Lion Heart (Hearts of the Highlands Book 4)

by Paula Quinn

“When you hear it, you may wish you had not married me.”

  “Lily—”

  “Though I was married for two years, I am a virgin. I—”

  Elias sat up straighter, pushing her with him. She turned in his arms and gave him a worried look while he spoke…or tried to speak. “Ye are a—ye never—”

  She shook her head. “No. Never. Poor Richard could not…”

  His warm, intimate smile washed over her. ”And yet ye remained faithful to him.”

  “I kept my promise.”

  “Aye, ye did.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her and breathed her. He caressed her as if she were adored. His mouth molded to hers as he turned her in his arms and held her, chest to chest. He sank down on his back, taking her along while his lips whispered how bonny she was to him.

  Sprawled atop him, she almost finally wept at the freedom he brought her.

  He held her face in his hands and leaned his head up to keep kissing her. Soon, she grew bold enough to pull her legs over his waist and straddle him.

  She immediately felt him grow harder, bigger between her legs. Her head told her she should jump off him. Instinct told her to rub herself against him.

  She moved herself over him. He groaned and told her how wonderful she was.

  Oh, but he was large and his hardness felt so utterly delightful at her crux, she thought she might have smiled.

  Elias seemed to think so, too, because he pulled her down to kiss her and cup one of her breasts in his hand.

  She shuddered above him as her nipples grew into taut little buds at the work of his deft fingers. She didn’t protest when he swept her over and lay on top of her. She trusted him.

  He looked down, dominant, sheltering. “Ye tempt me beyond my limits, Lily. If ye knew l the things I want to do to ye…”

  He pulled himself up, off her, and ran a hand down her hip, down to her knee. He gathered some linen of her chemise and pulled it up slowly over her thighs.

  When he exposed her, he caressed her with his hand. He kissed her neck and slid his tongue south to her breasts.

  What was he doing to her that felt so scandalous yet gave her such pleasure?

  Sucking her breasts and fondling a small nub that pulsed with what felt like a life of its own between her thighs.

  Instinctually, she wanted more of him and tugged at his breeches.

  He was out of them in an instant, boots flung to the floor nearby.

  She marveled at his legs; his thighs, dusted with dark hair and thick with muscle. Her gaze was drawn to the large mound beneath his léine.

  He ran his broad hand over himself and lifted his léine when he returned to the bed. She had her first look at it dangling over a silken pouch.

  She’d seen others beside Bertram and Walter’s, when he suffered from that terrible rash, or Osbert, last summer when a bee flew down his breeches and stung him. But none of those was so thick and springing with life as Elias’.

  He climbed onto the bed and kneeled to peel away his léine.

  Lily’s breath grew short and she tugged on her chemise, pulling it up higher.

  She knew she was mad not to be more afraid, but the beauty of his masterfully sculpted body, his contoured face, mesmerized her. He wouldn’t hurt her. His hands were as tender as his words.

  He came down, covering her. He rested his lengthening rod between her legs and stared into her eyes. “Dinna be afraid.”

  “I am not afraid,” she declared. She wasn’t. She would not let Bertram ruin her life.

  She relaxed her body and enjoyed the feel of him on her. He was her husband now. She could do what she wanted with him.

  She reached out boldly and ran her fingers over his muscles. She bent her knees and cradled him, moving under him to music that was both feral and silent.

  He had to stop before he poured himself forth prematurely.

  They laughed at how many times he asked her to cease moving. She teased him about his control, or lack of it. They kissed and whispered to each other and, slowly, he claimed her with a sweep of his hips. He broke through with patience and concentration.

  She loved the power she wielded over him. She loved him for giving it to her. He rose up on his palms and she held his trembling arms, fighting to take him fully. Though she didn’t have to fight for long. He stretched her and filled her. But still, he couldn’t get enough of her, so he slipped his hands behind her and held her by her arse, pulling her closer, pushing himself deeper.

  She muffled her cries in his shoulder. He slowed, apologizing for hurting her.

  “No,” she whispered through hollow breaths, “’twill hurt no matter which way you do it. I can do it.”

  Wanting him to fill her, she coiled her legs around his waist. He moved quickly over her, thrusting deep and holding her close until she flung back her head and cried out his name. Her eyes rolled back and, for an instant, she felt decadent and desirable. Every instant after that was filled with the zenith of pleasure, ecstasy that made her pant and cry out. She opened her eyes to see him while they climaxed together. His pewter eyes were like bolts of lightning shooting into her, tilting her world, her heart.

  How was it possible that he could make her feel this way? Did all able husbands give their wives such pleasure? Oh, she’d never known! And she was glad. She was glad she had never felt this with anyone but Elias.

  Spent, they collapsed together on the bed. He waited a moment and then rolled off her. He reached his hand out for hers and they basked in the aftermath of becoming one, in a joining more intimate than anything they shared with anyone else.

  He moved with a grunt that stirred a little ember inside her and with a slip of his arm under her neck, he pulled her closer.

  She nestled herself against him and ran her palm over the whipcord-tight muscles in his belly. Her fingers played in the dark, springy curls on his chest and the thin trail leading to his…she closed her eyes. Should she touch it? What should she do with it?

  “May I tell ye somethin’ I love aboot ye?” he asked, awakening hundreds of butterflies inside her. “Ye dinna have to make up somethin’ fer me in return. Just let me tell ye.”

  She leaned up on her elbow and looked down into his eyes. “Aye.” She smiled. “You may tell me.”

  His gaze went soft on her and he lifted his knuckles to her cheek and chuckled softly, almost like a groan. “Ah, my lady, I was goin’ to say somethin’ else, but ‘tis yer smile that I love most. It keeps me grounded. I havena taken a sip of chamomile tea since ye gave it to me. I have no need of it anymore. Ye are a light, sent to keep away the darkness of my past.”

  “And you,” she said with her breath falling on his chest, “were sent to keep away the darkness of my present.”

  He smiled. “I said ye didna have to make up somethin’ to respond. And ye did.”

  Her smile widened and she moved her leg up over him. “What do we need to do to make that happen again?”

  He laughed. “Not much. And if ye continue to move around with yer body spread over half of me, even less.”

  She realized that she was rubbing her leg against his stiffening cock. Her tight-nippled breasts were pressed against his chest. The effect it was having on him made her want to shout in triumph and do more. She pulled up to kiss him on the chin. “I want you inside me again.”

  She needn’t say anything more. She could feel his heavy arousal and flung her leg over him. She closed her eyes and smiled seductively then opened them again. “You are a raging whirlwind and I must settle you and keep you tame beneath my touch.”

  “D’ye think ye can, my lady?”

  Her hooded gaze and the sight of her tongue dipping out to lick him, shattered his control.

  He took hold of her and yanked her up and was about to impale her.

  She escaped his hands and rose up on her knees and then watched him do the same. He smiled. So did she.

  Without another warning, he grasped her wrist and hauled her close. Whe
n she reached him, he scooped her up by her bottom and tried to have her again. She pulled herself up and pushed him down on the backs of his thighs. His cock jutted upward like a flagpole to the stars. She wanted to sit on it but she wasn’t so bold. She slinked over him instead, delighting in his tight, trembling muscles. Her mouth found his and her tongue delved deeply, exploring, tasting him. She was wet for him. She could feel it.

  His head rolled back and when she raked her teeth over his exposed neck, she almost fell over the precipice of sanity.

  He pushed her down on him. She felt the tip of him like a battering ram, ready to burst through her.

  She wanted this. She sank down, taking him whole, through the pain, through the pleasure. His shaft felt never-ending.

  She took hold of his neck and began to undulate her hips. She rode up and down, crying out at the size of him, the feel of him.

  Pulling free of her, he stretched his legs free and sat with his erection glistening in the firelight, then pulled her back on.

  He bent and kissed her mouth, her throat, while he held her hips and guided her over him, slowly, rubbing her nub against his chiseled belly until she found her sweet release.

  Her gave her neck one last lick, like an animal marking its mate, and finally fell asleep.

  Lily smiled in the soft light. She thought about what they’d done. She was his and he was hers. It thrilled her.

  She felt different. Better.

  She’d pulled everything from him and gave him everything in return.

  Whatever tomorrow brought, they would face it together.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elias woke up with Lily in his arms. She was actually stretched out on top of him, but one of his arms was flung around her.

  From his position, he couldn’t see her face without lifting his head and mayhap waking her. He didn’t want to do that. He wanted to be with her like this a little longer.

  Nothing in his life had been, or would ever be better than this.

  He felt his heart quicken at the thought of her, the sound of her, the feel of her. Hell, he was going hard. No. It would not be enjoyable for her. She would be sore this morning without him jumping her.

  “Elias? Are you awake?”

  He gritted his teeth and felt his heart beat even faster. “Aye, love.”

  “I can feel your heart beating.”

  “’Tis beatin’ fast.”

  She nodded and kissed his chest. ”What is it?” she asked, lifting her head to look at him. “Does something alarm you?”

  He looked into her sleepy eyes and saw everything he ever wanted. He moved a few stray strands of flaxen hair away from her nose. “I was just thinkin’ aboot how good this moment was, with ye in my arms. My heart went fast on its own.”

  “Along with other parts of you,” she whispered.

  “Aye, but disregard that. I willna torture my wife fer my pleasure.”

  She gasped and covered her mouth then giggled. “Are we truly married, Elias? I mean Brother Simon is only a brother—”

  “We didna pledge our lives as one to Simon, but to God,” he reminded her with a loving grin. “There is no one higher than Him.”

  His smile went a bit darker an instant later. “And if anyone tries to disclaim it and take ye from me, I will kill them.”

  He kissed her forehead and pushed her off him when she tried to snuggle deeper into him. It would lead to no good. Besides, they needed to get moving if they were going to find Bertram and his prisoners before they reached London. That was the plan. Find them before they reached the large city.

  They washed in the basin that had been set in the room, and then later again beneath a small waterfall between West Wickham and Beckenham.

  He’d been correct; Lily’s body was sore. Even if she hadn’t told him at the waterfall, he would have known by the painful grin on her face while riding.

  When they reached Beckenham toward the end of the evening, Elias caught her in his arms when she dismounted and carried her into an inn. Of course, the innkeeper eyed him as if Lily were a rotting corpse. Elias didn’t give a damn.

  She was as light as a veil. And the food was getting scarcer.

  Elias paid the innkeeper for a hot bath for his wife while he went hunting for some fresh food. The innkeeper was happy to oblige—especially after Elias promised to take the man’s head and the heads of everyone he loved if he tried to do anything foolish with his woman while he was away.

  He caught two hares and wanted to get at least two more so that there would be more than enough food for everyone. He didn’t know if there were other guests, but at least it would be enough for the innkeeper to store for food.

  He came to the bend of a small river, where a moonlit shaft broke through the canopy. He thought of bringing Lily here in the morning.

  He saw something moving in the stream and leaned in to take a closer look.

  Bodies. There were bodies floating downstream.

  He pulled up his mask and backed away slowly and returned to the inn. He wouldn’t tell Lily what he’d seen, but he didn’t want to go any farther than where they were. London, much more densely populated than the countryside, was going to be like walking into hell. They hadn’t fallen ill yet. Did they chance it? Were they somehow immune? Or were they running out of time?

  He only knew that every moment was precious, a gift. Any moment, the disease could strike. He wanted to return to Sevenoaks, but he knew Lily would not give up on little Eddie and his mother. Especially not when they were in the hands of Bertram Chisholm.

  They would continue on for another day. If they hadn’t found them by then, they would head back home to Simon and their children. Right now, he would bask in the glory of his wife. His wife! He could scarcely believe it. He, battle-hardened and weary, a man well-known among other soldiers as fearless, but at night, terrified of ghosts, he, he was now in love with a soft, perfect woman.

  In the middle of the apocalypse.

  He left the hares with the innkeeper’s wife and she promised to make him some of her delicious rabbit stew.

  “Go on,” she shooed him toward the stairs. “See to your fortunate wife and I will call you down when the stew is ready.”

  “I will go,” he called down as he went. “But ‘tis I who am the fortunate one.”

  He was lovesick. He sounded like a fool. He didn’t truly care how he sounded though. He was in love with Lily Be—MacPherson. He was in love with how she loved, how she looked, and sounded, and smelled, and smiled. There wasn’t one thing he didn’t love about her. It made him want to laugh as he reached the door to their room. He wanted a life with her, to have more children with her, to grow old with her.

  He put his hand to the door then moved back quickly to the railing. “By the way,” he called down to the innkeeper’s wife. “How many guests are here besides my wife and me?”

  “Just one man,” she called back. “Do not fear. There will be plenty of food.”

  He laughed with her, feeling happier than he had since he was a child.

  He entered the room and then stopped and listened to his heart faltering in his ears as his world ended in a single moment at the sight of Lily wiping her mouth with her bath cloth and covering the basin where she’d just thrown up. She was pale and—

  She began to turn to look at him, and then something hit him hard on the head. The world went dark and Lily was gone.

  #

  “Do not hurt him, Bertram,” Lily gasped out for breath. “For if you do, I will curse you.”

  He laughed, grabbing for her arm. “Ye will be dead in a few days. Exactly where ye wanted me.”

  “I will curse you from heaven. ‘Twill be worse,” she warned.

  He must have believed she could do as she said because he left Elias alone and dragged her out of the inn, smiling as she coughed and pushing the innkeeper’s wife out of his way when she tried to stop him.

  “I shall enjoy watchin’ ye suffer, Lily.”

  Lil
y ignored him and turned to look over her shoulder at the innkeeper’s wife. She winked and then returned her sickly gaze to her abductor.

  She had seen him speaking with the innkeeper when she’d gone outside to use the privy. She’d hurried back to her room and tied her knives to various parts of her legs. She was glad he was here. The search was over. She thought it best to have him believe she was sick. He wouldn’t be prepared for her fight when it came. She hadn’t wanted Elias to see her and think…oh, she hoped the innkeeper’s wife saw her wink and understand the sign and tell Elias.

  For now though, she had to find out about little Eddie and Clare.

  “Where are Clare and little Eddie, Bertram?”

  “Ye will see them soon enough,” he promised, trying to be cryptic.

  She hadn’t wanted it to come to this. Would she finally have to kill him? She couldn’t do anything until she knew. “Where are they?” she demanded then coughed again. She knew she was pale, waiting for his answer. “Are they alive?”

  “Why do ye care fer them so, Lily?” he asked, turning to her while he pulled her to his waiting horse—waiting with the nervous-looking innkeeper. “They are nothin’ but peasants.” He took out his knife and stabbed the innkeeper in the belly.

  Lily cried out, “No!” Then squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, how she wanted him dead.

  “Why did ye choose them over me, eh?”

  She pulled back, aghast as the innkeeper fell to the ground. “What? Do my ears deceive me? How can you ask me such a question? Do you think I would ever choose you over anyone else, Bertram?”

  He pushed her the rest of the way and then hefted her into the saddle.

  “Ye were happier with me before we went to Sevenoaks.”

  She could not believe what she was hearing. He was mad. He was vile. She should just pull out one of her daggers, but she had to know where Clare and little Eddie were. If they were still alive. Oh, please, let them be alive.

  “I was not happy with you,” she told him while he sat in the saddle behind her. “Not even once! I was docile and meek because it saved me from your whip. I had nothing to fight with you over. So I did not fight.”

  “Aye,” he agreed after a moment of consideration, “ye always were a cold, defiant lass. Tell me, did ye weep when yer husband withered away before yer eyes? Or were yer eyes too busy on Elias MacPherson?”