Page 31 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Sixteen

Eamon bowed politely like an English gentleman, and Isabelle laughed. All the tension from before had melted away. The situation was never one she’d expected to be in, nor could hope to be in again. If this was Eamon’s last night on this Earth, because she knew well the brutality of her father, then she would say yes. She realized that she would say yes to anything if it meant that she could be with Eamon, this strong, wonderful man who made a fire and a passion arise within her that she had never known.

“Would I be thought of as not very ladylike if I said yes?”

Eamon laughed. “Nae. I was hoping that ye would say yes. But first, I think there is something else we must attend to.” He laid a blanket over the tub. “It is tae trap the heat inside while we wait.”

“Wait?” she asked him with confusion. He pulled her to him again, wrapping his hands around her thin waist.

“Aye, wait. I dinnae want tae rush this moment.” He kissed her again, and while locked in an embrace, they moved towards the small bed. Isabelle’s mind was racing. This was what she wanted, but she was so fearful that her inexperience would prove distasteful to him.

They laid down, and he lay atop of her, his heavy warmth fueling her desire. Her thoughts got the better of her, and she pulled away breathless, “Eamon, I do not know how any of this goes. I do not--”

Eamon laid a finger on her lips and smiled kindly. “If ye so desire it, lass, then I will show ye everything ye need tae know.” At the heat of his words, Isabelle closed her eyes again and allowed him to kiss her, even more deeply. His mouth moved down her neck, making a warm path towards her chest. “So bonny. Yer skin is so soft, compared to my rough hands,” he whispered as he slowly moved over the bare skin that was showing.

“I rather like the feel of them,” she said with a smile. Isabelle laid her head back as he began to undo the laces on her bodice. Her heart was thumping with excitement. She was nervous, but it felt right. She was here with Eamon, the man she had spent so long dreaming about. She didn’t care that she had to pretend to play his captive, or that tomorrow could be different. Tonight would be a night she shared with him, and she would treasure it forever.

He loosened her bodice and pushed it over her shoulders, exposing her white shift, where her pointed nipples peeked through. Eamon boldly took one breast in his hands, kneading it softly, and Isabelle moaned with pleasure as he placed his mouth around the other breast, sucking and tugging gently through the light fabric. Isabelle could feel her core throbbing, and a warmth pooled at her center. To be touched so intimately felt deliciously wicked and strangely gratifying at the same time. Too soon, Eamon stood up, removing his own shirt. Without saying anything, she stood as well, pulling down her skirt and lifting the white shift over her head. When she was completely naked in front of him, her long, dark hair hanging loosely down her back, she heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up to find Eamon staring at her, standing in only his breeches, a bulging hardness at his laces.

“The fairies have given ye yer beauty, lass. It is not of this world. Ye set a fire within me that cannae be quenched.”

With his Highland brogue, Isabelle thought his words were the most sensual thing a man had ever said to her, and she felt odd as if they were like words of love uttered by a husband. Oh if only they were. She laid back on the bed and watched with interest as Eamon removed his breeches. She covered her mouth when she saw his hard member standing up straight, and with a grin, Eamon slid slowly over her body. His skin was rough, but the heat of him was a welcome feeling on a cold night, and she smoothed her hands around him.

Isabelle was about to ask a question when Eamon cut her off with a kiss before trailing his lips down to capture one of her pink nipples again in his mouth. Isabelle closed her eyes and laid her head on the pillow, arching her back to meet him. Warmth moved wonderfully slowly all over her, and she felt a pulsing deep within her that only increased with each lick of his tongue. His other hand kneaded her breast again and then slid its way over the dip in her waist and down between her thighs.

All while keeping his lips locked to her breast, gently suckling, he began to move his fingers between her folds. Isabelle gasped, and Eamon breathed against her chest. “Ye are wet for me, lass. That means ye are ready.”

“Ready?”

“Aye. For me tae enter ye.” His voice had gone low and thick, and his eyes were hazy with desire. She loved the tickle of his stubble on the soft skin of her breasts, and she wished he wouldn’t stop. He leaned up, and Isabelle spied the sinewy muscles covering his arms. Gently, he pushed aside her thighs with his hands.

“Now, it may hurt a little, lass, but then ye will feel nae more pain, I promise.” Isabelle nodded, keeping her eyes locked to his. She trusted this man. His eyes were kind as he looked down at her. She watched his cock quiver as it readied itself above her core, and then he leaned down and pushed himself into her in one fell motion. Isabelle cried out for a moment, all of her muscles tensing as her body tried to register what had just happened.

Eamon breathed next to her. “Ye are so tight, lass. Are ye all right?”

Isabelle nodded.

“I have desired ye for so long, lass, in more ways than one.” He kissed Isabelle lightly on the lips, and started to move, slowly rocking his hips into hers. With his initial thrust, she had felt a sharp jab of pain, but then with another, her muscles relaxed, and her hips rose to meet him. She smiled to herself dreamily, as waves of pleasure began to trickle through her, starting small, but rising with each thrust of his hips.

At first, their motion was slow and gentle, but then it became harder and faster. Their breath rose in tandem, and he kissed her lips while she held tightly to his back, allowing him to fill her deeply with each new thrust. The feeling of fullness that he gave her sent out increasing waves of ecstasy that made goosebumps rise on her skin. Never before had she known the like. Her sounds of pleasure filled the room, getting louder with each moment, as she was surprised with delight at each new feeling. The throbbing inside her was growing to a crescendo, and she knew it would come to a peak soon, but she was afraid it would burst and that she would lose all reason or control of her own body.

“Eamon!” she cried loudly, and in response, Eamon’s thrusts quickened, his strong muscled body focused only on giving her pleasure. Soon, she had reached her peak, and at that moment, she cried out, moaning as Eamon kept thrusting into her. Her mind was a blank, overcome with the physical sensation of her own enjoyment as she let go, succumbing to her climax. Her back was arched, and she shuddered underneath him as her muscles relaxed like warm, melted butter. While she trembled with satisfaction, Eamon sped up even more, finally groaning out his own pleasure as he spilled into her.

The two of them lay quietly for a moment, breathing loudly until Eamon shifted next to her. For a moment, only the sounds of their breathing, and the crackling of the fire filled the empty room. Isabelle lay back in sated exhaustion, feeling the continued tingles of pleasure sparking throughout her every muscle. After a pause, Isabelle said nervously, “I hope I did not wake anyone else. I never expected it to be so…”

Eamon grinned. “Pleasurable? Wonderful? Incredible?” He laid a light kiss on her lips. “Bonniest lass I have ever seen. Perhaps the loudest one too.” At Isabelle’s horrified look, Eamon laughed. “Come, let us clean ourselves up. Ye may feel sore tomorrow, but the bath will help.” He stood up and held her hand. He dipped into the bath at first, sighing as he sank into the water. He motioned for her to follow after him, and she did so, sinking beneath the hot water, and she laid her back against his chest.

He felt for soap on the ground and dropped it into the water, after rubbing his hands on it. The bath was soon filled with bubbles. Eamon slid his soapy hands over her arms. She giggled as he moved over her breasts, down her stomach and ending in her folds, rubbing gently.

Isabelle felt a lovely heaviness in her arms and legs and closed her eyes as she allowed him to move slowly over her skin, cleaning her. Soon enough, like she was being cradled and rocked, Isabelle fell asleep to the sound of the fire, droplets of water dripping into the tub, and the steady breath of a strong man.

* * *

The next morning, Eamon awoke to the soft sunlight coming through the inn window. His vision was fuzzy at first, but he blinked his eyes a few times at the form in the blankets next to him. At first, he thought he was in a dream, but then he remembered. He and Isabelle had made love the previous night. And a more passionate, heated experience he could not recall. He laid his hand softly upon her shoulder. She truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and when their bodies had met in their dance, he had finally felt truly sated and content. He smiled as he watched her breathe steadily under the covers.

Then he remembered. Cutler. The men. The village. He stood up hurriedly and began to dress. After he had his breeches and kilt on, he rushed to Isabelle’s side and woke her gently. She scrunched her nose up at him as she awoke with frustration. “What is it?’ she said until she recognized him.

“Oh! I must have stayed the night. Oh no! What if someone sees us?”

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