Laird of Darkness by Nicole North Page B

Duncan had to have peace within his own head, his own home. He would not let some bonny lass deprive him of that.
    “What if MacClaren no longer wants me?” Alana asked in a small voice. “What if he will not trade his bow now?”
    “He will.” Damn his hide.
    “But what if he doesn’t?”
    “Does he ken what you look like?” Duncan snapped more harshly than he’d meant. Her exquisite face and blue eyes made his chest ache.
    She shook her head. “I have never met him.”
    “Then we shall make sure he knows of your great beauty.”
    “My face is a curse, I vow.” A tear glistened at the corner of her eye, but she angrily brushed it away.
    “Nay.” How could she say such a thing? Her beauty was surely a gift from the gods.
    “It holds no value for me. ’Tis only something men bargain with to get what they want. What about what I want?”
    “And what do you want?” Had no one ever asked her this? Well, he cared, even if he couldn’t give it to her.
    “I want to practice my healing arts and help those in need. To be treated with kindness. To have a family. I wish for a husband who…” She lowered her face.
    “Who what?”
    “Is generous in bed.”
    He lifted a brow. Och. He could be very generous. He thought he had been. “And what does that mean?” He had to hear her say it. Wished to know what she wanted in bed.
    She would not meet his gaze. “You know. Pleasure.”
    He turned away. Jealousy stabbed at him with sudden viciousness when he imagined MacClaren taking her to his bed. His half brother did not deserve such a charming and lovely lass. MacClaren deserved a she-devil who would torment him every day.
    Her arms wrapped around Duncan from behind. He turned his head to look into Alana’s bewitching eyes. She kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear. “Like the pleasure you gave me this night.” She lifted his bandaged wrists and kissed each one near his injuries.
    A feeling burned through him, a feeling he’d never experienced before—raging hot, yet tender.
    He couldn’t resist kissing her and dragging her onto his lap.
    “You’re naked,” he whispered against her lips before devouring them again. His hands explored her bare arse. What a delightful shape it was. Soft and supple.
    He relished the way she wound her arms around his neck. Only now did he realize how he’d craved someone to hold him tight in his dark room. And he adored her kisses, so sweet, yet lusty and wanton, her tongue flicking his own. Perfectly delectable.
    Her hip created a wonderful pressure against his stone-hard shaft. He moaned and she slid her hand down to caress the head of his cock through his plaid.
    He growled. “I crave you again, lass.”
    “Aye, take me, if you please. Just once more.”
    “We should not.”
    “I know, but…” She bit his neck gently, spiking his lust.
    Where the devil had his noble streak come from? He banished it immediately and unbuckled his belt. Lifting her slightly, he slid the plaid from between them. “Help me remove my shirt.”
    She yanked it up and over his head. Skin to skin, he embraced her and the silky feel of her seduced him. So soft and warm. He stroked her all over while she sighed and whispered his name.
    He kissed her again, entwining his tongue with hers, his fingers tugging gently at her peaked nipples.
    “Mmm, Duncan, I beg of you.” She stroked his cock over and over in a maddening rhythm.
    He growled, unable to withstand any more. His hands beneath her hips, he lifted her and turned her back to him. “Spread your legs.”
    “What?” She clenched her hands on his forearms.
    “If you want my cock, then sit on it. Ride it.”
    “I don’t know…”
    Taking one hand off her derriere, he guided his cock toward her slit, stroked it. She gasped and widened her thighs. Aye, there it was, that sweet wet pussy he craved. It drenched the head of his cock. She wiggled and pressed down slightly, the head pushing into that passage that squeezed him so