Betrayed by Bertrice Small Page A

wanted to be his wife.
    “Yer place is in my arms, in my bed ”he told her. “That is the duty of a man's mistress, lassie.”
    “I canna spend all my time in yer arms, in yer bed,” Fiona said desperately. “I need something to do. I am not used to being idle!”
    His mother had died when he was relatively young. He scarcely could remember what she did with her days, if he'd ever known. He'd been out and aboutas much as possible from the earliest age, a male absorbed in male pursuits. As far back as he could recall, Una and Aulay had run the castle. “What do ye want to do?”
    Fiona thought a moment. “I want to learn to read and write,” she said. “Can ye read and write, my lord? My father could not, although my mother said she could write her name. Nothing more, mind. Just her name. I never saw her do it, though.”
    “I learned to read and write when I was a boy in England with the king,” the laird said slowly. “My brother, Robert, has learned these skills at Glenkirk Abbey, but neither Jamie-boy nor my sisters nor Hamish Stewart, for that matter, can read or write. If it is what ye want, lassie, I shall teach ye,” he promised her.
    Fiona nodded, satisfied.
    “The moon is bright tonight, is it not?” he said finally.
    “Aye.”
    His fingers began to undo the ribbon tie at her neck. Her camisia opened to the navel. His hand slipped inside to capture a breast. It nestled like a small round apple, just filling his palm. Her skin was very soft and warm with pulsing life. He began to rub the nipple with his thumb, his lips again finding the almost invisible hollow where her shoulder met her neck. His mouth lingered for a long moment.
    “I left ye alone these past days not because I don't desire ye, but so ye might have time with Jeannie and Morag,” he murmured against her ear. His tongue delicately explored the pink whorl of it.
    “I know, and I am grateful,” Fiona replied, shivering at the warm wetness in her ear. This love play of his was exciting, but at the same time it was a little frightening. She shifted nervously, trying to fix her attentionupon a bright star just above the bens on the other side of the dark loch, but it was impossible. She wanted to snatch his hands away. Instead her arms lay by her sides, her fingers clenching and unclenching nervously.
    Angus Gordon could feel the tenseness in the lassie, and it was no wonder. An enthusiastic student when her initial fears were overcome, she was still greatly inexperienced. Gently he drew her camisia off her shoulders. It slid down her torso to puddle about her ankles. Slipping his hands beneath her arms, he reached up to cup both her breasts in his hands. He fondled the delicate flesh.
    Fiona's breath caught achingly in her throat. Unable to help herself, she shuddered hard.
    “No, no, hinny lamb,” his voice caressed her. “Don't be afeared. Do ye not remember how sweet it was between us the last time?”
    “Aye!”
She forced the word out. It had been sweet between them that only time he had made love to her, taking her virginity in a blaze of hot passion.
    “It will be sweeter this time, lassie, I swear it!” He turned her about to brush her lips with his.
    She was surprised to find he was naked. She had been so concerned with herself that she hadn't even noticed the feel of his skin against hers. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. His big hands enclosed her buttocks and pulled her close against him. Fiona could feel the hard length of the rampant manhood against her thigh, and her cheeks burned again.
    “My Gordie has missed ye, lassie,” he murmured suggestively.
    “He's a bold fellow,” she said softly, and reaching down with a hand, she stroked him softly. “Ah, yer so hard, my lord!”
    “I want to be inside of ye, Fiona Hay,” he told herharshly. “Ye canna know how I burn for ye, lassie. ‘Twas not easy to resist grabbing ye every time I saw ye these past few days, but I kept to the proprieties for the sake of