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

"Why not? Do ye have any better ideas?" she snapped, her annoyance at being caught winning out over diplomacy.

"Aye, I do, lass," he said softly, "but they havenae a muckle lot to do with rescuing Tavis."

Too late she recognized the look in his indigo eyes. She gasped in surprise when he pinned her down onto the hay with his lean body. He took ready advantage of her parted lips. To her shame, his kiss brought a response from her. He was very experienced and she was very vulnerable.

"Nay, Sholto," she groaned as his mouth worked its way to her throat, but she had no strength to fight.

"Aye, Storm."

His nimble fingers found and quickly undid the laces of her tunic. To his delight, she wore nothing underneath. First his eyes, then his hands moved over what he thought of as perfection. The hardened nipples tantalized his palms and proved her desire. He tore his gaze from her breasts to look into her eyes. A shaky, indrawn breath hissed through his teeth as he met eyes of molten gold, a sight that had always sent Tavis reeling. There was, however, more than desire to be read there; there was desperation.

"Do not do this," she pleaded softly even as she arched against him in reaction to his caress.

"Ye want me," he said huskily as his thumbs teased the taut ends of her breasts until she moaned. "Your body tells me that in a dozen different ways." His fingers unlaced her breeches.

"My body has been well taught. Aye, it screams yes, but my heart and mind scream nay."

" 'Tis not them I seek to possess," he growled as his hungry mouth played over her breasts.

Storm nearly sank beneath a wave of indiscriminate desire. Iain felt for her. He knew her emotions were running high and that she was vulnerable. The man she loved, and he was sure she loved Tavis, was in serious danger. The man she loved had also never spoken of love. She was in the midst of a battle, caught on the inside with her hereditary enemies while a new and more dangerous foe lurked outside. She was also alone, her kin and friends dead. It was not fair of Sholto to take advantage of that extreme vulnerability, yet Iain could understand it. On the morrow they could die. Just once Sholto wanted to taste all he had admired from a distance. Iain had felt the urge himself, but had concealed it. He would see that Sholto controlled his desire as well, but he could not break in yet. It would be better for them to resolve it themselves.

"Please, Sholto, do not," she gasped as his hand slid inside her breeches to caress that which only Tavis had ever known. "I do not want this. I do not," she stressed, but her voice was husky with desire.

He lifted his head from the breasts he had been savoring to stare at her, one hand brushing the hair from her face while his other continued to caress her womanhood. "Your mouth says nay, but this"—he felt her squirm beneath his gentle, seductive probing—"this says aye. 'Tis warm and ready for a man."

She tried to pull his tormenting hand away, but when she clutched his arms her fingers would not pull, only grip. " 'Tis just that I have no control. There is so much troubling me, making me weak. Do not take advantage of that. Heed my words, not my body, for it betrays me. This is so very wrong."

Cupping her face between his hands, he settled himself between her thighs and moved against her with a subtle urgency that made her tremble. "Is it? Feel what ye do to a man. Is it wrong for me to want to satisfy that? I want ye and I want to satisfy that craving ere I meet what could be my last dawn."

"That is unfair," she whispered. "First ye play upon my passions and now my sympathy."

"Lass, an it will get me inside, 'tis little I willnae do. He doesnae love ye," he said, and suddenly knew that he lied.

"I know."

"He willnae wed ye. Comes the time or the choice, and ye will be on a horse back to England."

"I know that too."

"Then why, lass? Why deny the wants of our bodies? The pleasure we could share?"

It was difficult to keep from weeping, but she replied in a small voice, "I love Tavis."

Sholto went very still and studied her. Then, with a groan, he collapsed upon her, burying his face in her breasts, and his hands clenched into fists at each side of her head. She lay still for a moment to see what he would do next, but then she shifted a little beneath the weight of him.

"God's teeth, woman," he rasped. "Dinnae move. Lie as still as the dead. If ye wriggle, I'll be at ye again."

Storm lay so still she nearly forgot to breathe. It was a few moments before he rose to his knees and began to do up her laces. His face was pale and drawn, and Storm felt both sorry and guilty. If she had not responded, he would not be suffering the ache of unfulfilled desire.

"Ye would have hated yourself afterward," she said softly as he moved off of her to sprawl on his back at her side.

"I ken that. I'm nay too fond of meself now." He took a deep breath. "I am sorry, lass."

" 'Tis naught, Sholto," she murmured, and meant it, as she tucked her hair into her cap. "Phelan will be along soon."

"Oh, aye?" Sholto sat up. "Ye arenae going out o' Caraidland, lass."

"I am. Phelan and I are going to bring Tavis back."

"Nay, 'tis foolhardy. He'll be all right. Sir Hugh willnae kill him. He's worth a high ransom."

"Aye. I am sure Sir Hugh will keep Tavis alive for that. At least until he is certain of victory. 'Tis not that which I fear.