Page 59 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Caring not a fig for Bairre Mackinnon’s suspicions or for his raging jealousy they reveled in each other’s presence.

Dahlia gave a delighted laugh as Arran peeled the kirtle from her shoulders and roughly pushed it down to her waist, freeing her breasts from her stays. He groaned loudly as he brushed his hands across her bare skin his hands cupping her.

“By all the saints Dahlia, I swear ye have bewitched me. I can think of naught else but yer beauty, the soft touch of yer silken body, the rosy nubs of yer milk-white breasts. I cannae live without lying with ye again. Ye’re everything tae me.”

He buried his face in her breasts and set about stroking and suckling, his tongue circling one nipple while he rolled the other between finger and thumb.

Dahlia moaned and thrashed her head against the pillow. “Arran, please dinnae stop, ye’re making me mad with love fer ye.”

He gave a soft chuckle at the side of her mouth and set to kissing her throat and across her shoulders and down to her breasts again. While his mouth was working her nipple, with one handhe raised her skirt above her knee and let his hand roam across her bare thighs until he reached her mound.

She cried out as his hand slipped among the damp curls of her quim, then he inserted one finger between her slippery folds and stroked up and down while she bucked under this relentless onslaught on her senses.

“Could there be such pleasure and joy as ye bring me even in heaven, Arran Mackinnon?” She groaned loudly, stretching herself as his hands and mouth took her higher. “There is nothing in all the world that could bring so much divine and luscious delight tae a body.”

He put his mouth on hers in another infinite kiss that left her dizzy and reeling. She stroked his face, gazing deep into his gold-rimmed eyes.

“I swear I will break in two if ye leave me empty of ye any longer. Every part of me is screaming tae be filled by ye.” She reached up, fumbling to untie his braies, until at least the fabric fell away and his granite manhood sprang free.

“Now,” she cried out, closing her eyes, hauling in a ragged breath. “I want ye, Arran, come intae me, dinnae leave me a moment longer. She circled her legs around him, pulling him tight against her so that his shaft was angled at her entrance. She moved her hips up to meet his.

He moaned, touching her lightly with his member. “Lass, ye are near driving me out of me mind.” He hoisted himself onto hiselbows and looked down at her lying spread on her back with her hair tossed free on the pillows around her. “All I want is tae take yer body with mine. I want tae drive me manhood deep inside ye and hear yer moans and cries. I want ye tae scream me name and I dinnae care who hears us. Ye are mine, and ye can never belong tae another.”

Dahlia raised her hips and he pushed forward with his cock, sliding into her, burying it inside her. They found their age-old rhythm and matched each other thrust for thrust. Each movement took them further into rapture until, at last, they could go no higher and with the moon and stars clustering around them, they cried out each other’s names and roared their sublime pleasure.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Grey pre-dawn light filled the bedchamber as Dahlia opened her eyes and remembering her night, she sighed and rolled over still half asleep.

It was Arran’s deep voice that jolted her into full wakefulness.

“’Tis time, melady. I must meet with Bairre in the training yard at dawn.”

In sudden panic she reached out her hand and clutched at his arm, relieved to encounter the chainmail of his hauberk.

She jumped out of bed and threw on her robe, raising her face for his kiss.

“Can ye nae wait? I’ll take but little time tae dress. I’ll be one of the spectators in the training yard and I’ll be able tae watch the laird and his men tae make sure they dinnae try any dirty tricks tae bring ye down.”

He grinned. “Never fear, me love. I have me own loyal men and I’ll be making certain they are in attendance. Nay matter what mischief Bairre may have in mind, I’ll be ready for him.”

After only the briefest of kisses he turned on his heel and headed to the door. He paused there to lightly cup her chin. “Dinnae fash. I’ll be well. I’ve ye and me mother tae see tae and I’ll let neither of ye suffer on me behalf.”

Once Arran had left, Dahlia rang for Beattie and wasted no time in dressing. Clad in a kirtle of royal blue that matched her eyes with a cream-colored linen shirt, she waited impatiently while Beattie brushed and braided her hair. As soon as she was neat and tidy, she belted her kirtle, picked up her money pouch and, with Beattie alongside, hastened out of her room and headed out of the keep toward the training yard.

When she arrived, she was surprised to see Craig Donald was already there. He escorted her and Beattie into the row of seating positioned just above the perimeter of the yard, where they could see everything that was taking place.

She looked around, noticing a small group of men gathered to the side of the yard. All of them were well armed with long swords and dirks. She could only hope these were the men who were loyal to Arran. On the opposite side was another group of heavily armed men. No doubt these were Bairre’s hand-picked guard.

It seemed to her there was tension in the air. The armed men on both sides had their hands on their sword pommels and it wasclear they were expecting to draw their swords at a moment’s notice.

Seated beside her, Craig cast her a reassuring glance. “Dinnae fash melady. Arran and Bairre are old sparring partners. They each ken the other’s moves and there’ll be nay surprises. Nay one will be injured today. Ye may rest assured of that.”

She was tempted to ask him about the two surly groups of men stationed on either side of the yard, but thought better of it. Best not to say anything that could raise suspicion that she thought all was not well or that Arran could be in danger.

Arran and Bairre were evenly matched and, as Craig had said, each seemed to anticipate the other’s moves effortlessly. As she settled in to watch the sparring bout which, to her great seemed to promise no surprises, she felt her shoulders begin to ease and her pounding heart slowly regain its steady rhythm. Even more so, when she noticed that Arran was taking the upper hand and that Bairre looked like he was getting somewhat tired.

They continued to spar, with Arran advancing on the laird step by step, as the latter moved back with the will to defend himself from his opponent’s constant attacks. Both men were covered in a sheen of sweet and they observed one another’s moves with deep concentration. The laird’s mouth was pressed in a thin line as he took yet another step back, while blocking a hit from Arran, who was now towering over him.

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