Page 19 of Taken by the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #2)
One moment, she was rocking against Jude, her hand wrapped around his straining erection, while his fingers caressed places deep inside her—places she’d never felt any touch before.
Then, his hand touched her just there , and his other hand pinched her nipple, and the wave of heat and pleasure that had been building inside her broke and crashed down on her.
The world vanished in a white-gold flare of heat, pressure, and pleasure that carried her away like a tide of relentless, wonderful fire.
She regained awareness to find herself still mostly undressed, sprawled across Jude’s broad chest. Her limbs felt almost boneless, her skin still singing with the aftermath of her release.
Gradually, she became aware of other things—the fabric bunched between them, the feel of Jude’s bare skin against her own, and the ache where her thighs were beginning to feel the strain of straddling his broader, more muscular ones.
She could also feel the cold stickiness of their release on her stomach and legs.
She sat back, looking down with dismay. “Och, I’m such a mess…”
Jude chuckled underneath her, the sound reverberating through her still-sensitive body. “Ye mean, we’re a mess. But it can be easily mended.”
Strong hands helped her stand up and then guided her to sit in a nearby chair when her legs proved still unable to hold her.
Valerie watched as Jude strode across the room to the water pitcher and dunked a strip of fabric into it before wringing it out.
He soaked another strip of fabric and then brought it over to her.
Valerie blushed and looked away, unable to meet his eyes as she took the cool, damp cloth and used it to clean away the evidence of their shared pleasure.
I cannae believe I did this. I kenned it was a mistake, and still I…
“Ye look upset.” Jude’s soft voice made her look up.
He’d already set himself to rights, his shirt laced up and his kilt rearranged so it appeared as though nothing had happened between them.
Valerie flushed and hurried to fix the bodice of her dress before standing up and rearranging her skirts around her. “It is nothin’. I was only thinking that it was foolish of me to do this. A mistake on both our parts.”
Jude blinked. “Ye think it was a mistake?”
“Ye think it wasnae?” Valerie retorted.
The afterglow of pleasure was fading, leaving her feeling cold, almost empty.
“Why should it be?”
Valerie snorted. “How could it nae be? After experiencin’ what I’ve shared with ye, how do ye expect me to go to another man? Ye show me what desire and pleasure mean, and then expect me to wed another. How am I supposed to do that?”
Jude furrowed his brow.
For a moment, Valerie hoped that he might speak up, perhaps refute her statement as he had done a few days ago. But he shook his head.
“I cannae marry ye, lass. I’ve sworn…”
Disappointment crashed over her, bitter and stinging as vinegar in open wounds. “Och, I wasnae proposing to ye, My Laird, have nay fear.” A soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “But I doubt my future husband will be as skilled as ye, and more’s the pity.”
I doubt he’ll have any care for my pleasure or desire either.
Jude’s expression darkened. “I thought I told ye nae to talk about bein’ with another man around me.
For as long as ye’re here in my castle, there’s nay other man in yer life.
Ye’re mine, and nae as just my seamstress, as ye well ken.
Yer moans belong to me, yer banter belongs to me, yer glares belong to me. Mine. All of it.”
Valerie winced. “One moment, ye say ye’ll never claim me, and the next ye say nay one else will either. I only wish it could be true, but we both ken it cannae be.”
Jude flinched at her tone, his expression twisting from anger to remorse. “Lass, dinnae look at me like that. If I could…”
All at once, she was too angry and too heartsick to care what he might say. The words she’d fought to hold back for so long—ever since her father had first forced her into marriage years ago—burst out of her.
“Ye think I want to be claimed by ye or any other man?”
She stalked forward, glaring at him, even as her eyes pricked and stung with tears that she refused to shed.
“Everyone expects me to settle down with a man, to become some laird’s obedient wife—do ye have the faintest idea how I feel about it? I sailed with my faither on the high seas. I commanded his men, second only to my faither himself. I negotiated our trades and fought alongside the men.”
She sucked in a ragged breath, beyond caring how she sounded as the words continued to pour out of her.
“ I supported my sisters after our parents died, and maintained the connections with the men who were loyal to us so we wouldnae be defenseless!”
Jude’s expression was full of amazement, as if she’d hit him with the poker standing next to the hearth.
Valerie took a deep breath and attempted to rein in some of her turmoil, though nothing could quell the bitterness that filled her, all the sharper for the bliss of moments ago.
“All of that, I did, but now I’m expected to shackle myself to… to…”
She couldn’t say it. She didn’t want to say it. The words hung unspoken, thick and choking her until she shoved them away and sought new, more palatable ones.
“Ye say I’m yers for as long as I’m here? Well enough. But if that’s the case, then ye’d better resign yerself, My Laird.”
Jude blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden change in her tone and topic. “Resign myself?”
“Aye. Because if I’m here and I’m yers, then I am most assuredly changing yer curtains.”
With that, she shoved past him and stalked to the door, her gut still churning with the potent mix of emotions that filled her.
Longing, hurt, anger, anguish, and a sort of aching loneliness that made her stomach clench—all of them churned inside her, turning what had been a brief, pleasurable encounter into a bittersweet memory that made her want to curl into a ball and hide from the world.
Focus, Valerie. Curtains.
Curtains were safe. She could focus on the curtains and not on the strong, handsome man behind her.
The handle gave way easily under her fingers, opening with a soft click as if it had never been locked in the first place. She jerked the door open and walked through it, but not before throwing over her shoulder, “And when I say that, My Laird, I mean all of the curtains.”