Chapter 18

Daemon had intended to take a walk around the walls, to assure himself that everything was quiet after the attack of the day before. His head still ached from the blow he'd received, and he'd hoped that some fresh air would ease the affliction.

He also needed some time away from that damned proposal. Cai and Ryan were right – the council was very much in favor of him marrying the MacLachlan lass as soon as possible. In fact, there was even a suggestion that the wedding be part of the upcoming festivities, to honor a new bride among the women of Clan MacMillan.

He'd refused that suggestion, saying that no one would remember what the day was truly about, if he chose to celebrate a wedding at the same time. It would defeat the purpose he had in mind – to honor every woman, not just a laird's wife.

The problem was, he'd yet to give them an answer on the proposal itself. He'd told the council he needed time to consider all the ramifications of such a union. The Elders had agreed to give him a day to contemplate the matter.

Looking at it as a laird, objectively, the match was a good one. One of the better ones he could make, with several benefits. The betrothal could even secure him extra warriors to aid MacLean, if he went about asking the proper way. The wisest course of action was to agree.

And yet, he balked. His heart argued against it, and no amount of wisdom or careful consideration could change the fact that he didn't want to marry Kathleen MacLachlan. He wanted someone else.

He wanted Lyla. He knew he shouldn't, but when he tried to picture a marriage to someone like Kathleen, it was Lyla's face that intruded. Lyla's face that made his blood heat in ways it hadn't since Rowan's passing.

He was still trying to wrestle his wayward thoughts into submission when he rounded the side of the courtyard and saw Ryan sitting with Lyla, his arms around her shoulders.

A jealous fury, hot and raw as a bonfire, roared up inside him, and it took all his control not to storm over, seize Ryan by the throat and heave him into the nearest wall. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from interrupting the two of them.

Lyla and Ryan broke apart and spun around to face him. Daemon wasn't sure what his face looked like, but Ryan stood up at once. "If ye'll excuse me, me laird." he dipped his head to Lyla. "Me lady, yer pardon."

Then he was gone, and Daemon was left staring down at Lyla, blood roaring in his ears. One part of his mind was appalled by his behavior. Another part of his mind was still snarling in jealous rage, demanding that he seek satisfaction from the man who had touched the woman he desired.

He swallowed hard and throttled back the irrational fury enough to speak. "I need tae have words with ye. Come with me." He scarcely waited for her to stand before turning on his heel and walking back toward the keep. His fists clenched under his cloak, his head pounding along with his heartbeat, a pulsing drum of rage and jealousy and shame that did nothing for his mood.

He was acting like a fool, and a savage, and he knew it. He simply couldn't find the strength within himself to stop it. Which meant he had to address it in another way, before he did something he'd never forgive himself for.

He made his way to the guest rooms he'd given Lyla and ushered her inside. She followed quietly enough, but as soon as the door was closed, she whirled to face him, her eyes bright with anger and indignation. "And what was that all about, Laird MacMillan?"

Daemon winced at the formal address. "Dinnae call me that."

"I'll call ye what I like, when ye're behaving like a perfect boor. Ryan was only after comforting me, and ye acted as if ye'd caught us fornicating in the garden!"

The mental image was like a slap between the eyes, and he winced again. "I ken. I'm out o' temper, and I acted poorly…"

"Ye acted a right bastard. Ryan is yer friend, and he was trying tae be kind. Ye'd nae right tae treat him so harshly, nor vent yer temper on either o' us." She glared at him. "I ken ye likely have a headache, and other concerns besides, but that's nae reason tae be snarling at people like a wounded bear."

Daemon growled as his control over his temper shredded away. "Devil take me headache, woman! That's nae the problem."

"Then what?"

"I dinnae ken why or how I've come tae feel so strongly fer ye, but I ken this much…" He stepped closer to her. "I dinnae want tae see any man touching ye. Nae Ryan, nae Cai – nae other man save me. I'll nae have it, unless ye want tae see how I earned me title as the devil's servant."

"As if ye've any right tae demand that!" She spat the words at him. She looked as if she was moments away from striking him. "Ye're out o' bounds, Daemon. Ye've nae right tae demand such things, when ye're tae be betrothed tae another."

Daemon jolted back. "What are ye…?"

"I heard about the proposal from Laird MacLachlan. And I'm a laird's daughter, schooled in the expectation o' making a good match. I ken what a union with MacLachlan's daughter will dae fer yer clan. Ye'd be a fool tae nae take the offer."

"Then I'm a fool, fer I'm nae betrothed and I willnae be." He hadn't meant to say the words, but as soon as they left his mouth, he knew he was speaking the truth. His anger cooled in the rush of that realization, irritation disappearing along with his indecision.

Lyla's fury faltered as her eyes widened. She swallowed hard, staring at him for a long moment before she managed to speak a single word. "What?"

"I'll nae be accepting the proposal, nor the betrothal. The council willnae like it, but the council can go hang."

Lyla looked as if he'd slapped her in the face. "Wh-why?"

"Because I cannae dae it, nae feeling as I dae about ye."

Lyla flushed. "Ye said we were tae forget about that." The heat flared in her eyes, and he felt an answering heat of a far different nature ignite in his gut as she folded her arms across her chest and tossed her head with a defiant glare. "Ye said it was wrong, and naething could ever come o' it. And now ye're after threatening tae hurt any man who looks twice at me?"

"Aye."

"Ye cannae have it both ways, Daemon."

"Then I willnae have ye with another man." Daemon took a deep breath and plunged ahead, feeling very much as if he'd just dived off a very high cliff. "I ken that I shouldnae feel this way, that I should hate these feelings, but I dinnae. The feelings ye've awoken in me feel less like poison and more like water in the desert. And I'm fair tired o' trying tae pretend otherwise."

"What are ye saying?"

"That whether I want tae or nae, I'm falling fer ye, Lyla MacDougall. Falling in love with ye, despite all that me good sense says I cannae. I cannae stop thinking o' ye, and I cannae stop the way ye make me feel."

"Ye mean, disappointed that I'm nae me sister."

"Nae at all." He stepped closer again. "I mean that ye make me feel alive, in a way I havenae felt in long seasons. Ye make me heart beat faster. Ye fill me head and me thoughts and dreams, and I'm through trying tae chase ye away."

"And what o' me feelings?" She stepped back again. "A fortnight ago, ye barely tolerated me. Less than a seven-day ago, ye were after calling me a foolish child with nae sense of the real world. Dae ye really expect me tae believe ye've changed yer mind so easily?"

"I have."

"And how am I tae believe that? What assurance dae I have that ye'll nae go back tae thinking o' me as a child, and pushing me away? Fer I'll nae be any man's plaything, tae be pulled close and given sweet words one moment, then pushed away and ignored the next."

"I'd nae dae that."

"Ye already have, if ye recall."

"And I regret every word I said this morn. I was being a fool again." He could feel his stomach churning, anger and heat and desire swirling like a thunderstorm inside him, demanding release.

"Daemon…"

He couldn't help it. The way her lips pressed together on the second syllable of his name caught him and pulled at him. Before he could think better of it, Daemon stepped forward, cupped her chin with his hand, and bent to kiss her.

His mouth claimed hers, gentle but insistent as he swallowed her soft gasp and his tongue found hers and caressed then inside of her mouth, memorizing the taste of her lips – honey and wine and fresh baked bread. His senses filled with her soft warmth, and her scent – sweetness and soft cotton, sunshine and faintest lingering hint of the flowers in his garden. He pulled her close and drank her in like a man dying of thirst drinks water.

He finally had to pull back for air, his blood burning and his groin aching so fiercely the previous feeling of a hammer in his skull was entirely forgotten. Every sense he had, every thought, was focused on the slender figure in his arms.

"Dae ye want me tae stop?" It was the last thing he wanted at that moment, to stop holding her, to stop kissing her. Even so, he wasn't so much of a beast that he would go against her wishes. Not in this. Never in this. What she made him feel was far too precious to ever be treated so callously.

Lyla blinked at him, her kiss swollen lips begging for more. He bent to kiss the side of her neck, the way he had the night before, and felt her shiver under the touch of his mouth.

"Dae ye want me tae stop?" It was painful to ask, but he needed to know her answer.

"What I want…" Lyla's voice was breathless and husky with the same raw need that consumed him. "...what I want is fer ye tae take me tae bed and show me what it's like tae experience everything I was reading about in that book I borrowed from ye."

Relief surged through him, along with another sharp burst of desire that tightened his gut and made his groin ache where his trews confined his stiffening manhood. "As me lady commands."

* * *

Her heart was pounding as Daemon lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Lyla shivered as his hands slid across her chest, undoing the laces of her bodice. Then his hands slid down her body, caressing the curves of her breasts, her belly, her hips and her legs before he reached the hem of her dress. "Will ye take it off fer me, Lyla?"

Her cheeks flushed, but she managed to sit up and meet his gaze. "Only if ye dae the same."

Daemon's eyes flashed, darkening with what looked like desire. Then a small, wicked smirk teased his mouth, and he rose from the bed. "As me lady commands."

The boots went first, then his belt. Lyla swallowed as he pulled away the sash, then undid the kilt and laid it aside. With Daemon clad only in his trews and shirt, she could see his arousal, straining against the fabric of his pants. Then he pulled off the shirt and tossed it aside, and her mouth went dry.

She'd known that Daemon kept himself in good shape, and she had felt the strength and swell of his muscles when they were pressed together in the closet. But it was one thing to feel them, another thing to see the way the tanned skin wrapped around well-defined biceps, and the outline of the muscles in his abdomen. His build reminded her of heroic statues she'd seen pictures of, but far more real. There were scars, marks that cut across in irregular patterns here and there, but somehow, they only added to his good looks, as if their presence enhanced the reality and the strength of him.

Daemon stepped toward the bed, and Lyla frowned. "I want tae see all o' ye."

"And ye will afore the night is over, lass, but I dinnae want tae go too far too fast. I ken ye're a maiden, and if we're going tae dae this, then ‘twill be done right, so ye ken the joys o' lovemaking well." His voice was a low, husky rumbled that made her shiver, though not with fear.

He stepped closer still, and raised his hand to caress her cheek. "Undress fer me now, Lyla."

She felt dazed by the heat of him, moving as if half caught in a dream as she pulled the dress up over her head and let it slide to the floor.

"Chemise too." He smirked at her. "Unless ye want me tae take it off ye."

Lyla felt a shiver of nerves, but she'd never been one to shy away from doing something simply because it unnerved her. She met his gaze with her own and lifted her chin in a silent challenge. Her face burned, but even so, she managed to maintain eye contact as she slowly drew the undergarment up, until she pulled it over her head and sent it to join the dress.

Daemon's breath hissed between his teeth, but the heat in his gaze held nothing of anger. "Och... ye'll be the death o' me." He stroked her cheek, her chin, then kissed her, long and slow and deep until she felt nearly light-headed with lack of air. "Lie back on the bed fer me, Lyla."

She did as he asked, sliding back to lie against the pillows. She could feel herself blushing furiously, and there was a part of her that wanted to curl up and hide. She felt exposed, unnerved by the intensity of Daemon's gaze, and yet also excited.

She recalled some of what she'd read, and hesitantly parted her thighs as she raised her hands to lay them on the pillows beside her head.

Daemon gave a guttural groan, eyes closed and face tight with concentration before he took a deep breath and looked at her again. He sat on the bed and reached out to toy with her hair, his eyes now full of humor and desire mixed. "Ye minx. Innocent as yer are, and still ye try me control. Let me guide ye, or I'm like tae embarrass meself."

For a long moment, he simply sat there, his hand carding through her hair. "Yer hair, ‘tis so soft. Like silk. Silk and the velvet sky between the stars. I love the look o' it, the way it shines and flows when ye move, or in the sunlight."

Daemon moved then, shifting his body and flinging a leg across her hips to straddle her so that he was crouched above her. His white-blond hair fell around his face like a snowfall, lending him a slightly feral, otherworldly look. "I love looking at ye. These last days, I've thought o' little else but yer beauty."

He kissed her again, then tilted his head to kiss the point of her jaw. Lyla shivered as he nipped at her ear, and Daemon chuckled. The sound sent sparks dancing through her, a shiver of sensation that went to her core and filled her with warmth. "Always so honest, so responsive, in everything ye dae. I love that about ye, even when ye're driving me tae madness with yer ways. Being with ye is like trying tae tame the wind, or coax a queen o' cats tae sit beside ye."

He kissed her throat, above the pulse point, then the junction of her neck and shoulder. Lyla gasped again as he bit down, gently but enough to sting. He caressed the spot with is tongue. "There now. Now ye have me mark, so ye and everyone else can ken ye're mine, that I've claimed ye."

She should have felt mortified by that, but instead, she felt only a kind of pride, and enjoyment, and a desire for more. "Aye."

Daemon traced kisses to her chest. "Yer skin is so soft, and the scent o' ye…" He nuzzled between her breasts and inhaled deeply. "I could drink it in fer hours, the sweetest flower ever tae bloom."

Lyla shivered, then twitched and cried out in surprise as his mouth latched onto her right breast, his tongue teasing the nipple into a hard peak as his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin. The sensation sent a bolt of sensation like lightning through her, straight to her core.

"Did I hurt ye?" Daemon had pulled back, and was looking at her with concern. Lyla shook her head, too breathless to manage anything more.

One hand came up to toy with her right breast, while his mouth fastened on her left. Lyla writhed under his touch as the sensations flashed through her like a heatwave, as if his mouth was setting her ablaze. By the time he stopped, she was tingling all over, her body begging for more.

Daemon slid down her, kissing a path down her belly. Every kiss was like being touched with coals, burning and yet pleasant all at the same time. Then Daemon's tongue swirled around her navel and plunged deep inside, and Lyla arched into his mouth as another bolt of sensation passed through her. She'd never imagined her skin was so sensitive there.

Daemon's hands slid to her hips, then her thighs. "Spread yer legs more fer me, Lyla. Open yerself tae me."

She was too breathless, and too overwhelmed by need to refuse. Her body felt hot, and tingling, like a sunburn, but under that lay a desperate desire for more. For more heat, more pleasure. More of him.

Daemon dipped his head and nuzzled the damp curls that adorned her sex. His breath teased the soft hairs, and Lyla shifted restlessly at the feeling, her hips shifting as if of their own accord toward him.

Daemon chuckled, and the sensation danced across her nerves, like the time she'd stuck her hand in a shower of sparks when the blacksmith was sharpening steel, to see what they felt like. She whimpered, and Daemon laughed again. "Ye're so ready and willing, already wet fer me, despite yer innocence."

She heard him inhale deeply. "The scent o' yer arousal, the feel o' ye, soft and pliant and willing, in me arms, the way ye trust me so easily... I love those things about ye. I didnae ken I would, but I dae. Ye're maddening, Lyla, but ‘tis a madness I've never wanted more."

Lyla gave a strangled cry, her whole body reacting as Daemon licked her, his tongue tracing the lips of her sex from where her hips touched the bed. His tongue was slightly rough and warm and damp, and the feel of it stroking over her most sensitive and secret places was like being set afire. Without thought, Lyla arched into Daemon again.

Daemon licked her again, a long smooth stroke that felt like being branded. Then his tongue slipped inside her to caress the inner folds of her sex, and Lyla writhed, squirming in his grip. Daemon's hands held her fast, anchoring her in place as he lapped at her arousal and teased her skin with his mouth.

She was burning with desire and drowning in pleasure at the same time, her body begging for more even as the sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Every touch of Daemon's mouth seemed to drive her higher.

His tongue plunged deep, then slid upward through her folds, and Lyla gasped as he found a sensitive spot. The sensation of his tongue there was so much, she couldn't help tossing her head back and moaning.

Daemon chuckled, then bent his head and laved the spot, before suckling gently there.

Pleasure crashed over her like a wave, and Lyla's entire body shook as her release swept her up, carrying her away on a tide of sensation. Daemon lapped at the fluids of her release with the same enthusiasm he'd tasted her arousal, and Lyla shivered as another shock wave spread through her.

Daemon stood, and Lyla blinked at him. Her body was singing from the pleasure she'd experienced, her mind so dazed she barely understood what was going on. She'd never imagined anything could feel like this.

Daemon loosened the ties of his trousers and let them fall to the ground. Lyla's breath caught at the sight of his erect manhood, thick and rigid with blood as it sprang free of the confining fabric. "Daemon…"

Daemon moved back to the bed, caressing her face. "Dinnae fear, lass."

He moved to kneel between her legs this time, the tip of his shaft teasing the sensitive skin of her belly as he bent over her and kissed her gently but thoroughly. Lyla shivered as the feeling of sparks began again, her breath quickening as Daemon rocked back, his member leaving a trail of heat and moisture from his own arousal along her belly.

"Daemon, I want ye…" Lyla begged.

"Are ye sure? There is nay goin' back from here," Daemon whispered with concern.

"Aye, I am certain," she said gazing directly into his yes.

Daemon held her eyes, watching her as he guided the tip of his shaft to the entrance of her sex, then slowly slid the head inside the folds of her body. The sensation was strange, a stretching, burning, full sensation that balanced right at the razor thin edge between pleasure and pain.

Lyla caught her lip between her teeth, her breath coming raggedly as Daemon slowly slid deeper inside her, past the folds of her sex, and into her core. Her body felt like it was expanding around his girth, painful and yet wonderful at the same time.

Daemon groaned as she shifted on the bed. "Och, lass…" His breath was as uneven as hers as he bent to touch his forehead to hers. "Ye're so hot, so tight and soft and welcoming, I feel like I'm going tae burn alive. Ye feel so good, ‘twould be a death worth having."

He slid deeper still, then froze. Lyla felt the pressure against a thin barrier inside her. Daemon's mouth claimed hers, his hand teasing her breast as his hips thrust forward to break the obstruction. Pleasure and pain spiraled through her like a whirlwind, and Lyla cried out.

Daemon stopped. "Are ye all right?"

Even in the time it took for him to ask the question, the short, sharp pain that accompanied the claiming of her maidenhead was fading. In its wake, she felt desire. Need. "Aye. Daemon, please…"

Daemon moved then, slowly pressing deeper into her, into her core, until he was fully sheathed inside her, his shaft filling her. For a moment, it burned, the unexpected sensation of being stretched and filled slightly unpleasant. Then the moment passed, and she felt only need. She shifted against him. "Daemon, please…"

"So ready fer me... dae ye ken what it daes tae a man, tae hear a woman call his name in the throes o' passion? ‘Tis like I'm drunk on ye, drunk with desire fer ye." Daemon rocked his hips, sending a wave of heat through her as he began to thrust.

Time ceased to have any meaning as Daemon made love to her with his mouth and his hands and his manhood. Their bodies rocked together, setting up a rhythm that rocked through them and into the bed. Every movement sent another wave of heat and pleasure dancing through her. Every touch of his hands or his lips was like being caressed by coals.

The heat and pleasure spiraled higher and higher, farther and faster than before. Above her, Daemon's face was wild, eyes burning like sunlight on the water. The need and desire rendered her breathless, adding another layer of sensation as he continued to pump in and out of her.

She was burning... she was going to go up in flames like a phoenix, she was caught in a firestorm of passion the likes of which no book could ever convey.

Daemon's mouth claimed hers again, breath passing raggedly between them. The rhythm of his movements hitched. "I'm close."

He bent, and his breath slid along her ear like a caress of the wind. "Come fer me, Lyla. Let go, and give yerself tae me completely."

He nipped her earlobe, and once again, the wave of pleasure and heat crashed over her, sweeping her away on a tide of sensation as her release claimed her. Lyla cried out as her body arched against Daemon's.

Daemon stiffened, and she felt his release as another wave of sensation as he pumped his seed deep into her core. Her body shuddered under it in a second release, and the world disappeared as all thought vanished into a haze of pleasure and warmth.

Lyla came to her senses to find Daemon slumped against her. He'd withdrawn from her body, which was still humming from the feelings he'd produced, and his arms were wrapped around her. She felt drained, utterly content and utterly spent. She only wanted to lie there and listen to him breathe.

She knew they should clean themselves up, but the languor that possessed her was too great. With a sigh, Lyla curled closer to Daemon, and surrendered herself to sleep.