Ensnared by Blood Page 5

  By the sacred spirits, he had never encountered a more enticing woman.

  He pulled in a deep breath through his nose and let go of her hand. His palm skated over the curve of her hip, across the narrow valley of her waist, to the soft swell of her breast. Her fullness filled his palm, and Fintan closed his fingers around the weighty flesh, squeezing gently.

  Beth’s throaty mewl accompanies the arch of her back, which pressed her more fully into his palm. When he dragged his thumb over her lightweight blouse and the hardened nipple beneath, her shiver vibrated into him. He repeated the slow stroke. Released his hold on her hair to cup her other breast with that hand as well. She was so lovely. So perfectly responsive. So…all-consuming.

  Sense struggled through the thick haze of arousal, pushing past Fintan’s layers of darkness to warn he should stop. To urge him to ease the kiss to a close and bid Beth goodnight. He would only bring her danger, and she…

  With a protesting shake of his head, Fintan broke their impassioned kiss. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to put distance between their bodies. His lips hovered over hers, their heavy breaths rasping in harmony with the crackling of the fire. His gaze searched hers as he struggled for words.

  Eradicating his ability to speak, Beth’s delicate hand shifted, creeping higher until her palm rested over his swollen erection. Like she’d touched him with a branding iron, fire arced through Fintan. He gasped against the searing heat, aware he had come too far and needed to gain control over this forbidden play.

  But as he leaned back to politely draw the evening to a close, his throat locked against words. Instead, his fingers slipped down the delicate hem of her blouse, freeing the pearl buttons, nudging the expensive fabric away until it fell down her arms.

  Chapter Seven

  Beth couldn’t have offered protest even if she wanted to—she was too spellbound by the hungry light in Fintan’s eyes as his gaze dipped to her breasts. Beneath the fine white lace of her bra, her already erect nipples tightened into painfully hard buds. She craved the feel of his strong hands there, the warmth of his mouth. Biting back a moan, she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on leveling out her breathing. No sense letting him know how easily he affected her. The knowledge would only give him power she had no intentions of relinquishing.

  “Beth, you are so lovely,” he whispered as he trailed a solitary fingertip across her collarbone, down the high swell of flesh above the ivory lace.

  His tender touch combined with the husky quality of his voice provoked her into another shiver. Before she could overcome the violent tremor and find a response, he stole the last of her ability to reason by reaching around her back and releasing the fasteners on her bra. Slowly, he nudged the thin straps down her shoulders, her elbows, her wrists. When it stopped on the gathered material of her blouse, Fintan pulled both off her fingers and dropped them on the floor.

  Yet he didn’t touch her as she’d anticipated he would. Instead of gathering her exposed flesh in his palms, he grasped her by the wrist. Sliding off the couch, he knelt on the thick white rug, bringing her with him.

  “Fintan,” she murmured as he drew open lips along the line of her shoulder, a hairsbreadth away from touching her skin. Hot and moist, his breath brought goose bumps to life. They rippled down her arms, her spine, all the way to her toes. Her womb clamped down in longing.

  “Fintan, touch me.” Beth leaned forward, needing the press of his body, the contact he withheld.

  He obliged with a faint clasp of lips, not nearly long enough to sate Beth’s craving. As she reached for him, intending to loop her arms around his neck and hold his heavenly mouth in place, he evaded. Leaning away, he pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it on the rug by their knees.

  Beth’s gaze locked on a chest more powerful than she’d imagined. In the dim firelight, shadows accentuated his rangy frame, turning etched cords of muscle into deeply defined planes of strength. A smattering of faint dark hair gathered between tight pectorals, adding to the crisp definition that made her pulse skip several beats. Her eyes trailed lower, following that shadowy trail to a taut abdomen, lower still to the solitary button on his faded jeans. She outstretched an arm, tucked a finger into his waistband. Beneath the press of her knuckles, his belly tensed.

  When she twisted her wrist and freed that singular brass button, Fintan shuddered. “Beth, don’t. “ He wrapped his fingers around her hand, stilling it. “I’ll be useless in a heartbeat.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Logical to a fault, always-composed Fintan faltering beneath desire—it was so out of place with the man she knew. That she had affected him this way sent a wave of excitement gushing down her spine. Warmth pooled between her legs, and the ache in her womb became unbearable. “I’m right there with you, Fintan,” she confessed.

  A hoarse groan tumbled from his lips. In the next instant, his hands fastened on her hips, and he dragged her across the narrow distance separating them. His mouth caught hers, hard and insistent. He surrounded her, his powerful thighs locking her in place, his fingers sliding over her skin as if he couldn’t touch her enough. The same desperation surfaced inside Beth, and she clung to Fintan, barely aware of her surroundings as he eased her backward onto the thick shag rug.

  “Oh, Fintan,” she breathed against his bare shoulder. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

  A coarse sound of satisfaction rumbled in his throat as his mouth seared a path of fire down her neck. The softest, warmest lips she’d ever known latched onto one turgid nipple. Beth gasped in pleasure and arched her back, pushing her breast against him harder. At the same time his hips sank into hers, stroking her feminine center, and bliss shot through her veins.

  Beneath the masterful stroke of his tongue, she began to unravel in ways she didn’t know were possible. Dan had never provoked her to near madness. But no matter how she writhed, how she twisted, she couldn’t get enough of Fintan. Each lazy caress, each not-so-gentle nip of teeth pushed her headlong into the wild tide of desire, making it impossible to focus. And on some deep, instinctive level, she sensed the burn of yearning had little to do with the fact she hadn’t been intimate with a man in too many months to count. That it was Fintan, the scholar who haunted her thoughts despite the ocean between them, who reduced her to a needy, trembling, mass.

  Dimly, she recognized the tickle of cool air on her skin. As awareness surfaced, and she realized Fintan had moved, leaving her exposed in the firelight, she opened her eyes. His gaze locked with hers, those steely-grey depths as dark as gunmetal. Beth’s heart lurched under that blistering stare. For a moment, she felt normal. Beautiful in a way she’d never before experienced. Like maybe, just maybe, Fintan saw beyond the designer clothing and appreciated the genuine woman beneath.

  “I’m sorry, Beth,” he murmured as he tugged her slacks down her legs.

  The apology barely registered before his thighs settled between hers, and his weight pressed comfortably against her body.

  “Sorry?” she asked in a trembling whisper.

  But as the question slipped free, Fintan angled his hips, aligning his erection against her opening. One swift thrust pushed him deep inside her slick flesh, and Beth let out a soft cry. If she hadn’t been on the brink of shattering into pieces, his sudden entrance would have hurt. But as he lay still, allowing her body to accommodate his girth, she was anything but pained. He stretched her to perfection.

  Damn…he felt…good.

  She slid her hands down the expanse of his back and gave his buttocks a squeeze. Hooking one ankle around his calf, she twisted her hips and smiled. “Oh. You could do that again.”

  Tenderness filled his expression, along with a touch of humor at the corner of his eyes. He tucked a lock of her hair away from her face and brought his mouth to hers. Softer, more sweetly, Fintan kissed her. Drew her back into the glorious heat of his overwarm skin and the amazing feel of his intimate possession.

  “I could stay here forever.” He pulled back, with
drawing until he nearly left her slick sheath, then pushed back in, long and slow.

  “Mm.” Beth closed her eyes as sensation built. Yeah, he could stay here forever. She wouldn’t argue that. He fit too nicely to object. Too…right.

  Answering his thrust with a push of her hips, she yielded to the call of pleasure. He joined her, steady thrusts edging her ever-closer to a point Beth knew she couldn’t return from. His skin slipped against hers pleasantly, his harsh breath filled her ears, and the warmth radiating from the fire bathed them both in a fine sheen of perspiration.

  “Ah, damn…” he muttered between clenched teeth. “I’m not going to last, Beth.”

  “Don’t.” She didn’t want his control; she was too on the edge of release herself. And when she reached that cataclysmic place, she wanted him to shatter along with her, for certainly the overwhelming pleasure would crack her into pieces.

  Fintan didn’t argue. His body drove into hers like a well-oiled piston. She met his insistent thrusts with her own desperation. Driving him onward. Encouraging him to the point of abandon.

  Bliss built, stacked drop after drop, until she couldn’t take another ounce. Through the bleary haze of sensation, she heard his gravelly groan. Ecstasy blanketed Beth, washing her body hot, then cold, then hot again. Writhing against the enormity of feeling, she dug her nails into his lower back to hold him deep inside her and cried out his name.

  He dusted kisses against her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Gradually, their bodies slowed, and Fintan sucked in an audible breath. His exhale was shaky, and he dropped his forehead to the hollow of her neck and shoulder, whispering, “Ah, Beth.”

  Drawn back into the present, Beth wound her arms around Fintan’s waist and gave him a tight hug. “That was…incredible.”

  His chuckle danced across her neck. “Yes. Indeed.” Shifting, he eased his weight off her body and stretched out alongside her. One hand fitted against her hip, molding her close.

  Languor filled Beth. Sated beyond all means, warmed by the fading fire, she inhaled the heady scent of Fintan’s skin and closed her eyes. Who would have guessed Scotland could be full of so much pleasure? That one night of complete abandon could make her more content than she could remember?

  “Fintan?”

  “Yes?” he asked, his eyes closed.

  “In case you’re wondering, I’m clean, and I’m on the shot.”

  “Mm.” He snugged his arm about her more firmly and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “It hadn’t even crossed my mind, but so am I.”

  Good then. One night of complete abandon wouldn’t come with long-term, ever-lasting consequences. Beth wriggled closer and let out a contented sigh. It didn’t get any more perfect than this.

  ****

  Beneath the bright light of a wide full moon, tall corn sheaves banded around the middle by vine stood silent sentries along the packed dirt path. Small white stones marked the edge of the narrow trail, diligently painted by those who had come before, those who were now amongst the dead. Beth tread lightly, her stare fixed on the ring of stones ten feet ahead, her ears full of the sound of reverent chanting. Her heart beat at an unsteady pace. Fear made her cautious.

  She didn’t know what would happen tonight, not exactly. Only that something would, and if she were to survive, she must keep her distance from the tribal members gathered near the roaring bonfire.

  The breeze picked up, making the fires tucked inside hollowed-out gourds on pikes flicker hedonistically. Much like the rising voices near the center of the sacred circle. Her skin prickled with rising energy, power summoned from both the clansmen who offered up prayers and the vile man who led their drums.

  As she neared the glen, the sharp wail of an infant rose above the drone of song. She raced forward, her heart in her throat, driven to aid that helpless child.

  Beth shoved through the entrance to the ring of fire, tripping over the harvest offerings of grains, corn, and apples. Chaos erupted, men and women screaming, racing for refuge from those who brandished axes, rough-hewn swords, and struck out against their brethren. Strangely, no one seemed to observe her, though many almost collided into her. But she noticed them, noticed the panic etched into fleeing faces and wrath embedded on those who remained behind. Those who celebrated the powerful figure standing at a blood-coated altar, the bloodied infant child atop the altar.

  Her stomach pitched violently. An unholy sound tore from his throat, and he snatched at the fair-haired, beautiful blonde woman at his side. Beth rose to her toes, trying to see over riotous mass. Tribe members blocked her view, leaving her to absorb the heart-twisting feminine cries of pain.

  A man toppled at her feet. He stared up at her, his eyes unseeing, his handsome face marred by a deep gash to the left side of his skull. Rivulets of crimson streamed down his cheek, matted his hair, and gathered in the dirt beneath his head. Bile rose to Beth’s throat. Unable to witness more of the murderous outbreak, she stumbled blindly back the way she came.

  As she turned, movement near the easternmost standing stone caught her eye. There, a woman with reddish hair hunkered down in the shadows. She stared at the scene near the altar that Beth couldn’t observe, her lean frame tense, like a wildcat stalking unsuspecting prey.

  In the next instant, the woman let out a ferocious battle cry and surged from her hiding place. Dagger lifted at her shoulder, she rushed to the edge of the altar. Her voice rose over the clash of steel, the moans of the dying. Beth couldn’t make out her words.

  Lightning flashed overhead, though the stars twinkled down on the village.

  Beth bolted upright, gasping. Her frantic gaze scanned her surroundings, finding not the tall monoliths Fintan had shown her earlier, but tall shelves of books, the tapestry she’d admired. Breathing a sigh of relief, she dropped her head into her hands. The dream. Just the dream.

  A warm, comforting hand settled on her thigh. “It’s okay, Beth,” Fintan whispered.

  Okay as in it wasn’t real—yes. Okay as in she was okay—hardly. She was shaking so badly, she could barely draw a normal breath.

  As if Fintan somehow understood the terror surging through her veins, he wrapped his arm around her waist and urged her back into the protective circle of his arms. His lips fluttered against her cheek. “Shh. I’ve got you.” Warm, pleasant kisses dusted across her mouth.

  The surreal sense of comfort settled into her veins. She released her pent-up fear, the terror that had ripped her from sleep, and snuggled into Fintan’s embrace. She could get used to this. Waking up with him, letting him soothe away the nightmares, falling asleep in the warmest, safest place she’d ever known…

  Yeah, she could get damned used to Fintan McClaine.

  Chapter Eight

  “Isn’t this sweet? Fintan’s getting cozy with the sacrificial lamb. Buttering her up, brother?”

  Beth startled at the caustic feminine voice. She opened both eyes, instantly tense. But the strong band of iron around her waist forbade her from sitting. Fintan turned his head toward a woman in the doorway. Long red hair streamed wild and free around her shoulders. Intricate blue tattoos adorned her bare arms, her ankles, her bare feet.

  “Get out, Brigid.” Low and menacing, Fintan’s order left no room for argument.

  Brigid, however, merely laughed. A sound that chilled Beth to the bone. On more than one occasion, she’d heard the same brittle tone in her damned nightmare. Rising above the chant, the beat of drums, the terrified screams.

  “Get out so I don’t alert your prey? You’re offering her on Imbolc, right?” She tsk-tsked. “You shouldn’t mislead the victims, Fintan. It’s far more entertaining to witness their fear just before you slice open their throats.”

  “Enough!” Fintan thundered, as he lunged upright.

  Yet his adamancy came too late—Beth’s heart careened behind her ribs, and her stomach twisted violently. The image of the eviscerated child surfaced in her memory, the blood so fresh she could taste the coppery tang. If Finta
n and his pagan following practiced any kind of sacrifice…

  The idea was too horrid to complete the thought. She scrambled for her clothes.

  “This is my office, Brigid! You will remove yourself immediately.”

  Brigid laughed again, but she took a step backward into the hall. “Yes, I will leave. But rest assured, dear brother, I will not go far.” Her mocking gaze fell on Beth. “Have you told her about the ritual? Have you warned her she’s not safe?”

  Fintan’s shoe flew past Beth’s head, crashed into the doorframe with a thud. As it fell to the ground, Brigid shut the door. Her laughter echoed in the hall beyond.

  Not safe. Beth’s mind locked onto the two frightening words. How was she not safe?

  No, scratch that, she didn’t want to know. She wanted to get the hell out of here. One night was enough. Between the odd standing stones, her recurring nightmare, and the completely unacceptable things she’d allowed to happen with Fintan, she couldn’t take any more.

  “I have to go.” Yanking on her slacks, she hastened to escape.

  “Beth.”

  “No, I have to go. Now.”

  Strong arms wrapped around her waist, stilling the frantic fumbling of her hands. “Where are you going to go?”

  “I…don’t…know.” Just away. From the crazy stories Fintan wanted her to believe. From his equally nutty sister. From him, before he caused serious damage to her heart…or worse. “I just have to leave.”

  ****

  A thousand oaths filled Fintan’s mind. When he cornered Brigid, when Beth couldn’t possibly witness the depth of his anger, he intended to unleash every one of those oaths on her…and then some. Right now, he was so furious he could have stuffed a fist in Brigid’s jaw. But the knowledge it wouldn’t really hurt her, kept him from doing more than throwing a shoe.

  “Beth.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Brigid is—”

  “Crazy? I’ll second that.” Twisting, she struggled for freedom. “Let me go. You’re just as nuts. Sacrifice? I knew you were pagan, but I didn’t think you’d be capable of that.”