Page 41 of The Laird’s Vengeful Desire (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #2)

He carried her to the narrow bed, every step sending sparks of sensation through both of them – her bare breasts brushing against his chest while his desire swelled even more as it pressed firmly against her soft belly, the scent of need thick between them as his body pulsed with currents of sensation and desire.

The rough woolen blankets became silk underneath them as Ian laid her down with care, his green eyes dark with reverence and want.

“Are ye certain, lass?” he asked one final time, his voice hoarse with restraint.

“Aye,” she breathed, reaching up to touch his face. “I’ve never been more certain of anythin’.”

Ian’s kiss was deeper this time, hungrier, and he could feel Rhona melt beneath the heat of it.

His hands mapped her body like a scholar studying ancient texts, learning each curve and hollow with devoted attention.

His rough palms skimmed over her ribs, his thumbs brushing across the sensitive undersides of her breasts until she gasped into his mouth.

He cupped the fullness of her breasts, weighing them in his palms as her back arched off the bed with a small moan.

“Och!”

When his mouth followed the path his hands had traced, pressing kisses to the pulse point at her throat, the sensitive hollow of her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, Rhona arched beneath him like a bowstring drawn taut.

The soft gasp that escaped her as his lips found the peak of her breast sent fire racing though Ian’s veins.

She’s so responsive .

He marveled, watching the way her back arched beneath his touch, the way her fingers clutched at his shoulders as if he were her anchor in a storm.

“Ian,” she gasped, her fingers threading through his dark hair, holding him to her as if he might vanish.

“Aye, mo ghràdh ,” he murmured against her skin, the endearment sending visible shivers racing through her. “I’ve got ye. I’ll always have ye.”

His hands continued their gentle exploration, finding places that made her cry out with pleasure, teaching her that her body was capable of sensations she’d never dreamed of.

When his fingers traced down her trembling stomach and found the damp heat between her thighs, she cried out softly, her hips rising instinctively to meet his touch. He parted her folds gently, his fingers exploring their glistening arousal.

“Och, lass,” he groaned against her breasts, “ye’re so wet fer me already. So ready…” His fingers found the swollen nub of her desire, and he deployed short, gentle strokes. For a moment, Ian wondered if she might shatter from the sheer intensity of it, but he knew she was holding back.

“Ah… ah… Ian!” she whimpered, her hips moving with desperate need against his skilled fingers, seeking more of the exquisite friction he was administering.

“Let go,” he whispered against her ear, his voice like velvet in the darkness. “Trust me, Rhona. Let go fer me.”

And she did, tumbling over the edge of sensation, her back arching as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Her release tore from her throat in keening cries, “Och, god… och, god…” as her body convulsed and writhed beneath his touch, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers as ecstasy claimed her in a final, passionate squirt.

Ian held her tight through it, murmuring words of praise and encouragement in Gaelic as he watched her beautiful face twist with the force of her climax, her dark ginger hair spread across the pillow like flames.

“That was…” Rhona began, then stopped, unable to find words for what had just happened to her.

“Only the start,” Ian said softly, his smile evident in his voice.

He was right. As her breathing steadied and awareness returned, she became conscious of his own arousal, solidly pressed against her hip, tension thrumming through his powerful frame.

“Show me,” she whispered, emboldened by the desire coursing through her still. “Show me how tae please ye.”

Ian’s groan was answer enough. But, with infinite patience, he guided her hands to explore him as he explored her, teaching her the geography of masculine desire.

He watched in fascination as she discovered the differences between their bodies.

Her touch made his breath hitch as her fingers explored his chest, trailing down towards his navel.

When she took him into her mouth, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as his responses encouraged her, Ian thought he might lose his mind entirely.

“Och, Rhona,” he groaned, his voice breaking with need. “Never… I’ve never felt anythin’ like this…”

His hands fisted in the bedclothes, his breath coming in harsh pants as she learned what made him tremble, his hips automatically thrusting toward her mouth.

The sight of her ginger hair spilling across his stomach, the feel of her innocent exploration turning bold and sure, the feel of her tongue against his manhood, nearly undid him.

Suddenly, she enclosed her lips tighter around him, pushing him deeper into her throat. “Rhona,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with need. “I cannae… ye’re goin’ tae…”

But she seemed to understand what was happening to him, what she was doing to him, and instead of pulling away, she redoubled her efforts with a determination that spoke of her generous heart.

When release finally claimed him, it was with a force so powerful, it left him shaking, her name torn from his lips in worship.

She moved up to lie beside him, her cheeks flushed with mingling satisfaction and shy wonder at what she’d accomplished. Ian gathered her close, still trembling from the intensity of what she’d given him.

“That was…” he began, then stopped, unable to find words adequate to the gift she’d bestowed.

“Good?” she asked tenderly, uncertainty flickering in her blue eyes.

“Unsurpassed,” he said fiercely, rolling to face her fully. “Ye’re perfect.”

He kissed her then, deep and thoroughly, tasting himself on her lips and finding it strangely intimate. When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Ian gathered her close.

Rhona ducked her head against his chest, suddenly shy. “I had nay idea what I was daein’,” she admitted with a nervous laugh. “I was terrified somehow… I was hurtin’ ye!”

Ian chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Hurt me? Lass, I thought I might die from the pleasure of it.”

“Really?” She lifted her head to look at him, genuine curiosity mixing with lingering embarrassment. “Because at one point I thought maybe ye were in pain when ye made that… strangled groan.”

Ian’s grin was wicked. “That, m’eudail , was definitely nae pain.”

Me darling.

It slipped out of him like a declaration.

“Och.” Her entire face flushed pink in the moonlight. “Good. Because I liked it, the way ye… responded.”

“Did ye now?” Ian traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, marveling at the soft smoothness of her skin. “And here I was thinkin’ ye were just bein’ generous.”

“Well, that too,” she said with a small smile. “But seein’ how I affected ye… it affected me. Is that strange?”

“Nay,” Ian said candidly, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “’Tis honest. And ye are powerful, Rhona. Ye’ve brought me tae me knees more times than I care tae count.”

“Have I?” she asked with obvious delight.

“Aye. From the moment I saw ye in that dungeon, lookin’ at me like ye wanted tae murder me with naethin’ but yer bare hands.”

“I did want tae murder ye,” she protested with a laugh. “Ye were infuriatingly kind when I wanted ye tae be a monster.”

“Sorry tae disappoint.”

“Ye didnae disappoint,” she said softly, her fingers tracing one of his tattoos. “Nae once. Ye terrified me instead. Because ye made me feel things I thought I would never experience.”

Ian’s hand covered hers, stilling her gentle exploration. “And now?”

“Now…now I’m grateful ye’re nae what I expected. Though, I suspect ye’ve successfully ruined me fer any other man.”

“Good,” Ian said with possessive satisfaction. “That was the point.”

They lay entwined in the narrow bed, hearts gradually slowing, skin cooling in the night air. Ian pulled the woolen blankets over them both, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy that felt like the safest place in the world.

“Nae regrets?” he asked softly.

“None,” Rhona murmured against his chest. “Though I suspect we’ve complicated matters.”

Ian chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Aye. Just a wee bit.”

They lay quietly in the darkness afterward, until sleep finally claimed them both. Ian woke just as dawn’s light began to filter through the small window, Rhona still curled against his side like a content cat.

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply enjoy the peace of it. But reality intruded with the growing light, bringing with it the knowledge that they would have to return to the castle and face whatever consequences awaited them.

“Rhona,” he said tenderly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We need tae get ready. The others will be wakin’ soon.”

She stirred sleepily, then tensed as full awareness returned. “Mmm,” she murmured contentedly, “I could stay like this forever.”

“So could I, mo gràdh ,” Ian said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her hair. “But we should get dressed before Athol comes lookin’ fer breakfast.”

They dressed quickly and quietly, stealing glances and small touches as they help each other with laces and boots. By the time Athol and Olivia emerged from their room – both looking considerably worse for wear - Ian and Rhona were having breakfast downstairs.

The ride back to Castle Wallace was subdued, Athol nursing his headache and Olivia maintaining a dignified silence. But Ian was acutely aware of Rhona riding beside him. He could almost physically feel the new understanding that had wrapped itself around them like a golden thread.

As they approached the castle gates, Ian spotted a familiar figure waiting in the courtyard. Tristan stood near the main entrance, his expression grim enough to make Ian’s stomach clench with foreboding.

“Braither,” Athol said, finally noticing the tense set of Ian’s shoulders, “That daesnae look like a man bearin’ good news.”

They dismounted quickly, stable lads hurrying forward to take their horses. Tristan approached with swift strides; his face set in hard lines.

“Me laird,” he said without preamble. “We need tae talk. Immediately.”

“What’s happened?” Ian asked, though he was already dreading the answer.

“News from the south,” Tristan replied grimly. “It cannae wait.”

Ian glanced at Rhona, seeing his own concern reflected in her eyes. Whatever had brought that look to Tristan’s face, it boded ill for them all.

“The solar,” Ian said curtly. “Now.”

As they strode toward the castle entrance, Ian caught Rhona’s confused and worried expression. He wanted to go to her, to offer reassurance, but Tristan’s urgency made that impossible.

Whatever news awaited him, Ian had the sinking feeling that their brief interlude of happiness was about to be irreparably shattered by forces beyond their control.