The Highlander's Stolen Bride Page 11

  Darius hooted. “Listen to the lass, boy. She’s not one tae abide your foul temper. Best do as you’re told.”

  Derek scowled at his uncle. “Is there something you need? Or are you just here to watch me bleed to death?”

  Rosalyn snorted. “What melodrama.”

  “Pardon me?” Derek said as he shifted his gaze to her.

  Rosalyn met his glare without flinching. “I said, you’re being overly dramatic. You won’t bleed to death, but you will have an unsightly lump and a prodigious headache in the morning.”

  “And how do you know I’m not injured elsewhere? Have you checked?”

  “No, I haven’t. Are you injured elsewhere? Or is this simply a ploy for attention? I’ve seen two-year-olds do a better job of it than you.”

  Derek caught Darius’s muffled laugh, but he was too preoccupied with his nurse to care. “Oh? And how many two-year-olds have you attended, may I ask?”

  “The hills and valleys of Cornwall were filled with young ones playing and ultimately taking spills. And they sounded remarkably like you do now. So if you’d be so kind as to remain quiet, I would be grateful.”

  “She told you, lad,” Darius hooted. “Aye, she certainly did.”

  “You have until the count of three to remove yourself from this room,” Derek warned his uncle, his bloody head throbbing as if someone had used it for a drum.

  When he got his hands on Ethan, he would wring the rotter’s neck. Derek had little doubt it was his half-brother’s welcome-home gesture, one that could have been fatal had the blow been harder.

  He’d had enough of feeling some twisted obligation to the man. He should have thrown Ethan out years ago. No one would blame him; everyone in the clan knew Ethan was a troublemaker. More than just Derek had fallen victim to him.

  Derek had been pulling Ethan out of one scrape after the next for years—why, he didn’t know. Once he might have thought it would be nice to have a brother, but he damn well didn’t have to tolerate it anymore.

  Especially if it involved Rosalyn in any way. Derek had caught glimpses of something he didn’t like in Ethan’s eyes. Something that looked a great deal like infatuation.

  “Happy now?”

  Rosalyn’s voice brought Derek back to the moment. He glanced up to find her staring down at him, hands on her hips. “What?”

  “I asked if you were happy, now that you’ve chased away your uncle.”

  Derek snorted. “If Darius left, it was because he wanted to. Not even the earth splintering beneath his feet could get that man to move if he didn’t feel like it. So please retract your claws—I’ve had enough violence for one day.” Wincing, Derek sat up.

  “Goodness,” Rosalyn huffed, pushing him back as she adjusted the pillows. “You are obstinate.”

  Her long hair brushed his cheek. Both its feel and its smell tantalized him, reminding him forcefully of why he had traversed the castle’s darkened corridors in the first place.

  Her wrapper had loosened, exposing a creamy section of bosom, and her nipples were lightly peaked and pressing against her thin nightgown.

  “I’m sorry I ruined our evening,” he said.

  A soft blush stained her cheeks when she noticed the proximity of her breasts to his face, and she took a step back. The realization seemed to sink in on both of them at the same time that he was not only in her bedroom, but in her bed.

  “Nothing has to happen, you know,” he told her. “I really didn’t expect that it would. I’m happy just to spend time with you.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No. I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous. But I want this. I want you.”

  Derek tugged her toward him, seating her beside him on the bed. “I want you, too.”

  Had she glanced down at his trousers, she would have seen the evidence of that desire. He was rock-hard and in desperate need of a plunge into the ice-cold depths of the loch, which was where he figured he’d be heading as soon as she realized she didn’t want to waste her gift on him.

  But she rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving his as she undid the tie on her robe and let the silky material slip to her feet, framing her like a nymph rising from the sea. Her nightgown outlined the lush curves of her body: the fullness of breasts that sloped upward, the slender waist and small hips, the toes peeping out from beneath the hem.

  Her hands trembled as she eased first one strap off her shoulder, then the other. The silk caressed her as it slid slowly down her body, halting briefly at her nipples to taunt him before it slithered the rest of the way, leaving her gloriously naked.

  Eleven

  R osalyn stood utterly still, feeling as though she was affixed to the floor like a breathing statue. This was full exposure in front of a man. And not just any man, but the one she would give her innocence to.

  “You’re pale as a ghost,” Derek said, concern in his tone as he pulled Rosalyn down into his arms. “I told you, love, you don’t have to do this.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what?”

  She reached out and lightly touched his wound. “Do you think that Calder may have found us?”

  Derek wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her close. “Is that what’s bothering you? You think your stepbrother has found out where you are?”

  Rosalyn had not been concerned for herself. “He could have been the one who hurt you.”

  “Trust me, love, Calder is not within a hundred miles of here. I’d know.”

  “But—”

  Derek silenced her with a finger to her lips. “He’s not in Castle Gray. He’d not only have to be invisible, but a damn fine magician.” He turned her face up to his. “Don’t worry.”

  Derek could see she still had her doubts, and he felt a renewed determination to protect her, no matter what it took. The thought of anyone hurting her was unbearable.

  Nothing had ever scared him before. He had looked death in the face more than once and come out unscathed.

  But this was not his life, it was Rosalyn’s. She was coming to mean a great deal to him. Each day she filled more and more of the empty space in his heart.

  Long ago, he had reconciled himself to the fact that there was no such thing as a soul mate. Men and women could be companions and lovers, but there didn’t seem to be more to it than that.

  Love was a fairy tale that would never find him, and he had accepted that. It had long been an unspoken understanding that he would someday marry Megan Trelawny. She was young and beautiful and immune to the hardships of living in the Highlands, as she had been born and bred to the land.

  His clan and the Trelawnys had once been mortal enemies, but that was decades past. The rift had healed, though memories remained. It had seemed sensible to merge the two clans, uniting strong bands of Highlanders. The Trelawnys’ property bordered Castle Gray’s. Marriage would make them allies.

  But deep down, Derek knew that what truly divided him from Rosalyn was her English heritage. Outsiders had tried and failed in his country. His mother had ended up miserable and bitter, longing for country parties and grand balls, beautiful gowns and proper gentlemen.

  Eventually Rosalyn would miss that as well. Castle Gray was isolated, a world unto itself, and while he reveled in keeping the outside world at bay, Rosalyn would long for something more. Something he couldn’t give her, as his father hadn’t been able to give his mother.

  Still, knowing all that, Derek did what he had wanted to do all day. He pulled her close and kissed her, softly at first, savoring her sweet mouth and the allure of her response.

  The kiss quickly turned heated as she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him tighter, her breasts a warm, soft weight against his chest.

  He cupped one firm globe and heard her swift intake of breath as his thumb swept over her nipple, grazing the taut peak.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Derek murmured, brushi
ng his mouth lightly over hers before skimming down her throat, feeling her heart fluttering like a hummingbird.

  He grazed her collarbone, her breathing becoming rapid with excitement. He wanted to go slow with her, let her get used to his touch. He savored each piece of her silky skin, his body taut and explosive. He wanted her so badly, every part of him ached.

  Derek eased down to the lush valley between her breasts, slowly running his tongue over the full swells, aching to taste her nipples.

  He reveled in her moan as he drew her nipple into his mouth and gently sucked. She tossed her head back and clasped the back of his head.

  He licked a path to the other rigid nub and flicked it with the tip of his tongue, going a bit faster with each pass until Rosalyn was writhing in his arms.

  He lowered her to her back as he eased partially on top of her, his mouth and hands massaging her nipples until they were two distended points, swollen from his touch.

  He slid his hand down her stomach, feathering his fingertips over the smooth, flat surface, feeling her shiver as he found a sensitive spot.

  Derek took his time working inexorably toward the downy curls and the sweet pearl within. Her legs were clenched tight, but he slipped his hand between her thighs and kneaded the tense muscles until she became pliant, opening up for him.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured against her temple. “I would never hurt you.”

  Rosalyn turned, and for the first time since Derek had initiated their lovemaking, she kissed him, her mouth sweet over his, her hand dipping inside the open front of his shirt to stroke his chest.

  A primitive growl rumbled up inside him, and he pressed his lips tighter to hers, wanting to devour her, his control at the breaking point.

  When he parted her nether lips, his fingers sliding into her wet heat, he knew she was almost ready for him. She arched up against his hand as he began to tease her sensitive nub, her whimper an erotic sound in his ear.

  Her eyes were closed and he kissed the lids, waiting for her gaze to focus on him. Her eyes looked dewy in the muted light, but the desire in their depths nearly did him in.

  “Come,” he quietly directed, changing his position to lean back against the headboard, moving Rosalyn between his open thighs. Her head tilted back against his chest, her hard nipples thrust upward, the new angle giving him the ability to see the entire landscape of her ripe body, and letting her watch what he was doing to her.

  “Does this feel good?”

  “Mmm,” she purred, the sound driving him wild. “I want to touch you.”

  “You will, love. This is for you now. Feel how sensitive your nipples are.”

  As he hoped, his words excited her. Her moisture drenched his finger as he slid back and forth, his movements growing faster, riding just the tip of her hot point. Her hips slanted up and back; her breasts thrust into his hands.

  She was beyond anything but the pleasure he was giving her, her soft pleas telling him that she was on the edge. When he gently squeezed her nipples, she cried out, tightening around the finger he eased into her, the rippling waves clenching him, making him hunger for her to clench a different part of his body.

  When she sighed and closed her eyes, her body becoming liquid against his, Derek repositioned her, cradling her in the crook of his arm and resting her cheek against his shoulder.

  Only the sound of their breathing filled the room as Derek lightly stroked her arm, a feeling of satisfaction and peace stealing over him. He didn’t have to make love to her to enjoy a sense of completion.

  He had thought Rosalyn had drifted off to sleep, but when he turned to look down at her, he found her gaze on his face, her hair twined around his hand. His fingers seemed to reach for it without conscious thought.

  He stroked the tips along her jaw. “How do you feel?”

  She sighed and stretched like a contented cat. “Luscious,” she murmured. “I never knew it could be that way. My dreams were no equal.”

  “You’re a sensual woman. Any man would be lucky to call you his own.”

  “Am I yours, then?”

  It was a question he couldn’t answer. He had no right to believe Rosalyn was his. He’d had no right to even touch her, but he had become so consumed with her he thought he would go crazy.

  Derek didn’t know how he’d feel when the day came for her to leave. And she would go, that he knew. She longed for Cornwall, and his place was here—with Megan Trelawny.

  “You don’t belong to any man, love,” he replied softly.

  She tucked her chin, not allowing him to see how she had taken his remark. But it was better for both of them not to mistake desire for a lifetime, no matter how he felt about her.

  She shifted then, surprising him by moving on top of his body. “Can I touch you now?”

  “Be my guest.”

  At her first tentative touch, Derek fought the surge of his body. Her fingertip glided over the dent in his chin and the light stubble on his jaw before traveling down his neck, every muscle in his body becoming hot and taut.

  “You’re lovely,” Rosalyn murmured as her hands moved over the buttons of his shirt, her heart racing with each bit of flesh she exposed until his chest lay bare before her. She traced the defined muscles, sweeping lightly over the satiny pebbles of his nipples.

  She applied her tongue to one, kissing and then gently sucking. Air hissed between his teeth, and Rosalyn glanced up at him.

  “I can barely feel you, but what I do feel is making me crazy.”

  His hands slid down her waist and around to cup her buttocks, kneading her flesh as he pressed her tighter against him.

  Rosalyn could feel his arousal, and her body responded, her hips gyrating slowly, her gaze never leaving his as his eyes turned from a steely gray-blue to a smoky sapphire.

  Rosalyn grew bolder, her fingers pressing into his flesh, her nails gently raking his skin. She applied her lips to every spot she could reach, taking her time in some areas and quickly sampling others.

  Rock-hard muscle shifted beneath her fingertips as she inched her way up his body, kissing his neck as he had kissed hers, his body tensing when she ran the tip of her tongue along the outside of his ear. She would never have known how exquisitely sensitive that part of her body could be, had he not shown her.

  She sat up and tugged at his shirt. “Please…take it off.”

  His powerful thighs flexed and his stomach muscles clenched as he rose up to shrug out of his shirt. Rosalyn tossed it to the floor and wrapped her hands around his upper arms. She had never seen arms so large, muscles so fully developed and firm. Everything about him was superb.

  Leaning down, she kissed him. He gripped the back of her head to hold her there. Her nipples lightly grazed his chest, stirring that heady sensation he had evoked only a short while earlier.

  She would never have imagined that something so powerful could take over her body, as though he thoroughly controlled her, and she would not have believed it could not happen again so soon. But as Derek took her breasts in the palms of his hands, a raging hunger awoke inside her. She ached for the pleasure he could give.

  Derek rolled her to her back. She loved the heavy weight of him, how solid and real he felt. How secure she felt in his arms.

  Instinctively, she opened her thighs when he moved on top of her. She knew what he could do, but she wanted to give him pleasure, too.

  “What should I do?”

  “Nothing,” he said in a husky rasp against her ear as he kissed her neck.

  “I want to make love to you.”

  “I don’t want you to hate me in the morning.”

  Rosalyn laid her hand on his cheek. “I could never hate you.” Neither could she imagine giving her innocence to any other man.

  She reached for the top button on his trousers. When he grabbed hold of her hand, Rosalyn thought he would deny her. Instead, he looked her in the eyes and said, “If you want me to stop, I will. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. All r
ight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then close your eyes and let me show you new delights.”

  Instead of removing his trousers, he raised himself off her, as though he intended to get up from the bed, but then he turned to lie with his head between her thighs.

  “What are you—Ooh,” she moaned, her back arching off the bed as his tongue speared the very heart of her, flicking her swollen bud, laving it back and forth until Rosalyn thought she would die of pleasure.

  Never could she have imagined anything like this. It seemed decadent and so very sinful, but she didn’t want Derek to stop.

  Her breath left her in a rush as he drew the pointed nub into his mouth, each tug sending lightning through her veins. When he pressed tighter against her and reached up to play with her nipples, the rippling convulsions broke over her again like a wave, leaving her body replete and her limbs feeling boneless.

  Through drowsy lids, she watched Derek rise from the bed, his fingers deftly undoing the remaining buttons on his trousers until they fell free. Her focus sharpened on his jutting manhood, thick and long, and the taut sacs snug at the base.

  Derek caught the look in her eyes. She had said she wouldn’t regret what happened between them, but the heat of passion could make rationality take flight. His own included.

  And looking at Rosalyn now, her nipples tight and rosy from his mouth, her arms reaching out to him in anticipation, and her eyes heavy with desire, Derek knew he couldn’t resist her. It was that simple. And perhaps, deep down, he wanted to be the first man who made love to her.

  Derek took her into his arms, silencing her questions with his mouth until she was soft and compliant.

  Then he lowered himself to the bed with Rosalyn on top of him, her breasts a taunting pressure against his chest. He lifted her slightly, taking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers played with the other. She writhed, her hips instinctively moving against his.

  He rocked upward, his shaft sliding along her silken folds, the head scoring the heated pearl nestled there, making contact with each pass. He was beginning to understand her sounds, the erotic noises she made, what excited her the most, and he strove to give it to her.