Eternal Lover. Lynsay Sands

heated dreams she had had were the reason why her passion was rising so swiftly and fiercely.

      Then she frowned and tensed slightly, realizing that she had forgotten to shield herself from whatever memories and emotions were trapped within his bed. She did not want other passions Alpin had stirred in the bed affecting what they felt now. Sophie began to try to shield herself, only to realize there was no need. The only person she could sense had used this bed was Alpin.

      “Um, Alpin?” She studied him when he clasped her face in his long, elegant hands and began to touch hot, soft kisses to her cheeks. “Ye have done this before, havenae ye?”

      He smiled against her forehead. “A time or two, aye.” He kissed the corners of her beautiful eyes. “It was a need I tried to ignore, for I feared breeding a child. The few times I weakened I went to the woman, or took her elsewhere. I didnae want the scent of mating upon my bed, for it would torment me, making it harder for me to subdue my monly hungers.” He thought of one place he had taken Anne, inwardly grimaced, then began to tease Sophie’s full lips with soft kisses and gentle nips. “Once in the bed ye now sleep upon,” he heard himself confess and wondered what had possessed him to do so.

      “Weel, ye arenae the only one. I think there have been many matings in that bed.” She opened her mouth, inviting the deep, passionate kiss she ached for. “’Tis why Nella now sleeps in the bed and I use her pallet. The bed was, er, unsettling.” She twined her arms around his neck, threaded the fingers of one hand into his thick hair, and tried to hold his mouth to hers. “Are we going to go elsewhere soon?”

      “Nay.” He slid his hand up her rib cage and over her small, perfect breast, then savored her gasp of pleasure as it warmed his mouth. “I want your scent here. I want the scent of our loving to penetrate so deep that it will be years ere it fades. When I am again alone, I want to be able to breathe deep of it and remember.”

      Sophie was glad he kissed her then, and not simply because she so desperately wanted him to. She had been about to ask him where he intended to put his wife. Then she forgot all about his marriage, the uncertain future, and the dark past. Sophie was aware only of the feel and taste of him, the touch of his hands and his mouth, and the need he stirred within her. She sensed that he practiced some restraint, but she had none.

      When he finally joined their bodies, she was barely aware of the brief, stinging pain signaling the loss of her maidenhead. She was so immersed in the joy and pleasure of feeling his body joined to hers, that it was a moment or two before she realized he was not moving. Looking up at the man bracing himself over her, Sophie mused that she had never seen him look so feral, nor so beautiful and arousing.

      “The pain?” he began, finding speech difficult, as his every sense was fixed upon the feel of her, her heat, her scent, and his own blinding need.

      “Was quickly gone.” She slid her hands down his back and stroked his taut buttocks, sighing with delight when he convulsively pushed deeper within her. “Oh, my, ye do feel good.” Sophie wrapped her legs around him. “More, please.”

      He groaned and kissed her even as he began to move. Sophie opened herself up fully to the pleasure he gave her. Soon it was questionable as to which of them was fiercer in their passion. Then, she shattered, swept away to a place of such intense pleasure that she lost all awareness. Just as she began to recover, Alpin drove deep within her, crying out as his own release gripped him. To Sophie’s delight and astonishment, the feel of his seed, of his intense pleasure, sent her racing back to the blinding heights of desire. When he collapsed in her arms, she held him close, and felt sanity slowly return to them both.

      Sophie was a little frightened by how deeply she loved this man, then told herself not to be such a fool. There was no controlling the heart in such matters. At the moment, she could see no future in loving him. She would leave, alone and heartsore, he would marry Margaret, and they would all remain prisoners of the curse.

      The thought of such a cold future made her hug him closer, and she kissed the top of his head. When he lifted his head and smiled at her, she smiled back and knew she would love him always, no matter what the future held. She would hold that love close and cherish it. Unlike so many of her ancestors, however, she would not wallow in grief over what she had lost. She would find joy in her memories and she would continue to fight the curse, to try to find a way to break it.

      Sophie kissed him, felt him harden within her, and silently swore that she would turn her love for him, returned or not, into a strength. With that strength she would find a way to end the curse, to give him the full, natural life he deserved, even if it was not a life he would share with her. It was what her love demanded of her, the least she could do in return for the joy he gave her, no matter how briefly it lasted.

      Chapter Seven

      Sophie sat before the fire to brush dry her newly washed hair and wondered what she should do next. As far as she was concerned, last night had set her course for her, but she was not sure if Alpin felt the same. He had not turned cold toward her, but there had been no opportunity or time to even speak to him. The MacLanes and the coming wedding had taken up most of his attention. She had caught a look in his eyes now and again, one of such passion it had caused her blood to run hot, but that did not mean he intended to make her his lover. Last night could have been seen by Alpin as no more than a weakening of his control, something he would now fight to regain. Sophie found that possibility very painful, but also understood it. He sought to protect her.

      What she needed to decide was whether or not she would go to him if he did not seek her out. That would require her to swallow a great deal of pride, perhaps even subject herself to a harsh rejection as Alpin sought and regained his control. Then again, time was swiftly running out for her to make him love her enough to choose her, to have enough faith in her to know she would never turn from him no matter how dark the future. If she was right about the way the curse could be broken, then such cowardly behavior as fearing how he might hurt her or damage her pride was almost as great a sin as Rona’s. All of their futures could rest upon his choice of bride and, if she allowed him to set her aside, that choice would definitely be Margaret. If she failed, she would have years to nurse her bruised heart and stung pride.

      For one brief moment, she felt guilty. Margaret was his betrothed bride and a betrothal was as sacred as a marriage. She was not only trying to take Margaret’s soon-to-be husband away from her, but, in the eyes of many, committing a sin very close to adultery. Then she shook her head, telling herself she had no cause for guilt concerning Margaret. The woman did not want Alpin. She was doing as her father commanded, but made her despair painfully clear to all. And if there was a penance for giving Alpin all her love when they were not married and might never marry, Sophie knew she would pay it gladly.

      A sound at the door made her heart skip with anticipation. Alpin was coming to her. She turned and gaped, the sharp sting of disappointment swiftly pushed aside by a wary fear. It was not Alpin but one of Sir Peter’s men entering her room and hastily barring the door behind him. She did not need to ask why he was there; the reason was clear to see in his expression. It was a chillingly lustful look, the sort of lust that he would satisfy whether she agreed to service him or not. She had seen that look upon his face a few times, but had foolishly thought he would never dare to act upon it.

      “I suggest ye leave, Sir Ranald,” she said, pleased with the calm tone of her voice, for inside she was trembling. “My maid will soon come and will be sure to set up a cry if the door remains barred.”

      “That bone-thin bitch Nella?” Sir Ranald chuckled. “Nay, I dinnae think so.”

      “What have ye done to Nella?” she demanded, suspicious of his certainty that they would not soon be disturbed.

      “Just a wee tap to send her to sleep. Sat her up against the wall outside your door. Anyone sees her, they will think she nodded off to sleep whilst guarding your door.”

      “She sleeps in here and all ken it.”

      “Just as they all ken ye are far more than the laird’s healing woman, aye?”

      “Dinnae be such an idiot.” As he approached, she