“I like riding with ye very much.”
“Then why ask to ride with Hamish?”
“Because I like riding with ye very much,” she repeated simply, and then her voice going husky, she admitted, “And I liked yer kisses and caresses in the river. I ken I responded most wantonly to them and have given ye a disgust o’ me. I apologize fer that, m’laird, but much as I ken these feelings and desires and me own behavior will surely land me in hell, I can no’ stop wanting ye, and would no doubt act the very same way did ye touch or kiss me like that again.” She paused to take a breath after blurting that all out, and then added, “So it did seem better to ride with Hamish, who seems nice but does no’ make me tingle with just a glance and threaten me soul with damnation by his very existence.”
Chapter 8
Conall’s mind and body were in an uproar. He’d known by her responses that she’d enjoyed what they’d done, but hearing her admit it was having a most distressing effect on his body. And her confession that she wanted him and would respond exactly the same way if he were to kiss and caress her again . . . Well, God’s teeth! It just made him want to kiss and caress her right then and there.
The thought made him glance down at her. She was sitting slumped in his lap, her head against his chest, leaving him a clear view down her body. Curled up a bit as she was, the front of the plaid had loosened and gaped open, revealing the linen shirt beneath. He could see her nipples pressing against the cloth, forming slight peaks, and his fingers itched to touch and pinch them.
“That is why I’ve decided to join the convent and take vows.”
Conall stiffened as her words pierced his lusty thoughts. “Vows?”
“Aye. I shall become a bride of God. Hopefully, do I commit myself to Him and spend the rest o’ me life doin’ good works, He’ll forgive me this flaw in me character.”
“What o’ yer betrothed?” he growled, outraged at the thought that she would throw their betrothal contract aside to join a convent.
“He’s dead,” she pointed out with a small sigh, and then shook her head. “I do wonder now if had he lived and married me . . . mayhap I never would have met you and found me soul in jeopardy. Certainly, no one else has ever made me feel like this.”
Conall was just puffing up at those words when she added, “Although no one has ever kissed me before either. Mayhap ’tis a flaw in me and any man who kissed me would have made me feel this way. Perhaps I’m just lucky no one did ere this.”
That comment took the wind from his sails and had him glowering down at her.
“I do no’ think the MacNaughton would have had this effect though,” she added thoughtfully. “The few times he’s been to MacFarlane to approach me father about marrying me, I’ve found me skin crawling in his presence. I was most relieved when father said nay every time.”
Conall’s expression eased again at those words, and some of his irritation soothed, until she added, “Laird Payton seems nice though.”
“Payton’s no’ a laird yet,” he growled with irritation, finding he didn’t like that she thought the other man nice.
“And he did mention that he too is no’ betrothed and mayhap we should see if we would no’ suit,” she pointed out, apparently unconcerned that Payton wasn’t a lord yet. “And he is handsome too.”
Conall’s hands tightened on the reins as he was suddenly plagued with the unusual desire to plow his fist into his cousin’s “handsome” face.
“Mayhap I should ask him to kiss me.”
“What?” Conall snapped.
“Well, mayhap ’tis only you who makes me all hot and bothered,” she said, turning her head up to explain earnestly. “Mayhap Laird Payton’s kisses would only affect me a little, or no’ at all. If that were the case, then I could do two or three weeks o’ penance fer me behavior and the way you make me feel. Then I could marry Payton and have bairns and a family like I used to dream about before I realized me da had no intention o’ finding a replacement to me betrothed.”
Conall felt his anger ease as he realized she was considering marrying Payton because she was hoping he wouldn’t stir her the way he himself did. He tucked that bit of information away to consider later, but asked, “Ye dreamed o’ marrying and having bairns, did ye?”
She smiled crookedly at the question. “Does no’ every lass? ’Tis what we’re trained fer from birth—to grow up, wed, have a family o’ our own and run our own home.”
Conall stared down into her face briefly and then couldn’t resist claiming that sad smile with a kiss. Much to his pleasure, Claray didn’t pull away, but responded at once, opening her mouth when he demanded entrance. The small moan she released into his mouth made him smile, and kiss her more deeply. After several moments he shifted his mount’s reins to his left hand to free his right to caress her. His eager fingers went straight to her breast to knead briefly before focusing on her nipple.
Much to his satisfaction, Claray gasped and arched into the caress when he pinched and teased the sensitive tip as he’d wanted to do. Her response to his touch was most gratifying. Her kiss became frantic, and she squirmed in his lap, her bottom unintentionally rubbing against him in a most exciting manner.
Eager for the moans and mewls of pleasure he’d drawn from her in the river, Conall released her nipple and let his hand drift down over the swaddled fox and below to press between her legs through the plaid she wore.
When Claray immediately broke their kiss on a gasp, he pressed more firmly, then claimed her lips again and thrust his tongue into her mouth as he began to rub her through the heavy cloth, eliciting those groans and mewls he’d wanted.
She was so damned responsive to him it made him ache, and if it weren’t for the fact that he had Payton, Roderick, Hamish and two hundred warriors at his back, he’d have ridden into the woods, dragged her to the ground, thrown up her skirts and sunk himself into her. As Payton had said, bedding her every night and filling her belly with a bairn or nine would be no hardship at all, and where before Conall had thought he wouldn’t care if her father decided to break the betrothal and find her someone else to wed, the idea was now anathema to him. He wanted her for himself. He wanted to sink himself into her wet heat and stay there for a week. The only way to do that though was to claim and marry her. Oddly enough, that suddenly didn’t seem a bad idea.
Claray’s going stiff, crying out into his mouth and then convulsing slightly in his arms told him she’d found her release. He broke their kiss at once, retrieved his hand and wrapped it around her, pressing her to his chest. As she sagged there weakly, panting, he glanced over his shoulder.
Much to his relief, Roderick, Payton and Hamish were riding a good ten yards back with the rest of the men behind them and hadn’t seen anything. Hardly able to believe he hadn’t considered that ere this, he turned back to see that Claray was still leaning weakly against his chest, but she appeared to be regaining her breath.
Smiling faintly, he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her forehead. When she blinked her eyes open and peered up at him solemnly, he found himself announcing, “Ye’ll no’ be marryin’ Payton, or fleeing to a convent, lass.”