The Saint: A Highland Guard Novel Read online

As if she sensed what he was about to do, she twined her legs around his and lifted her hips against his, preventing him from pulling back. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please, don’t stop. I’m fine.”

  Their eyes held. He didn’t understand. He had so many questions in his mind, but the cravings of his body wouldn’t be denied. He was so close to coming, he couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. Not when he was inside her. Deep inside her. His throbbing cock surrounded by tight wet heat.

  He levered his chest over her and thrust. Gently, this time, with a soft circle of his hips.

  She gasped, her eyes widening. Aye, it felt good. Very good. Her body clung to him like a fist. A hot, wet fist. Milking him to mindless oblivion.

  Sensation fired through his body, threatening to overtake him. His body strained against it, wanting to drag it out. Squeeze every last moment of this that he could.

  He pumped again, circling, nudging deeper and deeper with each long stroke.

  “You feel so good,” he moaned. She did. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The passion he felt for her wasn’t just from his body but also from his heart. It consumed him. He felt it every time he looked at her. Eyes connected. Bodies connected. One. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too. I’ve always loved you.”

  For a moment, as he held her to him and looked into her eyes, he felt true happiness.

  The pressure was building at the base of his spine, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold it off much longer. Her words of love echoed in his ears. He clenched his jaw, fighting against the urge to let go. His stomach muscles tightened. His thrusts quickened. But he needed her to come with him.

  She started to move against him and he knew he was about to get what what he wanted. She was close.

  Love. He’d said he’d loved her! Helen felt the surge of pleasure rise again inside her as the force of his body slammed into hers. Feeling him inside her, filling her, loving her—it was possession in its most primitive form. A claim. A connection. Intimacy that she’d never imagined.

  And it felt so good. The sharp shock of pain had faded into a distant memory as her body warmed and softened to accommodate him.

  With each thrust, he brought her closer to the edge of the precipice. She could feel her pulse quicken. Feel anticipation course through her.

  Their eyes locked. He looked so fierce and intense, every muscle in his body drawn tight as he fought for something.

  For her, she realized. He was waiting for her.

  Their eyes met. She felt the love from the bottom of her heart.

  The swell of emotion pushed her over. She loved him so much. And this—what she was feeling—was the culmination of that love. It was the moment she’d been awaiting for so long. She cried out as pleasure engulfed her one more time.

  It was all he needed. She could feel the violent roar surge through him. Feel the overwhelming force of his love slam into her. Feel the blast of heat explode inside her as their passion collided in a heavenly torrent.

  For a moment she felt transposed. It felt as if she’d touched a piece of heaven. A star. The sun. A place not of this world.

  His release wracked through him in slow, strained thrusts. He surged into her with one last push and, as if it had sapped every ounce of his energy, collapsed on top of her.

  His heat, his crushing weight, barely had a chance to penetrate before he rolled off her.

  Helen was still too flush with pleasure, moved by what had just happened, and exhausted to realize there was something wrong.

  But when the heat on her skin prickled from the cool air, when her breathing has slowed, and when the last ebb of sensation had faded, she became painfully aware of the quiet.

  She cast him a surreptitious glance from under her lashes. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His stony expression matched his silence.

  A whisper of trepidation skittered across her naked skin with a prickle.

  He should be saying something, shouldn’t he? Holding her in his arms and telling her how wonderful it had been. How much he loved her.

  So why wasn’t he?

  Magnus tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, but it did. She’d been innocent. A virgin.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Helen leaned up on her elbow to look at him, a small frown gathered between her brows. “I tried to a couple of times. But you made it clear that you didn’t want to speak about Wi—” She stopped. “About my marriage.”

  He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop him from saying bitterly, “You sure as hell didn’t try very hard.”

  She flinched. “Perhaps not. But what was I supposed to do, blurt out at dinner, ‘And by the way I’m a virgin’?” She studied his face. “I didn’t realize it was so important to you.”

  “Not important?” He made a harsh scoffing sound. Could she be that naive? Apparently, yes, if the guileless look in her eyes was any indication. “You didn’t think I might care that you and Gordon hadn’t consummated your vows?”

  Her cheeks flushed hot. “I thought I was what was important to you, not the state of my maidenhead. I’ve not asked you about the women you’ve taken to your bed.”

  If he were thinking rationally, he would realize she was right. But he wasn’t. In the back of his mind, Magnus knew he was being unfair, but he couldn’t stop himself. “It’s not the same.”

  She quirked her brow. “It isn’t? If anything, I would have thought this would have pleased you.”

  His mouth hardened. Part of him—the primitive male in him—was pleased. All that passion had been for him, her innocent responses a natural and instinctive reflection of her feelings for him. But it was also a harsh reminder of all that he’d taken from his friend. His life, and now his wife.

  Perhaps sensing his guilt, she tried to explain. “When William came to my room that night, he’d guessed the truth of my feelings for you. He gave me a choice to go to his bed without thinking of another man or to seek an annulment—or if one could not be obtained, a divorce.”

  Ah hell. Magnus felt a sharp stab in his gut. In trying to ease his guilt, she was only making it worse. Knowing that his friend had been prepared to give up his wife for him … God.

  Magnus had been so angry that day. Had the anger made him sloppy? Had he been at fault for what happened? Buried in the darkest corner of his consciousness—something he’d never voiced even to himself—was the deep-seeded fear that MacLeod’s warning had been prophetic, and that somehow he could have done something to prevent it.

  “I knew it would anger my family, I knew it would probably make no difference to you, but I also knew it was not fair to William—I would never have been able to love him as he deserved. So I decided to seek the annulment. But before I could give him my answer, he left. And after …” Her voice dropped off sadly. “And after, it didn’t seem to matter. Perhaps it was wrong of me to pretend, but what point was there in making a scandal?”

  None. But she still should have told him.

  “Would it have made any difference to you, Magnus? Would you have seen your feelings for me as any less of a betrayal whether my marriage was consummated or not?”

  He clamped his jaw down angrily, knowing she was right. It wasn’t her marriage to Gordon that haunted him, but what he’d done to end it.

  A twinge of guilt crept up her cheeks. “And I must admit I liked the freedom afforded being a widow. You know my brothers.”

  He gritted his teeth. Unfortunately, he did.

  He stared at her, trying to control the cacophony of divergent emotions firing inside him. Perhaps he understood her reasoning but it didn’t stop his anger, the feeling that she’d kept something from him. Her face merged with that of another.

  “Watch over her …”

  He couldn’t breathe. He needed to get out of here. Before he said something he regretted. Before he lashed out at her in anger for something she didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t u