Page 13 of Betrayed

Angus Gordon shook his head as he carried her to her bed, where he gently laid her down. If her brazen demeanor had ever led him to question her virtue, he now knew for certain that she was indeed a virgin. The look upon her face just before she swooned had been more than enough to convince him. It had been a mixture of slow sensual awakening and absolute terror. He didn't know if he was up to this. Cudgeling his brain, he tried to remember the last time he had deflowered a virgin. Then it dawned upon him.He never had.In fact, he had carefully steered clear of such lasses, for virgins were a capricious lot, forever falling in love with you and wanting to marry. Or so his late father had warned him. “Couple with the ones who enjoy it, laddie, but avoid the others, especially virgins, unless ye plan to wed one,” Robert Gordon counseled his son, going on to explain why.

He should have listened more closely to his father's advice, Angus Gordon thought ruefully. Still, the lass owed him a debt, and he'd not be made a laughingstock before all the world. Pouring a bit of wine into his goblet, he cradled the girl with one arm while forcing a bit of the liquid down her throat with his other hand upon the cup. Fiona Hay was going to meet her liability to him, but perhaps he could go a bit more slowly with her. She coughed, pushing his hand away, and some of the ruby liquid spilled onto her chest. He had the worst urge to lick it off, but restrained himself lest she swoon again. If a hand upon her shapely bottom could cause her to faint, surely his tongue between her untutored breasts would send her into fits.

“Are ye all right now, lassie?” he asked solicitiously.

Fiona nodded slowly, her head beginning to clear. “I don't know what happened,” she said. “I am not craven,” she defended herself.

“I know,” he said, “but yer a virgin, and don't know what to expect. I was clumsy in my approach, for if the truth were to be known, Fiona Hay, yer a lovely lass, and ye have aroused me.”

“Aroused ye to what?” she demanded suspiciously.

“Ye've aroused my lust,” he said, honestly answering what he realized was an honest question. “I want to couple with ye, lassie.” Gently he cupped one of her breasts, caressing it lightly.

Eyes wide, Fiona stared at his hand, amazed as his long fingers brushed over her skin, sending tiny tingles throughout her whole body. It was certainly not an unpleasant sensation, she mused, wondering at the same time what he expected of her. Their eyes met as she looked into his face. It was a strong face. Long in shape with a cleft in his chin and an aquiline nose. His cheekbones were high, his eyelids heavy, his mouth a narrow elongation.

His hand moved up from her breast to take her chin between his thumb and his forefinger. He brushed his lips across hers, and she caught her breath softly. Angus Gordon smiled, and the smile extended to his dark green eyes. “Yer not afraid, are ye, lassie?”

“I never imagined …” Fiona carefully considered her words. “I don't know what to expect, my lord, but it would seem that if I please ye, then ye will please me.”

He couldn't help but grin at her. This was hardly the sort of conversation he had expected to have with the brazen hussy in the midst of his seduction. “Ye talk too much, lassie,” he said even as his mouth took firm possession of hers. He kissed her hard, wanting her to understand that he would not be deterred in his purpose to have her maidenhead. Holding the naked little witch in his arms, he could hardly resist her as it was. She smelled delicious, and her skin was silken andsweetly resilient beneath his touch. He pulled the pins from her hair, then let it tumble around his hands.

It was her first real kiss, and it was wonderful, Fiona thought as she let herself drift within the security of his strong arms. Her belly kept knotting and unknotting. She was being assailed by a hundred different sensations. The kiss was harsh, yet it was sweet. Her mouth softened beneath his instinctively, her lips parting, their breaths mingling. She sighed as the pleasure deepened. Whatever had caused her to faint earlier had been dispelled in the magic of his kiss. Finally he broke off the ardent embrace, for he knew she had much to learn.

Fiona stared into his face. “’Twas verra nice, my lord. I like this kissing. Did I do it well? I haven't done it before, but it seems to come naturally to a body.”

His breeks had never seemed so tight. Laying her back upon the bed, he stood and began to divest himself of the remainder of his garments. “Aye,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving her face, “kissing is a most natural thing, and ye do it well, lassie.” He pulled his boots, hose, and breeks off. He kept his face impassive as his drawers fell to the floor. He kicked them aside as her eyes widened, although she said nothing.

Could a man be called beautiful, Fiona wondered? His limbs were long and straight, and pleasingly curved where they should be. He had nicely shaped buttocks, round yet firm. He turned back to her, slipping again onto the bed. Fiona glimpsed his male appendage, pale and bobbing from a nest of curls as dark as her own. He saw where her glance had fastened itself.

“Are ye afeared again, lassie?” he asked her in a quiet voice. “Ye don't have to be afraid of it, ye know. He's a braw fellow, my Gordie is, and will give ye much pleasure once he's become acquainted with ye.”

To his utter amazement Fiona reached out andtouched his manhood, her face thoughtful as well as curious. He flinched with surprise, and she said in a serious voice, “Does it hurt when I touch it?”

“No.”

“Then why did ye start?”

“I would not have thought a virgin so curious.”

“Do virgins usually quail at the sight of yer Gordie, then?”

Her fingers slid along his length, and he swallowed hard.

“I don't recall,” he muttered.

He felt as hard as iron and near to bursting beneath her gentle yet bestirring touch. Her boldness was confusing to him. It wasn't that he wanted her shrieking and swooning with fear, but should not a virgin be more respectful of his male member? Just a few moments ago she had fainted at his touch, and now here she was, boldly stroking him with fingers as skilled as any whore's. He would have remonstrated with her but that he could see her actions were actually born of curiosity, and the fact that she truly did not know how a respectable lass should behave in such a situation.

His fingers closed tightly about her wrist. “Enough, lassie. Yer touch sets me afire with lust.” He pushed her back into the pillows, kissing her hard again.

Fiona pulled her head away. “Show me where it goes,” she demanded of him.

‘Jesu Christus!” Angus exploded. “Is there not any delicacy in ye, lassie? What kind of thing is that to ask a man?”

“I don't like the uncertainty,” Fiona told him. “Ye kiss me and ye caress me till I can bear it no longer! Will ye not take my maidenhead and be done with it, my lord?”

She was afraid!He realized it in that brief moment,but of course she would deny it and claim once again that she was not craven. He moved his body so that it was partly covering hers. His hand gently touched her cheek. “When a man makes love with a woman, lassie,” he began, “it should not be a quick coupling. There is little pleasure in quick coupling. Particularly the first time. It should be slow, and hot, and verra sweet between them.” His lips brushed her lips and then her purpled eyelids. His hand plunged into the mass of her dark hair, taking a fistful of it up, inhaling the clean fragrance of it against his nose.

Fiona shifted nervously like a mare newly brought to the harness. Why did his voice sound so intense? Why did her breasts ache and her nipples feel so irritated against his smooth chest? His presence was suddenly very overwhelming. She bit her lip in her effort not to cry out. Her eyes closed as if in doing so she could shut this all out, but the very scent of his masculinity assailed her nostrils. It was a powerful and exciting fragrance that seemed to call out to something equally primitive within her. Her hands smoothed slowly over his shoulders.

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