“You wanted me, milady?” He said the first thing that came to mind.
She lifted her chin a notch. “No. I didn’t.”
Neil bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning at the angry glint in her eyes. “My mistake.” He shrugged casually. “I could have sworn Tam said …” He let his words trail off. “No matter.” He stepped back as if to leave. “Please pardon me for intruding.”
“Wait!”
He waited.
“As long as you’re here,” she began, “there is something you might do for me …”
“Anything.”
As soon as he said he word, Neil knew he meant it with all his heart. He stared at her, fixing his gaze on her face and the incredible blue-gold of her eyes. If she ordered him to perdition he’d go. And if she asked him to stay … If she asked him to stay, he’d give her a taste of paradise.
“Give me a bairn.”
Her words nearly took his breath away. Neil closed his eyes for a moment and sent a silent prayer of thankfulness heavenward. Paradise. She’d granted him paradise and he meant to do everything in his power to return the favor. “My pleasure, milady.”
“Yes, I know.” She wrinkled her brow and clutched at the folds of her skirt while she pursed her lips in distaste. “I’m willing to do without the kissing and the touching so that you may find your pleasure and gift me with a child.”
“I cannot ask you to make such a sacrifice,” Neil replied through clenched teeth.
His softly spoken words of sarcasm were lost on her as she replied, “Yer not askin’ me to sacrifice. I’m willin’. Just make it quick and as painless as possible.”
She appeared calm and unemotional and completely unaware of the insult she’d given him. But her white knuckles and the return of her thick Scottish burr gave her away. “I would be most happy to give you a child, milady,” Neil told her, carefully enunciating each word. “But I cannot be quick about it.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
He closed his eyes again and sent another brief prayer skyward—this time asking forgiveness for the lie he was about to tell. “The creation of a child takes time.”
“It does not!” Jessalyn scoffed. “Flora and Magda are both wi’ child and they married the same day we did.”
“I don’t mean days or weeks or months,” Neil elaborated. “I mean time together. I mean that in order to create a child, a man and woman must be careful to take their time. Rushing through the process usually means the difference between success and failure.”
“But Magda and Flora …”
Neil pinned her with a knowing look. “Magda and Flora have shared their husbands’ beds every night since they wed. They’ve been intimate with their husbands many times. You and I were briefly intimate only once.”
“Oh.”
She looked so disheartened that Neil would rather have bitten out his tongue than ask the question. But he asked it anyway. “Do you still want a child, milady?”
She lowered her gaze, bit her bottom lip and looked as if she might succumb to tears once again, but she nodded her head and firmly replied, “Aye.”
He walked over to her, reaching out to tilt her chin up so that he could read the expression on her face. “Then I suggest we make the most of our time.” Neil caressed the line of her jaw with his thumb then let go of her chin. He removed his key from around his neck, inserted it into the first lock and turned the tumbler. He glanced down at Jessalyn, then extended his hand. “Your key, milady.”
Jessalyn tugged the silver chain from beneath her bodice, pulled it over her head and handed it to him.
Neil placed the key in the second lock, turning it until he heard the click as the lock opened. He leaned his shoulder against the heavy iron door and pushed. The yett swung open on well-oiled hinges. Neil pulled the two keys from the outside locks and handed them to Jessalyn, then bent at the knees and scooped her into his arms. He carried her over the threshold, turning in the passageway and bending low once more as she leaned forward in the cradle of his arms and shoved the yett back into place, then used the keys to lock the door behind them.
Neil stood in the passageway for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the second tunnel.
“There are carved niches hidden along the walls,” Jessalyn whispered. “And candles. Lift me higher and I’ll get one.”
Neil shook his head. “Never mind the candle,” he said. “I can see well enough.” He carried her through the tunnel until he reached the doors at the end. “Which one?” he asked.
“The one on the right,” she replied.
Neil turned right, waited while Jessalyn unlocked the locks and retrieved the keys, then pushed open the door. He paused in the doorway long enough for Jessalyn to deposit the keys on the shelf carved into a niche beside the door and to light the oil lamp. She gasped in awe as the lamp cast its glow upon the room. The massive room contained every luxury imaginable—the kinds of luxuries Jessalyn had only dreamed about over the past year.
The Laird’s Trysting Room was a Scottish nobleman’s idea of a bridal bower fit for a queen. Three walls were hung with a dozen gilt-framed Venetian mirrors in various shapes and sizes, exquisite tapestries and a series of nude drawings that clearly bore the mark of and were signed by da Vinci. Satin cushions were scattered around the floor and the floor itself was covered in a thick woven carpet that matched the deep blue velvet coverings of the huge bed that dominated the room. The room was a marvel of architectural engineering. A stone fireplace, laid with wood and kindling instead of peat, was built into the left wall. It occupied a recessed area between the interior shaft of the latrine and the shaft housing the castle well so that the smoke from the fireplace vented up the center shaft to the roof of the castle. Pinpoints of light from arrow loops along the outer walls dotted the floor and furnishings like stars in the night sky. On the wall to the right, a ladies’ dressing table held an incredible array of jewel-studded items—brushes, combs and boxes made to hold brooches and jeweled hairpins, and beautiful glass bottles of perfumes and cosmetics. A silk reclining couch piled high with thick fur rugs sat beside a hand-painted screen and a massive chest rested at the foot of the bed, the top drawer opened to display the fine silks, satins and embroidered linens.
Neil crossed the threshold and carried Jessalyn to the bed. He leaned forward, placed one knee on the mattress and lay her in the center of the blue velvet coverlet.
Jessalyn stared up at him with a look of distressed panic on her face. “Oh no,” she protested. “My feet. They’re dir … I’ve been sittin’ on the floor. I canna.”
He immediately understood her objection. She was shoeless and her feet and legs were probably dirty. His heart seemed to contract in his chest. It had been so long since the MacInnes had been in the midst of such luxury that she was fearful of spoiling it. “Yes, you can,” he whispered, leaning forward to bury his face in the curve of her neck. “This is the laird’s trysting room. You are the laird. And we are trysting.”
“Aye,” she murmured, arching her back, baring her neck to his caresses. “So ’tis. I am. We are.”
“Aye.” He pressed his lips against the pulse at the base of her throat, then worked his way up her chin to the corner of her mouth, then down along her jaw until he captured her earlobe with his teeth.
Jessalyn’s lips parted on a sigh. Seizing the opportunity, Neil caught it, covering her lips with his, kissing her deeply and thoroughly until …
She closed her eyes and kissed him back. She used her tongue to tempt and tease him as they played the age-old game of advance and retreat, of give and take, of mutual surrender. She followed his lead until he relinquished control and followed hers. They played the game over and over again, leading each other on a merry chase, deepening their kisses with every stroke of their tongues as they teased and tormented each other with kisses that were so hungry and hot and wet and deep that Neil was finally forced to end them.
His arms shook with the st
rain as he levered himself off her, rolled to the side and propped himself on one elbow.
Jessalyn opened her eyes. “What’s wrong, my lord?”
Neil sucked in a shaky breath. “Nothing’s wrong, milady.”
“Then why did you stop?”
He smiled at her and his smile was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. It was warm and tender and incredibly provocative. “I stopped in order that you might grant me permission to continue.”
She returned his smile, then reached for him.
Neil shook his head. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Permission granted, my lord.”
He lifted an eyebrow in query.
“I grant you permission to give me a child.”
Neil moved close enough to brush her lips with his own. “There is something else, my laird,” he murmured in his imitation Scots burr. “You’ve been given this marvelous secret chamber to use for your pleasure. It would be a shame not to use it for that purpose.”
“Can you give me pleasure and a bairn?”
“Aye,” he answered. “I can give you more pleasure than you ever dreamed possible. If you’ll let me. Grant me permission to do that, my lovely laird MacInnes, and I promise you will never regret it.”
“Only if you promise not to hurt me.”
“I give you my word of honor.”
“Permission granted, my lord,” she whispered shyly.
“One more thing,” he said.
“More permissions, my lord?”
“Aye,” he nodded, with a wickedly handsome grin. “You have my permission to satisfy your curiosity. Kiss me. Touch me. Do with me what you will.”
“Are ye certain?”
“Verra certain.”
She kissed him and her kiss was hot and sweet enough to tempt an angel. But Neil wasn’t an angel and he didn’t need further temptation. Jessalyn pulled him to her until she could press herself against him. She flattened herself against his chest, feeling the heat of his flesh as she deepened the kiss. The twin points of her breasts pressed into him. Neil groaned. Encouraged by his response Jessalyn allowed her hands to roam over his shoulders, and down his back. Neil groaned again. His tongue mated with hers as he showed her what he wanted. Jessalyn continued her exploration. She moved her hands lower until she reached the soft, well-worn wool covering his buttocks. His muscles bunched and rippled under her hands as Neil held her tightly, half-lifting her off the bed as he ground his hips into hers and rubbed his throbbing erection against her. He pulled his mouth away from hers and began to trail hot wet kisses on her face, her neck, her throat, and over to her ear lobes.
“Aah, Jessalyn,” Neil whispered close to her ear, “I want to feel you against me and I want to bury myself inside you.” His arms began to shake once again. “I want you so badly.”
“And I want you, my lord,” Jessalyn whispered back.
Neil pushed himself up on his elbows so he could see the expression on her face. “Are ye certain?”
Jessalyn smiled. “Verra certain.”
That was all the encouragement Neil needed. He wrapped an arm around her, lifting her long enough to tug the coverlet and the top sheet from beneath her, then lay her back down on the bed. He sat back on his heels, reached down and untied the laces of her outer corset and stomacher, then the drawstring at the neck of her white muslin chemise. He pushed the chemise down over her shoulders and arms. He opened her outer corset and stomacher and discovered the tiny jeweled handle of her eating dirk sticking out of the brown leather sheath at her waist.
“Setting a new fashion for countesses, milady?” he teased, leaning forward to kiss the spot above the dirk.
Jessalyn closed her eyes and arched her back as he sucked at the fabric covering her navel, then covered it with his mouth and breathed on the wet fabric. The sensation sent delightful shivers up and down her spine.
He pulled the dirk from its small scabbard and held it up for her to see. “Ye’ve brought a weapon to bed. Did you think to have need of it?”
Jessalyn opened her eyes. “I hope not,” she whispered. “I hate the sight of blood.”
“So do I, milady.” He kissed her chin, then licked at the seam of her lips. “Especially my own.”
“Then beware, my lord earl.” She opened her lips to allow him further access, then murmured between kisses, “because I shall cut out yer heart if ye disappoint me again.”
Neil pushed back long enough to stare into her eyes. “If I disappoint you this time, milady countess,” he promised. “I’ll cut it out myself.”
“Then I’ll have no further need of it,” Jessalyn said. She took the dirk from him and tossed it on the floor.
Neil shoved her outer corset and stomacher aside so he could feast on the sight of her rounded breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed.
Jessalyn recognized the look of admiration in Neil’s warm green eyes and knew that he meant it.
He leaned forward, cupped one smooth satiny globe in his hand, and touched his lips to the rosy center.
Jessalyn sucked in a breath at the wonderful sensation his tiny kiss evoked. Desire gripped her. Eager for more, Jessalyn tangled her fingers in Neil’s thick dark hair and held his head to her breasts. “Again,” she ordered.
Neil obliged. He touched and tasted and gently nipped at the hard bud with his teeth. And then, he suckled her and Jessalyn thought she might die of the pleasure as her nerve endings became gloriously alive and sent tiny electrical currents throughout her body, igniting her responses.
“It’s your turn,” he whispered when she lay writhing beside him. “To find out what a Sassenach turned Scotsman wears beneath his kilt. Undo my plaid. Touch me.” He sat up and leaned back on his heels to give her access to the knot at his waist.
Jessalyn lowered her gaze, then reached out and untied the knot that fastened the MacInnes plaid around his narrow hips. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. She had seen him naked before, but not like this, not this close, not kneeling before her on a bed. Jessalyn stared. He was beautiful. His wide shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, into slim hips and strong thighs. His chest was covered with dark curly hair that also tapered down into a long slim line which encircled his navel and pointed to the hard erection jutting from another thatch of dark curls. He was big. He was all male. He was completely aroused. And all hers. Jessalyn understood that he was capable of hurting her again, but he had promised not to. He had promised to give her pleasure and she intended to welcome it with open arms and to give it back in full measure. She placed her palms against his chest, then traced that intriguing arrow of rough hair down to its base. His skin rippled beneath her delicate touch, and he gasped aloud as she gripped him.
The feel of him caught her by surprise. She expected the hardness, but she never expected the exquisitely soft feel of the flesh that encased it. He was hard, yet velvety soft and the contrast intrigued her. She stroked him, experimenting with the feel and the motion of him. Neil quivered with pleasure and came very close to spilling himself in her hand as Jessalyn caressed him without shyness and with what could only be termed an innate talent.
“No more,” he muttered, leaning his head against her breast.
“More?” she asked, pumping him slowly and gently.
“No!” Neil reached between them and grabbed hold of her wrist to make her stop the exquisite torture.
“Don’t you like it?”
“I love it,” he groaned. “But there is a limit to how much I can endure before I spill myself in your hand.”
Jessalyn frowned. She was hot and achy and almost delirious with need and as much as she enjoyed the feel of him, spilling himself in her hand was not what she wanted. “Then tell me what comes next,” she ordered.
“I’d rather show you.” He let go of her wrist, sat back on his heels once again, grabbed her chemise by the hem and whisked it from around her waist, pushing up and over her head. Then he untied the tapes of her skirt and smoothed it over her h
ips and down her legs. Jessalyn kicked free of it and sighed with relief, welcoming her nakedness. Clothing had suddenly become a hindrance. She wanted to feel him against her skin.
Neil turned his attention back to her breasts. He dipped his head and trailed his tongue along the valley between them. He licked at the tiny beads of perspiration. The scent of her perfume teased his nostrils. It was warm, spicy, and all Jessalyn. He tasted the skin above her rib cage, trailed his tongue over her abdomen, circling her navel before dipping his tongue into the indention. And while Neil tasted her with his tongue, he teased her with his fingers. He skimmed his hands over the sensitive flesh covering her hipbones and outer thighs. He felt his way down her body with his hands, finally locating and tracing the deep grooves at the juncture of her thighs with the pads of his thumbs. Easing his way ever closer, Neil massaged the womanly flesh surrounding her mound, then tangled his fingers in the lush auburn hair covering it.
Jessalyn reached immediately, opening her legs ever so slightly to allow him greater access. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. Her anticipation rose to a fever pitch. She began to quiver and make little moaning sounds of pleasure as he traced the outer edge of her folds with his finger before gently plunging his finger inside. Jessalyn squirmed, arching her back to bring herself into closer contact with Neil. Neil gritted his teeth. The slick warm feel and the scent of her nearly drove him mad. The swelling in his groin grew until he was rock hard and close to bursting. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have her. He had to feel himself inside her, feel her surrounding him, feel them joined together the way men and women were meant to be joined.
Neil withdrew his fingers and placed his hands under Jessalyn’s hips, lifting her slightly as he leaned forward and positioned himself to enter her.
“I’m ready,” she said, squeezing her eyes closed, bracing herself for the unpleasant part.