He pulled her slowly closer until her breasts just brushed the mat of hairs on his bare chest. His eyes never left her face, and her eyes drowned in his. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could scarcely hear anything over it. When his hands released her arms to slide around her small waist, she wet her lips. He took a quick, deep breath.
"Put your arms around my neck." His voice was faintly hoarse. Tiny flames lit the backs of his eyes. Caitlyn felt her knees go weak as she obediently lifted her arms. At the first tentative touch of her hands on his neck he stiffened. Caitlyn felt the warm dampness of his skin under her fingertips and trembled. Her arms slid slowly around his neck, her fingers touching the curly tail of hair at his nape. He bent his head. She closed her eyes.
The first touch of his mouth on hers made her dizzy. His lips pressed against hers gently, warm and dry, nuzzling her mouth. She felt a quickening deep inside her, a longing so intense that she thought she might faint with it. Her chest heaved as she drew a long shuddering breath, and then his tongue was inside her mouth.
She moaned. Never in all her life had she imagined that kissing a man would be like this. She felt lightheaded, intoxicated, enthralled as his tongue softly, gently, explored her mouth. When he removed it and lifted his head, she dug her nails into the back of his neck in protest even as she opened her eyes.
"Gently, lass." He was breathing unevenly too, she saw. Her arms were still around his neck, and his arms enwrapped her waist. If it hadn't been for this support, she didn't think she would have been able to stand. Her knees had melted to butter, and her insides were all aquiver. The look in her eyes was both languorous and urgent as she lifted them to his.
" 'TWas marvelous. Do it again." It was a soft murmur.
"Sweet Jesus." His eyes blazed down at her for an instant before he bent his head to hers and took her mouth with a ferocity that lit brushfires of need inside her. He pulled her up on tiptoe, bending her backward so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder as his tongue plundered her mouth. Caitlyn locked her arms around his neck and kissed him back, relying on blind instinct to teach her all she needed to know. Boldly her tongue stroked his, slid inside his mouth. A fine tremor shook the arms that strained her to him. His hands slid down to cup her bottom through the layers of skirt and petticoat and shift, pulling her up against him as he pressed boldly into her. She felt the rock hardness of him grinding against her belly, felt the kneading of his fingers on her bottom as they drew her closer yet, and moaned his name into his mouth. He groaned in answer and shifted his hold on her, so that she thought he would lower her to the stone floor beneath. Then he muttered a vile word into her mouth, pulled her upright again, and tore his mouth from hers, still holding her close while his heart pounded against her breasts and his face rested against the top of her head.
"Connor!" This time his name was a soft protest. She felt him draw a deep breath. Then his arms slid from around her waist and he took a step back from her, his hands closing over her forearms where they were linked behind his neck.
"You are a menace," he said through his teeth, spacing the words out. When she still swayed toward him with invitation, he pulled her arms from around his neck and held her away from him by his grip on them. "Stop it! Do you want to end up as my mistress, taken right here on the bloody floor?"
Caitlyn smiled at him. Her insides were a-clamor, her head awhirl. There was only room for one thing in her thoughts: Connor himself. He looked so incredibly handsome as he stood there scowling at her, his eyes narrowed beneath frowning brows and his mouth, his marvelous mouth that could do the most incredible things to her, fierce. His black hair was escaping untidily from its ribbon, and she supposed that she had caused that when she had stroked its silken waves. His broad shoulders were set rigidly as though to hold her off, but his chest heaved beneath his open shirt as if he were having trouble drawing breath. Caitlyn stared at that hard-muscled, sweat-filmed chest for a long moment before she lifted her eyes to his again.
"If you like," she said simply and lowered her eyes to his chest once more. That broad, hair-roughened expanse fascinated her. Of its own volition her hand came up to rest gendy over his heart, and she had the answer to the question that had troubled her: the mat of fine hair was as soft as a kitten's fur.
"Holy Mother of God!" Connor yelped, jumping back as if stung by her gende touch. Then, before Caitlyn knew what was happening, he was tottering on the edge of the pool. Instinctively she reached out a hand to him, but it was too late; he fell in.
She was staring wide-eyed at the spreading ripples on the dark water when he surfaced what seemed like eons later. Treading water, he scowled up at her, brushing the strands of sopping-wet black hair from his eyes. Then the sheer ridiculousness of it coaxed a reluctant grin from him.
"I should have listened to Mickeen from the beginning," he told her, swimming for the edge of the pool and hoisting himself up. "You've been nothing but trouble to me from start to finish, young Caitlyn, and it seems the more I try to get out the deeper I get into the coil. And you are no help at all."
"What are you talking about?" She stared at him, bewildered, as he stood up and looked ruefully down at him- self. He was soaked to the skin, his boots doubtless ruined, the ribbon securing his queue left behind to float on the surface of the spring. Water poured off him like rain. He looked up at her, his expression wry.
"I never meant to lay a finger on you, lass, and 'tis ashamed of myself I am for doing so. With a little cooperation from you, I'll undertake to make certain that it does not happen again."
"But-but-" Caitlyn sputtered at him, unable to believe her ears. "You said-you told Cormac and Rory that you-that I was your property. I thought-I thought…" What she had thought trailed off into nothingness as she found herself unable to put it into words. Connor looked at her steadily.
"What I said was merely my own clumsy way of trying to keep my brothers from killing each other over you. I never meant to claim you truly. Only to keep you safe."
"Oh!" Her cheeks burned with mortification. Her hands flew to them and she stared at him in dawning horror. Remembering every little thing she had said and done, she wanted to die. And with shame came flaring, healing anger.
"Caitlyn…" He said her name in a gentle tone, reaching for her. She glared at him, her hands dropping away from her cheeks to clench at her sides.
"You are a vile beast, Connor d'Arcy!" she hissed, and as he took a step toward her she shoved him so hard that he tumbled backward into the spring. Even as the water from his fall splashed over her, she was turning away with a swirl of skirts and rushing up the stairs. If she was lucky, she thought, fuming, maybe he'd drown in the bloody pool!