Lucy Monroe - Moon Awakening

Nevertheless, she sighed and said, "I cannot stay."

"Tell me why."

So she told him about Abigail and her fear that her sister would be sent in her place.

He said nothing, but his expression turned thoughtful. "You wanted to bring your sister to live here in the Highlands."

"Yes."

"Talorc will not welcome her."

"I had hoped to change his mind."

"By calling him a goat?"

She blushed at the reminder. "I apologized."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"What about my apology?"

"You want to apologize to me?" she asked facetiously.

His glare said he did not appreciate her humor. "You will tell me you are sorry for your insults to myself and my clan. I have waited long enough, English."

"And if I do, will you give up this idea of teaching me to swim?"

"No."

"Then I don't see why I should apologize."

"Because you were wrong."

"Perhaps…" She paused and then said, "Then again, perhaps not."

He shook his head. "Do you hope to make me angry enough to forget your lesson?"

He was far too clever for her liking. It was a ploy that had worked for her with her stepmother and father more than once. "Maybe," she admitted, "but truly… Lachlan you cannot expect me to disrobe in front of you. Not to mention the possibility of someone else coming along."

"I would hear their approach before anyone could get close enough to see you."

He really did have an exaggerated view of his strengths. "I don't think so."

"Come here, English."

"Why?" Did he plan to undress her himself? She truly must be depraved because the prospect was as thrilling as it was shocking.

"I want to kiss you."

"Oh." She had enjoyed their kisses to this point. Very much. More than she should, if she wanted to admit the truth. "But I don't think you should keep kissing me. I am promised to Talorc."

The muscle in Lachlan's jaw tensed. "This is the last time we will discuss this. I do not wish to hear of him again from your lips. Understand?"

"But, laird—"

Lachlan rudely interrupted, "The Sinclair has said before witnesses that he would not marry you."

"So?"

"Until he recants that statement, you are not betrothed to him."

"But our kings—"

"I told you, lass, we Highland lairds make our own laws. We cooperate with Scotland's king when it suits us. And only then."

"You mean you are all that way?"

"Aye. Even the lairds that are mere humans are still Celts. They will never submit to absolute rule by another."

"You think you are more than a mere human?" she asked, amused by his arrogance and secretly relieved at his interpretation of events.

If she did not belong to Talorc, then her honor was not compromised by the feelings Lachlan stirred in both her body and her heart.

"Come here and let me kiss you and then you may tell me your opinion of the matter."

She shivered to the depths of her being at the promise in his voice. "I think you plan to do more than kiss me."

He wanted to see her naked. He wanted to touch her. By the saints, she craved that touch more than she had hungered after acceptance in her own family.

"Perhaps… then again, perhaps not," he said, mocking her with her own words.

"And perhaps I will let you," she said with more boldness than sense.

She found true joy in his arms and a pleasure that was unimaginable. Once she left the Balmorals, she would never know either again. She decided in that moment to fully experience everything Lachlan would give her.

He had promised not to take her virginity and she would trust him to keep that promise. She was not so naive that she believed women did not engage in the sort of touching he spoke of outside the bond of matrimony. Jolenta had told Emily and Abigail stories of the goings-on at Court. Those tales had shocked and sometimes sickened her, but she did not feel in the least sick at the prospect of doing any and all of the things Jolenta had spoken of and alluded to with Lachlan.

If that made her wanton, then so be it, she would be wanton. Because deep in her heart she knew she would only ever be that way with this one man… a man who thought he was more than a mere human. And looking at him with his wolf's eyes and power radiating from him like a palpable presence, she thought she just might agree.

Having made the decision, she did not want to wait for him to act, but needed to make the first move herself. She stepped up against him, cupped his face with both her hands and reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Making a feral sound, he dipped his head and took possession of her mouth with mind-numbing intensity. He kissed her like he meant to devour her, eating at her lips, his tongue tangling with hers and pervading her mouth with his spicy flavor.

Her knees went weak. She wobbled and fell against him, confident that he would hold her up and keep her safe. His big hands clamped to her waist and lifted her right off the ground.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with every ounce of the passion she'd tried so hard to suppress until now. His hold changed, one arm wrapped around her back, his fingers brushing the side of her breast through the fabric of her shift and tunic. His other hand cupped her bottom, kneading her with erotic gentleness that sent a wash of humidity to the juncture of her thighs.

This was how men touched women they wished to mate with. It was incredibly intimate and yet not enough. She wanted more, but had no experience with which to determine what more might be. The things he made her feel were so very unique to her that she grew light-headed from the myriad sensations. And it was a good thing he was holding her so tight, for she was beyond remaining upright, even leaning on him.

Their surroundings ceased to exist for her and she knew only the taste and feel of his lips… the possessive hold of his hands. Nothing else mattered. Not her future, not her past and not even the present, except this man in this moment.

She did not know how it happened, but with only a couple of brief separations of their mouths, she found herself as nude as he'd promised her she would be. And she was not embarrassed. She felt no shame in allowing him to see her, to touch her… to know her like no one else ever had.

She belonged to him for this moment in time and she refused to consider anything else.

The summer sun warmed her skin, but not nearly as much as the heat of his gaze. Gold-rimmed brown eyes seared her with elemental fire while her own gaze became locked on the part of him that declared him fully male. He'd taken off his plaid and he stood proud and glorious in his own nudity. His masculine sex was swollen and rigid as a staff, pointing at a sharp angle toward the sky.

Oh, my. "I never thought it would be so big," she whispered.

"It?" he asked with strangled laughter in his tone.

She pointed to his male member. "That."

"That?"

"Your penis," she said defiantly.

But he just smiled. She liked his smile. It made her feel warm in a way that even his touch did not.

"You spent much time thinking on the matter?" he asked.

"Only in recent days."

His eyes glowed with masculine satisfaction. "Since you met me?"

"Maybe," she hedged.

"A man is large… a woman small. The fit perfect."

But, according to him, that "fit" was one delight she would not know in his company. She said nothing, simply staring at him and trying to control the urge to reach out and touch. She would never have anticipated wanting to, but she could barely stop herself.

"You want to feel it?" he asked, as if reading her mind.

"Yes."

"Then do so."

Her gaze flew to his, but there was no mockery evident. He meant it. He had put himself at her disposal and her passion and curiosity demanded she accept his invitation.

She stepped closer and then reached down to brush one fingertip along his shaft. It moved and she jerked her hand away.

He laughed. "It is all right."

"But…"

"I like your hand on me."

She looked into his eyes and saw a hunger that matched her own burning in their depths. A sense of exultation made her want to laugh, but not with humor… with sheer joy. She had no experience of men, was not the favored daughter in her father's household, but she could affect the powerful laird of the Balmoral so much that his body trembled with his need for her.

Amazing.

Lachlan watched the sense of feminine sensual power dawn in Emily's violet gaze and had to fight the urge to tumble her onto her back and bury himself in the silken wetness he knew waited for him between her legs. There was no calculation in her expression, only pure happiness.

She liked affecting him so strongly. It was an honest reaction, one worthy of a femwolf, though she was no more than human.

He must remember that truth, no matter how she delighted him. He would not claim her body completely, he would not spurt his seed into her womb. He had promised her mat he would not breach her maidenhead and he would keep that promise. Equally as important, to take a virgin was to imply the willingness to mate for life, and he had no such intention.

No matter how much he might want this human woman, he would not travel the path his father had taken. It was too fraught with danger to his kind.

Emily curled her fingers around his sex as if she had done it a thousand times and rubbed up and down. "You are so soft."

"Soft?" he asked on a choking laugh. "I think not."

"Your skin," she replied with a great deal of seriousness. "Have you ever felt silk?"

"Nay."

"We have silk tapestries in our great hall… or rather my father had. Sybil insisted. They feel like air against your skin, so thin and smooth."

"You are saying I am not more substantial than air?"

"Oh, no. You are quite substantial, laird. But so smooth here over the hardness." She caressed him along his length again, this time taking twice as long to make the journey from base to tip.

If he did not do something, he was going to spill and his pride would not let him do so without giving her pleasure first. Only he could not trust himself to pleasure her right now without swiving her. He had never been so lacking in control, but even his pride could not pretend his mind governed his body at that moment.

He swung her up in his arms and kissed her to stifle any protest she might make. She instantly began kissing him back with a passion that threatened his very sanity.

Using the last bit of self-discipline he had remaining, he forced himself to walk toward the water and not stop until he was in the chilly depths up to his waist. The shock of the cold did little to impact his arousal and he shook with the need to lower her hips and position her to take him inside. He moved toward deeper water. He was up to his chest and her whole body was practically submerged before he broke the kiss.

"Are you ready for your first swimming lesson?" The words came out strong, but his body was weak with desire.

She stared up at him as if she did not understand what he was saying and then her eyes widened and she gave a small shriek. "I'm in the water. And it's cold!" She drew out the last word in a complaining wail.

He shook his head. "Not cold enough." Not nearly cold enough.

"It's not?" Emily looked like she was considering calling Lachlan daft again.

"No."

"But I'm freezing."

He looked down at her and saw that she did indeed have goose bumps all over her body. He wanted nothing more than to smooth them away with one hot caress after another. "We will start with floating."

"F-floating?" She was cold, but he thought the stutter a result of the nervous fear in her eyes.

"I will not let you sink, Emily."

Her eyes filled with resolve. "I do not want to be afraid."

"You will conquer your fear."

"I want to, but I don't know if I can." She did not sound happy with that fact, but resigned to it.

"You can." He was impressed that she did not insist he take her out of the water.

The longer they stood there, the more rigid she became as terror that was so great it even masked the scent of her excitement overcame her. Something shifted inside him as he saw it happen. He hated to see her afraid and was determined to help her. Even his sexual desire took a secondary role to that determination.