AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Evelinde stood completely still, holding her breath as he examined her injury. He took an exceptionally long time doing so, much longer than he had with the other bruises. And the whole time he did, he was inhaling and exhaling, sending out warm puffs of air over the trembling nipple. Each time he did, an odd little tingle went through Evelinde. Then he suddenly raised a hand to run a finger lightly around the discoloration on her arm, and his wrist brushed against her nipple through the damp cloth.
Evelinde was sure it was accidental, and he did not even notice, but the effect it had on her was rather startling. She closed her eyes as an odd pleasure rolled through her body, finding herself suddenly torn between putting some space between them and staying put to enjoy more of the astonishing effect he had on her. When he finally released her arm and unclasped her legs, she opened her eyes to find him standing up. Before Evelinde could regain enough of her senses to go find her gown and draw it on to cover herself, he'd clasped her head in one hand and tilted her face up to his as he brushed his finger lightly in a circle along her left jaw.
"Ye've another here," he growled.
"Oh," Evelinde breathed, as his finger apparently followed the edge of the bruise past the corner of her lips. That, too, was from her fall in the river, but she couldn't seem to untangle her tongue enough to say so as his finger trailed over her skin.
"Ye've beautiful eyes, lass," he murmured, peering into those eyes now rather than at the injury he was tracing.
"So do you," Evelinde whispered before she could think better of it.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips right before his mouth covered hers.
Evelinde stiffened at the unexpected caress. His lips were soft yet firm, but kissing her was wholly inappropriate. She was about to say so when something prodded at her lips. Evelinde tried to pull back, but his hand was at the back of her head, preventing her retreat. Suddenly she found her mouth invaded by his tongue.
Her first instinct was to push him away, but then his tongue rasped along hers, and Evelinde stilled again. The caress was surprisingly pleasant. She found herself holding on to his arms rather than pushing him away, and her eyes closed as a little sigh slipped from her mouth to his.
No one had ever kissed Evelinde. No one would have dared. She had never left d'Aumesbery and, as the daughter of the lord, was forbidden to dally with the knights and servants of the castle. This was a first for her, and she really wasn't sure if she liked this kissing business. It was interesting, and was causing little stirs of excitement in her, but they were faint and well overshadowed by her confusion. Evelinde wasn't terribly disappointed when he broke the kiss. But he didn't release her as she expected, instead his mouth simply trailed its way across her uninjured cheek.
"Sir," Evelinde murmured, thinking it time she introduce herself and tell him he had to stop. She had no fear he wouldn't. The moment she mentioned being betrothed to the Devil of Donnachaidh, he'd probably thrust her away himself. Everyone feared the Devil, she thought then stilled again as he began to nuzzle the side of her neck.
Her breath caught in her throat at the havoc sent rioting through her. Evelinde found her eyes drooping closed again, and a murmur of surprised pleasure slipped from her lips as she tilted her head to allow him better access. She even shifted a little closer to the man, her hands now clutching at his arms and urging him nearer rather than pushing him away. All sorts of tingly sensations were rushing through her as his mouth moved over her skin to her ear. He concentrated there until Evelinde found herself standing on her tiptoes in the circle of his arms, gasping and moaning.
His mouth finally returned to hers, and this time, she was not quiescent. Evelinde kissed him back, her tongue now wrestling with his. His hands began to move then, releasing the hold he'd kept on her head and sliding down her back until they slid over her bottom. Clasping the curve of each cheek, he lifted her off her feet and pressed her against him.
Evelinde groaned into his mouth as a hardness ground against the apex of her thighs through their clothes. It sent a sharp new excitement shooting through her, and she found herself shifting her hips and tightening her arms around his neck as she tried to get closer still.
When he suddenly broke their kiss, she moaned in disappointment, but when he then reclaimed his seat on the fallen log and tugged her forward to tumble into his lap, some of her common sense resurfaced.
"Oh, nay, sir! We should not be doing this. I am betrothed to the Devil of Donnachaidh. "
Evelinde had expected that to bring an abrupt halt to the proceedings, but the man merely muttered, "I am the Duncan and would have a kiss. "
His mouth descended on hers again, and Evelinde gave up her feeble struggles. One kiss did not seem so bad, she thought, as his tongue invaded her again, resurrecting her excitement. At least she would have these memories to warm her in her cold marriage bed, she thought, then—conscience soothed—Evelinde stopped thinking and allowed herself to enjoy his kiss.
It was much nicer sitting in his lap. She was surrounded by him, cocooned by the hard lap beneath her and the warm chest and arms around her. Relaxing against the arm at her back, she slid her own arms around his neck again, careful to avoid the sore spot on the back of his head as she kissed him enthusiastically. Evelinde shuddered and pressed against him as his hands slid over her back, and then gasped and arched as his hand moved around to find and clasp one breast through her damp chemise. Clutching at the cloth of his plaid, Evelinde groaned into his mouth and held on for dear life as he kneaded the round orb, and she was inundated by a whole new swell of sensations.
When his thumb brushed over the excited nipple through the cloth, it sent shocks of pleasure through her, and she couldn't keep from wiggling in his lap. Her hips moved of their own volition as they ground her bottom down against the hardness under her.
This seemed to have an electrifying effect on the Duncan, his kiss immediately became more demanding. The hand at her back shifted to her head to tilt her one way, then the other as the fingers at her breast tightened and began to pluck at her nipple through the quickly drying cloth.
This time Evelinde turned her head to give him better access when his mouth moved to her ear once more. His attention there soon had her gasping and moaning. Other than to dig her fingers more firmly into his shoulders, she hardly noticed when he leaned her back against his arm so his mouth could travel down her neck. His hand was still doing delightful things to first one breast, then the other, and that, combined with his lips nibbling over the flesh of her throat, had her giving one long, seemingly unending moan. By the time he reached the shockingly sensitive area of her collarbone, she was a mass of excitement, wiggling in his lap in response to the liquid heat now pooling in her lower belly.
So distracted was she, Evelinde didn't realize he had tugged aside the top of her chemise, revealing one breast, until his lips suddenly left her collarbone and dipped to close over the naked nipple.
She cried out then with both shock and excitement and tugged frantically at his plaid as he suckled and drew on the nipple, his tongue flicking over it repeatedly.
Evelinde knew she shouldn't be allowing this. She was betrothed to someone else. Even if she hadn't been, however, as an unmarried lady, she shouldn't be allowing it… but it felt so good. And really, if she was going to be married off to the Devil of Donnachaidh and left to wither away in misery, or possibly beaten to death by the man, it did seem less of a sin to allow herself the momentary pleasure of a kiss or two.
Besides, it was the most amazing thing she had yet experienced in her life. Evelinde had never felt so… alive. She was afire with passions she'd never even imagined existed, her body reacting of its own volition as it pressed and rubbed against him, seeking something she didn't understand.
The excitement he was causing in her was a living thing that built and built until Evelinde couldn't bear it anymore. Only then did the Duncan let her nipple slip from his mouth with one last rasp of the tongue and lift his head to cover her mouth again. If his earlier kiss had been passionate and demanding, it was nothing compared to this one. He wielded his tongue like a weapon, thrusting it into her mouth as if thrusting a sword into an opponent. Evelinde welcomed it and parried with her own.
His hand was again at her breast, fingers cupping and squeezing as his thumb rubbed back and forth over the sensitive nub. Evelinde groaned and found herself squeezing her thighs together as heat pooled there.
When his hand drifted away from her breast, she felt a keen sense of regret. However, that quickly turned to alarm as she felt it begin to drift up her leg, pushing the hem of her chemise before it. Evelinde squawked into his mouth and immediately began to struggle. This was definitely further than she was willing even to contemplate going.
She must have caught him by surprise, for Evelinde was sure he could have held on to her had he wished to, but he didn't. He removed both hands at once, and she quickly pushed herself from his lap, managing to send herself tumbling to the ground at his feet.
The Duncan immediately reached for her, but Evelinde scrabbled backward out of his reach, then scrambled to her feet and rushed over to snatch up her wet dress. Aware he was following and afraid he would try to drag her back, she kept moving, circling the clearing as she struggled to drag the gown on over her head, babbling anxiously as she tried to stay out of his reach.
"Pray, sir, you must stop. I should not have allowed even the one kiss. I am betrothed to the Devil of Donnachaidh. He's said to have a vile temper and—"
Her words died on a gasp as he caught her from behind and whirled her around to face him. He couldn't kiss her, however—her gown was wet and recalcitrant and caught on her head. Evelinde expected him to rip it back off and continue his barrage of kisses. Instead, however, he tugged at it, helping her to don it. It seemed mention of her betrothed had stopped him after all.
Relieved he wouldn't tempt her to further sin, Evelinde beamed a smile at him as soon as the cloth was tugged down from her face, and said, "Thank you. "
The Duncan finished tugging the dress into place, then straightened and peered into her face.
Evelinde stared back, trying to memorize his features to take out and examine in the long miserable years to come, sure this face was the one bright spot she would have in her life once she was married off to the Devil of Donnachaidh. She was sure it was his eyes she'd remember best. They spoke of what he was feeling. At the moment, they were afire with a hunger she suspected was mirrored in her own. It was madness, she didn't know this man, but in truth, all she really wanted to do at that moment was forget everything, strip off her gown and chemise, and make him kiss her again. She wanted his hands moving over her body, making the fire jump and run under her skin as he had moments ago. It was something Evelinde had never experienced before today and something she suspected she'd never experience again as the wife of the Devil of Donnachaidh.
Apparently it was something the Duncan wanted to do, too, because his head started to lower, his mouth aiming for hers, but Evelinde stepped quickly away. "Nay. I pray you, Sir Duncan. No more. "
He hesitated, a frown claiming his lips as if he was confused by her refusal. "Ye liked me kisses. Doona deny it. I ken ye did. "
"Aye," she admitted sadly. "And I would give a lot to have more of them, but not your life. If he lives up to his reputation, the Devil of Donnachaidh would probably kill you if he found out about the kiss we already shared. I would not see him kill you for something that will be a lovely memory and will no doubt sustain me through many a dreadful night in my marriage bed. "
He blinked at her words, then shook his head. "Lass, I am the Duncan. "
"Duncan," she repeated softly. "I shall never forget your name. "
He rolled his eyes with disgust, then explained, "Duncan is me clan name, I am Cullen… the Duncan," he said meaningfully.
"Cullen," she breathed, thinking it much nicer than Duncan.
Frowning now he said, "Duncan in Gaelic is Donnachaidh. "
Evelinde's eyes widened with a dawning horror. This was just awful, the worst thing she could imagine. If he was a member of her future husband's clan, then she would no doubt see a lot of him. He would be there day in and day out, a temptation she would have to resist for both their sakes. Their very lives would depend on it.
"Oh this is awful," she breathed, imagining years of torture ahead. "You are kin to my betrothed. "
"Nay," he said with exasperation. "I am yer betrothed. "
