The Highlander by Elaine Coffman Page B

that he had branded her with earlier.
    She moaned her disenchantment and pulled his face down to hers, until their lips were touching.
    This time, it was he who groaned, and the feeling of having this power over him returned, and with it the deep craving for more. As if sensing her frustration, he brought his fingers to her lips and with subdued pressure parted them, before replacing his fingers with his mouth, and reducing her to a molten lump of yearning.
    She never knew there was more to kissing than simply bringing two sets of lips together. His kisses were plundering, consuming, and evoked all kinds of responses from her she never knew herself capable of making.
    Oh, please, she thought. That cannot be me moaning again.
    Why would anyone whimper when they kissed? And why did it make one's heart beat faster? Or their lips feel all swollen and hot? She remembered the women at court and the countless affairs that went on all around her. She called to mind the men who made it their profession to seduce women. And lastly, she recalled the way they would leave soon after the conquest, to seduce someone else.
    "Please..." she whispered. "Oh, please stop."
    Her words seemed to drive him onward with renewed vigor, and she was already dizzy from the rush of the last onslaught. She could feel the smooth hardness of his muscles beneath her hands, as his own hands slipped lingering over her torso and down the flat surface of her stomach. She could feel his prick hard against her hip again, and gasped when his hand slipped lower to the vee between her legs—although she had to admit that it fit so perfectly there—she wondered if it had been created for that specific purpose.
    His hand began to emulate perfectly the thrust and rhythm of his tongue, and her body seemed to take over and do her thinking for her, which was all right, since she was completely incapable of thinking of anything at the moment save all the delicious things he was doing to her and the way her body seemed to blossom under the touch of his hand.
    A booming clap of thunder saved her virginity.
    At least that is what she thought later, for there was little doubt in her mind that if it had not ripped across the sky at that particular moment to rattle the panes of glass at the windows, she would have ended up flat on her back, legs spread wide, with Jamie Graham teaching her everything he knew about lovemaking, which would probably take eons.
    Dizzy from the sudden jerk back to reality, she pulled back from him and brought her hands to her temples. She had come dangerously close to being completely absorbed by him, and on the verge of losing her common sense along with her virginity.
    Did she not have enough troubles without giving in to more?
    She had lost her country, her home and her family. A day ago she had almost died. She was living a lie and pretending to be something and someone she was not. Her very life was at stake, and what was she doing? Becoming awestruck and completely captivated by a man she had known only a few hours.
    All she had was her virginity, and she had almost begged him to take that.
    Kissing was one thing, becoming a courtisane was something else entirely. She would have to be very, very careful around him from now on.
    She made the mistake of taking no more than a quick peek at him and saw those green eyes of his missed nothing, for he seemed to look into her very soul, probing for answers to questions only he knew. She did not understand why she kept having the same feeling around him that she had when she was being sucked under the waters of the North Sea, afraid she was drowning and incapable of saving herself.
    "It's raining," she said, needing some diversion and time to regroup. She desperately needed to recover and plan her defenses for the onslaught of his next attack—which was surely to come.
    "Aye, lass, I ken it is raining," he said, the drone of his Scots burr coming like a purr from deep in his throat. "You will become