Page 62 of Wicked Highland Wishes
Sixteen
Bridgette trembled as Lachlan stood before her in the lush grass in the patch of thick trees away from the castle. Her shaking was not from fear but anticipation. She had dreamed of this many times, and it was hard to believe it was happening. In this moment, all was perfect and she refused to allow anything to ruin it.
His heated gaze caught hers. “Ye’re certain of this?”
She nodded as she sat on his plaid, which he had laid out. He still did not look convinced, so she rose up on her knees and ran her palms over the rock-hard length of his well-muscled thighs. He stood with his legs slightly spread, and feeling his power under her fingertips made her belly flutter.
“I’m verra certain.” And before he could share any more concerns on her behalf, she tried to think of everything he might say and answer it. “It dunnae fash me that we are in the grass.” She patted it. “It’s verra soft, especially on yer plaid.”
His lips curled up in amusement. “Ye ken, ye truly do think more like a man than a lass.”
“I ken. Do ye mind that?”
“Ilovethat,” he assured her as he removed his remaining garments.
She’d seen him bare chested before, but it never failed to hit her like a blow when she glimpsed the raw beauty of his body. His broad chest looked like chiseled rock that led to a stomach of corded muscle. She allowed her gaze to roam lower, and her pulse raced at the sight of his manhood. She had expected him to be big, considering his overall size, but he wasverybig.
Fear sprang up in her belly. She knew he’d be gentle and take care, but what if it hurt and she disappointed him?
A lock of her hair hung like a veil over the right side of her face, and he tucked it behind her ear. He stared into her eyes as he settled beside her on his plaid, then deftly removed all her clothes. She’d never been shy about her body, but she’d never lain naked before a man. Her arms drew up automatically to cover her breasts, but he stopped her and settled her hands at her sides. He gently laid her back and brushed her hair away from her face, and then he rose onto his haunches and stared at her.
“What are ye doing?” she finally asked, when he had not spoken for a long moment.
“I am drinking ye in,m’eudail. Ye are the most beautiful thing God has ever created, and I wish to memorize every curve, swell, dip, and shadow.” He swept a finger over the bridge of her nose, followed by each cheek, while giving her a distinctly lustful look that caused her belly to tighten. “I forgot yer wee lovely brown spots.” He proceeded to brush delicate kisses all over her face, making her shiver.
She tingled everywhere from the contact of his lips and the heat of his body hovering over hers. Unable to resist touching him back, she ran her hands up his arms, pausing briefly over the knotted muscles straining against his skin as he supported his weight. He lowered himself farther, not putting his weight on her but allowing his chest to rub ever so slightly against hers. Her nipples immediately hardened, and her breasts swelled with an aching need from the brush of his body against hers.
His gaze caught hers once more but then lowered slowly to her breasts, then lower still before sweeping back up to her face. The smoldering flames in his eyes excited her, but the love burning there unlocked her body and soul. An arrogant smile suddenly curved his lips as if he knew he had her completely at his mercy. He lowered his head to her breast, and she expected more feathery kisses. Instead, he swirled his tongue around her aching bud, the silky slide of his tongue ripping a scream of surprise and pleasure from her.
Heat pooled between her legs, and a pulsing began there. Little by little he built up the heat within her every time he ran his tongue over her bud until she did not think she could take any more. She raked her hands up his body, not stopping until she slid her fingers over his neck and into his hair. She pushed his mouth more firmly over her breast in a silent entreaty. A low chuckle came from him, but he answered her plea without hesitation. His mouth pulled on her swollen bud, sending currents of desire through her.
His hand, which had been cupping her breast, moved in a searing path down her abdomen to her thigh. She parted her legs, eager for his touch, and when it came, the pleasure was like nothing she had ever known. She writhed beneath him, grasping at his broad back while trying to force something she was not quite certain of from him.
His fingers moved deftly over her sex, massaging and circling until she knew she would go senseless. “Lachlan, please. Please,” she begged.
“Soon,m’eudail,” he promised, his voice rough and low. His fingers began to move faster until everything inside her tightened. She dug her nails into his back.
“Lachlan!”
His fingers suddenly left her and her body roared a protest, but just as quickly as his touch disappeared, he came to her once more with his mouth. The pleasure she had felt moments before dulled in comparison to the painful bliss caused by his hot mouth suckling her aching swollen sex. His tongue explored and teased until the need pounded through her and then exploded.
Lachlan rose swiftly to his knees, gripped her hips, and drove into her. The pinch of pain made her hesitate for a moment before another wave of pleasure rolled over her as her body adjusted to accommodate him. He filled her completely as he slid slowly in and out of her, and her body clamped tightly around his, making her head spin, the very world around her spin.
Together, their bound bodies found a rhythm, and they rode it—hot, slick flesh against hot, slick flesh—until all she could do was cling to him and moan. The searing need that had been building forever raced through her like a fire that he extinguished with a final push and a guttural cry. Her body shook with the release, even as Lachlan’s grip increased and he let out a groan with his own need met. He shuddered and lifted her hips higher, sending him deeper into her than she imagined possible. When he moved closer to her, his rough chest brushed against her sensitive nipples once more. Still as one, he rolled her over him until she lay flat against his chest and he lay on his back.
Their hearts pounded together as they silently held each other’s gazes. The heat of his body coursed down the length of hers to warm her, and soon, she could not keep her eyes open any longer. She laid her head against his chest, and his hand reached up to stroke her hair as he whispered his love to her. She felt full in every way possible, and her last thought before sleep claimed her was a prayer that their happiness would last and that their caution would change the seer’s prediction.
Lachlan watched Bridgette sleep until the sun had nearly fled the sky. He was loath to wake her and return to the castle, but he knew they must do so, whether they wanted to or not. He had a duty to his family and his clan—most especially to Graham—and now he had a duty to Bridgette, as well. He considered her his most sacred responsibility. He loved her as if she were already his wife. She had given him the gift of her heart, body, and soul. He would protect her no matter how great the sacrifice—even if it meant Graham would never forgive him.
Lachlan scrubbed a hand across his face as he swept his other one through Bridgette’s silky hair. He prayed things could be mended with Graham, but he wasn’t sure how to make his brother see that Lachlan had never set out to hurt him, that he would give his life for Graham’s if need be, but he could not give him Bridgette. Even if he could have, she’d never have allowed it. Her bravery in understanding and accepting this, though she had felt at one point honor bound to marry Graham, made Lachlan smile. Bridgette was a wise and passionate woman, which would make her an opinionated wife, something he would welcome. A timid wife never would have suited him.
Bridgette would be a fierce warrior in her own right, as his mother had been. Sudden fear squeezed his heart. He had admired Bridgette’s desire to be treated as equal to the men, even encouraged her brother to accept it, but now that she was going to be his wife, he didn’t so much care for the idea of her fighting on the front line. He had been inside her delicate body, held her warm, soft, lush womanly self, and though she had the honor and courage to match any man, she had a woman’s fragility that made her vulnerable.
He sucked air in between his teeth with a hiss. He knew that if he tried to deny her the right to fight side by side with him, she would rebel and possibly grow to resent him. He’d have to be very clever about keeping her safe. He stared at her for one more long breath. His chest tightened mercilessly at the sight of her snug in his plaid.
His instincts to protect Graham and Bridgette were at war with each other. He wanted to marry her now to give her the safety of his name, but he also would do all he could to ease his brother’s pain.
“Bridgette,” he whispered in her ear. She did not move but slept on with a smile. “Bridgette,” he murmured again, kissing her cheek. She moaned softy when his lips touched her, and he was immediately hard.
