Page 38 of Kilty Plea
“Are ye willing to give that up?” she asked quietly, hardly daring to breathe. “Being a King’s Hunter?”
His gaze shifted to her, and she froze, caught by his stare. “I hadnae considered it.”
“And now?”
The firelight caused shadows to flicker across his face, highlighting his strong jaw and sending shadows across the craggy scar. “I’m considering it.”
What about me?
She wanted to ask it, but the moment was so tight with unspoken words, she didn’t think she could.
Instead, she whispered, “Could…ye be happy here?”
“Aye.” His answer was immediate, and his gaze didn’t leave hers. “Could ye?”
Oh,aye.
She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until his visage slowly softened into a smile.
“Have I shown ye the master’s chambers yet?”
‘Twas almost comical, the way they rushed up the stairs, holding hands and laughing like children.
The master’s chamber was smaller than Payton’s room at the castle, but still larger than the croft Flora had grown up in. A thick blanket covered the bed—tightly woven in the MacIntyre colors—and the cheery fire in the hearth warmed the room.
They came together in the center of the room, hands grasping and lips ready. She tugged at his shirt, and he groaned.
“Lass, wait,” he managed, but Flora didn’twantto wait. She stepped away from him and began scrabbling at the ties to her simple gown. She had her kirtle over her head and was rolling down her hose when he was still only unlacing his boots.
Hurry hurry hurry
She wanted to feel his touch on her skin. She wanted to taste him!
In just her chemise, she threw her arms around his neck once more. Payton, wearing only his kilt, seemed ill at ease.
“Are ye certain lass? Ye want…this?”
When he said that, his hand made a little gesture, a little jerk toward his face, and she wasn’t quite certain what he meant. But the way his kilt was tenting in front of him told her what she needed to know.
“It seemsyedo,” she breathed, rubbing her hips back and forth. Each time his hardness came in contact with her core, her pulse jumped. “Come to me, Payton.”
“Nay, I…” He broke off with a groan as she pulled him toward the bed, and when they fell atop it, he wasn’t complaining.
In fact, his kisses turned just as frantic as hers, and his hands…
When he cupped her breast through the linen of her chemise—finer than aught she’d ever owned—they both sucked in sharp breaths. He brushed his thumb against her nipple, which had pebbled under his ministrations, and Flora arched into his touch with a moan.
“Please,” she whispered, the only sound possible because his lips had moved to her jaw, her throat.
“Aye, lass.” His whiskers scraped the sensitive skin at the base of her throat, but he soothed with more kisses. Then he was bending over her and—
Fudgesicles!
His mouth closed around her other nipple,throughthe linen, and Flora’s hips rose off the bed of their own accord.
While his teeth scraped against her sensitive spots—the now-wet material felt both coldandhot, somehow—his other hand moved lower. His wide hand spread across her belly, pressing her into the mattress, then lower still, until she was near breathless with anticipation and need.
The heel of his hand settled atop her mound, and her knees fell open. He began to gently rub circles against the little spot hidden among her curls which she’d found on her own to be so responsive…and ‘twasexactly what she needed.
