He stopped just short of nuzzling it and turned his attention to her other leg. Lorelei nearly screamed in frustration. Something was building inside her…the little nub between her legs was throbbing, threatening to explode…just before he’d stopped short of letting that volcano erupt. She wanted to sit up and pull him back by his hair, but it was too much of an effort, since her insides were turning to mush. He lingered on her inner thigh this time, nibbling his way closer to her mound that felt dripping wet. He lapped at it lightly and Lorelei gasped. Then her back arched as he dipped into her core and swirled his tongue. She might have levitated off the bed except Alasdair pressed her hips firmly to the mattress while he continued his pleasurable torture. Just when she thought she could bear no more, he took her sensitive nub into his mouth and suckled. She thrashed and writhed but he didn’t release her, only suckled harder. She gulped air and her entire body spasmed as stars in wondrous colors sparkled around her. She gasped again and slowly the undulations began to subside.
Alasdair slid her legs off his shoulders and began kissing her stomach, trailing his way up to her breasts and neck once more. Finally, he rose up on either elbow and looked down.
“Ye are still a virgin. Do ye wish to remain so?”
She shook her head. “I want you.”
“Taing do Dhia!” He closed his eyes briefly. “Thank God!”
Then the hard, rounded tip of him nudged her entrance. She stretched wide as he began to push inside gently. Then he paused, leaned down to take her mouth with a demanding kiss, and he thrusted hard. A strong pinch of pain seared through her, but her cry was muffled in his kiss. He held still while he deepened the kiss and the pain began to subside. It felt strange to have his thickness inside her, filling her. Then he began to move.
Anticipation started to grow again, like a wave building into a swell before rising to its crest. Just when she thought it might crash, he slowed his movements, the wave of undulation smoothing and dissipating. Over and over, he brought her rising just to the peak of that crest. Every nerve ending tingled, her nub thrummed, her core pulsed, and still he continued to change his rhythm to keep her in the throes of near frenzy.
Finally, just when she thought she might go mad, he drove into her hard and fast. Her entire body trembled as wave after convulsive wave flowed through her. Dimly, she was aware of something hot spilling into her and Alasdair collapsing beside her. Slowly their rasping breaths turned to panting and then to almost normal.
“Now ye are mine,” he said.
Lorelei cuddled against him. “And you are mine.”
“Aye, lass. I always have been.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tendrils of fog curled up from the marshy area on the south bank of the Thames, nearly obscuring the dueling site of Battersea Fields. Mist rolled off the river, making the bleary landscape in the predawn light look gloomy and gray. Lorelei shivered in the cool air, although she wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the temperature. Any minute now, the Duke of Oakley would be arriving to duel with Alasdair.
He hadn’t wanted her to come. He’d made love to her more than once yesterday, but all that had done—besides sending her into sheer ecstasy once more—was convince her she needed to be here in case he were wounded. She’d told him that she was definitely—definitely—planning on having him in her bed for years but to do that she had to make sure he stayed alive.
So here she was, standing in the breaking light with Fiona, Louisa, and Anne, waiting for the inevitable to happen. She would have preferred her cousin hadn’t come—she and Devon had already clashed when they’d met—but Anne had made a remark yesterday about whether Alasdair was worthy of Lorelei. Fiona had bristled at that and insisted Anne come and see for herself. So here they all were.
Lorelei shivered once more as she watched Devon sharpening the sword before handing it off to his brother to check its weight and balance. Alasdair moved away from them to practice maneuvers that made the blade flash.
“Doona fash.” Fiona placed a reassuring hand on Lorelei’s arm. “My brother kens how to use that weapon.”
“So he said,” Anne said. “But the duke probably knows how to use one, too.”
Devon threw her a sharp glance. “Are ye insulting my brother?”
“I am only stating a fact.”
He scowled. “There is nae a Highlander—let alone aMacGregor—who will abide his woman doubting him.”
She raised a brow. “So you Scots expect women to fawn over you for no reason?”
“Nae reason?” He grinned suddenly. “I always give a woman good reason, Sassenach.”
And then he turned, picked up a second sword, and joined Alasdair in practice, leaving Anne to stare after him, her mouth agape. “How…howrude,” she said as she watched him engage with his brother.
“Never mind that,” Lorelei said. “What is important is that Devon is Alasdair’s second if…if…something goes wrong.”
“Nothing is going to go wrong,” Fiona said. “’Tis why Lord Mount Stuart is here.”
Lorelei glanced to where he stood by the carriages. She’d learned last night when Alasdair had come over—for arespectablevisit that had made her squirm with repressed desire—that the lord’s attempt at pacifying the duke had not been successful. Not that Alasdair had expected it to be. He’d said it was a father’s right to defend his daughter’s honor. Lorelei had managed to hold her comment on that, but it had been hard, knowing how manipulative Melissa had been.
She watched as Louisa’s brother pulled out his pocket watch. Normally, there would be a neutral third party present to signal the beginning of a duel, but since this was a highly unusual circumstance that involved a duke issuing the challenge, it had been decided that Lord Mount Stuart would be the official in charge to avoid creating yet another scandal.
“I wonder what is keeping Melissa’s father,” she said as Alasdair and Devon ceased their practice and walked back toward them. “The sky is lightening.”
“Mayhap your English duke decided he is nae a match for a Highlander,” Devon said as he laid his sword down.
