A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,59

moment before Brody eased himself away and went to the washstand. He filled the basin and dipped a linen square into it, preparing to take it to Laurel. He returned and kneeled beside her. Despite her deep flush, he eased her hands away and tended to her. His brow twitched when he noticed Laurel’s chemise folded beneath her. He hadn’t noticed it before. Closing her eyes against her embarrassment, she pulled it from beneath her and held it up.

The streak of red on the white linen explained what Laurel was too uncomfortable to admit. Brodie realized she’d had the forethought to know it wouldn’t have shown up on his deep blue and green hunting plaid. They would have had no proof that they’d consummated their handfast or that she’d been a virgin. He assumed she’d retrieved it while he built the fire. He kissed her forehead before taking the damp cloth back to the washstand. Laurel rolled onto her belly and watched the flames dance in the hearth. Brodie slipped beneath the plaid beside her, his arm across her back. His dormant cock stirred as soon as it touched her silky skin. He feared Laurel was too exhausted or too sore for more, but he craved the feeling of sliding into her. He nudged her right leg up, giving him room to place his thigh between hers. Laurel’s breath hitched as she shifted to brush her slit against his leg.

Brodie felt Laurel’s breathing change, her arousal obvious. He massaged the tense muscles of her back, ringing a moan of pleasure and pain from her. She reached back and clasped his thigh as she clamped her thighs around his. Careful not to crush her, Brodie shifted his body over hers, pressing against her back. Brodie groaned when Laurel instinctively raised her hips.

“Ye’ll be sore if ye arenae already,” Brodie whispered beside Laurel’s ear.

“Didna ye promise me an entire night?” Laurel countered.

“That doesnae mean every five minutes,” Brodie chuckled.

“Nae up to the task,” Laurel taunted, humor in her voice. Brodie pressed his hardened length along the crevice between the halves of her backside.

“Ye ken nae only am I up to the task, but I shall relish every moment.” Brodie kissed her shoulder before growing serious once more. “It’s ye who I fear willna relish it. I dinna want to harm ye.”

Laurel twisted to look back over her shoulder, seeing the concern in Brodie's expression. “Then will ye at least hold me like this?”

“I’m too heavy. It willna be comfortable,” Brodie worried.

“Please. I promise to tell ye if it’s uncomfortable. But I like it,” Laurel shrugged. “I dinna ken why. I just feel vera protected with the floor beneath me, and ye at ma back. It’s as though naught can reach me without having to go through ye first. It’s like ye’re an enormous mathan. And I ken ye wouldnae let aught happen to me.”

“I wouldnae,” Brodie kissed her shoulder once more, settling over her. But temptation proved too powerful. They shifted restlessly against one another until they disregarded caution, and Brodie slipped inside Laurel. Neither moved, just enjoying the sensations that came with the new position until their need dominated their actions. Long, slow thrusts grew into a maelstrom of pounding surges when Brodie drew Laurel onto her hands and knees. She arched her back, pressing her hips to meet his, naturally seeking a position and rhythm that enthralled them both. Brodie reached around Laurel, circling her button until he sensed she was closer. He increased the pressure until she shuddered, then pinched the tiny sack of nerves. Laurel cried out as Brodie roared, “Laurie!” He sounded like the bear she’d called him earlier.

They collapsed together, a tangle of sweaty limbs, falling asleep for a few hours before waking to couple again. And so went their night of brief hours of respite before hours of all-consuming passion. They ignored the sun that rose outside Brodie’s window, the sounds of men passing outside the door, and even their hunger for food—more interested in their hunger for one another. But they couldn’t ignore the door slamming into the wall.

Eighteen

Brody leapt to his feet in one fluid motion, despite his nakedness. He snatched his sword, which always laid within reach, while Laurel scrambled to cover herself. She watched in horror as the king’s men swarmed the chamber, followed by Monty, Donnan, and King Robert himself. She heard voices in the passageway and could envision the scene as people rushed to discover what was happening in