“Please!” she cried.
He lowered his head and inhaled her scent, then he flicked his tongue across her flesh and tasted her. Her body bucked, and he lifted his head once more, and she gave a sharp growl of impatience.
“How long shall I make you wait?” he asked, teasing her. “When shall I instruct ye to take pleasure?”
“Now…”
“Are you sure, lass?” he asked. “Are ye ready?”
“Yes!”
He covered her with his body and claimed her mouth.
She curled her tongue round his, and soft moans of pleasure rumbled in her throat.
“Do you give yerself freely, lass?”
“Yes.”
Slowly he entered her, marveling at the heat which enveloped him, until he met her barrier.
“Look at me, lass,” he whispered.
The trust in her eyes tore at his heart.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes, Fraser,” she whispered. “Yes, I want you.”
He sheathed himself fully inside her. Her eyes widened, and she let out a cry.
“Good lass,” he whispered. “There is only a little pain your first time.”
“I felt no pain,” she said.
“What did ye feel?”
She blinked and rolled her eyes as if searching for the words. “It was like the sting of the whisky on my tongue,” she whispered. “Sharp at first, followed by a delicious warmth. Deep inside.”
“And do you want another sip?”
She shifted her legs further apart. “I want to drink my fill.”
He withdrew slowly, then eased himself inside her once more, savoring the feel of her body.
“Mmm…” She arched her back.
Her body shuddered, and he struggled to maintain control—he had waited so long for this, had fantasized about her every night.
At all costs, her pleasure must come first.
“Fraser!”
Her body clenched around him. He thrust once more into her, and his own body shattered. Shards of pleasure ripped through him, exploding into stars.
“Oh, lass!” he cried.
He continued to thrust, drawing out every drop of pleasure, then he rolled onto his side, still inside her. She clung to him, her body trembling. He grasped the blanket and pulled it over them both, then he held her.
“Fraser,” she whispered. “My Fraser…”
A lock of hair had fallen over her face, and he brushed it aside. Her heart, which hammered against his chest, slowed to a deep, steady rhythm. He stroked her hair, and she sighed like a contented kitten.
She was his soul mate. He had no wish to spend another day without her in his bed.
As soon as he returned her home, he would seek out her brother and ask for her hand in marriage.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lilah opened her eyes and reached out. The bed bore his imprint and a faint trace of warmth where he’d lain. A delicious soreness lingered between her thighs, and she blushed at the memory of the pleasures he’d given her. After making love, he’d let her sleep, then woke her, coaxing her to pleasure with expert fingers until she was ready for him again.
But this time, the lesson was different. With gentle instructions, he taught her how to please him, letting her ride him. Lacing his fingers with hers, he guided her as she took her own pleasure while she rocked her body to draw him deeper inside.
The door opened, and she lifted her head.
“Has my Highland queen recovered from her exertions?”
He stood in the doorway, half-dressed, shirt open, revealing a dusting of hair, which she now knew grew thicker lower down.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked.
“Long enough to read these.” He lifted his hand, which held a sheaf of papers. “Your poems are beautiful. I’ve never read the like.”
She colored and looked away. Despite the intimacies they’d shared, the mere thought of him reading the words from her soul made her feel more exposed to him than she had ever been.
He approached the bed and took her hand.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Was it deceitful to read them without your permission?”
“No.”
“You’ve been nothing but honest with me, lass. I hope you don’t think I’ve betrayed that honesty.”
Shame prevented her from meeting his gaze—shame at her deception at having taken financial gain from writing such damning articles about his family name.
“Won’t you look at me, Delilah?”
Gentle fingers took her chin and coaxed her to look up. Their gazes met, and his eyes twinkled with a smile.
“There, lass,” he said softly. “There must be no secrets between us.”
She bit her lip, focusing on the pain to stem the tears. He traced the outline of her face with his fingertip.
“There’s no shame in what we shared,” he whispered.
“It’s not that,” she said. “I…”
“Hush, lass,” A wicked glint shone in his eyes. “I hope, one day, to take ye against the hard granite of Beinn mo Chridhe. It’s time I blessed the mountain of my heart with my woman.”
My woman.
She could stand it no longer. The open honesty in his words and voice deserved equal honesty from her. She had to confess whatever the consequences.
“Your Grace…”
He shook his head. “I think we’re beyond formalities. You screamed my name, not half an hour earlier, lass. Can you not speak it now?”
“Fraser.”
His eyes crinkled into a smile. “That’s better.”
“There’s something I must tell you.”
Before he could respond, shouts rose outside, followed by a pounding on the doors downstairs. He lifted his hand in warning and darted to the chamber door, pushing it shut. Footsteps approached and stopped outside, then a man’s voice spoke.
“Your Grace? Sir?”
He held his finger to his lips, but Lilah needed no instruction. To be caught naked in a man’s chamber in the middle of the afternoon would result in a scandal. He opened the door a fraction, using his body to shield her from whoever was outside.
“What is it, Stevenson?”
“It’s important, sir,” the voice said. “Something terrible has happened.”
He slipped outside and closed the door firmly behind him. Low voices murmured, followed by a gasp, then she heard his voice growing louder, angrier. Finally, it took on a note of despair and resignation. Then he barked an order, and the footsteps receded.
When he opened the door, Lilah saw a different man to the one who had seduced her just half an hour before. Her heart clenched at the ashen look in his face.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I’m ruined.”
“Ruined?”
“As good as.” He sighed, and his shoulders slumped as if he bore a huge weight. “Clayton House has been destroyed.”
“Destroyed?”
“Aye,” he said. “A mob ransacked the building and destroyed everything inside.”
“That doesn’t spell ruination, surely?”
“It does when the house is fully mortgaged.” He let out a sigh. “I should have listened to your brother.”