Torn Between Two Highlanders (Sword and Thistle 2)

Before she could think better of it, she’d snaked her arms up around Davy’s neck and began to kiss him in return. Began to mimic what he was doing with his lips. When he groaned as if what she was doing gave him pleasure, she liked that even more. It was a kiss that went on and on, prompting Arabella to grasp the warrior tighter, eliciting in her a passion she hadn’t known was in her. And she was enabled in that passion by Davy’s patience—the way he increased the pressure of his lips only when she did, the way he held her tighter only when she pushed against him.

The way he let this kiss be whatever she needed it to be.

And it became more than she’d hoped.

When they finally broke apart for a breath, Davy traced her lips with his finger, and asked, “How was that?”

Breathlessly, Arabella whispered, “Quite pleasant.”

“Pleasant!” Davy cried in outrage.

Arabella laughed. “A wee bit more than pleasant…” Seeing that he still wasn’t satisfied, she decided upon the truth. “It was so pleasurable I fear it made me forget everything…including my morals.”

“Who needs them?” Davy asked with crystal clear blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. Then he kissed her again. He kissed her and kissed her until she was emboldened to run her fingers through his thick copper hair, as she’d been tempted to do before. It surprised her how nice it felt threaded between her fingers.

She could tell that he was restraining himself, keeping his hands soft at the small of her back, and when he bobbed up for air, a blue fire was burning behind his eyes. “Oh, lass. You’re a temptress. I—I don’t suppose there’s anything else you’d like me to help make you forget?”

“But there is,” Arabella said, carried away in the passion of the moment. Kissing him had been the first moment since she was taken that she didn’t feel afraid; the first moment that she didn’t feel filthy and cold and angry. And because she didn’t want it to stop, she reached for his hand and drew it to her breast.

Davy’s breath caught, which delighted her. His hand even trembled a bit as he s

oftly squeezed her there, before working at the laces of the shirt she wore so that he might touch her bare. He tugged her shirt up and over her head, and though Arabella felt the cool air upon her skin, she was warmed by the desire within.

Staring at her breasts in the firelight, Davy said, “Pert and soft and perfect.” But when he reverently bent his head to kiss them, the fire in the hearth blazed, revealing her bruises. And he frowned. “Those men did this?”

A lump lodged itself in Arabella’s throat so that she could only nod in answer.

His jaw clenching, Davy said, “I’d kill them for this if they weren’t already dead. Then throw them in the loch to be fish food and erase their names from the world, as if they never lived.”

“Hush,” Arabella whispered, twining her fingers with his over the soft curve of her breast. “You are erasing them right now.”

Erase them he did, with his hands and mouth. She felt the softness of his cheek against her bosom as he suckled her nipples. He teased her with warm lips, moving from one breast to the other, until both her nipples were wet and tight and hard with arousal. Until she moaned softly with each breath. Until her fingernails dug softly into his broad shoulders and they were kissing again, his body against hers.

She felt his arousal hard against her thigh and was earnestly surprised by her own desire for him. But when his hand slipped from her breast, down her belly, searching out a place between her legs that sent a bolt of pleasure through her, she began to fear for her sanity.

It was only when his knee gently separated hers that she was brought back from the sweet abyss. “Davy…no.”

He froze, holding his body over her on strong arms, panting all the while. “Did I hurt you, lass?”

“No,” she said, softly. “But if I let you take my maidenhead—”

“I’ll be gentle,” he vowed.

She believed him. And she was already ruined in the eyes of the world. Maybe even in the eyes of God. “But if I allowed it, wouldn’t I feel as if I belonged to you?”

Hovering over her with scarcely controlled lust, Davy threw back his hair from his eyes, as if struggling for coherent thought. “Mayhaps. But I canna think of any man better equipped to give you a tumble without entanglement. Is that what you’re after?”

She wasn’t sure what it was that she was after. She only knew that after what had happened today, she didn’t want to feel like any man’s possession. Still, she did want Davy. Wanted him as she’d never wanted Conall. And so she reached for him, intent upon stroking the hardness of his erection, longing to feel it in the palm of her hand. “You’re sure you can be gentle, Davy?”

He withdrew with a sigh. “You’re not ready, lass.”

“But I am.”

“If you were ready, you wouldn’t have taken so long debating your answer. After all, you’re a bit new to this fallen woman business.”

Arabella scowled. This lovely, sensual experience was all going wrong now. He was putting an end to it, and some part of her just wanted to whine in frustration. “But I feel…I feel…unfinished somehow.”

That made him chuckle and plant a soft kiss upon her nose. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. If it’s any consolation, I feel the same. Which is why, after I tuck you into bed, I’ll be finishing myself, you can be sure.”