Page 32 of Devil’s Highlander (Clan MacAlpin #1)

Marjorie didn’t quite understand. She didn’t want to leave this bed. “Come where? Where are you going?”

He merely chuckled, and then maddeningly, he rose from the bed. Where was the blasted man off to?

She looked him up and down and, like an eager pup, she couldn’t stop looking.

He stood so tall over the bed, and with his hard-cut body and the fine webbing of scars that shone in the flickering light, he looked so dangerous.

His manhood jutted ominously in the shadows, and her eyes went wide.

She fisted her hands in the sheets as if that could slow down her careening heart.

And yet she wasn’t afraid. Nervous, yes, that she wouldn’t know what to do or how to act.

But not afraid , never with him. She knew, better than she knew herself, that Cormac would never hurt her.

She wondered how it could be possible that she always felt so safe with him, this man who claimed to bear such darkness in his soul.

She just wished she knew what he was about. “Where could you possibly—?

“Cormac!” she yelped, as he grabbed her knees and tugged her to the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?”

He knelt before her, spreading her legs.

Her pulse throbbed in her neck, and she tried to swallow. What was he doing? What was she supposed to do? “I . . . I—”

He went straight to her inner thighs, spreading hot, openmouthed kisses along her skin.

Her mouth went dry. He was so . . . close down there. Close to . . . down there . “What are you—?”

His hand swept up her belly, straight for her breast, finding her nipple with his thumb.

“Ohh,” she moaned, “Oh my.”

Against her better judgment, her body relaxed, until she found herself lying back on the bed. She shut her eyes and let herself enjoy the feel of his hands on her breasts and his mouth along her legs. Come where? she wondered distantly.

He shifted. There was a moment’s chill on her thigh where his mouth had been. And then she felt his tongue lick her there .

“Cormac!” Her head shot up, but he ignored her. “Cor—”

He latched onto her.

Oh sweet heavenly . . .

“Oh . . .” Such rapturous warmth spread from his tongue to the very tips of her fingers and toes. He moaned, sounding pleased. Could he actually be enjoying it? “Cormac?”

He slid a finger into her.

“Oh dear,” she muttered, dropping her head back.

He crooked it deeper, working her with fingers and tongue, and all notions of embarrassment fled her mind.

She twined one hand in his hair and flung the other over her head, loose and languid, like butter melting in his touch.

She swiveled her hips, pitching herself closer to his mouth. “Ohhh. Oh my . . .”

Cormac’s low chuckle reverberated through her core. He was enjoying it.

“That’s good,” she murmured. The feeling of warmth grew intense, the sparks in her belly quickening to flame. And the sensation grew more powerful still.

“Come back,” she pleaded, a little frightened she might lose control. His mouth felt miraculous, but she was ready to kiss him again. She gave a little tug to his hair to nudge him back over her. “Kiss me again.”

He unlatched to say in a ragged voice, “I am kissing you,” and then nestled even deeper in the crook of her thighs.

“Really,” she said, growing nervous. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but this was growing too intense. “You can stop now.”

The arm she’d splayed so languidly over her head tensed. She felt agitated, her body too hot, and it frightened her. The heat from his mouth seared her, flowing molten in her veins.

She realized she was panting for air. “It’s too much,” she gasped. “Cormac, please. Cor . . . oh .”

Something deep inside her hitched, held taut, and she held her breath to match. Too much. It was too much, and she was afraid she might die of it. “Cormac, I can’t . . .”

She gulped in a single breath, then stilled again, her whole body rigid.

Marjorie shouted as her body seemed to explode.

Her lungs loosened, and with it came a tremendous release, sweeping her into momentary oblivion.

She trembled; she was shuddering, mindless rapture, a thousand shards of glittering crystal suspended in darkness.

She’d had no idea.

She became aware that he was laving kisses all along her inner thighs, stroking her legs, her belly, her breasts. He paused, and she felt his words blow across her damp skin. “I’m sorry, Ree. I couldn’t stop.”

Sorry? She swallowed, trying to reacquaint herself with the use of her tongue. Oh yes, she’d asked him to stop. What had she been thinking?

“Again, please,” she said weakly.

He laughed outright, climbing up her body, reveling in it as he went. He greeted her with a slow, deep kiss. Her own musk filled her senses, and she was startled at the new sparks crackling through her body in response.

His erection brushed against her hip, still hard and angry, and she grew serious. “But what of you?”

Though it’d been made clear she didn’t know exactly how matters proceeded between a man and a woman, Marjorie did know the male of the species derived some sort of physical release from the whole endeavor.

“I thought we might . . . Can we still? Ohhh,” she cooed, realizing maybe there was more in store for her.

Now that she’d recovered from her . . . coming , she was realizing her body was not quite done.

“Aye, we could still ,” he conceded, repeating her implication. “But no, Ree. I’ll not take that from you. You should be a maiden on your wedding day.”

Wedding day. She’d have neither a wedding day nor a wedding night.

This time with Cormac, this was what mattered.

There was no other man for her. She knew that, certain above all things.

This was her one opportunity to experience true passion, and she had to seize it. Seize him , while she had the chance.

Glaring, she sat up. “I told you. I’ll not have a wedding day. I’ll not wed, unless . . .”

Unless it’s you I wed. She trailed off, leaving the words unspoken.

He either didn’t catch or refused to acknowledge her implication.

She hoisted herself onto her elbows. This experience had changed her. In fact, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it had changed her whole understanding of the world. But the echoes of bliss had left her feeling hollow, as though only now did she realize how much he belonged inside her.

She still had needs, and she would see them satisfied. She just needed to make herself more clear.

“My life is full and rich,” she told him briskly. “I’ve decided to remain unmarried. So you see, it would be no problem for you to . . . for us to . . .”

“Why’d you never marry, Ree?” He tucked a damp tendril of hair behind her ear. “Why will you not?”

The maddening man needed to get back to the topic at hand. She avoided his question, gesturing instead to his still-erect flesh. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

He laughed. “I asked you a question. ’Tis customary to answer before posing your own.”

Her eyes narrowed. Cormac had spent the past however many years glowering in silence, and now suddenly he wanted talking. “Is it customary to talk so much in the midst of . . . of such proceedings?”

“One could argue this is a part of such proceedings.” He drew his hand in one slow stroke along her cheek, down her neck, and over her breast to her belly. He watched the path of his hand with single-minded intent.

Her breasts pulled taut, her whole body quivering in response to his attention.

His attention. She sighed. How many years had she longed for such attentions from Cormac?

He gripped her hips firmly, staring at her with such purpose. He pressed close to her, and then abruptly he pulled away.

She studied him, his strong profile in the guttering candlelight. Folk had likened him and the other MacAlpins to devils, and Cormac was certainly as handsome as one. But his scarred brow bore so many secrets. What had dragged him from the darkness of Aidan’s kidnap into such grave depths?

She could talk, she decided. For now. But she would convince him. Cormac would lie with her before the night was over.

“I’d like to answer your question with a question, then.” She’d grown chilled and reached for the sheet. With a gentle hand to stop her, Cormac leaned to the floor, retrieving his plaid to cover them. “Thank you,” she said as matter-of-factly as if she’d been at a banquet table.

“So.” She pinned him with a steady look. “I’d like to point out that you’re not wed either.”

He regarded her quietly, and uncertainty assailed her. Why hadn’t he wed? Was there a woman out there somewhere whom he’d loved? Who’d hurt him? Was Marjorie not the only woman who waited for him?

“Oh.” Her voice was tiny. She felt tiny. She wanted to change the topic. Blast him, she wanted to flee from the damn room. But she had to know. “Have there been women?”

“I’m human, Ree.”

She blinked back the sting from her eyes. He was human. What could that possibly mean?

He touched her chin tenderly. “But have any found their way into my heart? No, Ree. None since you.”

“Oh,” she said again, and then grew brighter, considering the thought. Did that mean she’d been in his heart? Was she in it still? She gave him a tremulous smile. If he wanted to talk, she’d be happy to plumb that topic for all it was worth. Cormac would have all the discussion he wanted.

But she would have Cormac before the sun rose.