Flame

Chapter 16

16

He thrust quick and hard as her hips ground tightly against his loins.

“Iris!” he cried out through clenched teeth, as bolts of fire shot through him and he poured his seed into the woman.

After a moment, Margaret’s thin arms slipped around his slight frame as he lay exhausted atop her. And a moment later, when the man’s tears started soaking the mute woman’s shift, she ran her fingers soothingly over the rumpled linen of his shirt. As the weeping subsided, the man lifted his head and gazed down at the grave expression of the gaunt, almost fragile woman.

“Why do you do this, Margaret? Why do you allow me to do such things to you?”

Her reply could be only silence, and not even her eyes answered him. But her fingers continued to caress his face gently.

“I know it is a terrible thing for a man to use a woman like this. l**t is a killing thing, to be sure.” He rolled off of her and onto his back, the back of his hand draping carelessly over his eyes. His voice had the low rasp of a knife on a stone. “And it’s worse still, that I only see Iris’s face when I lay with you. Our child planted deep in her womb is all I think of when I...”

Margaret sat up and pushed her shift down over her exposed thighs. Reaching for a blanket thrown to the side of the straw pallet, she gently tucked it over the man’s n***d s*x.

“Always fussing over me,” he muttered harshly. “Always kind and ready.”

She let her fingers trail over the palm of his hand.

“And I am so undeserving of you, Margaret.” The man’s hand lifted off his brow, and he looked deeply into the woman’s dark brown eyes. “And you never hear or understand a word I say. You never will reveal the terrible secrets that...”

She watched him in silence, and he turned away.

“My Iris betrayed me, Margaret. She couldn’t help herself. It was her foul gypsy blood.” A fresh tear worked itself out of the corner of one eye. The mute woman reached for it and touched it with the tip of her thumb. The drop spread wet and shining over her callused skin.

“I told her not to go to the laird,” he continued gruffly, the rough edges of anger creeping into his voice. “I gave her my word that I would think of a way. That I would take care of her and our child. But she was impatient, my Iris was. In the end, the vixen set her mind to ruin me.”

He jerked into a sitting position and reached for a ewer of ale sitting on the floor. Taking a deep swallow of the liquor, he glanced with distaste at Margaret’s fingers gently stroking his arm. He pushed her hand away with a fierce, snarling sound, and then pulled his knees to his chest. He said nothing for a long moment, and the woman gazed intently at his face.

When he spoke again, his voice carried all the anguish of the damned. “She deserved to die that night, you know.” He slumped back onto the bedding, covering his eyes with his arms. “There was no way for us, woman. I saw it clear as day then, and I see it now. She went to the laird, the vile sweet s**t, and after that, there was no way to recover from the damage she caused.”

He glanced at Margaret, a wild, tormenting misery in his eyes.

“She deserved to die, I tell you,” he cried. “And he, too. He would have taken it all from me. All! He deserved to die as well.”

The priest tore his eyes from the mute woman’s face and stared up for a long time into the blackness of the ceiling.

After a while Margaret, nodding imperceptibly, placed a kiss on the man’s shoulder and lay her head on the bedding beside him.

Joanna opened her lips and felt a moan emanate from somewhere deep in her own throat as his tongue swept into the recesses of her mouth. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she snuggled closer on his lap, where he had drawn her only a moment ago. Losing herself in the depth of their kiss, Joanna felt a warm, pulsing haze crowd all thoughts from her mind, and she gave in to it, unafraid as an insatiable desire suddenly blazed within her, setting her senses afire. There was nothing else that mattered now. No one else existed.

She so desperately wanted to feel him, to touch him, to taste that passion that had been so unattainable in her life. But she would not make the same mistake that she had before. She knew her end was near, but that was not something Gavin Kerr would accept lightly.

Angling her head and allowing him to deepen his kiss even further, Joanna swore that she would not allow him to stop. Not this time.

As if he could read her mind, he broke off the kiss, and she cursed herself for tempting fate. Her fingers kneaded the thick muscles of his shoulders and back, and threaded themselves into his soft, black mane as the warrior breathed deeply into her ear, crushing her body against his chest.

“Joanna,” he growled against her hair. “Fire brought you to me, and from that first moment, flames have tormented my soul. I’ve been burning to touch you, to make love to you...to possess you.” His hands raked fiercely at her back, lifting her and pressing her even closer to him. “It’s not like me to lose control of my desires. To feel so...obsessed.”

She raised her head and brushed his mouth with her lips, silencing him. “Are you certain it’s not the Joanna MacInnes who sits above your hearth whom you intended to possess, and not me whom you desire?”

“Nay,” he said intensely. “I want you. The bonny and formidable ghost who has been haunting my soul.”

In his eyes, she saw the blazing passion that came from within, and his desire tore away the last of her hesitancy. To Hell with propriety. In his eyes, she was whole and beautiful, and the time had come for her to give in to the flame that would take them both to madness and to soaring passion.

“I am no ghost, Gavin Kerr.” Joanna slid off his lap and moved brazenly between his legs. Amazed at her own boldness, she nonetheless undid the strip of the clothing that held the large dress gathered at her waist. “The time has come for you to see the rest of me.”

His eyes burned into hers and she saw his jaw stiffen as she started pushing the large neckline of the dress first over one shoulder and then the next. “Joanna, this...this passion…you must know that I’ll have you and keep you forever.”

“That you will,” she whispered, lowering the dress from her shoulders and down to her waist. “For as long as life allows.”

Giving it one last tug, the dress pooled around her feet, and she stood in the thin fabric of her chemise before his scorching eyes.

Joanna shivered with excitement when he raised his hands to the cloth and ever so slightly traced the swells of her breasts. Her eyes followed the movement of his fingers, and she looked down and saw her n*****s come to life beneath his touch. Then he ran his hands down her shoulders, slowly pushing down her chemise until it was only held by the tips of her breasts. She thought she would die of the anticipation that inflamed her. But then his hands moved down her arms, until they took hold of her hands. Suddenly aware of his intention, she stiffened.

“Don’t.” She tried to pull her scarred flesh out of his grip, but he held them tight and raised her hands against his heart.

“I’ll have all of you, Joanna,” he said hoarsely leaning down and placing a kiss on the tips of her fingers. “As you are.” He started unwrapping her hand. “I’ll possess all of you, lass.”

She turned her face to the side, not wanting to witness the repulsion she was certain to find in his eyes when he was exposed to her hideous form. But he came to his feet and, trapping her bare hands against his chest, leaned down and captured her mouth.

Even had she wanted to, he wouldn’t allow her to hold back. His lips demanded, his mouth took and yet made her melt from under the heat of his passion. When he pulled back again, she followed him with her lips, until once again she was faced with the sight of her hands on his heart. He then raised them before his eyes and kissed her palms, turning them over and continuing to caress with his lips, her healing flesh.

Joanna gave up her attempt at holding back the tears that were stealing down her cheeks. Looking at him, his head bent over her hands, she felt her stubborn heart soften, opening its ironbound gates with bittersweet joy as he silently glided in. She had wanted the tie between them to be only that of desire, of mindless passion. But with the touch of his lips, he had forced her to think again, to feel again. He was determined to possess her, she knew, but it was more than her body that he would be getting, for she was adding her soul, as well.

He raised his hands to the thick braid of her hair.

Awkwardly, but with a determination that reflected in his face, Gavin pulled loose the golden locks, combing it with his fingers until it rippled like a blanket over her breasts.

He paused. “Joanna, we have to speak of marriage. I cannot simply take you with no plans for the future.” His voice was husky with emotion, but she pressed her fingers to his lips.

Silently, she slipped the chemise past her breasts, letting it drop to the floor. There was nothing now that separated her body from his gaze.

“You are so beautiful.” He paused, his eyes a battleground of restraint and desire. “But I must settle your betrothal.”

With a smile, she placed her fingers on his mouth again and traced his full lips.

“There is no betrothal,” she responded with a faint smile.

“But there is.”

“After you, there will be no other man. I am yours alone. Please, Gavin,” she continued, taking a step toward him until her bare breasts rested against the linen of his shirt. “I want you now. Please, let us not talk of the future. Not now.”

She caressed his face and Gavin’s restraint slipped away along with his composure. He put his hands over hers, trapping them against his cheeks. She was vividly aware of the strength in his fingers as they crushed her own between them.

“God help me, Joanna,” he said thickly. “All...all I know is...now. But you must help me to think of...”

“Now is all I ask.”

He held her captive in his arms, and his mouth descended on hers, crushing her lips with his bruising passion.

A hot, liquid yearning began to flow deep within her, rising from her very core and searing her flesh with its heat. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, Joanna felt Gavin’s hands move down her bare back and cup her buttocks, lifting her against him. She moaned at the feel of his huge arousal pressing against her through the soft wool of his kilt.

As he ended the kiss, she drew her breath to protest until the touch of his lips on her ear transformed her objection into a rapturous sigh. Her head fell back, and she swayed slightly in his embrace.

“Joanna,” he murmured, “my bewitching spirit.” He laid a trail of kisses from her jaw to the tender flesh of her throat, his lips lingering on her fluttering pulse.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his bare skin against hers, Joanna slipped her hands inside his shirt. True, she’d seen him n***d before, but the actual feel of his sinewy muscles beneath her fingers made her thrill for more.

He lifted her off the ground, and Joanna instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned and pulled his mouth away. “Joanna, I shall surely die if I don’t take you now.”

She bit his ear before suckling it. “Then take me, Gavin. Make me yours.” She pressed her lips into the hollow above his collarbone. Saltiness tingled on her tongue as she ran her tongue along the bone to his shoulder where she nipped at the powerful flesh she found there. As his deep groan penetrated her brain, a glorious sense of wickedness swept through her as she felt him discard the last shreds of his control. With few quick strides, he carried her to his bed and perched her on the edge.

The giant warrior hurriedly kicked off his boots, and her fingers pulled awkwardly at his belt. When he took over the task, tossing away the kilt and kneeling before her, her eyes focused momentarily on his huge manhood. Her breath caught in her chest. Joanna leaned forward and tore open the front of his shirt.

She had just touched the taut warmth of his muscular chest when Gavin pushed her back slightly, his mouth closing over her breast. Her mouth fell open with a gasp as he circled her hard, erect n****e with his tongue before tugging at it with his lips and teeth. She paused, paralyzed with an excitement, and watched him through half lidded eyes until she could lie still no longer.

Engulfed by a rising fever that demanded release, Joanna pushed him back by the shoulders, yanking the shirt down over his massive arms. As he shrugged it off, she threw it aside with a sigh.

“I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I walked in here tonight,” she murmured, gazing into his fierce face, his smoldering eyes.

He buried one hand in the heavy silken spill of her hair, tugging it back, exposing the stretch of her neck. He ran his tongue and lips over the skin of her throat while his other hand cupped her breast, his thumb stroking the aroused n****e.

“And I wanted to drag you to this bed and bury myself in you from the moment you stepped through the panel door.”

“Such wicked thoughts,” she groaned as his hand slid down her stomach, over the downy mound, and between the folds of her womanhood. She shook from the vibration of her body’s response. Her hips curled against his hand, and one leg lifted and wrapped itself around his waist and his n***d buttocks.

Her blood pounded in her brain and the pulsing lights that had replaced the earlier haze now flashed, ablaze with a myriad of colors. Her body and skin caught fire, and she felt her breaths growing shorter as he continued to stroke the sensitive spot within her. Joanna threw back her head and moaned as he probed deeper and deeper into her intimate heat, and his mouth once again suckled one breast.

Sensation began to crowd out her consciousness. It was like gliding along on some fast moving cloud, or running in a dream down some endless hill, feeling the excitement rising and never wanting it to end. But in a bright corner of her brain, Joanna knew that this could not go on forever. There was an urgency that told her that complete fulfillment was near at hand. But she didn’t want it to finish. No matter how rapturous whatever lay beyond could be, she didn’t want to cross that line—not without him.

Blindly, she reached out for him, her fingers groping down his body until she found the long, hard shaft. The skin was hot, and he throbbed to her touch. Her hand curled around him and slid the entire length until her thumb caressed the satiny crown.

“Nay, Joanna,” he groaned tearing his mouth away from her breast. “Not yet.”

But in spite of his voiced reluctance, the warrior hardly resisted as she brought the broad tip of his manhood to her moist folds and pressed herself against it.

“Now, Gavin,” she whispered, the note of ardor evident in her voice as she gazed into his dark and passion glazed eyes. “Please, take me now.”

Now driven with the urgency to have him inside of her, she moved with him as he centered himself over her and took hold of her hips.

“And will you be mine, Joanna? Will you forever belong to me?”

She nodded and drew his head down, kissing him with all the passion she had in her.

As he drove into her, Joanna stiffened at first, stunned by the tearing pain of his entry. She kept her eyelids pressed shut and bit her lip to keep from crying out as he ceased to move for what seemed like an eternity. But then, gradually, she felt his throbbing shaft begin to move, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, until her mind cast off all memory of pain, all memory of innocence, and the white-hot lights of some blazing heaven opened up and consumed her.

Stepping away from the murky waters of the underground lake, the man held up the wick lamp and peered through the darkness of the cavern beneath Ironcross Castle. Something by a wall caught his sharp eye. Ducking his head as he moved beneath a rock overhang, the Earl of Athol crouched before the rough bed of straw, noticing the corner of a dark cloth peeking from beneath. Pushing away the straw, he uncovered the meager possessions the inhabitant had hidden there. A cloak besmirched with black grime and a rolled heap of rags. He picked the clothing up, scanning them for some telltale mark. Putting the wick lamp on the packed earth, he held the rags up before his eyes, recognizing that the shreds may once have been a woman’s shift.

Casting the cloth aside, he turned to the small heap of sticks not too far away. Putting his hand over the still warm ashes of the fire, he knew that the owner of these things had left here not long before.

Picking up the wick lamp, the earl looked about for other clues and turned his attention back to the straw. Shoving the clothing back under, he found a wooden bowl with the remains of some dry bread. An empty wooden cup.

Pushing himself up to his feet, Athol swept his long red hair back over his shoulder and peered around the cavern for anything else that he might learn of this poor, timid soul, the latest of the Ironcross ‘ghosts.’

By the devil, since he was a lad—hell, since he was no more than a bairn—he had known his way around these caverns, racing through them with John MacInnes and the stable lads. Back then, the only ghosts haunting the castle had been he and his friends. He smiled in the darkness at the memory, but his face quickly grew serious. His man David had spoken of a spirit roaming the castle now, but Athol had been inclined not to believe him then. Now, glancing down at the belongings of some poor beggar, he was certain of it. No ghost he had ever heard of kept warm by a fire or helped himself to bread. What still perplexed the earl, though, was the behavior of a ‘phantom’ who seemed determined to keep returning Joanna’s picture to the place where it had originally hung.

Having the new laird of Ironcross retire early tonight had been fine, so far as Athol was concerned. Finding the truth behind this ‘ghost’ was something that the earl knew he himself must do. He certainly couldn’t rely on David.

Athol pushed at the ragged cloak with his foot. He wasn’t about to allow some poor beggar to ruin his efforts.

Not when he was this close to succeeding.

Settling back on the down-stuffed pillows, Gavin took a deep breath and listened to the rain whipped by the wind against the walls of the keep. Occasionally, the low rumbling sound of thunder rolled across the loch, and the laird tried to yield to the warm sense of tranquility that was seeping into his bones.

There was something wonderfully intimate about lying in his huge bed with Joanna curled up at his side. Just a moment ago, after their lovemaking, he’d levered himself up and repositioned her in the bed, lifting her into the center and covering her with the soft wool blanket. It had been then that he’d seen the proof of her innocence. When he’d first entered her, he’d discovered he had been her first. And although he’d never considered a woman’s virginity an important issue before, something of its dearness struck him now. He turned onto his side and gently brushed the dark golden hair from her damp brow.

“You were a virgin,” he said simply.

She rolled onto her back, her gaze sliding away from his. “So I was.”

He caught her chin and brought her eyes back to him. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

She gently wrenched her chin loose. “You would have thought what you wished no matter what I told you.”

“Nay, Joanna, you cannot think that,” Gavin argued gently, pulling her back to her side until she faced him. Her head rested against his arm, and he absently combed his fingers through her long tresses with his other hand. “That does not say much for my character, now, does it? I must be more depraved than I thought.”

She shook her head. “We were talking of my virginity. And what does it matter now, anyway? What’s done is done. But why must you scold me for giving you what was mine to give?”

“It’s not what you have done,” he said, letting his hand rest lightly on her cheek. “It’s the way I behaved that is bothering me. I should have been...gentler. I should had taken my time, but instead I just took you like you were a woman of the world—a woman familiar with...”

She placed a finger on his lips, “Did you enjoy our lovemaking?”

He stared at her for a moment, but then laughed, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a kiss on her palm. “Aye, Joanna. Immensely.”

“And am I what you expected? I mean in my shape...my body? Am I too thin or too fat?”

“You are just as I’ve dreamed you would be.” He bent over her and brushed his lips against hers. “You are just perfect.”

She pulled back. “Then it must be that I was inept in your arms.”

He shook his head. “Nay, Joanna. You were incredibly able.”

She paused a moment before letting a smile break across her lips. “Then I believe I was successful in seducing you.”

For the space of dozen heartbeats, there was silence as he stared into her shining, violet-blue eyes. “Aye, you were successful in seducing me.”

“And you think me wanton?”

“Nay...well, a wee bit wanton is a fine thing, to my thinking.”

“You’re not shocked?”

“At what?” he asked, his eyebrows arching with amusement. “At you seducing me before I could seduce you?” He slid his hand down over her neck and collarbone, pushing at the blanket until his hand caressed the side of one breast. “I did have plans of my own, you know.” Gavin ran his thumb gently across her n****e. It hardened like a pebble beneath his touch. He watched as Joanna closed her eyes for a fleeting moment and drew in her breath. “But now, considering how far we have come—certainly faster than I could have possibly hoped for—I gladly admit that I approve of your method the best.”

“Then we’re done with your questioning?”

Gavin studied her expression. Her sparkling eyes held within them a devilish gleam, a playful expectancy. Her full lips, turned up at the corners, told of her mirth. Her hand stretched out against his chest, and began to move lower over the hard planes of his belly. He caught it just above his rising manhood.

“Only if you let me seduce you,” he growled.

She freed her hand and slipped it around his waist. Scooting closer, she pressed the length of her body against him, and he felt his fully aroused member nestle between her thighs.

“You can try,” she challenged. “But I warn you, I have plans of my own.”