Page 36 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

He folded her into his arms and they kissed again, long and luxuriously. Not fearing someone would interrupt them, he tangled his fingers in the lacing of her dress, releasing the tie so that the fabric hung loose.

Scarcely able to breathe as she raised her arms, he took the hem of her skirt in both hands and raised it over her head exposing the smooth cream of her shoulders and the soft curve of her breasts above her stays.

“Ye’ve nae Beattie here tae tend tae ye melady, so I must dae the task of yer maid and unlace yer stays fer ye and take off yer petticoats.” There was no point in him attempting to hide the ever-hardening bulge under his kilt. His heart beating wildly, with a sigh, he surrendered to the heated rush of passion in his manhood.

“Mmm.” She gave a little moan and pressed a little closer as his fingers trailed along the arch of her neck and across her shoulder.

She reached up and toyed with the lacing on his shirt. “’Tis yer turn. I’ll nae be naked as a babe here all by meself. I want tae feel yer skin next tae mine.”

“Only too happy tae oblige every one of yer desires, Lady Dahlia. It is me pleasure.”

She untied the knot and opened his shirt, tracing the smattering of hairs and stroking across his chest.

A surge of pleasure rippled through his body at her soft touch. He could scarcely restrain himself from ripping away her stays and exposing her smooth round breasts. He licked his lips, imagining the taste of her.

He pulled off the shirt and loosened his belt.

She seemed spellbound at the sight of him. “Why ye’re so... so… big, Arran.” She ran her hands over his biceps. “And ye’re very strong.”

He laughed. It was time for her to be naked.

Turning his attention to her stays he slowly unlaced them, savoring each moment of revelation. At first, they grew loose around her and he was afforded a peep of satin smooth skin andthe tantalizing curve of a breast, then as his fingers flicked the laces lower, the stays slipped down so that the pink nubs of her glorious breasts became visible.

She gasped and gave a tiny moan as he explored the puckering nipples, gently rolling them between finger and thumb while she leaned into him, arching her neck, heightening his access to her.

He layered kisses along her neck to her nape and then across to her shoulders while his fingers lowered the stays until the last of the laces were undone and the stays fell to the ground, leaving her bare to the waist and only her petticoats standing between her and complete nakedness.

She turned to face him, her eyes sparkling and her voice thick with passion. “Now fer ye. Will ye let me take down yer kilt?”

“I believe me manhood has been waiting fer this fer some time.”

She gazed down at him, her mouth ajar. “Yer manhood? Why, indeed it seems tae be as large as the rest of ye, Arran.”

She unbuckled his belt and removed it, then set her mind to undoing his kilt.

Finding it impossible to resist her nearness, her sweet fragrance and the promise of that expanse of creamy skin he reached out to take her in his arms.

She squealed. “Nae yet. I’ve nae taken down yer kilt.”

“Never mind, lass,” he groaned. The waiting was altogether too much for him. “It will find its way off in good time.”

He took her mouth in a kiss, his hands cupping her breasts stroking her, his fingers on her nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb when she was moaning and writing against him, he lowered his mouth and took her sweet nipple to suckle while he undid her petticoat. As the garment slipped to the ground, he trailed his fingers down her side, tracing the curve of her hip,

“Ye’re so beautiful, Dahlia.” He groaned. It was impossible to believe that at last she was in his arms, naked, as he’d dreamed so often.

He picked her up and carried her a little further up the bank, where he laid her down in a bed of soft ferns while she tangled her arms around his neck and held him tight.

“Kiss me again, Arran. I want ye tae take me as a man takes a woman.” She glanced down at him where he pressed against her thighs.

He smiled softly and caressed her cheek. “I dinnae think this is what we should be doing, Dahlia. Ye’re betrothed tae Bairre Mackinnon, whether ye like it or nae. Ye’re nae a free woman tae be with me.”

She pierced his gaze at that. “But that is exactly why I need tae be with ye, Arran. I want ye tae be me man. I dinnae wish me maidenhood tae belong tae Bairre.”

Arran hauled in a deep breath. “I understand, lass. And with me whole heart I wish naething more than that we were free tae love each other. Yet we are still beholden tae him. We are still his prisoners and so is me maither.”

Clutching him tighter, she pressed her softness against him, looking up at him with passion-filled, hooded eyes. “I need ye. Ye’ve made me body come alive in ways I never kent. Now there’s this aching in me that needs yer touch.”

She was intoxicating and the thought of the pleasure he could bring her was near enough to drive him from his senses.

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