The Laird's Right (13 page)

Bunching the fabric about her waist, he halted. “Portia, I’ve…never done this.” His throat strained from the confession.

Her soft gasp rocked him to his bones. “I will show you.”

She unpinned his brooch and let it fall along with his plaid. She slipped her hands under his leine and ran her hands upward. Her nails played with the swirl of hair running up his chest. His body strained under her touch. His eyes closed as he lost himself in her exploration. Her touch was so different from his own, secure, explorative and trembling with a need that built his own. He trembled with a building desire. He wasn’t going to survive.

His eyes drifted closed, losing himself in the dulcet sensation. More blood rushed to his rod. She scraped her hands over his nipples and hardened him more than he imagined. He almost released then and there.

She whipped his shirt off. Brisk air rushed across his chest. Gathering his diminishing wits, he whipped off her nightgown. He flung it aside. The faint candlelight dappled her rounded abdomen. Scars cut across her flesh, thin and with fine precision. Her navel shadowed. He leaned down and lapped at the indent. Her hands dove into his hair. He held her waist then slid his hands over her ribcage to the underside of her ample bosom. He halted, unsure of his next move.

Portia grabbed his hand. “Touch me.” She set his hand over her left breast. He squeezed. The full, malleable flesh filled his hand. She pushed against his hold. Her puckered nipple pressed against his palm.

“What feels right? Tell me.”

“I’ll tell when it’s not.” She got out on a hitched breath.

Going on instinct, he closed his hot mouth around the other one. Suckling, he flicked his tongue around the supple flesh. His mouth flooded with her creamy yet salty taste.

Needing to savor her succulent flesh, he switched to the other one. He circled the apex as she pushed her breast deeper in to his mouth.

He felt her touch on his shoulders, sparking a frenzy inside him. “Touch me.” He needed her to touch him and not leave a sliver of him unexplored. She weaved her touch along his spine. His muscles contracted from either strain or responding to her, making sure she never stopped.

She kneaded his arse. More blood than he believed he possessed rushed to the tip of his cock. Her long, elegant fingers danced over his hip to his hard penis. He jerked and froze, for a breath he couldn’t inhale. Her hand curled around the base, a firm touch jolting him to his balls.

Up, her hand ran to the head then down. Her thumb brushed over the top of him. Alec didn’t think he could get harder. Losing himself in the firm sensation, his baser instinct demanded to be satiated. Only Portia could give him that.

“Alec.” The plea in her voice matched her actions as she drew him to her hot core. Not yet in her, her heat blew against his cockhead. She rubbed his head against her nether lips and drenched him in her wetness.

The tip pressed into her. Her silk walls stretched and cocooned him in her supple, moist, hot sheath. She lifted her hips, pushing upward to take him deeper.

Before he could moan in pleasure, she gasped with her own. Her walls tightened with the most erotic sound he ever heard and steeled him. He had to hear it again. She guided his hips until he found the beat. Stroking deeper and deeper in her hot, wet center. Her ridged walls stroked him. Every nerve in his body sparked and crested like an incoming wave rushing toward the shore. He refused to break…just yet. This was about their pleasure not his own.

He almost came when her hips rose up, bringing him deeper. The drum of their bodies and the slap of their skin built the fervor burning through their blood.

He grabbed her arse and pumped faster strokes. Her walls pulsated, squeezing him. One last grip and her back arched and she gripped him. Portia released a moan that became a silent scream as she convulsed around him. Her walls squeezed him tight, nearly choking him. His body exploded and his seed shot in her. He collapsed with a grunt. Slowly, feeling returned to his body. His even breathing returned. A sheen of sweat dried on their flesh. Her musk filled his nostrils. Never in his life had he been satiated, just wanting to stay here.

Gathering his will, he rolled off her and collapsed onto his back. He drew her to him. She placed her hand over his stomach and curled her fingers in his short hair.

To keep face, he once boasted that women were the same in the dark. He could hit himself for that foolish lie. No woman could measure up to Portia. He couldn’t decide if he could give her his love or he made everything worse?

* * * *

Portia climbed over Alec and off the bed. Alec didn’t move. Sprawled across the bed, he laid on his stomach. His spine dug a valley through his broad, muscular back and to his pert, round buttocks. Instead of being rigid, each thick muscle was loose yet still displayed his might. Various scars marred his otherwise smooth skin, the back of a warrior.

She was unsure of what to make of last night. She was a widow, yet behind her heart a knot developed. Last night had been spent begging for Alec to return. When she raised those same fears to Stephen, he had laughed, telling her men fight and women wait. But Portia had waited for the return that never came. Alec had returned. Was loving Alec a betrayal?

A short rap on the door ended her thoughts. Once answered, men filed in, bearing a tub and water. Their eyes averted, Portia stood aside. News would spread through the clan not surprisingly since secrets rarely stayed hidden in a castle.

When they departed, Portia shot a glance at Alec then shed her clothing. She sank into the water and let her hair hang loose over the edge. The heated water stung her skin, not that she minded. She shut her eyes and soaked, letting the clouds of steam land on her face

Humming, she sensed a movement and opened her eyes to see Alec standing over her, a grin on his face and naked. The grin surprised her more.

“Enjoying your bath?” he asked, teasingly. He spared a glance at her face then dipped to her breast lapped by the bath water.

“Aye, thank you.” She waved her hands, sending the water swirling.

“Good.” He lifted a leg into the tub.

She scooted her legs aside before he sat on them. “Alec, we do not both fit.”

Water poured over the edge and spread across the wood floors. “Nonsense.”

Portia laughed. Alec sat at the other side, his knees by his ears. He leaned forward and gave her a quick peck.

“See, I was correct.”

“Through sheer will.”

His knuckles scraped the floor. “Come and let me wash you.”

“I am capable of the task on my own.” She gave him her best sultry look.

He leaned forward so the tips of their noses touched. “I want to pamper you, spoil you, love you. You deserve that and I want to be the only man to do that.”

Her eyes softened, then a thought intruded and wiped away her willingness. Could she love Alec as he deserved…with her whole heart.

“Your scars? I have caressed every part of your body. I have kissed and caressed them. I wish I could have protected you from that torture. You will not hide from me. The baron will not destroy us. Do my scars revolt you?”

She traced the raised faded skin of a scar along his shoulder. “Nay, but you are a warrior. You are supposed to have them.”

“And you don’t think you are one? Portia, you have fought a battle. Each mark reminds me how I could have lost you before I had you. So, never hide from me. Now, let me wash you.”

She looked to the stool where the cloth and soap rested. “It is there.” She pointed to it.

“Get it, wife, so I can admire your wet naked body.”

A wickedness she had never felt before dared her. “Nay, you get it so I can admire your wet, naked body.”

He cocked a brow and rose. “Wicked lass.”

Water ran along his chest and tangled in his hair. At the end of his stiffening cock, drops plopped into the remaining water. He stepped from the tub and left a trail of wet footprints from the tub to the stool and back again.

Portia smiled as she feasted on his flesh. His hard buttocks and long, lean legs defined his sinewy backside. She folded her legs to her chest as he settled back in the tub.

“Let me wash you.” He rubbed the ball of soap between his hands and built a vigorous lather.

“I can wash myself.” Her regal countenance failed from the playful smile dancing on her mouth.

“Nay, you may miss a spot. I cannot allow that.” He ran the cloth over her hand before wiping it between each finger. She might have had a thought of his actions but her tingling overpowered her.

Slowly, he inched up her arm, kneading the muscles. Alec had never been this playful. She liked this man. This man she could love…Love!

Again?

Nay, that sentiment died in her. For Alec, she wished differently.

She stretched for a sample of his firm mouth. He denied her with a twist of his head. “I must see to my duty.”

He drew the washcloth over her shoulder and downward between her breasts. The rough weave of the cloth scraped against her skin so she could only feel the difference in textures as the water lapped at her.

The cloth disappeared beneath the waterline, leaving a film of soap floating. He ran the cloth over her center once, twice until he rubbed the nub. She clutched the tub’s rim.

“For someone who never lain with a woman, you are very skilled.” She was breathless. She was sure the water had cooled not that she noticed.

“I have a vivid imagination and I plan to do all of it to you.”

Her hips jerked. Her whole existence centered on that scant part of her body. Her gut clenched and tightened. She was sure she would snap like a fraying rope. Instead, the pressure built until she begged for release, though she never wished it to end.

From the center of her, she felt her body snap and a sweet oblivion over take her. She slid deeper into the tub and stayed there as her muscles came back to life and regained their power.

She pulled herself up and wondered if she wore the same loopy grin Alec did since both were very pleased.

“I love a good bath.”

“Husband, there is no more water to bathe with.”

* * * *

Alec found Portia coming up from the stores. Her eyes almost jumped from her face and she glanced behind her then looked back at him.

Recovering from the surprise, she said, “Husband, are you in need of me?”

“Aye, that I am.” He took her hand and started from the great hall.

In the center of the bailey, Alec’s horse stood waiting. “You are departing?”

“Aye, along with you.” He mounted and held out his hand. She took it and placed her foot upon his and let him swing her into the saddle.

He wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned against his chest. Here the world seemed a better place and her worries forgotten.

“Where do we venture to now?” They rode by the clattan and beyond the fields and cattle milling about. They went beyond the clansmen cutting peat from the ground.

“I shall not tell.” He softened his brisk tone with a kiss on the top of her head.

“So, you have kidnapped me again.”

“And you like it.”

“That I do.” She leaned back against Alec and decided to enjoy this little escape. Stephen had never done this for her but she closed her mind to her memories because he couldn’t invade their time.

As swiftly as he had stolen her away, he pulled up his mount. She saw woodland. Cameron Castle dominated the landscape even as it appeared small against the mountains.

“Patience,” he teased as he took her hand.

She kept her eyes on him, not able to stop grinning. A lightness fell over her. Her steps even held a little skip. She wasn’t the only one. Alec grinned and swaggered with a cockiness she relished.

A grass trail cut through woodland brimming with birch, sycamore, oak and beech trees. Sunlight broke through the leaves under its canopy, she felt cocooned from the world. In the distance, water trickled. She felt as if only they existed.

“This is Banquo’s Walk.”

“An ancestor?” Alec shook his head so she asked, “Who is this man?”

He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned down. He said in a revenant of a whisper, “A little Scottish history lesson—Banquo helped MacBeth kill King Duncan. The tale goes that witches told MacBeth he would be king, but Banquo would not. His descendants would rule. According to folks, Banquo still walks this place.”

“For our sakes, I hope we do not run into him.”

“Me either. I do not want company for this.” Alec gave her a quick peck that swelled her heart in a way the most passionate ones failed.

He took her hand as they strolled along the path. “Is that…” He narrowed his eyes and stretched out his neck.

She gave him a playful shove. He threw back his head and laughed. Birds answered him back, drowning out her laughter.

“When I was a boy, my brother and I would run down here and search for Banquo. I don’t know why we searched for him. “

“Did he ever appear?” She glanced about, wondering if he hid behind a tree.

“He never came, though the midges feasted on us. Then when I got older, this place became an escape, a place to just clear my thoughts.”

“Did you have to escape often?” She squeezed his hand, knowing the answer and disliking why the little boy needed one.

“I suppose. It was quiet here and not having to deal with the castle’s happenings was worth it. Though, it became harder as my duties changed.”

She lost herself in her imaginings of a small boy who as he grew older lost the place of refuge. “It is beautiful here. I am glad you shared this with me.”

“Did you have a place?”

“Nay, I didn’t need one. My father is a benevolent man and my mother cared deeply for us. Though, I must admit, I wasn’t the most obedient child. I was heard and seen even when I shouldn’t have been.”

“I am glad. I wish the same for our children.”

She stumbled to a stop. Would she live long enough for children?

“I surprised you. Do you not wish for children?”

“Aye, that would be nice and with my sister near, perhaps our children can grow up together.” Her pitch rose a notch.