Page 63 of Deception and Desire
Fenella’s eyes closed; he saw her pulse quicken in the hollow of her neck. Her hands slid from his neck to his shoulders, kneading the muscle there. A sweet pain assailed him as his member hardened beneath his kilt. His lips went to that spot on her neck, caressing the visible heartbeat that revealed her need without a sound.
“Slowly, the heat increases.” His mouth trailed across her chest while his hand skimmed across her belly, up toward those creamy mounds, almost, but not quite cupping them. Then his hand moved lower, his palm sliding over the folds of her entrance with a whispered touch before returning to her stomach.
Her breath came in pants, and he continued his caress, back and forth, up and down. Fenella made a tiny mewling sound and arched her neck. The evening light glimmered against her ivory skin; her full lips were slightly parted, eyes closed, thick lashes creating small crescents against her cheek.Sweet Mary. She was exquisite.
“Then ye tend the tiny flames with care.”
His teeth tugged at her neckline and freed one perfect mound. Cupping her breast, her skin soft and warm, his thumb traced a slow circle around the growing bud. She gasped and gripped his shoulders, her body tensing. He dipped his head, swirling a path around the pebbling tip before taking it into his mouth.
“And blow on the growing fire.” He blew gently on her heated skin.
“Oh… oh, Lachlan.” Her body moved restlessly as she let out a husky moan, grinding against his manhood.
Stiff and aching, he pulled her bodice down to give the other breast the same attention. His hand stroked and kneaded her belly, dipping between her legs, cupping her heat. She whimpered, her nails digging into his flesh.
With all the control he could muster, he brought his hand back to her stomach, then pulled her dress back over her breasts. His lips feathered her neck, nibbled her lobe, and finally claimed her mouth again. When he ended the kiss, she lay against him, her chest heaving, her body trembling. He gathered her close and kissed her hair. Lachlan smiled, thinking of the easily roused passion within her and his own body’s reaction to her. There would be more to their union than lust. Much more.
“Did ye learn anything?” he asked against her ear.
Fenella nodded and opened her eyes, glazed and smoky with desire. Her fingers ran along the edge of his jaw then traced his lips. She leaned forward and settled a breathy kiss on his mouth. He held her, stroking her back while her heartbeat slowed. The stars were bright, flickering in the night sky. A dog barked in the distance; something fluttered in a nearby tree. Still he held her, reluctant to let go of this woman, this moment.
“I did a great deal of thinking while I was home. My grandparents have a bond, a love between them I have always envied. It’s my measure for finding the right mate, a lasting and satisfying marriage.” He shifted, setting Fenella on the bench beside him. He brushed back the tangle of curls, stroked her nape as he chose his next words. Her eyes were huge and luminous, reminding him of melted silver.
“Like Ian and Lissie have?” she asked softly.
Lachlan shook his head. “They have a bond, aye. But theirs is a different kind of love.” He struggled to find the words. “They were betrothed as children. A promise made between two clans to keep the peace. My great-grandfather, the MacNaughton chief, ended a long feud with the Craigg clan, when my grandfather married that chieftain’s niece, my grandmother. To maintain the pact, one of my grandfather’s sons was to marry one of the Craigg’s daughters.”
Fenella’s eyes widened. “But there were no sons.”
“No, so the next generation was held to the promise. When Lissie was born, Ian was the grandson closest in age, so the betrothal was set. Destiny made them best friends as they grew. She could finish his sentences, and he always knew when she needed him. When Lissie was sixteen, Grandda asked them both if they were willing.” He chuckled. “I’ve rarely seen her angry, but that question sent her into a rage.”
“So, they love each other but aren’tinlove?”
“It’s hard to explain. Their souls are connected, to be sure. But the passion isna the same. They love each other as intensely as my grandparents but…” Lachlan hesitated. “Grandda still reaches for my grandmother with a hunger in his eyes. And she still giggles like a young lass when he kisses her in public. That all-consuming need has remained strong for all these years.”
“And that is what you want?”
“Aye.”
Fenella cupped his face, her gaze searching, her voice unsteady. “Did you feel such an unquenchable passion tonight?”
Lachlan kissed her, the sweet ache throbbing again as her velvet lips swept over his. “I think so, my sweet angel. I think so.”
She laid her head against his chest and snuggled against him. Her sigh was warm on his skin. “I think so, too.”
Chapter Eighteen
From Fair Skies to Cloudbursts
Sunday, August 22, 1819
Fenella woke tothe call of a costermonger, the wheels of his cart scraping along the cobblestones. She touched the small pouch around her neck, where she wore the flowers Lachlan had first given her. It had become part of her nightly ritual, pulling the soft satin ribbon over her head and settling the velvet pouch under her nightshift, close to her heart. Her eyes would close with the image of the handsome Scot. Last night, he’d stayed later than usual, the evening warm and heavy, the night sky bright with stars and a glowing moon.
Tossing back the counterpane, she padded to the open window, leaned on the sill, and breathed in the crisp morning air. The late summer scent of honeysuckle in bloom wafted under her nose. The same scroungy dog she’d seen her first morning in Glasgow greeted the coal wagon. The same grimy boy jumped from the wagon bed, a heavy black sack over his shoulder as he went around the modiste’s house to drop off the load. The mutt still followed him with a bark and jumped on the boy’s woolen breeches as they returned. But now she knew the driver’s name was Michael, the boy was his son, Stephen, and the dog received a treat as soon as they were out of the older man’s sight. She waved to the trio and pushed away from the window.
Rose knocked at the door to help Fenella dress. They chose a lavender muslin with a white ribbon under the bodice, trimmed with delicate white lace at the puffed sleeves and hem. Sitting before the mirror, her stomach growled, and she caught the reflection of Rose’s dark laughing eyes.
“We’ll have time to arrange my hair later. Lachlan is not coming until this afternoon. I’ll meet you in the dining room for breakfast.”
