Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) by Rachael Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page A

Laird asleep, a fur rug to his waist, his
chest naked and bare and she felt a shiver down low as she remembered just how
nice it had felt to be kissed by him.
    Would it be nice
for the Laird to wake up to a kiss? Bridie wondered. Should she show him she
regretted how things had ended last night, that she
wished she hadn’t reacted so poorly to the full taste of his mouth?
    Bridie went over
to the bed and looked down to where the Laird slept - his lips were slightly
apart and she remembered the warm feel of them on hers. He stirred a little,
perhaps sensing her close, his hand moving below the fur rug and Bridie
swallowed when she saw the swell in the fur beneath. She should move to open
the drapes, Bridie knew, except her head lowered down, and softly, gently, her
lips grazed his.
    She felt his hand
slide to the back of her head and this time he would not let her move from the
taste of his tongue, this time Bridie did not want to. His tongue slid in, and
now hers welcomed it. There was still a start of shock, but with the Laird
holding her steady as she grew accustomed Bridie could see now why others might
differ, for it felt sublime. She could feel his breath in her mouth and the
slow sensual swirl of his tongue and she remembered what he had said - that her
lips could move too, so perhaps so too could her tongue. She made little licks
of his, and his kiss hastened, and their tongues sworded till little licks were not enough for Bridie and she took the wet flesh and
suckled, it was the Laird who halted things, who gently pulled her head back.
    ‘What are you
doing Bridie?’
    ‘I wanted to thank
you for my kiss…’
    ‘You should be a
wee bit careful when you kiss a man, especially when he first wakes in the
morning…’
    ‘Why the morning?’
    He took her hand
and moved it to the fur, saw her eyes widen in shock as she felt the hard
outline of what was beneath - hard because all night he had been doing his
level best not to think of Bridie, and by morning he was fit to burst. To be
woken with a kiss like that was pushing things beyond any mans limits - even a
laird.
    Especially
a laird.
    Her hair was still
damp, taken out of its braid, it hung in dark damp
ringlets.
    He was hard still
beneath the sheets, wanted her gone so he could complete but her hands were
searching the fur for him, burrowing beneath and he caught her wrist.
    ‘Bridie.’ His voice
was stern, ‘you have to go down to the kitchen.’
    ‘I
don’t want to,’ she begged. ‘I want you to show me…’
    ‘Bridie.’ He
growled but it did not deter.
    ‘Please
Laird! I know it’s not going to be like this with Dougal …’
    Alasdair closed
his eyes, she should not say such things.
    ‘I could try
remembering being with you.’
    ‘Don’t talk like
that.’ Alasdair abhorred the thought of her with Dougal .
He peeled her off him. ‘Go now and see Mrs Moffat.’
    ‘Laird?’
    ‘This is not to
happen again. It’s to be forgotten,’ the laird said and he saw the flush on her
cheek and the glitter in her eyes and he knew he was lying for both of them,
but for now he stayed strong. ‘I’m to choose my bride and your banns will soon
be read.’
    Except Bridie
couldn’t think of that, all she could think of was the laird’s kiss.
    ‘What are you
smiling about?’ Mary asked when she came back down, for Bridie had certainly
changed her tune.
    ‘She’s to be a
bride soon,’ Mrs Moffat said, glad to see that Bridie
had picked up ; for she worried that the girl was so
labile. ‘All brides smile.’
    The laird wasn’t
smiling as he rode with his men through the village.
    ‘Laird.’ Dougal stood as he passed and the Laird halted his beast
and looked at him, but said nothing.
    He had never paid Dougal much attention, had never had a need to, but he paid
him attention now, Alasdair’s knowing eyes took in every detail and there were
hackles rising on the back of his neck as if in battle and no, he decided there
and then, she would not marry