"Are you certain?" His dark, tortured eyes said he did not believe her.
"Of course, I'm certain." Sliding her hand down his firm, ridged lower abdomen, she reached for him. Her hand encountered his hard shaft. She palmed him and stroked up his length, then grasped him and guided him exactly where she wanted him.
He hissed again, then murmured Gaelic curses. Pressing his forehead against hers, he entered her slowly, inch by torturous inch. Though her body was unused to such an extreme invasion, she did not flinch at the intensity which bordered on pain.
Clinging tight to him, she thrust her hips. "Hurry, please," she breathed.
He gave a harsh growl, holding her head between his hands. He looked into her eyes, into her soul, and drove himself to her depths. She groaned and dug her nails into his firm arse. Holding still, he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyelids and her lips.
When he withdrew, she cried out at the thrilling, divine sensation. Not wanting him to go, she pulled at him. "Again."
He thrust, driving himself deeper still.
Crying out, she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Oh, please."
"Anna," he breathed. "Nothing has ever felt this good."
"Aye, Neacal. More."
Once he started moving, he propelled her into a pleasure so profound she had never even imagined it. His passion was dark and rich, so delicious and powerful it edged on pain. He drove her through a pleasure of unbearable intensity. She could do naught but cling to him in desperation, crying out, losing control.
He suckled her nipple and she thought she might die of the rapturous bliss. Then, he found her other nipple and drew it into his mouth. She arched her back as he plunged into her and she felt herself falling. She screamed, holding onto him lest she go flying off the edge of the world.
He locked his lips onto hers and continued to test the limits of her endurance. The pleasure burst within her like a thousand shooting stars. Feeling like she was flying and tumbling through the air, she screamed out.
Holding himself deep, he shuddered and growled in her ear. "Anna," he rasped.
She hugged him tightly to her. How precious he was, how dear to her.
They lay unmoving for long moments, simply breathing, absorbing the impact, holding each other. Neacal inhaled deeply, his heart still pounding with excitement. He could not grasp what had just happened. The absolute bliss had been unfathomable. How could such unimaginable pleasure exist in a harsh and painful world?
Though he didn't want to, he withdrew from her, lay down beside her and pulled her tight against his chest.
Aye, he'd bedded women many times before, years past, but never like that. Never a touching of souls. What on earth had Anna done to him? He no longer controlled his impulses, nor did he want to.
Some odd, light feeling bubbled up from the core of his being and a short laugh burst from him. He tamped down the urge and drew back, searching out Anna's gaze.
She grinned, watching him with understanding. Giving him permission to feel the joy? Did she feel it, too?
Unable to stop his smile, he stroked her face, so smooth in the firelight. What perfection she was, a gift only for him. At least, that was the illusion, but 'twas not true. She was not his but instead was bound to another man. The brief moment of happiness dimmed like cold embers. As elusive as sparks falling and fading in the frosty air.
He turned onto his back, disquiet worming through his body. "I am a madman. This confirms it."
"Why do you say that?"
"Making love to a woman who is taken."
"I'm not taken," she said with soft intensity. "'Tis why I'm here and not with the bastard."
Aye, well, there was a chief and a clan somewhere who disagreed, and therein lay the problem.
"So, you regret it," she said, her delicate voice disappointed.
When he turned onto his side again, he found her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He would rather hurt himself than make her cry. "Nay, of course not." Gently gathering her close, he kissed her lips. "'Twas the best hour of my life." And that was the truth. He did not simply say things to flatter her. If life was balanced, the pleasure he'd just experienced was equal in intensity and volume to the pain he'd suffered two years ago.
She blushed, her gaze dropping. "I don't wish to put you in any danger. When we part ways, no one will ken of it."
Part ways?Those words stabbed at him like daggers. He did not ever want to part ways with her. But how to say that… how to explain it? "I'll protect you from the bastard." Always, for the rest of his life, if necessary. He could not say that, and knew he was foolish for even thinking it. If the man had forced her to marry him, he obviously wanted her badly. "How does Blackburn feel about you? Does he fancy himself in love with you?"
