He drew in a hissing breath. "Before that?"
She frowned. "Nay."
He searched her eyes. "Have you ever had a choice in the matter?"
She shook her head. "Not truly."
"Well, now you do."
Tears filled her eyes and she kissed him sweetly on the lips to thank him. He was so incredibly thoughtful. The kisses quickly turned scorching.
Already straddling him, she slid along the side of his shaft.
Placing his hands at her hips, he caressed her, then stroked her abdomen and the top of her mound. Liquid warmth filled her. Taking his shaft into her hand again, she guided him exactly where she craved for him to be.
"Aye." His gravelly voice aroused her even more.
She lowered herself, allowing him to slide within her an inch or two.
"More, lass," he breathed against her mouth. "Deeper."
She was unsure whether he was asking or demanding. Either way, 'twas also what she craved.
Once again growing accustomed to his size, she pushed downward and relished the way he filled her completely. His hot hands beneath her hips, he lifted and lowered her. Slowly and easily. He ground his teeth. "'Tis more like torture."
"Aye." Her knees too weak from the overwhelming experience, she could not raise herself.
"I cannot withstand it." He rolled her over onto her back. Gradually, he withdrew, then eased back in. The next thrust was faster, more forceful. And the next even more blissful.
"Oh! I cannot believe…" She gasped. How could anything feel so wonderful?
He tugged her bodice down and suckled at her nipple. Holding him close, she arched toward him, offering all he wanted. She lifted her hips, meeting the powerful driving force of him.
He groaned as if the pleasure were an intense ache… just as it was for her.
A sensation like a gale-force wind spun inside her, stealing her breath, sending showers of sparks over her entire body. It centered within her core, where he dove to the very depths of her being. Sensations burst within her, shattering her thoughts. She knew she screamed but could not stop herself. His mouth covered hers, muffling her cries.
With a rough moan, he plunged to her depths. Tugging her tightly to his chest, he shuddered against her.
After a blissful and suspended moment, Cyrus rolled aside and pulled Elspeth into his arms. Her breathing sounded as hard as his. Saints! He had never felt anything so powerful and perfect. When she hugged him close, he experienced a deep sense of belonging.
How was it possible to feel so much joy and contentment while lying on the dirt floor of a cellar and being hunted down by miscreants? It made no sense, and yet his overwhelming happiness would not subside. In truth, he hadn't been happy in many years. Ambition and conquest had driven him forward relentlessly, but he had received no pleasure from it. Of a certainty, he was proud of his accomplishments and liked to give selflessly to his family and clan. But he had denied himself.
Elspeth's soft breaths puffed against the upper part of his chest as she drifted toward sleep. He would save her life or die trying—he had reached that conclusion. 'Twas no less than a vow and a commitment.
After he eliminated her problem, what would he do then? Up to this point, he had forced himself to disregard the future. The thought of it riled him too much. After their first fiery encounter in the tower, he was hooked, and for the first time in many years, he couldn't trust his own judgment. He'd intentionally delayed thinking about Lady Lily. At this point, he could wait no longer. Everything in him raged against marrying Lily. 'Twould not be fair to her or to himself. She was ideal wife material… but not for him.
Damnation. He had wanted her to be the right lady, but a perfect match could not be coerced into being.
He didn't know why he'd formed an attachment to the wrong woman, but there was naught to be done about it. He hated the loss of control of his own emotions. Yet, at the same time, the way he felt about Elspeth was the most addictive, intoxicating thing on earth. He wanted to kick himself for falling under the spell of a female once again. It had been at least a decade since this had happened. Regardless of how amazing this feeling was, he'd hoped to never feel it again, for it stole his good sense. It wrapped tightly around him, confining, demanding, bending him to its will.
The feeling made him selfish. He was ready and willing to cast all his goals and dreams aside. All his hopes and ambitions to leave his clan far richer and more prestigious would be crushed.
Regardless, he now knew he could not live the rest of his days without Elspeth, either in his life or close by.
She had already stated she didn't want to marry again, nor did she want to be a mistress. Besides, he had decided long ago that once he married, he would remain faithful, therefore having a mistress was out of the question. He must have a legitimate heir at all costs.
The only alternative was to ask her to be his wife.
