Midnight Honor

him for his recklessness even as she took full, shameless advantage.
    “A month ago,” he said, “when you were begging me to stay with you in Falkirk, I had a dozen good reasons why I should go. Here, tonight, with my hands on your breasts and my body held hostage between your thighs, I cannot think of a single one.”
    Anne sighed and rolled her hips slowly forward and back, feeling his response stretch deep inside her. She sat astride his naked, splayed body, her hair strewn about her shoulders, her hands braced on his chest. A cluster of candles were lit on the bedside tables so that not one flicker of reaction went unnoticed on either face.
    “Whereas the dozen good reasons I had for you to stay all seem so selfish now. This one, for instance—” She arched her back and rose up on her knees, withdrawing her heat almost to the engorged tip of rigid flesh. “And this.”
    She settled back over him with a sinuous thrust of her hips, and Angus clamped his hands around her waist, the muscles in his arms bulging as he strove to retain some measure of control. He had been deathly afraid of touching her, of hurting her, of rushing into anything physical too soon after the miscarriage, and for the first two visits he had been content just to lie alongside her and watch her sleep in his arms. This time, however, he had not made it through the bedroom door before she was under his clothes with roving hands and an avid mouth that made short work of his noble intentions. He had, at the least, insisted on her assuming the superior role so that she could control their movements and stop at any time if it became too much. After the fourth time in as many hours, however, it was proving to be far more of a trial for him than for her. Judging by the deliberate slide of her hips, the flaring and tightening of all those wicked little muscles, she knew it, too.
    “Each time you come here, I find it that much more difficult to let you go back,” she said, withdrawing her heat again, hovering, sliding down his full length. “But I suppose the prince needs your help more than ever now.”
    “I was under the distinct impression,” he said through clenched teeth, “your opinion of the royal progeny had dipped somewhat since Falkirk.”
    “But my opinion of Lord George has not changed. Nor that of Lochiel or Lord Drummond, or any of the men who are still willing to risk so much for the sake of honor.”
    “‘These deeds,’” he murmured through a shiver, “‘these plots, this ill-conceived folly born of midnight honor …’”
    She slid to a halt, intrigued. “What did you say?”
    “Oh, dear God,” he rasped, “don't stop again; you'll kill me.”
    “No, before that.”
    “A quote. It was just a quote. Something that popped into my mind. I cannot even recall who said it.”
    She smoothed her hands over his breasts, ignoring his shivered urging to resume the sleek, rocking friction. She bowed her head and caught a nipple between her teeth, leaving it and the surrounding flesh well laved by her tongue. Her fingers combed through the dark swirls of hair on his chest,following the line down onto his belly. After a brief flirtation with the hard bands of muscle that made for such an inviting seat, she reached around and trailed her fingers up the insides of his thighs, teasing the little treasures she found nestled there until she heard him growl and felt him rise up beneath her like a volcano on the verge of erupting. She leaned farther back, inviting his torso to come up off the bed, and when he obliged, she shifted her feet forward, locking them firmly around his waist so that they each sat with their legs crossed behind one another's back.
    Angus rested his head on her shoulder a moment, hoping to catch his breath, to steady his nerves before the next onslaught.
    “You want something else, I know you do.”
    “I do,” she agreed softly, “and I am getting it now.”
    She forced him to tip his mouth up so that she could ravage what remained of his sanity. The heat of her tongue lashed at him, while the moist silkiness of her body began to draw him in with bold, greedy strokes that were tight enough he could feel his foreskin sliding back and forth along his full length. The pressure soon had him groaning again, had him cupping his hands around her bottom and bringing her harder, faster against him.
    Nothing shy of gunfire would have stopped either one of them that time, and Anne rode the heady waves of her