Page 261 of Wicked Highland Heroes

She pulled her knees up and flattened her feet on the bed to brace herself, then arched her mons against his erection.

“By God, Rhoslyn. If you do not stop I am liable to spend myself in my braies.”

“I advise you no’ to do that, St. Claire.” She grazed her teeth along his neck. “I will make you suffer if ye do not please me.”

A growl vibrated from his chest. She squeezed his buttocks again and bit down gently on his ear.

“Rhoslyn.”

She arched into him again and ground her sex against him, and again, again, and—St. Claire shoved up onto an elbow and yanked her dress to her waist. Before she realized his intent, he buried his face between her legs. Warm lips closed around her sex and pleasure shot through her.

“Holy God,” Rhoslyn cried.

He flicked his tongue against her engorged nub. She tried to shove away from him, but he seized her thighs, holding her in place.

“This is-is indecent,” she got out between gulps of air.

Need rose to the surface. Rhoslyn fisted the bedding. When he gently sucked she thought she would lose her mind. Rhoslyn started at the feel of his finger sliding into her channel. He went deep, then pulled out, plunging in and out until the pleasure of his mouth on her mingled with the stroke of his finger.

Her climax came upon her with a fury that caught her off guard. Rhoslyn bowed off the bed. Spots raced across her vision. Another wave rolled over her and she collapsed back on the bed. Then St. Claire loomed over her, driving into her as her sex tightened and pleasure streaked through her once again.

* * *

A hard rap to the door brought Talbot fully awake.

“What is it?” Rhoslyn demanded in a sleepy voice.

He threw aside the thick bed curtain. Early morning sun seeped in the window.

Another knock. “St Claire,” Ross called.

Rhoslyn started to rise.

“Stay in bed,” Talbot ordered. He scooped up his tunic from the floor and slipped it over his head, then went to the door and opened it.

“Fifty of Lochland’s men wait outside the gates,” Ross said without preamble. “They expect to escort ye to England to bring back Lady Andreana.”

“Men-at-arms are in the trees as I ordered?” he said.

Ross nodded. “One hundred, as ye said.”

Rhoslyn stepped around the bed. A dress haphazardly covered her body. “Tell Lord Lochland that the Earl of Baliman doesna’ take orders from him.”

“Rhoslyn, I will not—”

“How long will ye fight the truth, St. Claire?” she cut in. “What do you think will stop Lochland from making war on you, if no’ this?”

“I can deal with Lochland,” he said.

“Mayhap. But ye also have your brother and Sir Boyd to deal with. And dinna’ forget you promised me the head of my grandfather’s attacker. I expect you to keep that promise.” She didn’t wait for his answer, but said to Ross, “Off with ye, Ross. Deliver the message as I said.”

“I will be down in a moment to speak with them,” Talbot said.

Ross nodded, then started to turn, but stopped. “If ye ignore Lochland’s command he will challenge ye. It might even mean war. At least think about what Lady Rhoslyn said.”

He left, and Talbot crossed to the bench near the window where his mail shirt lay.

Rhoslyn tugged a sleeve to straighten it. “Why are ye so stubborn?”