The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

A listair was surprised to find Niamh absent from the Samhain preparations when he returned home, but not too concerned. Catriona mentioned that she and Niamh had been discussing some things, and that his wife had mentioned some ‘personal matters’.

He was, however, a good deal more concerned by the fact that the western gate guards reported that she’d gone looking for herbs for a new sachet. It was all he could do not to send the men out searching for her. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that Niamh had gone west - the opposite direction from MacTavish lands - as well as the fact that he and his men had tracked the sign of the men who’d camped in his territory, and there was every indication they’d left the bounds of his lands.

Fergus MacTavish would know he was on guard. Ruthless and cruel he might be, but the man wasn’t fool enough to make another attempt so soon after his last one had failed.

He kept himself busy by informing the council of his discoveries, then working with Ewan to arrange for heavier patrols and more guards in the surrounding area. Perhaps a candle-mark or so after the noon meal, a servant brought him word that Niamh had returned, red-cheeked from the cool weather and slightly pensive, but otherwise completely unharmed.

The news made him sigh with relief, but it also ignited a sense of anger in his belly, that she would be foolish enough to go wandering off so soon after she’d been kidnapped. Did the woman have no sense at all?

He tried to put the thought out of his mind, but it remained, like a slumbering coal in the back of his thoughts, darkening his mood and shortening his temper until at last he excused himself and went to find his wayward wife.

He found Niamh in their shared quarters, at a small desk he had ordered the servants to bring for her, so she could write or draw as she liked, in the privacy of their chambers. She looked up at his entry and smiled, but he could see the smile was strained, the warmth he wished to see clouded by apprehension or some other emotion. “Did ye have success in yer business? The maids told me ye and Ewan left early.”

“Aye. We did. And success - ye can call it that, if that’s what ye wish tae term it, when we found evidence o’ a troop o’ strangers on MacDuff lands. They were gone when we spotted their camp, but likely as nae, they were waiting fer the sellswords who tried tae tak’ ye, and only left when they realized their compatriots had failed.”

He tried to keep his voice calm, but despite his efforts, it dropped to a low growl, laced with anger. “Ye can imagine how I took it, after I returned from such a discovery tae find me wife had gone a-wandering.”

Niamh colored slightly, but she didn’t look away. “Aye, I ken, but I was safe.”

“Ye didnae ken that when ye went out.” He moved closer to her, and Niamh rose to face him, her arms folded. “Ye could have been hurt or killed.”

Niamh scowled. “Why should that stop me, when it’s near as likely tae happen inside the castle walls? After all, I was in the Great Hall when I was nearly poisoned.”

The reminder was like a blow to the gut, and Alistair felt his temper flare, stung by her words. “But ye’re at more risk, and if ye wanted herbs so badly, there are servants who could have gone tae fetch them for ye.”

He saw a flash of guilt on her face and knew at once that whatever reason she’d left the castle, it hadn’t been herbs. “Where did ye go?”

“Tae find out more about the things ye dinnae wish tae tell me.” She met his gaze. “I heard yer first betrothed had a sister. I learned her name and went tae visit her.”

She’d gone out the western gate, to visit Constance’s sister. Alistair felt his heart sink. “Ye went tae see the witch, Sorcha?”

“Aye. I did.” Niamh didn’t flinch under his gaze. “I wanted tae ken why she cursed ye, and how, and if there was aught I could dae tae convince her tae free ye.”

His stomach clenched so hard he felt he’d be sick. “What did she tell ye?”

“That she’ll nae be lifting the curse. And what happened tae yer betrothed and yer faither, and why she cursed ye afterward.” Niamh’s voice was quiet, and faintly apologetic, but her expression was unyielding. “I didnae feel right asking ye about it, when it caused ye so much distress.”

Gratitude for her consideration warred with anger for her foolishness, mixed with a healthy dose of frustration that she hadn’t at least tried to ask him about the whole thing first.

The anger won. “Ye didnae ken ye would be safe! Ye should have spoken tae me first.”

Niamh’s eyes flashed as her own temper ignited. “If I thought I’d be able tae talk tae ye about the matter, we’d nae be having this conversation at all.”

“That’s me point. Ye didnae ask me anything first.”

“And when was I supposed tae? When we first met, and the mere question o’ yer betrothed’s ring sent ye intae a black mood that I fear ye took out on me best friend? Or when ye were near senseless two nights ago, after ye interrogated that mercenary, and choked tae the point o’ wordlessness before ye could say aught? Or any time between that, when I didnae even ken what questions I should be asking?”

Alistair might have replied, but Niamh continued speaking, her gaze hot and her words direct as blows from a sparring partner. “And, in any case, why must it fall tae me tae ask? Surely, the fact ye were cursed by yer former lover’s sister is something ye ought tae have mentioned afore the wedding ceremony!”

That was true, and a fair point. Alistair felt his anger wither as he considered it. He should have told Niamh about the curse, even if he couldn’t bring himself to tell her everything about the circumstances behind it.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t told her anything. “I told ye that I didnae want tae marry, because I’d lost me first love, and it was dangerous tae be close tae me.”

“That’s nae the same as telling me about a curse. Or the circumstances behind yer lover’s death - which would have made me a good deal warier about goin’ out, had I kent them.” Niamh huffed.

Then her face softened, and before he could find a rebuttal, she stepped closer, her expression gentler as the anger faded away to weary resignation. “Alistair… I understand why ye didnae speak. I ken all too well what wounds loss can leave. Ye ken that.”

Her mother. She was talking about her mother, and the way she’d confessed her fear of child-bearing to him, telling him how she feared marriage, and any form of intimacy because her mother had died to bring her into the world. Some of Alistair’s anger faded at the reminder. “Aye.”

“I ken that ye wouldnae want tae re-live such grief. But can ye nae understand why I might need tae ken? Tae understand?”

He did understand. He would want to know such things too, if their positions were reversed. Alistair shook his head. “I’ll grant ye were safer on the path tae the witch’s home than ye would have been elsewhere, fer she hates MacTavish as much as she hates me. But even so, ‘twas foolish o’ ye tae go wanderin’ off without guards so soon after ye were nearly taken.”

“I ken. But I thought the guards might stop me, or misdirect me, and I was careful.” She smirked at him and produced the dagger he’d seen her use before. “I didnae go unarmed.”

“’Tis nae enough, but I suppose I must give ye credit fer it, especially since I ken ye can use it.” Alistair sighed.

The edge of worry and wariness still hummed in his blood, even though the anger had largely been vanquished. Knowing Niamh was safe was not enough, not after the strain of the past few days. It was almost instinct, rather than thought, that caused him to reach out and gather her into his arms and pull her close.

“Alistair!” Niamh yelped his name, but he let her get no further before he cupped her jaw and tipped her face up toward his.

“Hush.” He bent to meet her, claiming her lips in a kiss that held all of his need, his fear and his relief rolled into one.

Niamh tasted like tea and scones, with odd herbal flavors dancing around the familiar ones. Her lips were soft and pliant against his, and though she stiffened at the initial touch, she soon melted into his kiss, her mouth opening to grant him further access as he explored the sweetness and warmth of her.

He should stop. They both should. He could feel the heat of his desire growing, the burgeoning need in his groin swelling his manhood. But he hadn’t lain with his wife since their wedding night, save to sleep, and that was no longer enough for him either.

“Alistair… I…” Niamh was flushed and gasping as they broke the kiss, her chest heaving against his and her soft bosom teasing him with every inhalation she made. “I… I’m still…”

He kissed her again, then lifted her to carry her through to the bedroom. “Did I nae tell ye there’s many ways for a man tae pleasure a woman, and gain pleasure in return?”

“Ye… ye did…” She swallowed hard, the deep rosy color of her blush expanding to suffuse her throat and chest with the same warm, vibrant color. The sight made Alistair harden still further, and he had to set her on the edge of the bed and loosen the ties on his leggings before the pressure overwhelmed him.

“Let me show ye.” He bent to caress her jaw with one hand, while his other reached down to undo his boots so they could be kicked off and kicked aside.

“I…” She swallowed hard, and he saw her fear.

“Dinnae fret, ‘twill nae be more than ye’re ready fer.” His brushed his hand over her cheek.

“All right.”

How to start, now that she’d agreed? Alistair recalled the way she’d touched him in the bath. Then, it had been comforting, but now…

He reached down and lifted her to her feet. “Undress me and let me dae the same fer ye. The days since we last were taegether were many and busy, but I have desired yer touch every minute of them.”

Her hand reached for his belt, undoing the buckles, and Alistair felt a fine shiver run through his muscles at the feel of her fingers just barely brushing across his stomach. Then the belt was tossed away, and she reached for his kilt. He shook his head. “Shirt first, then leggings. Kilt last.”

Niamh moved her hands to his sash and shirt laces, and Alistair reached around, using his greater height and the length of his arm to find the laces at the back of her dress and tug the knots loose. As the cords loosened, he felt Niamh shiver against him and smiled.

He was not the only one who wanted yield to the sparks of passion between them, though her fear might keep her from seeing it.

The sash was discarded, and his shirt pulled free of his leggings and kilt. Alistair paused for a moment to remove it entirely and toss it aside, then turned his attention to the laces of her bodice. The dress was already loose, but underneath was her chemise. Besides, with the bodice loosened, he could simply let it slide to the ground.

Niamh’s breath hitched, her heartbeat under his hand racing as she slid uncertain hands under his kilt to undo the fastenings of his leggings. Alistair’s breath hissed between his teeth as her hands touched his aching erection, and Niamh jolted and looked at him with wide eyes. “Did I…”

“It didnae hurt lass. And I want ye tae touch me,” Alistair gave her a wolf’s smile and bent to whisper in her ear. “I promised I’d never tak’ anything from ye that ye didnae wish tae give, but I want yer touch, Niamh.”

She blushed so bright a crimson he could feel the heat against his skin, but her hands were less unsure and certainly bolder as she slid them up to the laces of his leggings once more. Alistair groaned in appreciation at the feel of her deft fingers loosening the laces further, until his straining shaft was freed from the constriction. He actually shuddered when she moved to caress the rigid length.

The laces of her bodice came free, and the dress fell to puddle on the floor. Alistair allowed himself a moment to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her undergarment, stroking and caressing until her nipples were taut buds under the fabric. Niamh shivered and wavered, almost falling against him. “Alistair…”

He undid the chemise and let it fall as well, leaving her naked before him, then swept her into his arms and laid her on the bed. A moment later, his kilt fell to the floor, and he joined her, panting at the shock of cool air and smooth linen on the already sensitive flesh of his erection.

Alistair took a moment to simply lie beside her, drinking her in as his hand caressed her cheek, then downward to tease the peaks of her breasts. Niamh shivered, but she wasn’t the naive, shy young woman she’d been that first night. She reached out and gripped him.

Alistair grunted. “Nae so tight. And ye dinnae need tae…”

“I want tae. I want tae ken how tae give ye pleasure.” Niamh shifted her grip, and Alistair stiffened, his hips rocking into her touch without any thought on his part.

He slid his hand down to her belly, feeling the muscles quivering there. “Ye dinnae need tae dae much. Just enjoy yerself, and I’ll tell ye what I need. Fer now…”

He leaned in to kiss her, flickers of heat and pleasure sliding through him as his shaft shifted in her grip. His hand splayed across her belly, exploring the soft skin and finding every spot that made her shiver and gasp, from her navel to the sides of her ribs, to the hollow of her waist. He traced a lazy path to her hips, then carded his fingers through the soft, fine hairs that adorned the mound of her sex. Niamh shivered - an action that made her hand shift and slide across his erection - and parted her legs for him.

Alistair smiled and slid his hand lower, deliberately transferring his touch to her thigh, to stroke the inner lines to her knees and back again.

He wanted to find every single spot that made her tremble and gasp and then… then he would give her pleasure until they were both spent and gasping.

Niamh had never known her skin could be so sensitive, or that the lightest touch could make her shiver and burn for more. Alistair seemed to know her body far better than she knew it herself. His fingers unerringly sought out sensitive spots, from her ribs to her navel, to the insides of her knees, making her tremble with every caress as little darts of flame raced through her to her core.

She’d never known the sensation of touching a man, being aware that the merest flex of her fingers could bring pain or pleasure enough to drive him mad.

She slid her hand along Alistair’s shaft and was rewarded with another grunt as he rocked against her grip. “Och, Niamh…” The words died away as she stroked him again, smothered by a guttural groan.

Niamh shuddered in turn as Alistair’s hand traced a burning path up the inside of her thigh, to tease the soft hairs that covered her sex. She couldn’t help squirming a little as he delivered light, quick touches, teasing and sending sparks dancing through her core. She trembled, her legs parting further to give him further access.

Alistair’s hand stroked over her sex, ruffling the delicate strands. The feeling was akin to sparks trailing over her most sensitive and secret place. He caressed her gently, and Niamh pressed herself into his touch, wanting more.

Alistair slid his hand over her mound, finger on either side, while the middle finger drew a line of warmth down the crease. Then his finger slid between the lips of her sex, stroking the inner edges, and teasing her with the promise of more. Niamh whimpered as a stronger, deeper spike of pleasure pulsed through her.

She thought Alistair would stroke deeper. Instead, he continued to tease her, just barely slipping his finger inside her as he bent his head and nipped gently at her breast, gently grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth and tongue and sending waves of heat through her from two places until she could barely breathe, consumed by the sensation.

It was all she could do to retain her grip on Alistair, and she felt him gently rocking himself against her hand as he continued, setting up a slow, steady rhythm as he pleasured himself as well as her.

His finger slid into her, caressing deeper into the arousal-slickened folds of her sex, then deeper still until his fingers were on the edge of penetrating her core. He began to pump gently in and out of her, making Niamh writhe around his touch as the waves of pleasure and heat grew more and more intense.

Together the two of them moved, Alistair sliding against her hand, Niamh arching into each stroke of his fingers.

A second finger joined the first, filling her, stretching her and adding the burn of pressure to the heat and pleasure that filled her. Niamh shuddered, almost mindless with the nigh-overwhelming sensations.

Alistair’s motions increased in speed, the angle changing slightly with every stroke, so every touch seemed new. Niamh writhed around his hand, her body feeling overwhelmed and yet demanding more. “Alistair…”

His thumb slid inside her folds and found her pleasure center. Niamh cried out as he swirled his thumb around the sensitive flesh. Her body arched into his touch as he caressed her pleasure center again and again, setting up a motion that mirrored his rocking against her hand.

The heat and pleasure spiraled higher inside, engulfing Niamh in waves of intense sensation unlike any she had ever known. She felt as if she was burning away, and yet, she wanted more. Every stroke made her yearn for the next, every touch drew her closer to the edge.

Alistair grunted, and the motion of his hips became rougher. Then his thumb pressed against her, a strong, firm stoke that sent Niamh over the edge.

The world broke apart in a wave of heat and pleasure so intense that Niamh’s hand loosened despite her best efforts, as her body convulsed. A second stroke sent another wave flowing through her as her body arched in response. Her release swept out of her and drowned her senses in the force of it.

She was dimly aware of Alistair stiffening against her, then the hot wash of his release pumped out across her belly.

Then his hand caressed her again, and any thought Niamh might have was washed away in a renewed pulse of warmth and pleasure, until she knew nothing more.