Page 15 of The Lady's Guide to a Highlander’s Heart
He eyed the pudding from several angles and a pang of regret twitched inside Flora’s chest. What would it do to him? She’d seen men vomit from taking too much ale, and clutch their stomachs with terrible pains. What, then, would be the effect of so much whisky?
On the spur of the moment, she flung her arm forward, dashing the plate to the floor. The pudding tumbled off, landing directly at the feet of the wolfhound, who eyed it as if hardly able to believe what the heavens had seen fit to gift.
“Nay!” Flora sprung up, snatching the pudding from imminent jaws. Looking about, she could see only one course of action. Though many of the openings in the castle walls were narrow slits, allowing their archers to defend as necessary, the one in the laird’s chamber was larger and panelled with several small pieces of glass. Lifting the latch, Flora tossed out the pudding, then swiftly shut it again before the flurrying snow could gain entry.
Murdo cast up reproachful eyes and collapsed dolefully by the hearth, uttering a heartfelt sigh. Ragnall, meanwhile, surveyed her as if she’d turned raving.
“Mrs. McTavish has so many dishes she wants ye tae sample at the feast; ’twould be a shame tae spoil yer appetite by eating all that heavy pudding.” Flora did her best to summon a degree of nonchalance. “And, o’course, the clootie is nae for dogs. We wouldnae want Murdo tae be unwell.”
Ragnall looked at the hound, then back to Flora. “Well, it seems neither of us has further need for worry—though whoever finds the remains o' the pudding is unlikely tae employ the same abstinence. We can only pray they survive the ordeal.”
Flora grasped the edge of the window, feeling rather nauseous herself. She hoped the birds would fare alright when they descended.
Rising from his chair, the laird's expression turned to concern. “Are ye sure ye be feeling well, Florrie?” He felt her forehead, then moved his fingers to her wrist, as if to gauge her pulse.
“Aye, perfectly well.”
Pushing up her sleeve, his touch was light upon the sensitive skin. “Ye must know, lass, that I’ve a strong desire to take ye to ma bed, and not just for a single night. O’ course, I promise to see ye properly wed when the time comes for us to part.”
Flora gritted her teeth. “’Tis exceedingly considerate of ye, I’m sure.”
“And I’ve guessed, too, sweet Florrie, that ye be pure.”
“Och, aye. I’m pure in every deed, if not always in thought.” Flora managed a half-smile.
His lips grazed the side of her neck and she shivered. “Do nae fret, lass. I ken the ways of readying a woman for a man, so ye’ll be eager to receive all I have for ye.”
The way he was kissing beneath her ear made her doubt it not. As it was, her knees were threatening to forget what they were made for. However, the fact that he was adept in the ways of seduction did not change the essentials of what she intended to do.
“Once I have ye naked, Florrie, there will be nae barrier tae ma claiming every part of ye.” He trailed his mouth lower, his hands grasping her at the hips and pulling her into the warmth of his body.
Knowing that he’d said those same words to countless other women, she ought to have felt repelled, but some part of her was curious. If Ragnall Dalreagh was the lover he proclaimed himself to be, let him prove it to her.
She was afraid of many things, but she wouldn’t allow herself to fear this. It was only a human act, and one she would have submitted to as his wife. Ragnall had robbed her of much, but she would take this from him.
Tipping back her head, she let his mouth journey the length of her neck to the base of her throat. As if sensing her surrender, Ragnall lifted her into his arms, his eyes upon hers all the while. Glittering dark, they spoke of the passion he intended to share with her. Within a few strides, he reached the bed, covering her with his body as he laid her down, and Flora felt a momentary panic.
This was the moment. She would become what God and her father had intended and, when it was over, she would break the Commandments, committing the worst of sins.
He was looking at her intently, as if as unsure as Flora of where he might begin, but then his mouth met hers in a kiss deep and tender and she was lost within it, at once light as air yet more aware of her body than she'd ever been before. She was alive to the strength of his arms and the press of his hips and, when he broke off the kiss, she gasped, breathless.
He murmured endearments as he pushed her gown from her shoulders, grazing his cheek over the tender skin of her collarbone, to the upper curve of her breasts. The tip of his tongue glided over her nipple before taking it into his mouth, consuming her whole. A jolt of need, intense and undeniable, clenched inside her, shocking in its ferocity.
It didn’t matter that she hated him.
She was wicked, but a thrill of excitement rocked her as he brought his hand up her calf and thigh until he found the wetness between her legs. When he dipped a finger there, stroking where she was velvet soft, she wanted to cry and whimper and beat him with her fists. But she clenched them instead, and her teeth—willing herself not to make any sound that would show him how much she needed him to continue touching her, just as he was doing.
And all the while, he suckled her nipple. With his face buried there, at least he couldn’t see whatever was in her eyes. She didn’t want him to see it—that terrible, hot need that made her want both to scream at him and to wrap her legs tight, drawing him deeper. She wanted to know how it might have been, if she’d ever had a wedding night.
“Ye be sure now?” Ragnall’s voice was ragged as he lifted his head, his eyes dark with longing. He pushed his hips forward and, though he was still fully clothed, she felt the hard ridge pressing against her, and the slow throb of her own desire, telling her what she needed from him.
Flora wetted her lips. “Aye. Whatever happens, ’tis of ma own choosing.”
It seemed all he needed to hear. Leaning back to rest on his knees, he pulled his shirt hastily over his head, revealing to her the muscular, battle-scarred torso that her hands longed to touch.
“I want tae bury myself in ye, lass, tae drive into ye hard, but I promise tae curb ma savage need, for I shall nae forget ye are a virgin, and I willnae hurt ye.”
Breathless, Flora nodded her assent.
