Page 82 of Heather House: The Witch of Threadneedle Street

“I left Edinburgh with their blessings—unwilling, to be sure. I dinna think we should expect either to attend our wedding, but no doubt, one day, they’ll be at peace.”

Then, he hadn’t changed his mind, at all. Our wedding. It sounded so final.

“Dinna look at me like that,” Taran murmured as he peered down at her through hooded eyes. “Surely, ye can trust me, now?”

Moll lowered her lashes. “Did I agree to wed you, my lord?”

He pulled her closer. “Aye.”

“When? How?”

“Mayhap not in words,” he granted with a smile.

He parted her lips with his own and kissed her, hard. ‘Twas nothing less than a possession, the brand of ownership.

“I’ll have no other lass,” he said.

Moll slid her arms around his neck, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath hers as she whispered her reply, “Then, that is well, for I will have no other man.”

They kissed again, slow and lingering, and then with an increasing urgency until he caught her lip between his teeth.

Moll shivered. There was no fear with him. No reluctance. No hesitation. Trust him? She did, entirely, and even more, she wanted him—all of him.

He nibbled his way down her neck, his firm broad lips feeling as soft as velvet, warm. With a moan, she melted against him, for the first time truly freeing herself to enjoy the heat he summoned.

As she threaded her fingers through his hair, he tore his mouth from hers.

“I should stop,” he murmured with a rueful smile.

“No,” she whispered.

Taran peered down at her from under hooded eyes. Then, sliding his hands about her waist, he moved behind her, pulling her back against him as he swept aside the spill of her hair and his lips returned to her neck. The crackle of the fire mixed with his slow, steady breathing as he nuzzled her ear and teased the lobe with his teeth. She shivered, each touch of his lips making her want him more.

Then, his hands began a slow, sensual glide, caressing the curve of her hips before traveling upward to fondle her breasts. She held still, thoroughly under his spell. ‘Twas a pleasure she’d never experienced before. She held still, eyes closed, as the warmth of his hands worked a wondrous magic, a slow, easy kneading that carried her on a wave of pure sensation.

Then, her gown pooled at her feet. Her lashes lifted, surprised. When had he untied her laces? Her shift, gossamer-thin, quickly followed, slipping down over her thighs to leave her naked.

He gave her no time to think. He dropped to one knee, pulling her down with him and then rolled with her back into the fur. ‘Twas a feast of sensual delight, the fur, velvety smooth on her back as his mouth moved down the column of her throat, then slowly down further still, savoring every inch of her skin to close over her breasts.

She gasped aloud as he suckled deep, hard, the heat of his lips and the roughness of his chin teasing her skin and releasing ribbons of pleasure straight down to her core. This was love, what a bedding was meant to be. She anchored her hands in his hair and began to move. She couldn’t hold still. She needed more. All of him.

She slipped her hand between them, low over his hips, wanting to feel him. He knew what she wanted. Lifting his head, he shifted back and dropping his hand over hers, guided her fingers to his hard flesh. At the touch of her hand, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, clearly enjoying her touch.

But a simple touch wasn’t enough.

Slipping out from beneath him, she pushed him flat on his back and she tugged the buttons of his shirt. He was a thing of beauty. His bronze skin gleamed an even deeper shade in the firelight. She ran her fingers over his bare chest, tracing the sculpted muscles and fine white scars.

Then, he was growling and kicking his kilt free as he caught her against his body and again, rolled her back into the thick fur.

There was nothing between them now. His skin felt like fire, sending tingles over her flesh, as he settled between her legs. She could feel his length, hard and hot, and her eyes widened. Indeed, he was much closer to a horse than she’d thought.

“’Twill be pleasurable, I assure ye, lass,” he nipped her ear.

She parted her lips to reply but he chose that moment to claim her, pinning her under his weight as his heated flesh filled her and made them one with an ever-increasing urgency.

Soon, there was only the sound of their breath coming in short, halting pants, then a wave of pleasure exploded through her with no warning. She clung to him and cried out as her body trembled, carrying her into waves of bliss she’d never before felt. She could only hold on to him, desperately, her fingers digging into his flesh.

The last wave had no sooner subsided than he began to thrust anew, but within a dozen strokes, he crushed her close as with a half-strangled moan, he thrust one last time before his body tightened in his release.