Fallen: A Medieval Scottish Romance (The Sisters of Kilbride Book 3)

by Jayne Castel

  And yet, this man wasn’t a predator. He’d only ever been gentle with her.

  Craeg stared at her, surprise flickering over his face, before he favored her with a slow smile that made her belly somersault. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

  Coira swallowed. “No.”

  “I should be exhausted,” he said, giving a slow, languorous stretch. “I am exhausted.”

  “So am I,” Coira admitted. She couldn’t take her gaze from his brawny arms, from the play of muscles across his sculpted chest. He’d removed the bandage from around his torso, and despite that she stood a few feet away, Coira could see that the injury looked healthy enough. The battle hadn’t split it open as she’d feared. “But I couldn’t sleep … not without seeing ye.”

  Craeg pushed himself up into a sitting position upon the furs. His mouth quirked. “And what can I do for ye, Coira?”

  Heaving in a deep breath, Coira reached up and began to unlace the bodice of her kirtle.

  “I want to lie with ye, Craeg,” she murmured.

  His gaze widened, his lips parting as he stared at her.

  “Our world’s in turmoil,” she continued, “and there’s every chance either of us could succumb to the sickness. That being the case, I want to live for the moment. I want ye.”

  She pushed down the sleeves of the kirtle and shrugged it off; the garment fluttered into a pool around her ankles, and she stepped out of it. Underneath, she wore the long sleeveless léine.

  “Are ye sure this is what ye desire?” he asked. His voice came out in a rasp, very different to the confident tone he’d used earlier. His naked chest now rose and fell quickly. “Some things can’t be undone, mo chridhe.”

  Coira, who now reached for the hem of her léine, stilled a moment.

  My heart.

  Did he mean those words, or was it merely an endearment?

  What did it matter? The fact remained that her legs now trembled from wanting him, the pulsing ache between her thighs too much to bear.

  “I know that,” she whispered. “But I want to be undone.”

  And with that, she grasped the hem of her léine and drew it up over her head.

  Standing naked before him, she was aware of the warm air inside the tent feathering over her sensitive skin, of the rasp of both of their breathing—and of the searing heat of his gaze.

  “Come here,” he said softly, the catch in his voice betraying him.

  Coira obeyed. She moved slowly toward the furs, noting the sudden flush across his cheek bones and the huge tent in his tight breeches.

  Coira’s breath caught. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this, that after so many years, she wanted this.

  She’d never lusted after a man. Those years at The Goat and Goose hadn’t been about pleasure for her. No encounter she’d had there ever left her breathless and aching. It had been a mere transaction: flesh for silver.

  But with Craeg, everything was different. With this man, she was willing to give up her soul.

  Coira lowered herself onto her knees beside Craeg, and then, gathering her courage, straddled him. She bowed her head, gazing deep into his eyes.

  “Sweet Lord have mercy,” he murmured. “Is this a dream?”

  Coira’s mouth curved. “If it is, then it is a good one.”

  And with that, she lowered her lips to his.

  28

  Tainted Blood

  CRAEG FELT AS if he’d died and gone to heaven. Strange really, since after everything he’d done over the years, he was sure he’d have ended up with Satan and all his demons.

  Coira’s mouth, tentatively moving over his, was divine. The nearness of her luscious, naked body, made his groin ache. She was long-limbed and lean, yet with large, high breasts that begged to be touched.

  He was going to go insane if he didn’t.

  And when her tongue parted his lips, he knew this woman was going to make him lose his wits altogether.

  He’d longed for this, hadn’t been able to sleep tonight for wanting her.

  Craeg hadn’t enjoyed taking supper with the abbess. Mother Shona had brought up subjects he’d have preferred to ignore. And every time he’d shifted his attention to Coira—clad in a simple blue kirtle that hugged her long, supple body—he’d found it difficult to keep his train of thought.

  It had been awkward when they’d bid each other goodnight outside the abbess’s hall. He’d watched her walk off toward the nun’s lodgings, and had almost called out to her, almost asked her to spend the night with him.

  But after everything Coira had been through, it seemed too aggressive.

  Although it frustrated him, he had to let this woman come to him. If they lay together, he wanted it to be Coira’s choice. She needed to leap the abyss between them and take the initiative—as she did now.

  Coira cupped his face with her hands as she deepened the kiss. Their tongues danced and tangled, and when she gently bit his lower lip, the dull ache in his groin grew unbearable.

  Reaching up, Craeg unfastened the heavy braid down her back, his fingers tangling in the waves, still damp from bathing. Then he stroked the curve of her back. Her skin was so smooth, so soft. He could hardly bear it. And when his hands moved to her breasts, his fingertips brushing across her nipples, Coira groaned low in her throat.

  It was too much. Craeg tore his mouth from hers, took hold of her hips and pulled her against him as he buried his face in her breasts.

  His mouth fastened on a nipple, and he suckled, lust exploding through him when Coira gave a voluptuous moan. She arched back, pressing her breasts hard against him.

  They were both breathing hard when she finally drew back and their gazes fused once more.

  It was an intense moment, almost too much.

  The want he saw in those violet eyes made an ache rise in Craeg’s chest. This woman completely unraveled him, stripped away the mask he’d worn his whole life. Aye, since becoming an outlaw he’d amassed a loyal band of followers. Craeg knew folk were drawn to him, that they looked to him as if he was their savior. For years, he’d played the role and enjoyed it even.

  But Coira saw past all that. She saw into his heart, understood his loneliness, the belief he held deep down that he was as worthless as Duncan MacKinnon had told him.

  He didn’t need to explain himself to her, for when she looked into his eyes, she saw it all.

  Coira’s hands explored the planes of his face before sliding down his neck, to his shoulders and then his chest. She traced the lines of his body with rapt attention, as if she was committing them to memory.

  The turmoil of the world they lived in made this moment even more intense.

  Coira was right—all of them now possibly lived on borrowed time.

  But for one night, death wouldn’t touch them. This night belonged to them.

  Leaning back against the furs, Craeg let Coira explore his body, let her take control. He sensed that was what she wanted, and although he longed to reach for her, roll her under him, and plow her senseless, he knew that this union was a gateway for her.

  He gazed up into her face, his throat tightening when he saw the wonder there.

  Desire was something new for this woman, despite her past. Having grown up in a brothel, Craeg knew why. He’d seen the men who’d visited The Goat and Goose on a regular basis, he’d witnessed how they’d treated the whores—treated his mother.

  Tonight, he’d let Coira take the lead, take what she wished from him.

  Nonetheless, when her fingertips trailed down his belly to the waistband of his breeches, Craeg wondered how much longer he’d be able to bear it.

  Her slow exploration was driving him mad.

  He watched Coira unlace his breeches and heard her sharp intake of breath when his shaft sprang free to greet her. Swollen and quivering, its tip slick with want, his rod was making his need for her clear.

  A sultry smile curved her lips as her slender fingers curved around him, stroking him.

  A str
angled cry escaped Craeg, and his hands clenched at his sides. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could restrain himself.

  And then when she rose up on her knees and shifted so that his rod pressed up into the damp flesh between her thighs, Craeg caught his breath.

  He’d thought she’d lower herself onto him, but instead Coira began to stroke herself with the tip of his shaft, taking her pleasure. He watched wonder suffuse her face, watched her head fall back while soft gasps escaped her.

  “Coira.” His voice sounded strangled, as if someone was choking him. “Ple—ease.”

  She ignored him, continuing to slide herself against the length of him now, her body quivering as she lost herself in the sensation.

  Craeg was enraptured. He’d never seen a woman act like this before. Coira had no idea how lovely she was when she let herself go and followed her instincts. And when she finally lowered herself onto his engorged rod, her head snapped forward, her gaze widening.

  Taking hold of her hips, Craeg guided her down so that she was fully seated upon him. He could feel the tremors that wracked her, the trembling that increased when he took hold of her hips and moved them in a slow, sensual circle.

  “This is wonderful,” she whispered, her voice full of awe. “Why is it … oh … Craeg!”

  He felt her core tighten around him, sweat beading upon her naked skin. Craeg favored her with a slow smile as he continued to move her hips while he arched up, grinding against her. He loved that this was all new to her, loved watching her discover the pleasure that coupling could bring.

  He started to rock Coira her back and forth, in a sensual rhythm that made her gasp. Craeg groaned, arching up once more as he sought to drive deeper. She was so slick now, so hot, that it was stretching his self-control to the limit.

  Leaning forward, Coira grasped hold of the furs, the tips of her lush breasts brushing his face. This altering of position allowed him to thrust deeper, allowed her to push back harder against him.

  Coira started to cry out, soft mewing sounds that excited Craeg beyond measure. His belly muscles tightened, and the world darkened. His release now charged toward him; there was no stopping it—not when this beautiful woman rode him, writhing and shuddering as she lost herself in her pleasure.

  Breathing hard, her body damp with sweat, her core still pulsing in the aftermath of their lovemaking, Coira lay against Craeg, her face buried in his chest.

  She could feel the thunder of his heart against her cheek. Like her, his skin was wet with sweat and his chest rose and fell sharply.

  “God’s bones,” he rasped finally. “Where have ye been all my life, woman?”

  Coira huffed an exhausted laugh, tracing her fingers down his breast bone. “I wish I’d met ye years ago,” she answered honestly.

  “Aye.” His voice was soft when he answered. “Although ye might not have liked me then … I was insufferably arrogant.”

  Grinning, Coira propped herself onto an elbow. “Even more so than now?”

  His mouth quirked. “Aye … if ye can believe it.”

  Their gazes held, and warmth spread through Coira’s chest. Did this man have any idea how devastating he was? Arrogant or not, she’d have fallen under his spell.

  The moment drew out, and, reaching up, Craeg stroked Coira’s cheek. “I’ve been thinking,” he said eventually, “about what the abbess said tonight.”

  Coira cocked her head. “About ye taking MacKinnon’s place?”

  “Aye.” His gaze shadowed as the outside world intruded once more. “The abbess was right. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve never entertained the thought … that those who follow me haven’t mentioned it before.”

  “So why the reticence?”

  Craeg’s mouth twisted. “I don’t rightly know … maybe the fear I have tainted blood?”

  “What?”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m not proud of the man who sired me … nor of my half-brother. What if I end up like them?”

  Coira stared at him, surprise filtering through her. He was serious. “Ye are as different to Duncan MacKinnon as the sun is to the moon,” she said, vehement now. “The fact that ye even worry about such a thing shows just how different ye are. Ye would make a wonderful clan-chief. Ye would rule these lands justly, and ye would treat those who live here with the same respect ye show those who already follow ye.”

  Craeg’s eyes widened. Her intensity had taken him aback, she realized. Yet she couldn’t let him think for a moment that he was like MacKinnon.

  “So ye think I should go to Dunan and take his seat in the Great Hall?” he asked finally.

  Coira’s breathing slowed. Not trusting herself to answer without betraying her sudden nervousness, she nodded.

  “But what if I don’t want to rule alone?” Craeg’s mouth lifted at the corners, and his hand cupped her cheek. “It’s not power I crave, Coira. None of it matters without ye.”

  Coira stilled. What was he saying?

  “I’ll go to Dunan tomorrow,” he continued softly, his gaze never straying from hers. “But only if ye agree to come with me.”

  29

  Together

  “COME WITH YE?” Coira breathed, her pulse accelerating.

  “Aye,” he replied, his expression growing serious. “And when we get there … will ye become my wife?”

  Coira’s mouth fell open. She knew it wasn’t an attractive look, yet his words had completely taken her by surprise. Her mind spun at the enormity of what he was asking.

  “Life is short, mo ghràdh,” Craeg murmured, his mouth curving into a half-smile that made something twist deep within Coira’s chest. “We must take it by the horns while we have it.”

  “This is so sudden,” Coira replied, finally finding her tongue. Her voice was higher than usual, brittle. “Are ye sure?”

  “Surer than I’ve been about anything in my life.” Doubt shadowed his green eyes then. “I love ye, Coira … but do ye feel the same way about me?”

  The sudden vulnerability on his face, the fear that he’d just exposed himself only to risk being pushed away, made a lump rise in Coira’s throat.

  “Aye,” she whispered, her vision blurring. The realization barreled into her with such force that she struggled to draw breath. “I love ye so much that it frightens me.”

  Indeed it did. She’d learned years earlier what it was to lose those she loved. After her parents had died, she’d been utterly alone in the world. She’d missed them so much that a permanent ache had lodged itself in her chest for many years afterward. She wasn’t sure she could bear such heartbreak again.

  “It scares me too,” he admitted. There was a rough edge to Craeg’s voice, and his eyes now gleamed. He reached down to where her hand still lay upon his chest, his fingers wrapping around hers. “But isn’t it time we both faced our fears?”

  “Good morn, fair Coira,” Farlan greeted Coira with a cocky smile. She’d just ducked under the awning, where he and three other badly injured men were laid up. Coira was pleased to see that all of them looked better than they had the night before. Farlan was sitting up, eating a wedge of bannock.

  “Morning.” Coira stopped before him and raised an eyebrow. “How’s the leg?”

  “Burns like the devil.”

  “Let’s take a look at it then.”

  Hunkering down, Coira unwrapped the bandages, her gaze taking in the wound that slashed down his right thigh. She’d hastily sewn it shut the day before. Despite her exhaustion, she’d done a surprisingly neat job of it. She’d cleaned the wound first with vinegar and then packed it with woundwort. This morning, although it was red and angry-looking, there wasn’t any sign of souring.

  “It’s going to take a while before ye can walk,” she warned him, sitting back on her heels and meeting Farlan’s eye. “But ye were lucky … the blade just missed a large vein.”

  Farlan nodded, his throat bobbing as a little of his earlier arrogance dimmed. “So I’ll keep the leg?”

  Coi
ra smiled. “Aye … I’d say so.”

  Voices, raised in excitement, drifted through the encampment then, drawing their attention. Stepping out from under the awning, Coira spied a stocky horse approaching from the east. A big man with wild red-hair rode it, and a woman wrapped in a fur cloak perched side-saddle before him.

  Coira’s heart started to pound. Fenella.

  Picking up her skirts, she hurried through the camp, skirting around smoking fire pits and men packing up tents, to greet the newcomers.

  And she knew, the moment she saw Gunn’s face clearly, that the warrior brought good news.

  Reining in the horse, he smiled. “Yer treatment worked,” he rumbled. “Fen is on the mend. God bless ye.”

  Gently, he drew back the hood of his companion’s fur mantle, revealing a pale face. Fenella peered out, and even managed a wan smile of her own when she spied Coira.

  Excited chatter went up around them, joy rippling through the camp. Many of the folk here hadn’t expected to see Fenella alive again.

  A wide smile split Coira’s face. The relief that flooded over her made her legs wobble. So much so, that she was grateful when a strong male arm fastened around her waist.

  “It’s so good to see ye back, Fen. I was wondering when ye two would get here,” Craeg greeted them. “Lucky for ye, there are still some bannocks left. I know ye have the appetite of a half-starved hound, Gunn.”

  Laughter rose up into the balmy morning air. Coira joined in, the tension she’d been carrying around all morning, as she’d waited for Gunn’s arrival, releasing.

  Gunn grinned. “Speak for yerself, man.” His gaze then lit up as he took in the sight of Coira and Craeg standing together.

  Meanwhile, Coira leaned into Craeg, her arm snaking around his chest. She was aware of the curious looks, the stares, around them. If any of them had suspected the developing relationship between their leader and the woman who’d recently joined them, they were now vindicated.

  Warmth suffused Coira as she realized she didn’t care who knew. Nothing in the world felt as right as Craeg’s arm around her.