He backed away. "Kirsty, ye should stop. I promised your father I’d return ye to him as pure as you are now."
Definitely not a pirate. "I’m no’ feeling very pure."
He sighed and reached out a hand to cup the side of her face. The moment his fingers made contact with her cheek, she saw his expression change. "Neither am I, my bonny lassie."
"I want ye to make me yours, Dougal," she whispered, staring into his brilliant eyes.
She saw honor battle with desire in his face. As she knew it must, desire emerged victorious. "Kirsty, are ye sure?"
"Ye know," she said in a hushed voice, as if she shared a precious secret, "there’s a Highland tradition of handfasting. If I pledge myself to ye and ye pledge yourself to me, we’re wed fair and square."
He lifted his other hand until he cradled her head between his palms. When he stepped closer, her heart crashed against her ribs then faltered to a trembling stop.
"I pledge myself to ye, Kirsty Macbain." His voice was deep and resonant with feeling.
Happiness flooded her, yet absurdly she had to blink away tears. She put her arms around him. "And I pledge myself to ye, Dougal Drummond. Forever."
"Och, mo chridhe," he murmured and placed his lips on hers in a kiss that confirmed the sacred promise they made.
Kirsty moved far enough away to smooth the ruffled hair back from his face. She loved the texture of his hair, heavy and silky and warm like the rest of him. It only gradually dawned on her that he’d given her leave to touch him as much as she wanted to. And she wanted to, by heaven. He angled his head into her caress like a cat being stroked.
Dougal stepped back, which she didn’t like. Then he caught her hands and brought them to his lips for a fervent kiss which combined homage and seduction. Kirsty wasn’t proof against the heady mixture. Her breath caught in her lungs, and her knees turned wobbly.
He looked at her as if he beheld a goddess. When he looked at her that way, she felt like a goddess. "My darling…"
She shivered, and he paused. "What is it?"
"I love it when ye say that to me."
His soft kiss on her lips felt like worship. "You’ll get used to it."
She shook her head. "I dinnae think so."
He went back to kissing her. All of Kirsty’s wild longing exploded into incendiary bliss. She sank into his kiss, so lost in the universe of sensation that it was a surprise when he lifted her in his arms and carried her across to the bed. With shaking hands, he slid away her vest and his own waistcoat and shirt. Her greedy hands started to explore the broad, muscled planes of his chest and shoulders.
His lips and hands were everywhere, making her sigh and gasp. When he bent his head to kiss her breasts, a cry of astonishment escaped her. He drew one nipple between his lips, and a surge of arousal jolted her. Throbbing heat set up between her thighs, and she twisted against the bed in search of some relief from this tormenting delight.
There was some confused wriggling, sighs of delight, and breathless laughter as he broke off from covering her in a rain of kisses to remove her boots and breeches.
For the first time in her life, she was naked with a man. She trembled, as she felt the air on her bare skin, although it wasn’t cold in the cottage. But when his gaze fixed on her, an ocean of heat flooded her. Some of it was shyness. The rest was invincible desire. "Dougal…"
Again that sweet smile that told her how much he loved her, and pleasure swamped her brief embarrassment.
"You’re so beautiful," he said softly.
He leaned over her to kiss her until she couldn’t see straight, let alone worry about silly ideas like modesty.
Her seeking hand stroked his back and chest, rubbing the crisp curls of auburn hair that covered his pectorals. The curls arrowed down across his flat stomach to disappear beneath the top of his breeches. Breeches that did little to hide his excitement.
"May I… May I touch you?" she stammered, as he scraped his teeth down her nec
k. That drove her mad, made speech difficult.
"Aye, my love. Please."
He caught her hand, and for the first time, she noticed he was trembling, too. He pressed her palm flat against the front of his breeches. Something large and hard and vital swelled under her touch.
He groaned as round-eyed, she stared up at him. "You’re big."