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And Gregor was no fool.
With a groan, he closed his eyes, leaned down, and unerringly found her mouth with his.
His lips were cold, but inside he was hot. He placed his hands on either side of her head so that he could plunder her mouth like a starving man. Meg kissed him back, frantically, ecstatically.
She ran her palms up over his chest, enjoying the hard feel of him, and then slid them around his neck, tangling her fingers in his damp hair. Glen Dhui Castle would be in uproar. Everyone would be waiting. Meg’s sense of duty tapped her on the shoulder, and reluctantly she pulled away from his mouth.
“Shouldn’t we go back?”
Gregor didn’t even take his eyes from hers. “It’s still raining. It’s more sensible to wait until it stops.”
“Oh?” Meg looked into his eyes, reading the bright carnal glitter in them. He planned to make love to her, right now, right here in this cave. And she wanted him to. Suddenly duty to Glen Dhui wasn’t as important as their duty to each other.
“You’re all wet,” she whispered.
“So are you.”
“I fell off my mare.”
He stopped, frowning, his eyes running over her. “Are you hurt, Meg?”
“No, the ground was soft.” She smiled wryly. “Only my pride. My mare ran away, though. She will go home, when she is ready.”
He stroked her face, her neck, running his finger down over the swell of her breasts. “I have an idea,” he murmured, and turned her gently about, so that her back was to his chest. His fingers found her nipples through the cloth of her gown, and he spent some time rubbing them into peaks while Meg gasped and leaned her head back against his shoulder.
“What is your idea?” she asked at last, longing for him to make love to her.
He read her meaning, and she felt him smile against her cheek. “Our clothing, wet as it is, offers some warmth and covering. Much as I would like to, I willna strip you bare, Meg. Here.”
She turned, and saw that he had pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him bare-chested in his kilt. Big and well muscled, his body was so fine she could look for hours. But he was already moving, laying the shirt upon the hard, damp ground.
Was she to lie upon that? Meg wondered. But before she could move, he was pressing her down, gently, easing her onto the soft linen so that she knelt, her back still to him.
“Lean forward onto your hands,” he murmured, nuzzling at her neck, and suddenly he was hard up behind her. His hands reached down to find her breasts, gently squeezing her flesh, before he began to ease the hem of her skirt up, over the backs of her legs. His hands clasped her thighs, nudging them apart, and he slid a finger up into her.
Meg gasped and went still, afraid he might stop. But he didn’t, pleasuring her with his hand and fingers, until she was moving against him, mindless with the need for him to continue. To her dismay, that was when he stopped.
“Gregor!” she groaned, turning her head to look back at him. He was kneeling behind her, a big dark shape against the light from outside the cave, but she couldn’t see his face or his expression. He was lifting her skirts up over her bottom, and she shivered as her bare flesh was exposed to the cold. But in an instant he was there, pressed against her, his kilt covering them both. One strong arm came around her waist, drawing her back, back, while he eased his rod into her body.
Meg tried to push back, eager to regain her wave of pleasure, but he held her still and his hand crept over her belly, between her legs from the front, and found her favorite spot. He began to thrust into her, touching her at the same time, and Meg closed her eyes.
Her breath was loud in the half-darkness of the cave, and she was no longer cold. Gregor had seen to that. His thighs pounded against hers, and he went deep inside her. And then she was there, crashing to the shore with a keening cry. With a hard thrust, and then another, Gregor followed.
After a moment, when they had caught t
heir breath, Gregor helped her to her feet, smoothing down her skirts and patting off any earth that might cling to the cloth. He shook out his shirt and pulled it back on.
“Now we will go home,” he said with a smile.
He had exorcised some bad memories today; from now on, this place would hold nothing but pleasant ones for him. He looked at Meg, her cheeks still flushed from their lovemaking, her lips red and luscious, and wished he could do it again. But Lorenzo was loose in the glen, and it was safer to go.
She looked up at him, caught in the act of trying to tidy her hair, and sighed. “They will know,” she said despairingly.
Gregor grinned. “Aye,” he replied smugly, “so they will.”
Chapter 25
Glen Dhui Castle was ablaze with light.
