Chapter 37

Morgan knew he was walking straight into the fires of Hell.

The lass was his captive, not his consort.

What if she was a virgin?

If he did anything to compromise her virtue, there would be no forgiveness from her clan.

And yet the sight of her—wet and hot and eager, licking her lips in anticipation, looking up at him with smoky lust—made him forget reason.

Just one kiss, he told himself. Yet even as he articulated that lie, he was already engaging in a second kiss. And a third.

Her lips were not only welcoming. They were demanding.

Every kiss became more and more insistent, until he lost count of them.

She threaded her fingers through the wet strands of his hair, drawing him closer. She slanted her mouth across his again and again, feasting on him with ravenous hunger.

Before he could catch his breath, she locked her arms around his neck, clinging to him with a desperation born of desire.

She arched up toward him, and the sensation of her supple breasts sliding over his chest, her tight nipples grazing his skin, wrenched a groan from him.

Casting caution to the winds and damning himself for a fool, he plunged his arms into the water, delved his hands beneath her bottom, and scooped her out of the bath.

The divine, slippery curve of her buttocks and the sleek legs she immediately wrapped around him did nothing to dissuade him from his purpose.

Nor did the trail of water he left as he carried his beautiful, dripping prize to the bed.

He laid her atop the coverlet. A fierce swelling of lust left him breathless as he gazed down at the beautiful lass. Her mouth was open in awe. Her breast heaved with passion.

He’d never wanted a woman more.

And yet enough chivalry remained to give him pause. He clenched his fists, fighting his inner beast. He closed his eyes, hoping—robbed of the sight of her—he might see reason more clearly and change his mind.

He never guessed she would seize the reins of his desire. Nor did he anticipate the frenzied pace at which she intended to compel him.

But in the next instant, she tugged off his linen covering with a soft gasp of wonder. Then there was no hiding his ardor now. No denying what he craved.

And when he dared to open his eyes, he saw a thirst in her gaze that was undisguised and unabashed, brash and demanding.

He knew then that he was completely wrong about her. The lass had definitely done this before.

There was no hesitation in her manner. Not a shred of modesty. Not even a pretense of maidenly shyness.

And that, more than anything else, convinced him to plunge headlong into the waters of temptation.

Jenefer’s head was spinning.

She had no idea what she was doing.

Instinct made her race headlong toward the seduction she’d intended. And she didn’t dare stop, lest her plans be undone.

But her heart was pounding at the prospect. Coursing through her veins was a thrill of excitement and desire and fear. Fear, because she’d never done such a thing before.

Once, she’d caught a pair of servants coupling in the stables. And she’d overheard tales of conquest from knights in the armory. But what she knew of lovemaking wouldn’t fill a thimble.

Besides, this felt so much more real. More present. More compelling.

She was no longer master of her body. She could hardly catch her breath. Every nerve was quivering with life.

And yet, instead of feeling panic, the rush of sensation and emotion exhilarated her.

She felt like an arrow shot from a bow, arcing with precision and purpose toward its target. Once released, it couldn’t be recalled. And she wouldn’t know for certain whether she’d sailed true until she met her mark.

So she ventured onward, following her heart’s desire and her body’s cravings.

Freeing him from the linen, she was startled for an instant at the size of him. Perhaps he was no larger than other men. But considering what she was about to do, that part of him seemed enormous and foreign and forbidding.

Then he swept down upon her, branding her as they met, skin to skin, and blotting out her thoughts.

Now there was only want and need. A primal urgency to mate that went beyond the two of them. A drive as old as nature. As inevitable as time.

With every fiber of her being, she welcomed him. Already clasping her arms around his neck, she arched up and locked her legs around his buttocks.

He groaned against her ear.

A primitive vibration shivered through her.

He rasped his chest against her bosom.

Her nipples stiffened, sending fiery current racing to the spot where her legs joined.

She pressed hard against him, hoping to ease the suffering there.

He growled in answer, pressing back.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

Somehow he knew it wasn’t enough.

Slipping his hand down between their bodies, he combed through her woman’s curls with gentle fingers. Resting his brow against hers, he carefully parted her nether lips.

She caught her breath, feeling suddenly too exposed, too vulnerable.

But it was too late. Already he trespassed with his fingers, awakening her with a tender touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip, she moved against his hand, writhing in a sensual dance that was both familiar and unknown to her.

But as engaged as she was in her own rising sensations, she felt him journeying beside her. His labored breathing, blowing across her ear, summoned her to new heights of passion.

He kissed her, and she answered with a deeper exploration, longing to taste every recess of his mouth.

And then a strange thing happened. The arrow of her lust mysteriously changed course. It had been racing with ever increasing haste, heading for the bull’s-eye at the speed of lightning. Then, as wave after wave of sensation surged through her body, the arrow arced up at a steeper angle until she wasn’t sure where it was headed.

Just when she felt it had veered completely off course, the quarrel halted at the top of its arc. Her body went rigid, frozen in time. For a wondrous, terrible, divine instant, desire hovered at the breathless point of no return.

Then, plunging faster than a bolt from a bow, she shot earthward with deadly speed. As she caught her breath in awe, shaken by shuddering flutters of release, he drove into her.

She gasped, startled more than wounded by the sudden sting of his invasion and his thick presence within her.

He gasped as well and went instantly still.

His brows collided as he stared down at her.

She knew a moment of dread. Had she done something displeasing? Would he withdraw now? Were her plans going to go awry?

“What is it?” she whispered, afraid of the answer. When he didn’t reply, she muttered, “You don’t want this? You don’t want me?”

“Nay, ’tisn’t that,” he was quick to answer.

“You’re certain?” Despite his assurances, she felt her throat thicken.

“Bloody hell, Jenefer,” he blurted, “I want ye more than I’ve ever wanted a woman. ’Tis only…”

She braced herself for the worst.

“Did I hurt ye?” he asked, his brows gathered in concern.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt ye.”

She blinked. Surely he wasn’t that ignorant. Even she knew losing one’s virginity came with a bit of pain.

But it wasn’t as bad as thwacking your forearm using a bow without a bracer. And he looked sincerely full of remorse. So she told him, “It doesn’t hurt. Not really.”

He looked deeply into her eyes, as if to measure the truth of her words. “I didn’t know ye were a maiden.”

That made her scowl. “Wait. You thought I wasn’t a maiden?”