The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Epilogue

A listair watched Niamh swallow the potion, his heart hammering with equal amounts of wonder and uncertainty. He knew what Sorcha had said. To drink the potion in hope and joy. That was what inspired the wonder.

The uncertainty lay in what the potion would do. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then Niamh gasped, eyes wide as she set the empty bottle to one side. Her face flushed, as if fevered. Alistair felt a spike of fear. “Niamh.”

Then her hand grasped his, and Niamh molded her body to his, eyes bright with the gleam of desire. “Alistair.”

She pulled him down into a kiss, fierce and strong, her tongue claiming his mouth in a way she’d never dared to attempt before. She tasted of sweet cider and an herbal tisane, and her body was warm and pliant against his.

Alistair felt his manhood stiffen, his erection growing tighter against his trews as his body responded Niamh’s obvious enthusiasm. With an effort, he managed to break the kiss to look her in the eye. “Niamh. Are ye sure…?”

“I almost lost ye, twice in two days. I dinnae want tae ever feel like I’m losin’ ye again. I want ye, Alistair. I want ye tae make love tae me until I cannae remember the feel o’ any other touch, or a moment o’ me time in that snake’s hands.”

She meant every word.

“Is it safe?”

“Aye. Catriona said ‘tis safe fer a time yet.” Niamh kissed him again.

Alistair’s doubts melted away. Whether it was the potion, or relief that heightened Niamh’s desire, he was no fool. He was hardly going to turn down such a gift, especially when, like Niamh, he had come all too close to losing the one he loved.

He bent his head to deepen the kiss, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. It was the work of a moment to remove the loose robe that was all she wore.

His own clothing followed moments later, tossed aside with a haste that might have resulted in torn fabric and laces. Alistair didn’t care. The only thing he kept on with was the armband Niamh had made for him.

Then they were in bed together, their bodies flush against each other as they kissed again and again. Alistair let his hands roam over Niamh’s soft body, caressing her face, her arms, her slim waist and the swell of her hips, before cupping her breasts and fondling them gently.

Niamh’s hands roved over his body in turn, every brush of her soft fingers igniting his senses, like trails of fire being drawn upon his skin in the most pleasurable way. His shaft stiffened further, to the point of aching, begging for release, and yet, he had no desire to rush.

He had almost lost Niamh, and he would not hurry. Instead, he would take his time and cherish every inch of her.

His hands slid over her, then came to rest, quite softly and naturally, over her belly, where a new life lay sleeping. His child. Their child.

Alistair exhaled softly, then dipped his head to press a kiss to her flat belly. He could already imagine how beautiful she would be, her belly swelling with child. He had heard many women complain of feeling fat or awkward, but Niamh would be glorious and radiant. He was certain of it.

Then Niamh whimpered, her hands and legs tangling about his with need and desire, and Alistair turned his attention to his waiting, wanting lady.

He would have a lifetime to love the bairn growing inside her. Tonight was for himself and for Niamh.

Her whole body was alive with warmth and pleasure and wanting, even though Alistair had scarcely touched her. Niamh had no idea if it was love, relief, or something caused by the potion. She didn’t care. She wanted Alistair, craved his touch. She wanted to feel him inside her, joined together with her, as they had been when the babe inside her was created.

Alistiar kissed his way from her belly to her breast, then suckled gently. Niamh panted, gasping breathlessly, as each gentle touch of his mouth sent heat racing through her. He suckled gently on her other breast, until Niamh was writhing, her legs wrapping helpless about his hips in an effort to pull him closer, to feel his warmth inside her.

Alistair continued to suckle on her breast, but his hand slid between them, caressing the wet and heated mound of her sex. Niamh keened again as he stroked his hand through the fine hairs, soaked with her arousal, and gently, lightly, teased the lips of her entrance. Her legs parted for him as she arched into his hand, feeling like she had the very first time they’d made love. “Please!”

“Ye’re so hot and ready fer me. So warm and willing…” Alistair bent to kiss her, his hips shifting until the heavy, heated length of his shaft pressed against her. Niamh squirmed against him, then gasped and arched her back as Alistair slid himself smoothly into her in one easy thrust, sheathing his manhood in her core.

Together, they lay joined for a moment. Alistair’s eyes went to her wrists, bandaged from where the ropes and made her bleed. His eyes darkened, and then he bent his head and brushed his lips to the covered wounds.

His mouth worshiped and tended her wounds. His hands held her in place, and his hips rocked against her, a steady rhythm where each thrust sheathed him to the hilt, touching the deepest places inside her. Niamh felt as if she was drowning in the sensations, overwhelmed by the myriad forms of love he showed her.

Tenderness, in the way he gently surveyed and touched her wounds. Desire, in every pulse of his shaft and every shift of his body. Love, in the way his hands held her.

It was beyond anything she had ever imagined. The heat and the pleasure climbed higher than she’d ever experienced before, joined by wonder and love and joy, as well as hope. It was unbearable, and it was perfection all at once.

Higher, and higher, until she was breathless and voiceless, enveloped in the passion and heat of their joining.

Then Alistair kissed her again, and the wave broke. Brilliant white light, the sparkling hue of the potion she had taken, washed through her vision. At the same time, Alistair stiffened, and she felt his release pumping deep into her core. Her inner walls clenched around him, and Niamh rose, then dropped into an abyss of endless pleasure, which wrapped her in soft brilliance and carried her away on a wave of heat and wonder unlike anything she had ever imagined.

In the last moments before weariness and pleasure overwhelmed her, Niamh almost imagined she heard a laugh of delight - the merry laughter of a contented child, for whom all was right with the world.

But there’s more…