Page 36 of Her Highlander’s Darkest Temptation (Highlanders of Cadney #14)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
H e felt as if his blood was aflame, and his arousal was making his shaft painfully stiff, but Donall held his desire in check as he stared down into Lydia’s trusting, inviting gaze.
There was a temptation to take her to the rug in front of the fire, to lay her on the thick, heavy furs and claim her there.
His blood demanded more of her, desire surging over him like waves.
Donall bit his lip to quell the fierce urges singing through him.
It was difficult, after so long feeling nothing, but even so…
I will nae have me first time with Lydia be a hurried tryst on a rug in front o’ a fire in a place where any lad or lass can wander in. Especially nae if what I suspect o’ her is true.
With a grunt of effort that made his chest burn, Donall swept Lydia into his arms. The pressure of her bosom against his still-sore chest hurt, but it was a small thing compared to the feel of her soft, warm weight in his arms, the fulfillment of dreams he’d tried for a time to convince himself he hadn’t dreamed.
“What are you doing? Your chest…” Lydia’s eyes widened in alarm.
“’Tis fine. The wound is healed enough.” Donall turned on his heel, balancing carefully against the weight of Lydia in his arms, and left the library.
He kicked the door shut behind him, then strode through the halls moving with a quick and purposeful stride.
Fortunately, it was late enough that few servants were awake, and Alex had already retired, so there was no one to see as he carried Lydia up the stairs, into the laird’s family wing, and to the door of his chambers.
Seconds later, they were in his front room. Donall set Lydia gently on the floor, then turned to bolt the door. He returned to find Lydia watching him with a startled, uncertain gaze. “What… what are you…?”
Donall stepped close, slid his fingers through the silk-soft tendrils of her hair where it had escaped the loose braid she’d bound it in.
Lydia leaned into his touch, and Donall reached further, stroking the length of the plait before he gently undid the tie to let it fall around her face.
“Och, ye’re so beautiful. If there’s nae man among the English who could see tha’, then it proves what I’ve kent all along… they’re blind, every man o’ them.”
“Donall…” The uncertain tone of her voice stopped him from coming closer.
“Ye asked me tae show ye what I feel fer ye. Are ye changing yer mind?” It would be torture to let her walk away after this, but Donall swore he would, if she asked.
“No.” Lydia shook her head, a rosy blush suffusing her cheeks.
“An’ dae ye trust me?” Donall leaned closer.
“Aye.” Lydia nodded. “I do.”
“An’ ye want me? As I want ye?”
“I - aye.” The blush deepened, painting her cheeks the color of the red rose and a summer dawn. The warmth of it washed over Donall’s hand, welcoming and enticing, beckoning him closer.
Donall bent and claimed Lydia’s mouth again.
Lightly, gently, with none of the searing need he had felt before.
Here in his own chambers, with her acceptance singing softly in his mind, he saw no reason to hurry.
Desperation settled into a bone deep desire to not only enjoy Lydia’s presence, all that she offered him, but to take his time, and ensure that Lydia received as much enjoyment as he did.
He cupped her chin with his hands, letting his fingers trail through the softness of her unbound hair as he breathed deeply of the heather and sage scents that surrounded her. Lydia’s skin was smooth, soft as flower petals under his touch.
His hand followed the silken fall of her tresses down her back.
Lydia shivered under his touch, even as she leaned in closer, the swell of her bosom pressed against his chest just below the fresh scarring.
Pleasure and pain pulsed together, sending fire tangling through him and straight to his already-aching groin.
Together, the two of them moved in an awkward dance toward the bedroom.
Shoes were kicked off, his sash and belt were discarded, and the laces of his shirt were undone.
In the bed chamber, he allowed Lydia’s dress to slip from her shoulders to pool on the floor, leaving her barefoot in her shift.
Her blue eyes were wide and dark, uncertainty and desire deep as his own surging through them.
He cupped her cheek gently, bending close to kiss her, his tongue sweeping across the seam of her lips.
She responded, hesitant but not uncertain, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue twining and dancing with hers until they were both breathless.
Donall broke the kiss with a groan, his body aching and burning with the force of his desire.
“Last chance lass. If ye dinnae want this…”
Lydia responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, molding her body to his, her belly and the juncture of her thighs pressed against his straining arousal. Donall hissed in surprise, then took her into his arms and half turned to lay both of them on the bed in a whirl of cloth and heat.
He tossed his shirt aside, then leaned over Lydia to kiss her again. First on the lips, then he tipped his head and kissed the point of her jaw, nipped lightly at her earlobe, and was rewarded with a gasp and a shiver. “Och, ye’re a responsive one.”
Responsive was good. Her voice and her body would tell him if he went astray. Donall kissed her throat, lips and teeth teasing lightly at the pulse point as his other hand stroked over her opposite shoulder, then slid to the center of her chest to undo the lacing at the bodice of the chemise.
He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, then at the hollow of her throat, then moved to straddle her so his hands could caress her shoulders and slide the thin fabric of her undergarment down, off her arms and down her chest until her breasts were bared to his hungry gaze.
Full, pert breasts the color of fresh milk save for the rosy nipples.
The cool air hardened them into taut peaks, and Donall shifted and took the right one into his mouth, sucking, licking, teasing the sensitive nub with teeth and lips and tongue, while his hand cupped the other.
Lydia trembled, gasping, and Donall continued his ministrations until she began to shift restlessly, calling his name in a breathless voice. “Donall…”
He shifted then, switching his attention to the left breast, teasing until Lydia was arching up into his mouth, making soft, pleading noises. “Patience lass.”
He slid the chemise down further, pressed a kiss to the base of her breastbone, then dropped light, teasing kisses down her core while his hands caressed and mapped her sides, seeking out every sensitive spot that could be used to give her pleasure.
Donall trailed his fingers over her ribs, the graceful line of her waist, the smooth, soft skin of her belly.
Lydia quivered, panting, and Donall felt his body harden further, need singing through his veins and begging for release. He controlled himself. He wanted to take his time with Lydia.
Donall slid his hands lower, caressing the soft globes of her buttocks, then down to her thighs, then her calves, before tugging the garment over her feet and casting it aside, leaving Lydia bared to his gaze.
She looked glorious, her hair in untamed disarray around her flushed and panting face, like a wild autumn halo of some fay creature. The pale softness of her skin, the rosy flush of need… all of it made Donall’s mouth dry and his gut clench.
“Part yer legs fer me, Lydia. Let me touch ye.”
For a moment, he thought she might refuse, might break the spell of desire that held both of them in its grasp. Then her legs opened for him, revealing her most intimate place to his gaze.
Donall slid his hands up her legs, caressing, finding more spots that could bring her pleasure when touched, and bent his head to breathe in the heady scent of her arousal.
Donall flicked his tongue out to taste her.
Lydia gasped at the feel of his mouth on her, thighs opening wider in an involuntary reaction. “Donall…”
“Aye…” He blew a soft breath over her, watched her squirm and shiver under the cool air. “Och, ye’re so lovely… seein’ ye…”
There were no words. Donall longed to lick every inch of her, until she was panting, moaning, until she came from his tongue alone.
But his own need was too close, too urgent, and he knew he would never last. Instead, he slid himself up to lay beside her, the fabric of his kilt between her thigh and his straining erection as he caressed her cheek, then slid a hand slowly down her throat, skimming over her breasts and belly before he settled a callused palm to cup the mound of her sex.
Lydia shifted, her eyes alight with desire, her body responding to his touch.
Donall slid his fingers through the soft fine hairs, feeling the dampness of arousal there.
“Och… so wet already…” Slowly, he slid his fingers lower, to caress the lips of her sex, then cupped her fully, his hand pressing against her.
Lydia trembled, and her thighs twitched, as if to close.
“’Tis all right. I want tae see everythin’ ye dae… ”
Donall stroked her, from the top of her seam to where her buttocks touched the sheets, then back again. Then again, his middle finger gliding over the seam of her sex, teasing her entrance. “Dae ye want me tae stop?”
“No… please..”
Her legs were fully parted now, the lips of her sex parting slightly as well. Donall slid his finger between them, caressing the inner folds as he stroked her again. Lydia shivered, a full body tremor as her hips arched slightly into his hand. “Does that feel good, lass?”
“Aye…” He caressed it again, then again, teasing her pleasure center until she was quivering and writhing around his hand, her arousal slicking his fingers with her juices. “Donall, please…”