His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (best mobile ebook reader .TXT) 📗

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The gray light of dawn was filtering into the room when Tavis suddenly found himself awake. A tautness in his loins told him why. Lifting his head from the satiny breast it was pillowed against, he stared thoughtfully at the sleeping Storm as his need grew steadily.

He had no more worries about Alexander MacDubh. She had convinced him that, as long as he still wanted her, she would share no other man's bed. Tavis felt a definite sense of male pride.

It was replaced by an angry regret. Here was a woman he would feel no qualms about taking to wife. Not only would he have no fears of being cuckolded, but he would not need to seek out another woman, go through all the trouble and expense of seduction and tokens of appreciation. Storm's passion and lack of inhibition in the bedroom would be enough to keep him faithful. There was not the greed, dishonesty or hardness in her that had driven him from one woman to another. It was all for naught, however, for there could never be such a connection between their families.

Shaking off a sudden pain-ridden sense of depression, he eased the covers off of her, letting his gaze linger as he pleased, where he pleased. At last his gaze settled upon the juncture of her slim thighs and, rising, he parted her legs slightly and knelt between them.

There was one thing he had long wanted to do, but had held back in respect for her innocence, increasing the intimacies he took gradually. It was an act that he had rarely performed, but had ached to do so since he had first made love to her. He realized with a start that one reason was because he was assured of her cleanliness. Although he had not consciously noted it, a number of the women he had bedded over the years were plainly not all that fond of soap and water. Many truly believed it unhealthy to immerse oneself in water or to bathe with any regularity. Storm washed daily, and he liked that.

Bending, he saluted her breasts, watching as the nipples hardened in response to his tongue's ministrations. She murmured sleepily and stirred, but her eyes did not open as he made his way slowly down her body. His hand went to the heart of her and his eyes went from his fingers, where they tangled in the copper curls, to her face to watch as she and her passion slowly awakened. Suckling gently at her breasts, he let his fingers probe and caress her with a boldness she had not allowed before. When he judged her nearly awake, struggling to sort dream from reality, his gaze returned to the treasures his hands were fully enjoying, watching for a moment as his fingers continued their play. With caressing hands upon her thighs, he spread her legs wider and touched his lips to the center of her passion. When she did not flinch away as once before he knew his unorthodox methods had gained him his prize, and he proceeded to fully savor the sweetness of her.

Storm had sensed his touch early on in the game. Even as she had continued to wake up, her passion gaining strength, she had enjoyed the sense of being in a dream world. It had allowed her to luxuriate in caresses that were bolder than he had made before. When his lips first touched her so intimately the sense of being in a dream kept her from tensing, allowing her to enjoy the pleasure her reticence had denied her. By the time she realized he was lingering as he had never done before, she was already caught in a nearly overwhelming passion, needing the hands that kneaded her backside, holding her steady, as she writhed beneath his intimate caresses.

Again and again he brought her to the very brink of release until she clutched at his shoulders in near desperation. "Please, acushla, no more. I need ye, my fona." She shuddered with pleasured relief as he slowly possessed her. "Cushlamochree."

She clung to him as he sent her spiraling into that land only lovers discover. Her name broke from his lips as he drove deeply to find his own release while she was still in the tight grip of hers. It was awhile before he had the energy to break off their intimate embrace, turn onto his back and pull her into his arms. His fingers traced the newly healed wound on her shoulder, which had kept him in her bed but out of her arms and had added to his current greed for her. Briefly he thought about apologizing for his accusations about Alexander, but he fell into a sated sleep before he could get the words out.

"I love ye, Tavis," Storm whispered, knowing he could not hear her, smiled at her foolishness and, snuggling up to him, joined him in sleep.

Chapter Twelve

Tavis heartily wished that he had not agreed to Storm's plan as he looked at her. The lad's outfit she now wore showed her soft curves far too plainly. His men would enjoy themselves, and he was not fond of that knowledge at all. He recognized his possessiveness but told himself that any man would feel so about a woman who gave him so much pleasure in the night and had never done so with any other man. It was a natural feeling that sprang from being the first and the only.

"Ye are looking at me most strangely, Tavis," Storm commented as she tied back her hair.

"I was just thinking that, for a skinny lass, ye are showing a muckle lot of curves."

Storm fought down a blush. " 'Tis a bit snug, but it will serve. I so long for a ride."

"Are ye sure your shoulder is up to it?"

He grabbed her by the hair, gently tugging her into his arms.

"Ye did not seem concerned about it last night. Nay, nor this morning."

His lips