Page 23 of Tempted
Zara knew it was a cruel game he played. She knew also that before he was finished with her, she would give him the rich lady’s name. Hellfire, Ram Douglas would arouse her to the point where she’d give him her soul if he asked for it!
She wrapped a shawl about her body and slipped outside. Ram followed her naked. He was one of those men who enjoyed being naked. He was totally at ease without his clothes, never feeling threatened or vulnerable, as others did when they were bare. It was the animal side of him. It felt natural, and like most animals he was well furred.
He took her to the riverbank and laid her back in the long, cool grass, stroking the most vulnerable, intimate places of her straining, healthy young body. He kissed her temples, her eyelids, her high cheekbones, and then he hung over her in the moonlight with his hungry eyes upon her mouth. The tension built until it was unendurable. “She lives west.”
Ram’s fingertips traced a line from her taut nipple, straight down across her belly and directly to the swollen bud high in the slit between her legs. He took it between his finger and thumb, rolling it gently, then squeezing it rhythmically, keeping time with her heartbeat.
Zara’s hand reached out to cup his heavy sac, and she used the same technique on him, gently rolling his balls one against the other to arouse him to where he might lose control. Her fingers closed around his thick shaft, and she manipulated his foreskin up and down with expertise. She knew every trick. It was her business to know what pleasured a man, what aroused him to madness, and what made him beg for mercy.
He plunged two fingers deep inside her, and she arched up into his hand. Then he straddled her, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his long, hard manroot. He thrust to the hilt, knowing he was filling her as only he could.
She was almost incoherent now, rising and falling with his deep thrusts. Suddenly he withdrew and whispered, “Sweetheart, I think it was better in your caravan after all.”
Dear God, she hadn’t known there were any more mountains left to climb! He had taken her to the peaks over and over, only to let her fall back into the valleys without ever reaching the summit. She knew she could not bear to have him start again. “Lady Valentina Kennedy!” she cried.
He plunged down savagely, knowing exactly how many deep thrusts would bring her to the point where she would let down her love juices and enjoy a merciful release. He waited patiently for her to come down from the dark side of Paradise to a place where she was aware of their surroundings. Zara became aware of more than that, however She knew he had not ejaculated. She knew he was still hard and throbbing, still unsatisfied, and she knew that that was what his perverse body wanted at that moment.
She knew also that his mind had left her the moment she had uttered the name. She reached for her shawl, and he picked her up as if she were made of thistledown and carried her back to her caravan. He laid her gently upon her bed, donned his plaid, and left without another word.
The bloody Kennedys! They’d once been kings of Carrick. This western seacoast had more than two dozen Kennedy lairds. His eyes raised to the hills, which had seen some of the grimmest scenes of clan warfare and feudal savageries. The Kennedys were as awkward and troublesome a bunch as history had ever thrown up!
He rode toward Castle Doon at almost a leisurely pace with slow deliberation. Finally he allowed his mind to focus on the woman. So that was Flaming Tina Kennedy. He should have guessed. In actuality he was shocked that the beautiful wild creature he had seen was a lady of noble birth. He was doubly shocked that an unmarried lady was allowed the freedom of a Gypsy camp, the freedom to ride about the countryside unescorted, the freedom to come and go, obtaining entrance into castles where she could be raped or worse. Of course he did not delude himself that she was a virgin. She was a honeypot. Her reputation was legend. He’d heard her name on the lips of men at court, on the lips of his friends, the Gordons and the Campbells. He’d heard her name deep in the borders and in the Highlands. He’d heard her name in Glasgow and Edinburgh and Stirling. Her name was mentioned every time men spoke of beautiful women, of willful women, of women they would like to bed, of women who would make magnificent mistresses. He clamped his teeth until his jaw looked and felt like a lump of iron. She was just another Kennedy bitch!
Chapter 8
The dinner at Castle Doon had been enjoyed by one and all. Donal was so pleased with himself, he pummeled Duncan’s broad back with his hamlike fist each time he passed him. Duncan was pleased that for once he had taken Tina’s advice to shut his mouth, and as a result matters had not blown up in his face.
David was pleased that his arm was healed enough to leave off the bandage. What scar still remained from the burn was a testament to his daring deeds on the night of the raid.
Beth was pleased that her sister Valentina had taken the trouble to help her select a gown for dinner and that her brothers for once were as amicable as three red fox pups.
Ada was more than pleased that when Lord Hamilton arrived, he had had his second-in-command with him, who seemed as gallant and polished as a Hamilton—indeed, she suspected he was a by-blow of the Earl of Arran himself.
Kirsty was pleased that Mr. Burque had stared at her for a full minute tonight. It could only be due to the padding she had courageously stitched inside the bodice of her gown. Apparently a little enhancement had gone a long way in gaining her the attention she craved. Mercifully, she had not yet discovered that one of her new titties had slipped around to the back of her gown.
Lady Valentina Kennedy was more than pleased that Patrick Hamilton had arrived early and had never once taken his dark blue eyes from her. He was attentive, witty, intrigued, and very clearly smitten. In the past they had exchanged many glances, many teasing sallies, many dances, and many touches and light kisses, but she had never singled him out from her other admirers for special attention until lately. Tonight there was something in the very air that told them both they would get to know each other more intimately. All was conducive to forging the first links of a liaison. Her brothers were friendly and affable tonight, almost treating him as one of the family, and best of all her parents were not in residence.
The food had been nothing short of superb, and the wine and whisky had flowed freely. The evening itself was romantic. The spring air was almost balmy, fragrant with the scent of bluebells and gorse. The moon and stars hung brilliantly in a black velvet sky.
Tina took Patrick up on the parapets of Doon to observe the savage beauty of the sea, but he was both annoyed and disappointed that her woman, Ada, chaperoned them. Valentina’s hair was blown into a red cloud by the night wind, and it billowed about the shoulders of her white silk gown. Patrick was so close that her fragrance stole to him, filling his nostrils with the mingled, heady scent of hyacinth and woman as she threw out her arm: “This view is never static. The ebbing tides and the rolling mist see to that.”
“Beautiful … breathtaking,” he whispered in her ear, and she knew he was paying homage. He slipped his arm about her waist, defying her woman to make some objection. He stiffened as Ada approached. He was ready for her. To his amazement she suggested, “Valentina, why don’t you take Lord Hamilton to see the pear trees in the orchard? The blossoms are so profuse, you’d swear the branches were covered by snow.” She smiled at Patrick. “My lord, if you send your man up here, I will show him the sea and entertain him so that the next two hours will not drag endlessly for him.”
Patrick could have kissed the woman. She couldn’t have made it plainer that she was allowing him two hours of uninterrupted privacy with her charge. Tina flashed him a provocative smile. She removed his arm from her waist and clasped his hand, then together they descended the castle stairs. He had a quiet word with his man, directing him to the parapets, and then he and Tina went out into the castle garden. Once there, she took back her hand, then quickened her steps to carry her deep into the orchard, glancing back over her shoulder to lure him after her.
The moon bathed the blossoming trees with a pale, delicate light, and her silk gown was like a splash of whiteness beneath the fragrant pear blooms. His long stride soon closed the distance between them. “I’m having a most enjoyable evening. Will ye allow me tae come again?”
Tina shrugged a beautiful shoulder. “Perhaps.”
He took a step closer. She did not retreat. “If I invite ye tae Lanark an’ Hamilton, will ye come?”
Tina ran a provocative tongue over her top lip. “Perhaps”
Patrick was quick to catch on to her teasing replies, and he framed his next question accordingly. “If I kiss ye, will ye kiss me back?”
Her lips made a little moue. “Perhaps.”
He closed the distance between them, then placed his hands on either side of her small waist and drew her toward him. The piquant fragrance of pear blossoms mingled with her delicious woman’s scent. He had become aroused the moment they were alone together, and her teasing, come-hither glances to lure him after her had painfully hardened him. Now as he dipped his head to taste her, his manhood reared and bucked and then began to throb. He felt the throbbing all the way to his eardrums. He kissed her softly, tentatively, molding his lips to hers. His pulse quickened when she opened her mouth slightly beneath his in a most inviting way. He lifted his mouth from hers and murmured huskily, “Sweetheart, when ye say perhaps, do ye always mean yes?”
