The Thistle and the Rose Page 18

  Celia's back straightened where she sat. For all she knew, Argyll had drained the wealth and the lifeblood from one woman already. Celia was not about to become his second victim.

  Before the door was completely open, Celia had rolled out the big bed, fully awake, her sword in hand. Melting into the dark shadows created by the partially drawn curtain of the bed and the flickering light of the brazier, Celia tried to focus on the huge shape coming through the door. She knew who it was before he even closed the door.

  “Er...Jack. It's Colin,” he whispered into the darkness. “Do not cut my throat before my eyes adjust to this light.”

  Celia smiled and stepped from the shadow.

  Colin's heart skipped a beat. Even in the dim light of the brazier's flames, Celia was exquisite. She had rid herself of the boy's clothing that had revealed nothing of her femininity. Instead, she now was wearing his own shirt as a nightshift. He had never seen anything as homely as his own shirt transformed so completely with such exotic, alluring power.

  She had washed off the dirt that had hidden the beauty of her face, and her eyes sparkled like black diamonds.

  “What are you doing here?” Celia whispered, surprised that he had come back to her room.

  “That's not my kind of party down there. But damn it, why did you have to wash up?” he growled. Colin had thought that he might be able to control his desires if she looked like Jack, but this was going to be pure torture.

  “Wash up? Don't be ridiculous. I was filthy. Besides, I asked you what you're doing here. In this room!” she said. “I thought you were going to share Alec's room tonight.”

  “I would much prefer sleeping with you than with Alec,” Colin joked as he moved away from the door and walked toward the bed. “Not to mention that Argyll walked us up here. It would have been very difficult to explain why my squire should get his own room while Alec and I shared a bunk.”

  “But...this...we...is not proper at all,” she said, feeling shy, uncertain, and not a little bit self-conscious. The reality of the moment struck her with tremendous force. The day before Celia had been nearly willing to give herself completely to him. But now, with the sounds of some frenetic orgy wafting up the stairway, she was not at all ready to explore pleasures that she longed for, but which also frightened her. She gathered Colin's shirt tighter in front, but then released it, realizing that in pulling the shirt closer, her figure was more clearly defined.

  “And I want my shirt back,” he said, moving to the opposite side of the bed from her.

  Before she could even think of a response, he shouted in a stage whisper, “Now!”

  “You cannot have it,” she shouted back in the same stage whisper. “I found it in your satchel. I was hoping to find some food, but this is what I found instead.”

  “Too bad,” he said, removing his sword. “That means if there was food in there, you wouldn't be wearing anything.”

  She scowled at him threateningly across the bed.

  “Colin, you do not mean to sleep here in the same bed as I am. Do you?”

  “Of course I do,” he responded. “You will not see any at Kildalton Castle, but Highland ticks are roughly the size of small dogs, and they'll suck every drop of blood out of a human body.”

  Colin looked dramatically about him before continuing. “This scum bucket is probably infested with them.”

  Before Colin was even done with his mild exaggerations, Celia had joined in the pretense, jumping into the middle of the bed with her bare feet tucked under, peering at the dark floor around the bed, her sword still in hand.

  “Move over,” Colin ordered. “And get rid of that sword. You will not be needing it tonight.”

  She squirmed to the opposite side of bed and leaned the short sword against it. As she moved, Celia continued to watch his every move.

  Colin sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her and removed his boots. Without standing he pulled his shirt over his head.

  Celia looked wide-eyed at his broad, magnificent back, his contoured muscles, at the jagged scar that ran from the outside of his right shoulder to the center of his back...

  “Stop looking at me like that, or I'll...” he said threateningly.

  Celia flushed with embarrassment at being discovered.

  “I wasn't looking at you,” she said hurriedly. But at the same time, her hand went out to touch his back. With her fingers, she lightly traced the scar from shoulder to backbone. “How did you get this?”

  Colin sat bolt upright as her fingers sent shock waves of intense pleasure through his frame.

  “Our host,” Colin said through clenched teeth.

  “Argyll?” Celia asked. “How?”

  “Every year, the clans gather for games...to compete,” Colin replied. “When I was fourteen, I wrestled for the first time as a man. Argyll was in his prime then. I beat him, but afterward, he attacked me with his sword, claiming that in my boasting, I'd offended his honor.”

  “Did you?” she asked, feeling again the wide band of white that could have meant his death.

  Colin half turned. “Of course I did. I was fourteen.”

  He gazed at her, his desire growing with every moment that her fingers lingered on his skin. Her face was so pensive as she looked at the old injury. The V-shaped neckline of the shirt hung away from her body as she leaned forward on the bed, and what Colin could not see in the darkness of the room was enhanced by his own vivid imagination.

  But he did catch sight of a large, circular medallion hanging from a chain. In the dim light, all he could make out of the medallion was a triangle of black stones, one larger than the other two. But it was not Celia's jewelry that interested Colin.

  As he turned completely to face her, Celia's hand snapped back as if she'd been burned. She moved quickly back to her side of the bed, folding her hands in her lap and lowering her eyes.

  “Celia,” Colin said in a husky voice. “I do not want you to stop touching me. But more than anything else right now, I want to hold you, to kiss you, to feel the softness of your skin, to discover a part of you that I long for. I want to make love to you.”

  Celia felt herself stop breathing. A sensation of intense heat raced through her, set her ablaze. Colin's words alone were making her body flame with desire. But she was unsure of the surge of feelings that were taking over her physical being. These were feelings as yet unfamiliar. Her life had been so...self-contained...for so long.

  And the place where they were kept pushing itself back into her consciousness. The earl of Argyll's seedy winter lodging was not the place where she wanted to make love to Colin Campbell for the first time.

  She just sat there at a loss for words. She didn't know how to make him understand. She wanted him, but not now, not here. And suddenly her worries about this place and about Argyll's plan for her paled in comparison to the apprehension she felt right now about the act of making love.

  Colin looked at her, perched like an angel on the bed, her hands a deathgrip in her lap, her cheeks flushed crimson, her eyes trying not to meet his. She looked scared, uncertain—but of what? Of him? At this moment she seemed so innocent, so unready, so virginal. She had been at court for six years, but Colin had a growing sense that he might be the first man she'd ever known. But as much as he wanted her, as much as his desires were boiling to the surface at even the sight of her, he wanted her to understand that he would never force her to do anything that she wasn't ready for. With time and patience on his part, Colin knew, she would want him as much as he wanted her. And he wanted her, not just for tonight, not for a short while. He wanted her for eternity.

  “Celia, I will not take advantage of you, of this situation we are in,” Colin said soothingly. “We will have other times and other places together.”

  Her eyes shot up to meet his. He could see the look of gratitude in them. She was not ready. And he would wait.

  “But you're going to have to be more helpful,” he said with a half smile.

  �
��What do you want me to do?” Celia asked solicitously.

  “Get under the covers,” Colin ordered.

  She moved under the blanket in one swift movement, pulling it all the way to her chin.

  “Stay on your side of the bed,” he continued. “Do not touch me. Do not look at me. Do not even think about me. Do you understand?”

  She nodded with a slow grin, turning her back to him as he continued to undress.

  “Trust me, you'll pay for this,” he said, smiling and pulling the blanket back to get under it.

  The cold breezes of the spring morning brushed across Colin's naked shoulder where the blanket had slipped down. Still more asleep than awake, he snuggled closer to the warm back that had fit itself to the contours of his abdomen.

  He was not entirely conscious of the leg that was lying between his own, nor of his own arms that had encircled her body. Celia's head lay on his arm, and her back was pressed snugly against his chest. The shirt that she wore had ridden up, and the skin of her legs lay warmly against the skin of his.

  Colin's hand was resting on her full, round breast, and when he moved, Celia responded to his tightening embrace by pushing her body even tighter against his.

  As she did, Colin's hand brushed lightly across the sensitive aureole of her breast, and her nipple hardened in response.

  Colin came fully awake as he felt Celia react to his unconscious touch. They had gravitated toward each other with a natural magnetism during the night, and he had not even been aware of it.

  In her dream Celia was adrift in a golden sea. The boat was filled with flowers of every color, saturating the air with an aroma that intoxicated her. She lay on a bed of gold, and the blue sky above was unmarked by any cloud. She felt the warm, gentle breeze rippling through the thin linen that covered her body. Suddenly she was aware of a man beside her—holding her, touching her.

  She felt herself being drawn into him. While one hand held her close, his other softly stroked the skin of her face, her neck. As his touch spread, Celia felt herself extend to his hand. She felt the smooth linen move against the skin of her breasts. Her nipples rose to the fingertips that circled the sensitive spot, driving waves of pleasure deep into her body.

  By now, Colin was fully aroused as Celia's warm body pressed ever tighter against his own. Her scent mingled with the fresh breeze coming in the narrow window opening, and Colin was somewhat overwhelmed with the mixed feelings of tenderness and desire that he was experiencing for this woman lying so contentedly in his arms.

  His hand continued to explore her breasts, cupping the fullness of one, and traveling to the other, gently squeezing with a pressure that caused her to breathe in sharply. He pushed aside the heavy gold medallion and chain.

  Into Celia's dream vision came seabirds, wheeling high above—wild, flashing, specks of white in the brilliant blue of the day sky. His hand left her breasts and moved down across her belly to her hip, where the linen of her shift ended. He lifted the light fabric, and his fingers slid upward again across her smooth skin to her breasts. Shivers gave way to shudders as she felt him gently massage and pinch the erect nipples.

  Celia was now awake and deliciously conscious of the warm closeness of him behind her, around her, enveloping her. She had awakened to the magic that his hands were working in her. She felt no fear, only desire and intense anticipation as his lips found the soft angle of her neck. His lips were hot against her skin, and Celia rolled her head along his biceps to give him better access. Her skin seemed to rise in response as he placed hot kisses along the smoothness of her neck. His teeth and lips were gentle as he took her earlobe, suckling lightly.

  With a gasp a single word escaped her lips, “Colin.”

  Colin lifted his face slightly to take in her beauty.

  “I'm here, love,” he whispered.

  With those simple words that came so naturally to Colin's lips, Celia's spirit was lifted into a new world. Lying there in Colin's arms, she felt safe, cared for, desired.

  Colin wanted to make love to Celia now, to share with her pleasures that he sensed she'd never before experienced. He wanted to release the passion that he knew she had within her.

  Celia turned slightly in his arms, facing him, opening herself even more to his tender touch. Their lips met in the frenzied white heat of desire for each other, frantically devouring each other, tasting each other with insatiable tongues that danced and probed, rubbed and met within the soft recesses of her mouth.

  Colin could hear the sound, originating in his own head, the low roaring that he knew would build and eventually block out all other sounds. But as it grew, a sign of his own surging passion, he wanted to bring Celia with him to those heights of ecstasy that he knew lay ahead. Trying to focus on her, a task that would require all the discipline he could summon, Colin turned his head slightly, moving his lips to her chin, tracing hot tracks with his lips and tongue down the front of her neck deep into the V of the shirt’s neckline into the valley between her breasts.

  Lifting one breast with his strong, tender hand, Colin's lips tantalized her by suckling her nipple through the thin linen of the shirt, causing Celia to moan as her back arched to the sensation.

  Tremors shook Celia's body as his hand left her breast and moved down her belly to the small triangle of soft hair at the junction of her thighs. Instinctively, her hips rose to his pressure, her legs slowly scissoring open as his fingers lightly explored. In an instant, flashes of red and white were now streaking through her vision, and Celia could feel her breath shortening as her body began to pulsate to a rhythm she had never known...and always known.

  Celia found herself fighting back a sense of urgency that was sweeping through her. Desperately she wanted to feel his skin beneath her fingertips, to hold his body close to her, to make him feel the things that she was feeling. She turned to face him completely as Colin lifted his mouth again to hers. His hand moved over her hip to the firm, round flesh of her backside, pulling her firmly against the erect presence of his manhood.

  Celia gasped at the feel of the throbbing hardness against her skin of her thighs. It was like nothing she had ever felt against her body before.

  “You slept with nothing on,” she exclaimed, thrilling at the sensations that were flooding through her. She moved her fingers across the contours of his powerfully muscled chest.

  Colin paused as her words penetrated the whirring roar that was filling his head. He moved one leg over her, keeping her on her side and pressed against him, as he reluctantly pulled back his face. He looked into Celia's angelic face, at her expression of mild shock, of wonder, of curiosity. He wanted to prolong this moment if he could, to savor it.

  “Mmm...do you like it?” he growled, his hand and leg tightening her against him.

  She was a bit overwhelmed by the pulsating organ pressed against her belly so intimately. She nodded tentatively.

  “I do, Colin,” she whispered, hesitating before she continued. “But I'm frightened, too.”

  “Why?” he asked vacantly, caressing the silky skin of her lower back.

  “Because I have never done this before,” she answered, her eyes fixed on his mouth.

  “I knew you were a virgin,” he said. Full of mischief, his eyes drew her gaze to him.

  “What do you mean?” she asked seriously, raising both hands to his chest. “What ever made you think that?”

  “Because you've had plenty of opportunities to ravish me, but you haven't...yet.”

  Celia shoved Colin over on his back, and he let her, pulling his leg back from its position over her thigh. She rolled onto him and, putting her weight directly on him, propped herself up on his chest with her elbows. Her necklace dangled from her neck, and the medallion lay on his skin.

  “Ravish you?” she exclaimed, smiling down on him. “Is that what you're accustomed to?”

  “If you're the one doing the ravishing, I could easily get used to it.”

  “You are not answering my question,” Celia
said, taking his face in both her hands, sliding her body up his torso to kiss his lips. As she did, her hip ground softly against his arousal, and a groan was his only answer. Her mouth descended on his, and she kissed him lightly, nibbling at his full lips, her tongue darting out to tease him, to tantalize.

  “You're playing with fire, woman,” he said, his voice ragged with passion.

  She smiled down at him, continuing her amorous play. She knew what was coming, and for the first time in her life, she sought it out.

  She was driving Colin insane, and he loved it. But he was also rapidly losing control. The roar in his head was blocking out all other sounds. Her auburn hair hung loosely around their faces. His fingers moved over the skin of her back, over the smooth rise of her buttocks, to the toned flesh of her thighs. Her hips moved as he touched her, as she kissed him. He wanted to be inside her...now. Deep inside her.

  With a shrug of his massive frame, Colin rolled her onto her back, covering her completely with his body. Taking hold of her hands, he pulled them above her head, pinning them there. He gazed down at her, his eyes filled with desire.

  Celia heard the voices on the landing outside the door, and turned her head toward the noise. Colin seemed oblivious to the disturbance outside.

  “Colin!” she whispered urgently. “Colin! Listen!”

  Colin's eyes cleared instantly as the voices penetrated. Emmet's voice was the loudest, and although he did not sound threatened, he was obviously trying to alert his master to the presence of intruders. He released her hands and reached across the bed for his sword. Pulling back, he felt Celia, freed of his weight, propelling herself to the top of the bed. Glancing at her, he realized that she already had her short sword in her hand.

  They listened to the voices a moment and heard Alec's join in.

  “It's that damned Argyll,” Colin muttered, relaxing his guard. “He was all too agreeable in our discussions last night, and here he is bright and early with a scribe from the abbey, no doubt. He's awfully eager to get rid of us, for some reason.”

  Celia edged off the bed. If she could help it, she would not let her identity be discovered.