Chapter Eighteen

She closed her eyes while heat spread up from her chest, into her neck and face.

His kiss was bold, and beautifully warm and now familiar. Sorcha opened eagerly to him, and he slipped his tongue inside at the same time he drew her closer with an arm around her waist. The swift jerk of that action triggered a greater hunger in her. At the same time there was great satisfaction at such a display of urgency. The warmth of his kiss turned to fire, which pulsed in her veins, same as it had every time their mouths met. Sorcha slid her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her at the same time she stood on her toes, wanting to climb up on him, to be as close as was possible. She threaded her fingers through his hair, surprised to find it damp, but then was mindless to such a small matter when his kiss was so bone melting.

His kiss was so much like him, fierce and possessive, inspired by an arrogant grace, and yet somehow as unfathomable as the man for how it consumed her.

She swirled her tongue with his, deepening the kiss, drinking in the lush fullness of her own response. With just a kiss her body quivered and ached for more.

Augustus's hands moved to her bottom, yanking her against his hard body. Her reaction was unbridled, swaying her hips and belly against him, well aware of what was obvious, his growing desire for her.

Everything was different now, as if some deeper longing had been waiting for only this, to find them alone, behind a closed door so that they could tease and taste and explore freely.

"As sorry as I am that likely you've not slept," she said against his lips, a wee breathless, "I am glad that I did find a bit of slumber. Keep me awake all night, Augustus."

To her chagrin, he straightened away from her at these words, his eyes glittering as he stared down at her. For one horrifying, nearly inconceivable moment, she feared he would say now he really did need his sleep.

"Aye, we've all night and thus nae need to rush," he said thickly, offering instant relief from her wayward concern. He placed his hands on her cheeks again, drawing her up to his kiss, which was heated but brief. "I want to love ye all night long, lass, many times."

His hands were huge and rough, and she loved absolutely everything about that, how they felt against her soft cheeks, the strength realized, the possessive way he handled her.

"Have you wanted that for a long time?" As ridiculous as it was, she felt as if her desire for him was years old and mammoth for having not been fulfilled.

"Nae," he answered, causing a womanly distress to rise until he finished. "only since first I saw ye."

Indeed, desire flashed in the blue depths of his eyes.

Her smile was instant and appreciative, selfishly gratified to know she'd not been alone in her fascination.

"I want to undress you," she said, having arrived at this decision just now and having spoken it before she'd thought it through, immediately worrying that she didn't know how or that the tantalizing act itself would make her shaky and giddy at the same time.

The look he gave in response to this, a softening of his intense features and a gaze filled with awe, as if he'd waited forever to hear her say just that, emboldened her beyond her own insecurity. In more than a year together, she'd never undressed Finn.

Augustus separated himself from her and outstretched his arms. A shadowy, lazy grin lifted his lips. "I'm all yours."

Longing drew her toward him, one step at a time, while she considered all the garments covering him, wondering where to begin.

"Start with the belt," he suggested helpfully.

Her fingers shook with anticipation as she unbuckled the leather belt, pulling the prong free from the buckle. She pulled it off him, around to the front, and because of the sword and scabbard attached to it, she laid it carefully on the floor beside them. The plaid was hence freed, and she raised her arms, gathering the weight of it from his shoulders, and drawing it away from his body. Men were particular about their plaids, maybe earls and lairds even more so, she imagined. She lifted a hesitant gaze to him, not sure how to proceed, how to fold it properly.

Augustus plucked the heavy breacan from her hands and carelessly tossed it aside. "I'm nae interested in that so much as I am in how ye will proceed."

Frankly, her own interest was piqued wildly as well. She'd already been gifted a glimpse of his chest and her hands ached to acquaint themselves with his body. And at his waistline, inescapable, the evidence of his erection inside his breeches had managed to gather heat between her legs.

Sorcha reached for his tunic, her nervous fingers lifting it upward. His stomach rippled with muscle as she moved the linen fabric up over it, his arms flexed as he raised them obligingly over his head. His dark nipples and sculpted chest were revealed as the tunic was dropped to the floor.

Slowly, her gaze wandered over him, wanting to know every inch of flesh. He was large and broad and muscled in ways previously unimaginable to her. Scars and wounds, old and new, decorated his warrior's body. She had thought him impressive atop his huge destrier the very first day she had met him, had thought him intimidating and fearsome, and yet undeniably handsome. Here, now, stripped of his tartan and sword, standing before her as an undressed man, wearing his scars as badges of honor, while his chest rose and fell with his increased breathing as he patiently allowed her to look her fill, he was beyond magnificent.

But a frown came, when she spied the slice across his skin that she herself had bandaged but that was not wrapped now. Gingerly, she reached out toward the fresh tear in his skin, one of many, and opened her mouth to question his neglect of it.

"I discarded the linen strip when I bathed," he said. "And truth be known, lass, it dinna need wrapping. I gave in to yer concern last night so that ye would nae fash about it."

She was unperturbed by this, having begun to believe he might be invincible.

After a fleeting glance into his eyes, which found his regard trained fiercely upon her, Sorcha extended her hand and touched the tips of her fingers to the slight matting of hair covering his chest. Blood pounded throughout her veins. His body pulsed with vitality, and she was briefly smitten by how small, white, and soft her hand appeared against his broad, hard body, his skin being several shades darker than her own.

In truth she was overwhelmed, but in the sense of a hungry child set before a feast, delighted and eager.

Again she met his dark gaze. "You are beautiful, Augustus," she said, a sweet reverence creeping into her tone. She thought to add a practical point. "And we haven't even gotten to the good part."

A burst of laughter erupted from him, surprising her. And then he tossed back his head and his laughter continued, nothing but joy in the sound. His laughter was rich and velvety, and twice as lovely for how genuine and pure it sounded.

Sorcha was breathless, in awe of his merriment.

In the midst of his laughter he closed the distance between them and took her up in his arms, kissing her softly, quickly. "Nae, lass," he said, still smiling against her lips. "We've nae uncovered the guid part yet." His fingers teased the flesh at the outside of her shoulder, sliding along her skin under the narrow sleeve of her shift. He lowered his head and kissed her bare shoulder. "Like silk," he murmured, "as I ken it would be. Beneath yer shift, love, or in yer blue eyes when sunlight hits them, and in yer smile—aye, there's the guid parts."

Truth be told, her heart melted right then and there. Such beautiful words. And mayhap they were only words uttered by a practiced seducer—her sphere of reference was decidedly limited—but she loved them all the same, and she blissfully judged them sincere.

He ravished her once more with his kiss, licking and tasting, and moved his hands up her back, weaving his strong fingers into the thick length of her hair, far more damp than his. A shiver engulfed her, but she was restored, nearly to cleverness, when he drew forward her hand and laid it over the waistband of his breeches.

"Get to this guid part, lass, so I can get to mine," he whispered against her cheek.

She fumbled a bit over the three buttons of his breeches but had little trouble with the drawstring of his braies beneath and tugged the cord loose as well. At the same time he began cinching up the fabric of her shift in her hands, Sorcha pushed down his breeches and braies past his lean hips. She gave them a final shove downward, all that she had time for, before Augustus had her shift gathered and she was compelled to lift her arms over her head. Her long, loose hair was the last thing tangled in the linen before that was sent away and she stood naked before him. A half foot of space separated them now but she didn't want that, and reached for him, wanting to feel the length of him pressed against her.

"Wait, love," he said, toeing off his boots and the garments that had dropped to his ankles.

And then they were both utterly and wonderfully bare.

Unable to resist, Sorcha's gaze fell onto his erection jutting out from a tangle of curly black hair. She whimpered at the sight of his manhood, tall and swaying, and desire exploded inside her.

Augustus's indrawn breath, at the sight of her nakedness, wrenched her gaze from the confirmation of his longing. She watched him study her, his mouth slowly opening as his gaze traveled slowly across her body. Her nipples tightened under the intensity of his blue eyes. She imagined that never before had she felt so worshipped and adored—and seen. Cool air kissed her skin, but then Augustus's heated gaze quickly scorched her flesh, everywhere his eyes touched.

Sorcha drew in her own deep breath.

Being naked with him, her body craving his touch and feverishly anticipating what was to come did not bring the expected guilt she'd long suspected. For quite some time, she'd wondered how she feel and behave in this moment, if a sense of betrayal would assail her, but it did not. She only tucked Finn's memory deeper inside, safe from intrusion. She wavered but briefly, a wee fearful of her own desire for Augustus. Since learning of Finn"s death, there were nights when she lay awake, grappling with an emptiness that should have been filled by Finn. This desire now, for Augustus, was different. It resonated within her, overpowering all rationality. It screamed inside her, burning away all sensible thought. Her body pulsed with need. She could not douse it, she knew, it simply was not possible. Only Augustus could bring to life and quench the flame of her desire.

When she could no more bear the distance between them, she made it go away, stepping into his arms, searching for his kiss. Their naked chests collided, hard against soft, and they moaned their pleasure in harmony, into their kiss.

Longing to touch him she moved her hand, wanting to tangle her fingers in the dark hair at his chest. Sliding her hand upward from his waist, she felt Augustus tense. He paused his kiss to groan his pleasure as she boldly slid her hand across the flat hard flesh at his stomach. She kept going, her fingertips inching upwards until her hand settled with titillating satisfaction over his magnificent chest. Boldly, she allowed herself to explore once more, caressing the sculpted muscles and short, wiry hair. Beneath her fingers, his heart pounded almost as rapidly as her own.

Augustus held her in his steely grip, suddenly possessed of six hands it seemed, on her back and her bare buttocks, in her hair, and most satisfyingly, coming round her front and cupping her breast. The roughness of his hand made her skin tingle. Callouses grazed the underside of her breast as he stroked his thumb down the pebble of her nipple. Lowering his head, he kissed her breast and she trembled. Shafts of pleasure darted from her breast to her belly. Her breasts were small and firm and he took almost all of it in his mouth and moved his tongue around her nipple in deliciously slow circles. She slid her hands around his back as he stroked her with his tongue until the peak was rigid. Sorcha groaned her pleasure, all of which moved from the touch of his tongue, down through her belly, and lower to the very core of her. A fleeting thought of it's been too long, was squashed by the reality that it had never felt like this.

He lavished attention on one breast and then the other before he molded her breast with one hand and pulled her against him with the other, returning to her lips, his tongue slick inside her mouth.

He kissed her deeply, their bodies pressed together, his hand and tongue bedeviling her, and Sorcha struggled to focus on each sensation individually. She wanted it all, every tingling bit of pleasure, and squirmed, needing to feel his rigid hardness pressing against her.

"I'm trying to keep it slow," he whispered, the slightest quiver in his deep voice. "Ye want it now, or do ye want to savor it?"

"I want you. Everything. Yes,"

A soft chuckle answered this. "Aye, love." And he kissed her again.

Moving her hand down, she slipped it between them, encountering first the soft tip of him and a dewy drop of his pleasure. She closed her fingers around the thick length of his erection. She squeezed gently.

A low groan came from his throat and his kiss stalled briefly.

Gliding her hand up and down the length of him sent her pulse racing faster. When she did it again, his hips lurched forward. She sighed with delighted anticipation, wanting so badly to have him inside her.

The next moments were crowded with pleasure. While she stroked him and luxuriated in the feel of him, how hard and hot he was, Augustus rolled her nipple with his thumb and moved a hand between her thigh, delving into the pale curly hair. He slid one long finger over her, stroking back and forth, finding that place that was filled with so much sensitivity, teasing her, torturing her, before pressing deep inside her, stroking until her hand stopped moving against him and her breath stopped coming.

"Jesu, lass, but ye're wet for me," he seethed tightly against her.

She purred a low, keening sound when he withdrew his finger and she stared, befuddled when he pulled away from her. He paused and looked down at her, his gaze alight with some scalding need, and took her hand, leading her toward the narrow bed, where he sat down at the side. His erection strained mightily between his powerful thighs. He pulled his arm toward himself, bringing Sorcha to him.

Sorcha went willingly, needfully, meaning to sit beside him.

"Nae," he said, steering her between his legs.

He laid his hands at her hips and brought her breast to his mouth and there began another tender assault. Setting her hands on his shoulders, she gave herself up to the thrill of each nip of his teeth and every lick of his tongue. A shiver of liquid heat shot through her, and she arched into his touch, threading her fingers into his soft, thick hair.

His scorching caress soon had Sorcha agitated with need, an overwhelming need to be everything to him, all at once and forever.

Just as she imagined she would explode with yearning, the hands at her hips shifted and he wrenched his face from her breasts. Deliberatley, he met and held her gaze, and she wondered if her eyes and countenance looked as his, tortured by need, rigid with furious desire, eyes burning with urgency.

Moving a hand to the back of her thigh, he guided her to straddle him before both hands returned to her hips and he positioned her above his swollen manhood.

He lowered her downward and Sorcha gasped silently as the tip slid inside her slick entrance. A shudder embraced her and her entire body clenched with joy when Augustus brought her down at the same time he thrust upward, filling her completely.

As her body took him in, he leaned back and watched her. Face to face, Sorcha returned his molten stare. Her mouth opened in awe, but she could imagine no words to describe the glorious feel of him seated fully inside her.

"This is a guid part as well," he ground through his teeth, as if restraining himself.

"The best part," she agreed on a breathless sigh.

Again, his hands flexed, and Sorcha obediently lifted herself up and lowered herself back down onto his throbbing shaft. Repeatedly, she rose and fell, groaning deeper and louder every time she came down on him. Augustus claimed her breasts with his hands and mouth and bucked up against her until he growled, "Ye mean to kill me," and deftly swung them around, tossing her back on the bed.

There, he drove deeper inside her and she whimpered with a new thrill at the force of his thrusts, clutching his shoulders. Every nerve in her body sang with sensuous delight. She wrapped her thighs around his hips and lifted herself to meet each perfect plunge. A coiling sensation knotted deep inside her. A kaleidoscope of color swam before her eyes.

His tongue swept across her lips and into her mouth, and she took as much as she gave, pulling him closer and deeper inside her.

She sent her fingers into his hair again and clasped tightly as the magic inside her blossomed, growing, threatening to burst into flames. She arched up at him, wanting him to put out this fire. Her body clenched and ached. She stood on a precipice and had never wanted so badly to fall.

And then it came, the sweet oblivion, and she shook with a moan, locked within his embrace, whimpering as her heart soared and her body thrummed with exquisite ripples of pleasure. Sorcha clung to him and whispered his name.

As she rode the wave of her release, Augustus reared back and plunged softly now, his face twisted in gorgeous agony.

Clenching herself around him, Sorcha watched with languid eyes as he writhed and then stiffened and a hoarse cry was torn from his lips, pleasure that she had wrought in him. A moment later, he collapsed on top of her, and they remained locked together, spent, his face buried in her neck, and their bodies slick.

She didn't want to move, couldn't move.

Long moments later, she decided right then and there that the saddest sensation in all the world was the feeling of him sliding out from within her as he shifted onto his side against her.

"Dinna do that again," he said against her hair, his breathing labored still. His hand sat softly on the middle of her stomach.

"Do what?" she asked, feeling as if she were only half conscious.

"Try to kill me."

Even her smile was drained, and her lips quivered as they tried to move.

"?Twould be a beautiful death," she supposed.

"Aye, it would."

Sorcha turned her face toward him and exalted in the way he immediately kissed her, tender and soft.

"Ye smell of roses, by the way," he said.

"Mm. I wanted to give every coin in my possession to the proprietress, for how singularly glorious she'd made my bath."

Curving himself against her, compelling her to shift onto her side, and cradling her breast in his hand, Augustus's breath and words came at her hair and cheek.

"Sleep now, lass, for I fear I'll nae be able to resist waking ye soon."

Smiling sublimely, Sorcha snuggled against him and wondered how sleep would be possible with his glorious naked body tucked against her and his loving now known and already cherished.

She curled her ankle and foot around his calf, wanting to keep him near, as close as possible.

***

Sweet dreams were snuffed out by a knock that sounded firm and yet intentionally soft.

Sorcha opened her eyes but did not move.

The voice of Augustus's captain, Geddy, came through the door. "Aye, lass, and we're needing to get going as fast as ye can. We canna find the laird and will want to get a search on anon."

Sorcha's eyes widened and she lifted her face off Augustus's chest to find that he was awake, comfortably so, his arm bent under his head. The arm around her flexed and his hand stroked up and down her back.

"Lass, are ye awake?" Geddy called.

Augustus looked at Sorcha, his expression asking an obvious question. She shrugged sleepily and whispered, "It's fine."

"I'm here, Geddy," Augustus then called out, "but there's nae need to bandy that about. We'll be down shortly."

Geddy's response, though awkward, came swiftly and with a hint of scolding, "Aye, but ye just bandied it yerself to the lads with me."

Augustus used the heel of his palm to rub at his brow with some frustration. "Await us below," he instructed.

Soft footfalls carried the men away from the door. Unperturbed, Sorcha dropped her head back down, too pleasantly imbued with memories of last night to concern herself with so small a thing as who knew what.

Augustus's hand again caressed her naked back.

A moment later, he offered, "I can exit via the back door and—."

"Do not play games on my account, Augustus. I feel no shame for what we've done. And quite frankly, I don't think it will come as a surprise to many."

"For the way I look at ye?"

She let out a small laugh against the heat of his hard chest, her heart thrilled. "I was suggesting that the way I sometimes stare at you must be quite telling."

Beneath her, his muscles flexed and tightened as he moved. Pulling himself up, Sorcha was forced away and then easily onto her back. Augustus hovered over her, his elbows on either side of her shoulders. He kissed her tenderly, lingering over her lips.

"Might be, lass, this is the last bed we see for a while," he said.

Her eyes remained closed, and she wore a serene smile. "A fine thing, then, that we put it to such good use."

He had indeed woken her during the night and had loved her again, tenderly, slowly, until as before passion made them wild and she'd not whispered but had cried out his name.

"Had we time, I would use it again," he said now, laying a kiss on each of her closed eyes.

"You'll have to be sustained by memory of the two occasions it was used," she teased.

"I feel a failure," he said, which promptly opened her eyes and knit her brow. "I hinted at many times and fell far short."

Her lips curved again, and her eyes softened. "I imagine that even the Rebel of Lochaber Forest needs to sleep. Mayhap your efforts should be judged on quality and not quantity."

A grin teased his gorgeous mouth. "A guid plan," he said. "We'll abide by that."

Augustus kissed her smiling lips once more and retreated.

They rose at the same time, retrieving garments from the floor, smiling often and languorously at each other while they dressed. The water that remained in the ewer was cold, but she scrubbed her face and teeth and shoved her feet into her boots before gathering the MacKenzie plaid around her shoulders over her battered cloak.

When all their scarce possessions were returned to their persons, Augustus took her hand and led her from the chamber.

His languid kisses and playful good morning filled her with a warm and lovely feeling. If he'd simply risen to Geddy's alarm and had donned his clothes and taken his leave with barely a glance at the bed or a word for her, she'd likely have assumed his desire had been met, her purpose had been served, and he had no further need of her.