Page 20

"Do not speak. I will find it," he said, and skimmed his fingers over her lips and down her throat.

His kisses followed the same hot course.

"Did they touch your shoulders?" he asked.

Vaguely, like one in a dream, she felt her gown ease downward, felt his lips on her skin.

"Your arms?" Were they bare? She wasn't really sure, yet she could feel his kisses, hot and heavenly against her skin.

"Your elbow?" He held her arm in his hands and pressed a kiss to the inside bend.

A moan whispered through the room. Surely it was not hers.

"Your wrist?" he asked, and traced an aching course down her arm to her hand.

It quivered in his grasp. But he was without mercy.

Lifting it to his lips, he licked the hollow of her palm.

She jerked, but he held her firm, kissing every finger in turn until he reached the pinkie.

That tiny digit he pulled into his mouth and suckled.

She opened her eyes to watch him in breathless silence, feeling her mouth go dry as if every ounce of bodily fluid was needed elsewhere.

But he was already moving on, lifting her opposite hand to kiss its heel, its knuckles, its thumb, before traveling languidly up her arm to her shoulder. His fingers skimmed a course along her collarbone.

"Did they hurt you here?" he asked, and kissed the high regions of her chest above her gown. Only, it seemed suddenly and rather dimly, that her gown was no longer there. "Or here?"

She jumped at the heat of his lips against her breast and realized with breathy confusion that she was clothed in naught but her chemise. It lay molded against her skin, outlining every curve.

"Or here?" he murmured and pressed his lips to her nipple.

She cried out, and found suddenly that her fingers were caught in his hair. He paused for a moment and then he lapped her with his tongue.

She bucked against him, and it was then and only then that he eased fully onto the mattress. Her knees parted like the petals of a rose and suddenly he was cradled between them. Against her thigh, she could feel the hard length of his desire. It pulsed a hot, slow beat.

"Did they touch you there, lass?" he rasped.

"Nay." Her voice was hoarse and she trembled as she spoke.

" 'Tis good," he murmured, and slowly, ever so slowly, worked his way down to her belly.

Her fingers fell weakly away from his hair, only to wrap once again in the blankets.

Through the sheer cloth of her undergown, he kissed her navel, her hip, her thigh, and then, easing his hands down one leg, he took her foot in his palm while her chemise flowed wantonly upward.

"What of your foot? Did they hurt that?" he asked and kissed the sole.

She all but screamed at the feelings that slammed through her and jerked her leg with all her might, tearing it from his grasp.

"Isobel?" His voice was a mere feather of sound in the candlelight. "Did I hurt you?"

She licked her lips, fighting for sanity, but it was obviously long gone since she seemed to be losing her senses over nothing more than the feel of his caress against her sole.

"Nay."

"Then give it back," he said and gently took her foot again into his hands to ease his fingers around her instep and kiss her toes. She trembled, but he did not stop. Instead, he worked his way upward, and when she winced, he paused.

"Your ankles?" he said softly, and she nodded, barely able to manage that much.

Smoothing his hands over them, he kissed one side, then the other.

Her shin was next, and then, when she thought she could bear no more, he trailed his tongue, light as sunshine, over the inside of her knee and up her thigh.

"MacGowan!" His name came to her lips in a low hiss of sound as she gripped his tunic in fretful fingers.

"Aye, lass, it is I," he said, but not for an instant did his fingers cease their delicious dance upon her flesh. "Never fear."

But she did fear. She feared that she would be consumed. Would burn up beneath his hands and never care that she was gone. She feared that she would be just one in a hundred to him, while to her he would...

Her thoughts stopped as he reached higher to cup her buttocks.

Squeezing gently, he bore her upward. His mouth touched the sensitive inside of her thigh and she ceased to breathe, dared not move.

But he had no such inhibitions. Indeed, the fire moved with his mouth, skimming along until he reached her apex.

She jumped and froze. He kissed her again. His mouth was hot and firm against her, sucking, soothing, toying.

Her breathing came in short gasps now and though she did not mean to, her body had begun a rhythm of its own, rocking against his mouth. Beneath her his hands flexed and relaxed, bearing her up on every stroke, prodding her gently and irrevocably into the deep waves of pleasure.

Her breathing was harsh and some inner voice warned her to cease such foolishness, but the warning was drowned in the roar of feelings that welled around her. She was rising, bumping higher and higher, lifted by his hands, enlightened by his touch, until her body exploded in a rush of hot feelings.

She shivered as he kissed her again, and then, as he smoothed her chemise over her knees, he stretched out beside her.

Her right hand, still curled tight in his tunic, traveled with him.

Against her hip, his hard proof of desire pulsed with life, but he did nothing to relieve the pressure.

Instead, he gently grasped one of her wrists.

Her fingers fell away from his crushed tunic and he kissed the palm before placing it across her body.

"Isobel." Her name was the softest caress. She opened her eyes, finding his with breathless speed. "Did I hurt you?"

She managed no more than a weak shake of her head.

"Nor will I," he said and kissed her lips.

There was passion there, hot as a skillet, trembling on the edge of control, yet held in check by a firm discipline she had failed to recognize.

And in a moment he stood, pulling himself from her side.

"Bar the door." His voice was low with feeling, but when she managed to lift her gaze to his face, she saw the shadow of a grin lift his lips. "When you find the strength."