Free The Scottish Selkie by Cornelia Amiri (Celtic Romance Queen) Page A

in a fluid motion pulled the garment off her body, leaving her nude. Malcolm turned Bethoc around to face him. 
    His eyes fell on her shapely legs and he let out a long sigh, so taken with the blue tattoos adorning the soft curving flesh of her thigh. At the flare of her hip a running horse with an intricate mane of swirls looked as if he tried to gallop to her belly. So her great great grandfather came from the house of the horse. “Flawless as a goddess.” Malcolm rasped, his throat muted with lust.
    “Dare we?” Bethoc asked in a breathy tone. 
    “How can we not?” Malcolm pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue tracing the fullness of her lips. She let out a delicious little moan. He released her mouth. 
    Her brows arched and her emerald eyes glistened. 
    “You need take your bath, Bethoc, before the water cools.” 
    Her tongue darted out ever so slightly as she licked her lips. With deliberate, slow movements, she raised her long, flowing and gracefully curved legs and stepped into the hot, steamy tub. He swept his eyes down her the tattoos on her thigh, a dolphin with its long face and flippers depicted with curving lines, the house of her great great grandmother. Beneath that were two round circles connected with one thin line, like wagon wheels, the Pict symbol of marriage. With a gentle, easy sway, she sunk into the bath until her back rested against the wooden rim, and her knees peeked out of the water. 
    Bethoc modestly arranged her long, dark hair over her breasts, but he swept her mane over her shoulder. He knelt beside the tub and scooped up the water with both hands, letting it run down her glistening breasts. He longed to taste those slick pink tipped nipples to roll them with his tongue. The swelling bulge in his groin tightened. She moaned and wiggled. He pushed her long hair forward and poured a handful of water onto her arched back. As she rolled her neck from one side to the other, her silky mane swept against her wet back. 
    Malcolm leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Bethoc as she did the same. Their lips pressed together in a flicker of heat. With urgent tugs, their upper bodies swiveled to and fro. He moved one arm away from her shoulder and slid it under her bottom. With both arms around her, he gently lifted her out of the tub. Lost in the sultry, slippery, silken sensations of her skin against his, he carried her wet and dripping to his bed.
    Malcolm cringed at a brisk rap at the door. “Give me but a moment,” he whispered to Bethoc as he kissed her, then pulled away. Straightening himself, he strode hastily to the door. “Who goes there?” He jerked it open, not waiting for an answer. 
    He flinched with guilt when he saw it was Riona with a tray of food. “Forgive me,” he mumbled. 
    “It is naught.” Riona handed him the tray. With a swift turn she walked away. 
    Malcolm shut the door and carried the food to the bed where Bethoc lay wrapped in a bear fur. He put the tray down and sat by her side. He brimmed their goblets with ale and they nibbled on the rich cheese and white chunks of succulent boar. With the sharp taste of goat cheese on his tongue, Malcolm grabbed his cup and tossed the bittersweet golden brew down his throat. It heated his insides like a warm fire on a lonely winter's night. Bethoc set her goblet on the chest beside the bed. Malcolm did the same. 
    Lying down beside her, Malcolm wrapped his arms around Bethoc. Though she kept her hand modestly pressed below her neck to hold the fur over her bare body, Malcolm’s skin prickled from the fiery heat of her flesh. Even through the fur. As one sniffs the first blossom of spring, Malcolm slowly drew in the sweet yet salty scent of Bethoc's skin. 
    Words flowed in the haze of desire as he sang to her in a deep voice, thick with lust. 
    "Bethoc fair, warrior maid.
    "Come lay with me. Share my bread.
    "Drink my sweet ale.
    "Bethoc fair, warrior maid,
    "Come lay with me. My elixir of love.
    "I