His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📕

how she could turn his blood to pure fire, make him ache more than he had ever ached for any woman.

"Mayhaps if ye tell me what ye want," Storm purred as she continued her play.

"Ye ken weel what I want, witch," he rasped.

"Is it this, acushla?"

She undid the cloth slowly. Her hand moved over the seat of his passion as her lips drifted to his thighs.

She felt him shudder as she teased and stroked, and knew the power a woman could have over a man. In her case, the power she had came back upon herself. As Tavis's passion grew so did hers, his pleasure increased her own and she surrendered to desire almost as quickly as he did.

" 'Od's blood, woman, ye do ken how to use those beautiful hands. Ah," he gasped as her lips brushed agonizingly close. "Storm, my Storm, maun ye torture me so? Have pity on a man."

"Do ye call this pity, Tavis?" she murmured as her lips took over the pleasant work of her hand.

"I call it heaven," he said hoarsely as pleasure closed his eyes. "Aye. 'Tis heaven."

The sharp edge of his need, a need unsatisfied as she had healed, was gone, so he had the strength of control to simply enjoy. He did not want to rush, wanted to luxuriate in the waves of pleasure flowing over him. That control nearly snapped when her lips engulfed him, performed that intimacy he had never dared ask for. His eyes flew open and he half sat up in surprise.

His violent reaction made her pause, and she peeked at him through the tangled curtain of her hair. "Nay?" she queried in a small voice, terrified she had erred badly.

"Aye," Tavis ground out, urging her back with the hands he had clenched in her hair. Sitting up, Tavis's gaze riveted to the mass of bright hair splayed over his lap. His body trembled as he fought for control. The subservient appearance of her position was a fraud, for he was at that moment her slave. Ecstasy nearly doubled him up until he knew he had reached his limit.

Storm found herself flung onto her back. Tavis's possession of her was savage as he threw himself on top of her and drove into her deeply and swiftly. After the first shock she was caught up in the ferocity of his lovemaking. It was short-lived in its violence as they crested the heights within heartbeats of each other. Her limbs lay heavily around him as he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the curve of her neck and his breath coming in harsh, shaky rasps.

In silence they parted, each moving to get dressed. There was a tension in the air that made Storm nervous. She could not help but wonder if she had done wrong. Because something gave a man pleasure did not mean he approved of a lady performing it. Storm had recognized the hypocrisy of men early in life.

Tavis's silence was due partly to embarrassment. He knew he had taken her roughly, more roughly than he could remember ever having taken a woman. Never before had he been driven to such a point of white-hot, blind desire. Her ability to do that to him unnerved him slightly. He saw the stiffness in her movements and watched her wince as she bent to pick up the blanket.

"I have hurt ye," he said in obvious remorse as he moved to stand before her.

Holding the folded blanket to her chest, Storm murmured, " 'Tis naught, Tavis."

"Ye are a poor liar, lass." He brushed the hair back from her face. "Ye are sore. 'Tis there to see in the way ye move. I am sorry. God, but ye drive a man to madness."

" 'Tis not an unpleasant soreness, Tavis. I felt it not in its making and it will pass."

Taking the blanket from her, he tossed it aside and took her into his arms. The confusion in his mind caused his arms to tighten around her as he buried his face in her silken hair. He had the strongest urge to flee with her, to go somewhere where it mattered not at all who they were. Knowing she would have to return to Hagaleah, he looked into the future and felt chilled by the emptiness he saw there. There was nothing to fill in the space she would leave. Giving himself a mental shake, he tried to convince himself that he was caught up in the afterglow of good loving. Any man would dread the thought of losing such pleasure. It would be a transitory sense of loss.

"Storm?" He pulled away a little to look down at her face, not sure of what he wanted to say.

"Aye, Tavis?" She saw the confusion on his face and wondered at its cause.

"Thank ye," he whispered, and brushed a light kiss over her mouth as his hands gently cupped her face.

"Ye are quite welcome," she said, forcing herself to smile over the twisting pain in her heart, a pain caused by the knowledge that this was all she would ever have of Tavis MacLagan.

Chapter Fifteen

A crispness to the air foretold the coming autumn and bid farewell to summer. Storm sighed as she prepared to go to the hall. She knew she was pregnant, and the only good thing she could think about it was that she was so far along the sickness had passed and she had been successful in hiding it from Tavis. Now she just had to worry about when she would begin to really show. At the moment she only looked as if she were putting on a little weight. She knew, however, that that was apt to change at any time, for she was too far along to keep it hidden much longer. It had amazed her that Tavis had yet to feel the quickening of his child, for it grew stronger with each passing day.

She had not told Tavis about the baby for she felt