Page 44 of The Beast's Bride
Rhona drew in a measured breath. “That’s a tricky one,” she admitted after a moment. Good—she didn’t know this riddle; she could answer honestly. Rhona plucked the first idea that swam into her thoughts. “Is it ‘a shadow’?”
A beat of silence passed, before Taran smiled. “Aye, that’s right.”
Rhona’s breathing hitched.God’s bones … no.
Wordlessly, Taran rose to his feet and began to unlace his braies. Rhona watched him, her pulse skittering, her breathing suddenly ragged. She regretted ever agreeing to this wretched game. This was going too far. The chamber suddenly felt tiny, airless.
Taran’s braies dropped to the stone floor, and he stepped out of them.
Rhona kept her gaze resolutely fixed upon his face. She wouldn’t look down; she didn’t want to see his rod. She wanted to bolt from this room and run howling into the night, naked or not. And yet she did nothing of the kind. She remained frozen to the spot as Taran approached her.
In just three paces he was standing before her, so close there was barely any space between them. She inhaled the warm male scent of his skin, aware of the heat that emanated from his body. She was a tall woman, but she felt small next to him.
“Rhona.” He said her name in a caress, and despite herself, she shivered. Rhona averted her gaze, fixing it upon his shoulder. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye; it was too intense, too intimate. A moment later he lifted a hand and trailed his fingertips down her jawline to the slight cleft in her chin. “Ye are the loveliest sight I’ve ever looked upon. A man could die from wanting ye.”
She sucked in a breath at these words, at the simmering need in them. She wasn’t ready for this, didn’t know how to respond or what to do, and yet a strange heat flared in her lower body at his words. There was a raw edge to him, to his words, that ensnared her.
His hand tracked lower, his fingertips tracing the column of her neck down to her collar bone, before trailing a lazy path between her breasts. His touch swept over the curve of her left breast, the backs of his hand grazing her nipple.
Rhona’s breathing caught.
Taran moved then, dipping his head and lowering himself before her. He took her breast into his mouth.
Rhona gasped. Her hands went to his shoulders with the intention of pushing him away, but as he began to suckle, drawing her in, her fingers dug into his flesh and held on.
She didn’t shove him from her. Instead, she held on for dear life as ripples of pleasure arched out from the tip of her left breast. A moment later he released her nipple and shifted to its twin. He was gentle as first, and then the pressure increased.
Rhona stifled a groan and swayed on her feet. She felt as if her legs might give way under her at any moment. His mouth was working magic on her; she had no idea she could feel this way. The way he suckled her made another sensation rise within her, an aching hunger. She didn’t understand it, and the feeling scared her. What could she possibly be hungry for?
Taran tore his mouth from her breast and straightened up. He gazed down at her, his expression fierce. “It’s time … are ye ready?”
Rhona nodded, trying to quell the trembling in her limbs. “What must I do?”
“Lie down on the bed.”
The command sent a tremor through her. She edged around him, moving toward the bed in tentative steps.
Fear and an odd excitement pulsed within her. How was it possible to be afraid, and yet yearn for something? It felt as if she had strayed into a strange dream. What was she doing alone in this chamber, stark naked, with Taran MacKinnon?
We are man and wife, she reminded herself,and this is our wedding night.
Keeping her gaze upon his face, she lay down upon the coverlet, amongst the sprays of heather and rose petals. The sweet, woody scent enveloped her.
Taran towered above Rhona, and for a long moment he merely observed her, his gaze drinking her in.
Rhona attempted to steady her breathing. Her body flushed as his gaze slid down the length of her, branding her. Her skin tingled, and her breasts ached.
Without meaning to, she let her own gaze shift from his face, down the hard, muscular planes of his chest, to his groin.
She stifled a gasp. He was fully aroused and very big. The hard column of his erection reared up against his belly. Rhona swallowed. Dampness flooded between her thighs at the sight of it, even as her pulse started to thunder.
Caitrin had told her that her first time with Baltair had been traumatic. Would Taran hurt her?
Chapter Twenty
Nothing to Prove
TARAN LOWERED HIMSELF onto the bed, and she felt it give under his weight. On his knees, he moved between her thighs, parting them.
