hungrily at her enticing, rosy-tipped breasts as he stroked them.
Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed and, stripping her of her clothing, began to discover just how fast her body would respond to his touch. He wanted her hot for him. At the same time, he did want to teach her a small lesson.
“Lie still now, lass, and close your eyes,” he said, casting aside his mantle and boots. “I want you to think only about what you feel.”
Retaining his tunic, he climbed onto the bed and straddled her, catching her wrists and pressing them to the bed before bending to kiss her again.
She opened her eyes wide and gazed into his but responded eagerly to his kisses. Capturing her mouth, he eased his body lower, still pinning her wrists and bearing his weight on his elbows and legs. Knowing that his tunic was rough enough to tease her nipples, he moved so that it brushed against them.
She tried to free her hands and then tried to pull her mouth away from his, clearly wanting to speak.
Briefly freeing her lips, he murmured, “Hush now. Just let be.”
“But I want to hold you, too, and touch you.”
“Nay, sweetheart, not yet. For now, you will be as meek and obedient in bed as you vowed this morning to be. That is to say,” he added, “you will do as I say now if you want to have a try later at being meek and obedient at my board.”
“I’d remind you, sir, that ’tis my granddad’s board and not yours at all.”
“Ah, but here at Moigh I am his guest. And you ken fine that a guest in any man’s house may command his own pleasure.”
“Aye, and so you may until I shout for the servants.”
“Do you think that any one of them will disobey me if I countermand an order you give?” he asked gently.
Seeing the answer in her grimace, he murmured, “Just so, sweetheart. Now, do as I bid you. I promise, you will not be sorry… well, not in the end, at all events,” he added conscientiously.
Catriona stared up at him, wondering what he meant by those last, ill-omened words. But she could not deny the feelings he stirred in her.
Her body had come alive and clamored for his attention.
He inched lower to kiss her breasts, and as he did, his body and his tunic set new nerves aflame wherever either one touched her. “You smell good,” he said, as he laved a nipple with the tip of his tongue. Both of her breasts swelled in response.
Gasping at the sensations that raced from that nipple to other parts of her body, she stammered, “ ’Tis Grandame’s French s-soap. Ailvie f-found it.”
“I like its scent. You must ask Lady Annis where she purchased it.” Attending still to her nipples, and without releasing her hands, he shifted his knees lower.
Knowing that she could not escape him unless he allowed it stirred new feelings in her, stronger than before. She felt helpless, as if she were his captive. But as long as he went on as he was, she had no wish to be free. He slipped one knee and then the other between her legs, easing them far apart.
Laying a trail of warm breath and kisses along her belly as his head moved lower, he nipped her skin between his lips and even now and again, gently, with his teeth. So focused was she on what he might do next that she failed to notice that he was shifting her hands lower, too, until they were nearer her waist than her head.
“What are you doing?” she demanded when his breath tickled the curls at the juncture of her legs.
“Shhh,” he said, and she trembled when his breath sent a rush of heat through her most private parts.
Her hands were even with her hips now, and still he held them. The things he was doing affected her senses so that she wanted to cry out and tell him to stop. But the torment was too pleasurable, and the last thing she wanted was for Ewan to pound on the door and demand to know what was going on, or even break it down.
It was a near thing, though, when Fin touched her with his tongue, and nearer still when his tongue invaded her most secret places, caressing the spot that had sent her soaring that morning. His tongue’s touch was softer, more engaging, and far more stimulating. Her body