wound.”

“Tell his lairdship thank ye and nae tae fash, that I am doin’ much better and am a resting,” Madden called back, sending the maid scurrying on her way.

“This is madness,” Isabelle breathed. “This is sheer and utter madness.” She pushed him off of her, scampering up off of the bed, to grab her clothes from the floor. She pulled her shift and dress over her head as quickly as she could. “We cannae ever dae this again.”

Madden felt a pain in his heart at her words. For the briefest of moments, it had felt as if their bodies had merged into one. There had been moments when he had not been able to tell where his body ended, and hers began. It had been the most all-encompassing feeling that he had ever experienced. He could not imagine going back to a time when such a connection no longer existed.

“Isabelle,” he spoke her name softly, reaching out to offer her comfort in her distress. “I will protect ye. I will nae allow him tae harm ye.”

Isabelle looked at him with fire in her eyes, refusing the gesture of comfort. “Ye cannae keep him from hurting ye, let alone me.” She gestured towards the wound on his forehead. “Me life is nae yers tae protect. This was a mistake, and it will never happen again.” Panic and tears in her eyes, Isabelle removed the bar from the door and fled from the room as if the devil himself was chasing her.

The next morning, Madden went down to breakfast to find that everyone had already gathered around the table to break the fast. He had slept later than usual after a restless night of tossing and turning, his thoughts never leaving Isabelle. As he entered the hall, she avoided meeting his eyes, looking anywhere but where he stood. Squaring his shoulders, he moved forward toward the dais.

“Good morn,” Arran greeted Madden as he joined them at the table. “How did ye sleep?”

Madden shook his head. “Well enough,” he answered, not willing to go into detail.

“Sit, eat,” Arran instructed. “We were just talking about where we had eaten the best parritch we had ever had.”

“Will that nae make yer cook jealous?” Madden asked.

Arran laughed. “She is the one who started the conversation.”

Madden raised his eyebrow in surprise, but nodded as he sat down to a steaming bowl of parritch that was being sat on the table in front of him. “Now try that,” the cook commanded, eyeing him closely. “Is it nae the best parritch that ye have ever had?”

Madden took a spoon and scooped up a healthy portion of the globular substance. He spooned it into his mouth giving it the attention that had been requested of him. It had apples, raisins, and honey in it. “Aye, I dae believe it might be,” he nodded smiling at the cook.

“I cannae tell the difference between this parritch and the parritch that we had at the inn,” Bain grumbled.