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“Slowly, Nairn, go slowly with me.” Her lips brushed teasingly against his lips. “I would spend the night in pure pleasure within yer strong arms. ’Tis our wedding night.”
She was driving him wild with her seductive bedevilment. He drew a long, deep breath to clear his head, to regain control of this situation. Her faint smile mocked him. “I didn't know ye could be such a witch,” he finally said with a chuckle. “Ye have been most restrained until now, sweeting. If ye loose the beast in me, ye must pay the consequences. Are ye prepared to do so, Fiona mine?”
She laughed low. It was a smoky sound. “I will tame the beast in ye, Colin MacDonald,” she told him boldly. “But can ye truly tame the beast in me is more to the point.” Arms about his neck, she vaulted herselflightly, wrapping her slender, strong legs about his waist.
He met the challenge, his mouth fusing against hers with a fierce passion. Tongues intertwined sensuously. Her flesh against his was afire. Fiona threw her head back, and, bending, he plunged his tongue between her breasts, drawing it slowly upward between the twin hillocks, across the flat of her chest, sliding over the pulsing flesh of her straining throat to the tip of her chin. She vibrated beneath his touch, and he mocked her, “Yer already hot to be sheathed, sweeting, but we shall go slowly, as ye have requested of me.” Then, walking across the floor with her, he set her upon the edge of the bed, drawing her legs up and over his broad shoulders, spreading her to his view.
Fiona was shocked, but she did not protest. She would meet his every desire openly and honestly. Still, she was hardly prepared when his fiery head disappeared between her thighs. She felt just the very tip of his tongue touch her little sugar button and begin to flick voluptuously back and forth over it. So acutely foreign yet thrilling was the sensation, that for a moment she lost her breath. To her surprise she felt a small flame of excitement beginning to lick at her awareness. She gasped, and the feeling spread until she was engulfed, almost suffocating with the pleasure he was giving her.
“Colin! Oh, holy Mother, yer killing me!”She tried to writhe away from him, for it was becoming too much to bear, but his big hands gripped her hips in an iron grasp, holding her firmly.
“Give yerself to me, Fiona mine.” He groaned, then his mouth and tongue were working upon her sentient flesh again.
She had never really allowed herself to trust socompletely. She had never truly given up total control of herself. But now he tempted her, dared her, enticed her to entrust herself to him completely, as she had never before trusted anyone, even Angus Gordon. For a moment her body stiffened with guilt, but then she relaxed once again. Colin MacDonald was her husband. Fiona inhaled, and when she exhaled she gave herself over totally to this passionate man. Almost instantly she was rewarded as wave after wave of delight poured over her until she was mindless with pure, unadulterated enjoyment.
Raising his head, Colin saw upon her lovely face the satisfaction that he had given her. His manhood was hard as iron and quite ready to be equally satisfied. Drawing her up upon their bed, he lay next to her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply, his tongue pushing into her mouth so that she might taste herself on it. Fiona shuddered, and her eyes fluttered open. He moved to fondle her breasts. The twin orbs were firm, the nipples thrusting forth defiantly. His mouth closed over one of those nipples, drawing hard upon it, his mouth filling with her milk, which he swallowed eagerly.
“Colly!” Her tone was half shocked.
Slowly he lifted up his head, saying, “Why should our son have one of the best parts of ye, and I be denied, Fiona mine? By morning yer breasts will be full enough again for the bairn.” He moved to her other breast.
Her fingers entwined themselves within his red-gold hair. His actions somehow made them more a part of each other than they had ever been. She caressed the nape of his neck.
Once again he raised his head, his blue eyes meeting her green ones. “I canna go slowly any longer, sweeting,”he said in a thick voice. Then he covered her body with his, entering her with great restraint.
“Ah, my lord, I want ye deep within me, Colly. Fill me full with yer loving!”
Pushing her legs up and back, he plunged further within her than she could ever remember taking a man inside her. Finding a rhythm, he moved upon her until both of them were almost demented with their passion, and at its pinnacle both cried aloud with release.
Afterward he cradled her within the circle of his arms, stroking her dark hair, crooning aimlessly to her. “Never have I known such a lass as ye, Fiona MacDonald,” he said admiringly.
She chuckled weakly, exhausted by their bout of eros. “In the battle of love,” she told him, “I think we are more than well matched, my lord husband. I have never been loved before as ye loved me tonight.” She sighed happily and nestled against his chest.
Colin smiled in the darkness of the room. He had, he firmly believed, finally eradicated the ghost of Black Angus Gordon. “I love ye, sweeting.”
“I know.”
He waited for the words he so longed to hear from her. Would she finally say them tonight? Or did he have to wait?
Fiona debated with herself. Did she love him? She didn't know. He was certainly a magnificent lover, but he was also a romantic at heart. He needed to hear her declare herself. “I feel differently about ye than I have in the past,” she said. “I think I could love ye, Colin MacDonald. Mayhap I already do, but when I finally have the courage to speak those words, my lord, ye will have no doubt that I mean them with all my heart and with all my soul.”
“Then I will wait, sweeting, for I know ye to be anhonest woman who would not deceive me.” He kissed the top of her head.
For the briefest moment Fiona was flooded with guilt, but she overcame it. She had done nothing to harm the MacDonalds. She had told Father Ninian before she spoke her church vows that she was through spying for James Stewart. In the morning she would return to the priest the king's coin. She was the lady of Nairn now, and would have no further use for it.
