The Highlander's Choice (Entangled Scandalous) (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 12

  Liam soon had the pins from her hair scattered on the floor in front of them, and the back of her gown opened. When the bodice slipped from her shoulders, she grabbed it and pulled back. “We can’t do this here. I must leave.”

  Without a word, he stood and placed her on her feet. She stumbled and clutched the back of the chair as he strode to the door and fastened the latch. Turning, he leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his heavy lidded eyes watching her intently. “Are ye sure you want to leave, lass?”

  Every sensible nerve in her body screamed yes. But her mouth suddenly dried up and her heart began to race as he shoved himself away from the door and moved toward her like a graceful animal stalking its prey. His eyes hunted her, and she could see the tension in his body as he grew closer.

  He shed his jacket and waistcoat as he walked, tossing them on a chair. His eyes never leaving hers, he tugged at his cravat; it unfurled and landed on the floor. She stared at it, mesmerized.

  “I can make good use of that for even more pleasure, mo cridhe, my love. But not yet.” He reached her and tilted her chin up with his knuckle.

  “I don’t understand,” her voice came out raspy.

  “Of course ye don’t, lass. ’Tis my privilege to teach ye the ways of lovemaking.” He spun her around and tugged her hands away from her gown so the bodice fell to her waist. Within seconds, the entire garment slid to a puddle at her feet. Liam pulled her back to his chest and reached around to cup her breasts as he nuzzled her neck, whispering words in Gaelic she didn’t understand, but still made her blood simmer.

  Sybil glanced up at their reflection in the window in front of them. The firelight and oil lamps in the room highlighted their bodies, outlining Liam’s hands as he eased her breasts from her stays, massaging the mounds, tweaking her nipples. The sight mesmerized her. Her hair fell in waves against her shoulders to her waist, mixing with Liam’s hair as he continued his onslaught.

  She moaned, and if he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have slipped to the floor. The sensations were beyond anything she’d ever felt before in her life. Her heated body wanted the restrictions of the remaining clothes gone. That thought should have shamed her, but instead the idea of being naked in Liam’s arms thrilled her.

  Almost as if he’d read her very thoughts, he loosened her stays and removed them, leaving her in her shift, drawers, stockings, and shoes. “Ach, lass. Ye are so warm and soft. I want ye so much I find it hard to breathe.” He moved his warm mouth to the sensitive skin under her ear. Instinctively, she pushed her bottom back against his hard muscled thighs. Heavens, what was happening to her? He had turned her into a strumpet.

  Sybil leaned her head against his hard chest and looked up at him. Liam’s eyes shuttered as his head descended and his mouth covered hers, forcing her lips apart. He swept in, tasting every part of her mouth, the pungent scent of brandy on his breath. Their tongues tangled in the dance of lovers before he wrenched his lips free. Making quick work of her shift, he tossed it over his shoulder before going down on one knee, taking her drawers with him. His hands slid up her body as he stood. “Open yer eyes, lass. Look at the beauty ye are.”

  She stared, fascinated at the scene reflected in the window. She stood in just her stockings and shoes, with Liam behind her, watching her in the window as well, his hands stroking, caressing, and massaging her naked skin. A fire like none she had ever felt before raged within her. The area between her legs grew heavy and moist, with a need to press that part of her body against something.

  He turned her in his arms and lifted, reclaiming her lips. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her dampening center to his warmth. Without loosening his hold on her mouth, he strode to the fireplace where he gently settled her on the soft carpet. He stretched out alongside her, running his palm over her curves as she faced him.

  As his eyes met hers, she rested her palm against his cheek. “I’m afraid.”

  “Ach, lass. Dinna fash yerself. I will never hurt ye.”

  She shook her head. “No. I know you won’t hurt me. I’m afraid of what this means if we continue.”

  “’Tis simple, darlin’, and something we both kenned would happen. I want ye for my wife. I want to bed ye every night for the rest of our lives, see yer wee body swell with my bairn.”

  “But I’m still not sure,” she whispered. This was a serious step and the commitment she would be making by allowing it to continue needed consideration. But her thinking was muddled, all she could see was the man who made her insides melt, and all she could think about was how much she wanted to experience what came next.

  An inner voice warned they weren’t even in a private place. Suppose someone walked in on them? Before she could push him away, he said, “Let me convince ye.” He leaned over her on his elbow and caressed her skin, watching her with half lidded eyes.

  “By the saints, lass, ye are beautiful.” He brushed the silky strands of her hair away from her shoulder and took her breast in his mouth, suckling like a babe. His hand wandered down her body, over her slight belly to rest on her most private place. She inhaled sharply at how much she wanted him to continue, to caress her in that spot. As if he’d heard her unspoken plea, his fingertip eased into her body, circling her flesh, toying with the moisture that had gathered there.

  “Ach, ’tis ready for me ye are,” he murmured, with male satisfaction in his voice.

  The need to see his skin, to run her palms over it, beckoned her. She unfastened his shirt and felt the smooth surface coated with curly hairs that she tugged on. Liam sat up and pulled his shirt over his head and flung it over his shoulders. His chest in the firelight, dusted with ginger colored hair, all golden skin and beautiful man, rivaled any statue she’d seen in the Royal Academy of Art. His rippling muscles drew her, her hands itching to stroke his warmth.

  “You are beautiful as well.” She brought her lips to his flat nipple and licked, grinning when he shivered. She loved provoking that reaction from such a powerful man. Once more he eased down and drew her close, turning her so they rested chest to chest. She closed her eyes at the sensation of her bare skin touching his.

  The scent of musk from his soap, along with leather and Liam, drifted between them where their bodies met. As he continued his assault on her senses, she became restless, unable to stay still. Something teased her, tortured her, made her long for she knew not what.

  “Liam,” she whispered, pulling away from his kiss.

  “What, darlin’?” His deep voice added to her disquiet.

  She squirmed. “I’m not sure. I feel very strange, like I’m missing something.” Her voice sounded odd to her ears, raspy.

  “Ach, lass. ’Tis yer woman’s pleasure yer seeking.” He brushed her damp hair from her forehead. “Let me help ye along.” His fingers once again found the warm wet spot between her legs. She relaxed her thighs, spreading them further, then drew in a sharp breath and jerked as he began his circling motion once again. “Just relax, mo cridhe, and it will come to ye.” His warm breath in her ear tickled, brought shivers to her skin.

  His ministrations didn’t take long before her lower muscles tightened, and intense waves of pleasure washed over her. All sense of time and place fled as she arched her back and pressed the throbbing spot between her legs against his strong palm, drawing out the sensation. She must have voiced the moan she heard because Liam took her lips in a kiss, extending the feelings by sweeping his tongue into her mouth.

  Her lips were dry from the rapid breaths she needed to keep air in her lungs. She felt as though she’d run several miles. But before she could recover, Liam slid his boots and breeches off and settled himself between her splayed legs. He covered her body so they lay face to face, his upper body braced on his elbows.

  She touched the beard roughened skin on his face as she felt something nudge her where his fingers had just been.

  “Darlin’ I would rather cut off my arm than hurt ye, but this can
na be helped.” He shoved his hips forward and a sharp pain replaced the enjoyment of a few minutes ago. Her eyes grew wide and tears formed that Liam kissed and sipped from her eyes. “Hold still for a minute, lass, and I promise yer pain will ease, and ye will feel only pleasure.”

  She fisted his hair, resting her elbows on his broad shoulders as the pain began to subside, replaced with a sense of fullness that was odd, different. He began to move in her, sliding in and out. Again she felt the build-up of pressure inside her, not as intense as before, but more satisfying.

  Their bodies slid against each other, slippery from sweat. Liam rested on his forearms and cupped her head, kissing her face, cheeks, eyelids, nose, mouth—anywhere his lips could reach. He nuzzled her neck and mumbled soft words to her in Gaelic.

  “Mo ghraidh,” he whispered, “’tis better than I imagined. Ye are mine now.” After several minutes of thrusting, he stiffened and threw his head back, calling her name.

  His large frame collapsed onto her, but he quickly rolled to the side, pulling her over his chest as he heaved. Sybil closed her eyes, her ear heeding the pounding of their hearts in rhythm.

  She awoke shivering, Liam plastered all over her. His arms were wrapped tightly around her from the back, as if protecting her from the world. The fire had gone out and she was still naked. “Liam,” she said, shaking him. “Wake up.”

  His eyes popped open, and he smiled, starting her heart beating fast again. But there was no time for this. She needed to get upstairs before they were discovered. “We must get dressed. I have no idea what time it is.” Suddenly embarrassed, she sat up and drew her legs up to cover her nakedness.

  Liam, apparently not having the same issue, grinned and stretched his full length, his manhood waving at her. “Lass, don’t ever hide yerself from my eyes. ’Tis beautiful ye are, and I canna get my fill of ye.”

  She rocked back and forth, horror gripping her at the position they were in. “It is not proper what we’ve done. Supposed someone comes to the library for a book?”

  He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I locked the door. Dinna fash yerself, darlin’.”

  “Liam, please, this is terrible.” Tears formed in her eyes at the thought of them being caught—naked—on the library floor.

  He frowned and sat up, pulling her against him. “Ach, lass. Stop this now. ’Tis not a problem. We’re getting married, anyway.”

  Opting to clothe herself quickly, despite her embarrassment, she eased from his arms and stood, gathering her garments from next to the settee. “I haven’t said yes to your proposal.”

  “’Tis too late, darlin’. Ye could be carrying my bairn right now.” He stood and reached for his breeches, hopping as he struggled to get his foot in without falling and knocking himself out.

  She groaned and collapsed on the settee. “Oh, no.” She looked up at him. “What will we do?”

  Pulling his shirt over his head, he moved to where she sat and knelt beside her. Taking her hands in his, he kissed her fingers and said, “’Tis simple. We will be married.”

  Visions of the vile glances Lady MacBride had tossed her way ever since she’d arrived rose to torment her. Sybil had been subjected to nasty comments, downright rudeness, and any number of gestures to let her know Liam’s mother did not approve of her. Life with the woman would not be pleasant, but she was his mother.

  Sybil had also noticed several members of the clan had been sending malicious glances her way. Apparently, his mother had begun a campaign to drive her from Bedlay Castle.

  “I still need time, Liam. I’m not sure.”

  He cupped her cheek in a soft caress, rubbing his thumb over her skin. “What are yer doubts, lass?”

  The last thing she wanted to do was complain about his mother. It would only serve to prove to him she was indeed an English princess who couldn’t get along with his family and clan. She’d have to solve this problem on her own. Truth be known, she wanted to accept his offer of marriage. And not just because they’d made love, although now that she’d sampled his touch, she certainly knew that part of her life would be a full one.

  She wasn’t altogether sure she loved Liam, but knew in her heart it was indeed possible. Every day it seemed more likely that he could very well be the man for whom she’d been waiting.

  If only he hadn’t arrived in her life with a hateful mother.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liam tightened the girth on Cadeym, then swung his large body up onto the horse’s back. After being away for so long at Duncan’s wedding, numerous issues had arisen that he had to deal with. This trip would probably take a couple of days to hear everyone’s complaints and get it all sorted out. He hated leaving Sybil after what they’d shared last night, but he’d put this off as long as he could.

  When he’d left her at her bedchamber door last night, he told her he would be gone for a day or so. He’d touched her cheek and asked to have her agreement to marry him when he returned. Once more he’d emphasized she could already be carrying his bairn, which only seemed to distress her.

  Her response to his lovemaking had roused him even further than he’d thought possible. He’d taken many women to his bed, but none had ever affected him the way his wee lass did. She’d created a fever in him that only she could squelch. Whatever it took, he would have her for his wife. He wanted many years together to explore her body inch by inch. To find all the places that would set her on fire.

  But ’twas not only lust that stirred him about the lass. She was kind, funny, smart, and would make a gracious laird’s wife. In fact, his next trip to visit the tenants he would take her along with him, introduce her to his people. He knew she would win them over, even though she was a Sassenach. That was something he kept shoved to the back of his mind. He couldn’t allow years of his mother’s preaching about the English to affect his chance for a marriage filled with love and happiness.

  If his mum could be won over, he was sure Sybil would say yes. He frowned, remembering some of the sly remarks and looks his mum had cast at Sybil since her arrival. The woman was so sure that all English women were princesses and would sit about waiting for everything to be done for them, doing naught for themselves. Perhaps, many were indeed like that. He wouldn’t know. All he knew was his Sybil was no princess and would be a fine, sturdy laird’s wife.

  Catriona and Alanna had accepted the lass, looking up to her almost as if she were already their older sister. Sybil would be a great influence on the girls. Sometimes his mum was so adamant about everything Scottish that the girls never got to experience anything different.

  He pushed these thoughts aside as he approached the home of Malcom MacBride, who stood in front of his house. Leaning on his cudgel, his back bent over from his many years, the old man waved his stick in the air, gaining Liam’s attention. He veered Cadeym to the left and headed to the MacBride home, grateful to have his thoughts interrupted. The sooner he finished with his visits and resolving the clan’s various problems, the sooner he could return to Bedlay Castle and his lady.

  …

  Sybil stared at herself in the mirror over the dresser in her bedchamber. She looked no different. Yet she felt years older than she had yesterday morning. She’d made love with a man who not only wasn’t her husband, but not even her betrothed. Although, should she give him the word, she would most likely be engaged, married, and back in bed before the sun went down.

  Her face flushed at the memories of what they’d done the night before. How could she have behaved in such a wanton manner? She closed her eyes, visualizing how she’d looked reflected in the window. Lord, if anyone had wandered outside they would have gotten an eyeful. At the time she’d been so “distracted” it hadn’t even occurred to her. She shivered, hoping since it had been late, everyone, even the staff, had been abed.

  Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she hurried down the stairs to the morning room for breakfast. Although it was quite possible Lady MacBride would move the meal to
another room, just to cause trouble. She sighed. Somehow she needed to win the woman over. Liam had been correct. She could now be carrying his babe. She smiled. Or “bairn” as he called it. Each day she grew more content with the idea of being his wife and living in this lovely castle in the beautiful surroundings. If she wasn’t already in love with the man, it was not very far down the road.

  But she refused to spend the rest of her life battling his mother.

  “Good morning,” she said, entering the bright room. It was apparent why the family chose this area for the morning meal, since it faced the east, allowing the sun to lighten the room. The soft hues of the green and rose wallpaper blended well with the damask furniture in similar colors.

  The only acknowledgment she received from Lady MacBride was a raising of her eyebrows. Alanna and Catriona were their usual pleasant selves in greeting her. How much fun it would be to have these two as sisters. She missed her own sisters since she’d left for this visit to the Highlands.

  “We are going with our governess today for a trip into Inverness. Mum said we are to visit for three days.” Catriona almost jumped with glee.

  “And we will have new gowns made and visit all the shops and the bookstore.”

  “How wonderful,” Sybil said as she shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. “I am sure it will be a lovely time.”

  Alana turned to her mother, busy with her food, seeming to ignore the chatter. “Mum, since Liam is away, perhaps Lady Sybil can accompany us?”

  “No.” The woman’s abrupt answer startled them all. “’Tis not possible.” Her voice softened. “I have some things I would like to show her ladyship.” Lady MacBride attempted a smile, but as far as Sybil could see, she didn’t quite make it.

  Good heavens. She was to be left alone with the witch? The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Then she chastised herself. She’d read too many of Ann Radcliffe’s works. Miss Radcliffe used wonderful descriptions of landscapes and lengthy travel scenes. But it was her use of the supernatural that had made Sybil cower in her bed many a night after finishing one of the books. Now looking at Liam’s mother, she could easily place her as a sorcerer.