She shook her head.
He pushed her cowl back just enough to determine if he knew her. Her crystal gray eyes were the color of the clouds on a cold, misty morn. Nay, indeed. He did not know her, but he wanted to.
"Come," he invited, motioning for her to precede him up the steps, but not truly expecting her to.
She didn't hesitate, but rushed up the steps, surprising him again. Well indeed, tonight was his lucky night.
Once in his room, supposedly the nicest one in the inn, he barred the door, then turned to her. "May I take your cloak?" He wanted to see more of her… much more.
She nodded and he helped her remove the heavy woolen garment. Thankfully, a fire burned low in the hearth and the room was warm.
He placed her cloak upon a chair, then faced her again. Damnation, but she was a beauty. Her long blond curls were lush, as was her tempting mouth. But 'twas those haunting gray eyes with their long dark lashes that held him spellbound. So many conflicting emotions lurked there—as if she were unsure whether to be shy or bold—along with her obvious keen intelligence.
"What is your name?" he asked.
She dropped her gaze and he sensed her hesitation before she stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. Meeting his gaze again, she placed a silky finger upon his lips, instantly arousing him. "No names," she whispered, then removed her finger, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his. Her innocent kiss sent lust flaming through his body. He grasped her to him and deepened the kiss, hungry for a taste of her. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she gasped. He drew back an inch to gauge her reaction. Her eyes, now dark gray, were almost closed and her swollen lips parted.
"Are you certain you want to do this?" he asked.
"Aye," she whispered, her gaze searching his. She looked near as eager as he felt, thank the saints.
Upon drawing her closer, he kissed her neck and a shiver coursed through her body. She smelled good enough to eat, and her sweet, curvy body against his made all thoughts vanish from his mind except for one. He needed to feel her satiny skin against his own. Now.
"Are you maiden, wife, or widow?" he'd asked against her ear.
"Widow," she said. "My husband was old and—"
"Say no more." He couldn't tolerate the thought of some graybeard touching her flawless skin.'Twasa common practice for older lairds to marry young lasses. Sacrilege.
Rebbie'dhad encounters with several young widows, but this one seemed different somehow. With the whisky still heating his blood and fogging his mind, he couldn't figure it out. She was a beautiful, willing woman who aroused him and that was the most important thing at the moment.
He quickly dispensed with his own clothing, then turned her about to start the task of removing hers. Once he'd stripped the thin shift from her slender, delectable body, she covered her breasts with her arms. She was a sight to behold in the firelight.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, then tipped her chin up and kissed her. Gently, he coaxed her to relax and slide her arms around his neck. When he flicked his tongue against hers this time, she let out a breathy feminine moan and clenched her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
Mmm, aye.He kissed her deeply, relishing her sweet taste, and stroked his hands over her lovely curves… her perky breasts, her small waist, her slender hips.
Lust tensing his muscles and rampaging through him, he growled, picked her up and deposited her on the small bed. "Saints, lass," he hissed and brushed his lips over her breasts, then drew a beaded nipple into his mouth.
"Aye," she gasped and arched her back.
"Mmm." He felt ready to explode already and he'd barely started.
Tweaking one nipple and rolling it between his thumb and finger, he suckled at the other. She tasted and smelled so sweet. He wanted to devour her.
"Oh, please," she whispered.
He stroked his hand down the outside of her thigh, and back up the inside, subtly urging her to open for him. Finding her wet, swollen and ready, arousal surged through him. He clenched his teeth and growled.
"Oh," she cried softly, then moaned as he stroked her. He watched the blissful expression on her face when he inserted a finger. He had to make certain she was no virgin, for he didn't want some angry father chasing him down and forcing him at sword point to marry the lass. Although, he wasn't certain even that would stop him from taking her at the moment.
But nay, she possessed no maidenhead and within seconds she reached climax, her body bowing against him as he stroked his fingers over her.
"Aye, that's good,moleannan," he whispered against her mouth, then kissed her.
She was starved for carnal relations. Rising to his knees and leaning over her, he placed kisses on her face as she gasped for breath.
"Are you ready for me, lass?"
