She wanted a love match.

Dirk got up, crossed the room and poured some mulled wine into a mug. He took a sip then brought the mug to the bed and offered it to her. His delicious nude body had her too distracted to think about wine. She took a sip and gave it back to him.

After setting the mug aside, he lay down in bed beside her and covered up to the waist. He seemed distracted and in deep thought of a sudden.

She shoved down the covers, exposing him to her view again. She knew she was being audaciously wanton, but she wished to learn more about him and his body.

With heavy-lidded eyes, he watched her surveying his size and dimensions.

"That is… heavenly," she said, stroking her fingertips along his silky shaft which was neither hard nor soft, but somewhere in the middle.

A chuckle burst from him. "Only you would say such a thing about a most carnal and earthly tarse."

"Is that what it's called? A tarse?"

"Aye, that's one name. The others are too vulgar for your delicate ears."

Her face heated but her gaze slid down to the appendage in question. She sat up and stroked Dirk's tarse with her fingers. How fascinating that it was growing harder and longer with each moment that passed. She wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed. He growled, the dark blue passion of his gaze telling her he wanted to ravish her again.

Aye, please do.

Dirk could not believe what he'd done. Now that he wasn't drugged, he remembered every second, every detail of taking Isobel to the heights of pleasure. How breathtaking and lovely she'd been.

"You're the one who is heavenly," he murmured, then placed wee kisses on her lips, like taking tiny sips of wine and savoring each one. She was intoxicating, and her midnight eyes bewitching as she gazed up at him in the candlelight.

Nay, he could never let her go now.

Her hand squeezed his hard tarse, propelling keen pleasure and a rush of raw need through him. Damnation, how he loved her penchant for wantonness.

"Did I hurt you earlier?" he asked, suddenly remembering he should've been gentler since she was barely past the virgin stage.

She shook her head, giving him a mischievous grin. "Nay. 'Twas the opposite of hurt."

He glanced down, realizing he was naked but she was fully dressed. "Take off these damned clothes." He should feel abashed that he'd taken her so quickly he hadn't even given her time to undress, but she'd taunted him beyond toleration. His mind had been naught but a buzz of arousal and hungry need that had to be satiated.

He helped her disrobe. Once she lay naked beside him, his eyes devoured her luscious curves and pale, smooth skin. He cupped one of her generous breasts tipped with a gorgeous nipple of dark rose. "Beautiful," he whispered, then drew the succulent morsel into his mouth and suckled, relishing the feminine taste of her skin.

He inhaled her sweet scent. "Mmm, you smell like flower nectar."

Moaning, she speared her fingers into his hair to cradle his head close to her. He savored the affectionate, enthusiastic gesture and switched to give her other breast some attention.

She tugged at him, as if trying to drag him closer. Raring to go himself, he rolled between her thighs, savoring the silky feel of her skin against his. Saints! How many times he'd dreamed about being right here.

"Again, please, Dirk," she whispered in a desperate tone.

He growled, cherishing her desire for him. He felt the same way, unable to get enough of her. Rising over her, he slid upward and looked into her dusky enchantress eyes, while guiding his tarse into her. Again experiencing how hot and drenched she was, he near lost control of his actions, his mind spinning out of control. He wanted to instantly drive to her depths, but somehow refrained, reminding himself she might be sore.

While he devoured her mouth, flicking his tongue against hers, she wriggled her hips, an action that made him want to give her a good hard swiving. "Mmm, you're asking for it," he muttered, barely able to hold himself back.

"Aye, please. More," she begged.

Unable to resist, he lifted himself up and increased the tempo of his strokes. Moments later, she was crying out, her body clutching at his in climax. Covering her mouth with his, lest someone in the corridor hear her, he savored the way her inner muscles caressed him tightly, driving him over the edge of sanity and desire. His own release burned through him like a cannon blast, with an explosion of pleasure that obliterated all thoughts.

When his reason returned, he wondered, as he gasped for breath, how the hell he was going to get out of this quandary without a clan war.

***

A sound awoke Dirk sometime later. What was that? He roused from a deep relaxing sleep to find Isobel spooned in front of him, warm and naked. Mmm. She wiggled her round arse against his aroused shaft. Lust shot through him, spurring him to explore her silky curves. He slid his hand up her thigh, over her hip and waist to her lavish breasts. He filled his hand with one of the firm, yet soft, globes, then tweaked the hard nipple. Moaning, she pushed her arse against him.

Urgent, sharp knocking rapped against the door. "Dirk!"

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dirk muttered a string of mindless curses, annoyed beyond measure to be dragged from this paradise of drowsy sexual arousal while he was nestled with Isobel in bed. His shaft was stone-hard and he needed her now.

"Dirk, are you in there, lad?" Sounded like Uncle Conall's voice.

"Aye," Dirk yelled back, then dragged himself from the bed. The room was near pitch black, except for a few orange coals in the hearth. Where the devil were his clothes? He slid one of the wool blankets from the bed and wrapped it around his waist.

The door opened and Conall entered, carrying a lantern.

"I'm coming! Wait in the corridor," Dirk said, trying to prevent Conall from seeing Isobel in bed behind him.

"What's happening?" Isobel asked, stirring and turning over.

Conall's brows shot up his forehead.

Hell. Dirk rolled his eyes. "If you could give us some privacy, Uncle, I'll get dressed. Leave the lantern."

"Indeed. But hurry, lad." Conall set the lantern on the floor, then exited, closing the door behind him.

"What is it?" she asked again.

"I know not yet. I have to get dressed and find out." What damned timing. It had to be important or Conall wouldn't have burst in. Dirk opened a trunk, removed several items of clothing and quickly dressed. "You stay there. I'll return and let you know what's happened when I can."

She sat up, her brows furrowed. "I hope you'll be careful."

"Of course." He wanted to kiss her but that might tell her he was feeling emotions he didn't want her to know about. "Bar the door and allow no one in."

She nodded. "Hurry back."

Taking the lantern, he met Conall in the hallway. "Not a word about this to anyone, Uncle," Dirk warned.

"Much as I'd love to tease you about the lass in your bed, there are more important things afoot."

"What?"

"Haldane and some others broke all the prisoners out of the dungeon, including McMurdo."

"How the hell did they accomplish that?" Dirk asked, quickening his steps.

"They killed two of the MacKay guards and a third is injured."

"Iosa is Muire Mhàthair. That little bastard. I'm done giving him second chances and treating him like a brother. I can't overlook murder."