“I’m in charge now, and you’re in deep trouble,” he whispered.
“I know,” she mumbled, and fell peacefully asleep.
The extent of her trouble dawned on her hours later, when she woke up. A dull sense of dread crept into her thoughts as strength returned. Douglas had escaped. He could do what he wanted with her inheritance and with her. Elgiva opened her eyes and peeked groggily over the covers. She was alone in bed.
She’d slept all day. A dark night had settled outside the window beside the hearth, and shadows danced on the walls from the fire. Sam was curled up on the hearth rug. She heard sounds in the kitchen and smelled the fantastic aroma of hot food.
Douglas came into the room carrying a large bowl and a spoon. He was wearing his red long johns. She felt a twinge of guilt, recalling that she’d chosen them to ridicule and humble him. However, there was nothing ridiculous or humble about the way Douglas Kincaid filled the clinging garment.
Quivers ran through her as she thought of his nakedness earlier and the lusty methods he had used to warm her. He saw her staring at him and sat down close to her on the bed, his eyes troubled as they searched her face.
He held the bowl on one knee and cupped a caressing hand against her cheek. “How do you feel? Have you thawed out?”
“Aye. I’m fine.” Questions were trapped in her throat. She struggled to ask them but couldn’t.
He shook his head at her efforts. “Have some supper. A Kincaid special. Canned soup fresh from the can. Heated to perfection over a hot burner.”
Elgiva sat up in bed and arranged the pillows behind herself. With her hair streaming in a shaggy mop over her shoulders, she felt like a hag. Why was Douglas looking at her as if she were the prettiest woman he’d ever seen? She leaned back and accepted the spoonfuls of delicious beef and vegetables that he lifted to her mouth. He dabbed one finger under her lip, caught a drop of broth, then brought the finger to his tongue. “Hmmm. Soup du Elgiva.”
She grasped his forearm and gazed into his eyes with agonized uncertainty. “What now, Douglas?”
“How about a cup of tea? And we have some oatmeal cookies left from yesterday.”
She shook his arm in rebuke and repeated grimly, “What now?”
He set the soup bowl aside and clasped her face between his hands. “Somehow we’ll work things out. Well find a way. But not tonight. We’re both too emotional right now. I don’t want to argue about the future tonight, doll. Just trust me—there will be a future, and it will be happy.”
Her breath fluttered in her throat. Stunned, she studied his eyes and saw the unmistakable concern and sincerity there. She wanted so much to trust him. She wanted so much to believe that there might be a future with him. If he cared about her at all, he’d do the right thing for her home and her kin.
If he cared about her even a wee bit as much as she cared about him, she’d never regret her decision.
Elgiva threw herself against his chest and kissed him, distraught and awkward with her arms still trapped in her gown. Douglas responded as if she’d done the most seductive thing in the world. He whispered her name and pulled her across his lap in a fierce embrace.
Elgiva felt senseless with tender lust; she wanted to touch him everywhere and make him happy; she wanted to smile and cry and hug him until her arms ached; she wanted to feel his hands on her skin and watch his eyes as he lost control. She put all her energy into nuzzling and kissing him.
“El. El. My God,” he said in soft amazement, sounding pleased. Then he probbed her mouth with his tongue, showing how a kiss could imitate the greatest intimacies, how it could make her womb loosen with delicious heat and her legs feel weak.
Rivers of desire ran through her body every time he moved his mouth in a new way or caressed her through the nightgown. His hands slid down to her hips, then over her thighs. He touched her to give pleasure, and he knew where his touch could provoke it most.
Before she’d met him, Elgiva had pictured the great Douglas Kincaid as a selfish lover, the kind of man who would demand his own satisfaction first, as he did in the business world. Now she knew that he wasn’t that way at all, and like so many puzzles about him, it both elated and frightened her. How could she ever control him if he kept surprising her?
Elgiva brushed her lips across his face, exploring his cheeks and jaw with slow kisses. He dipped his head and caught the skin beneath her ear in his teeth without hurting her. Slowly his teeth and lips journeyed lower, finally reaching the pulse point at the base of her neck.
When he’d dressed her earlier, he hadn’t buttoned her gown. Now he burrowed his face between the open neckline and sucked the base of her throat lightly, making her pulse throb. The action released waves of languor in her mind. Her eyes half-shut, she vaguely knew that she was rubbing her cheek against his head with the ecstasy of a purring cat.
Elgiva struggled to put her arms through the nightgown’s sleeves; his hands rose to her chest and slid under the neckline, making it gape across her breasts. He raised his head and seared her with a look that was both greedy and restrained.
Elgiva gasped softly at the power in it. Had she ever had control of this man, even when he was behind bars? At the moment control seemed very unimportant.
“Oh, help me take this gown off,” she begged, almost crying. “And you get undressed too. You said once that there were better ways to keep warm. Prove it to me, Douglas. Prove it.”
Delight blazed in his eyes. With a gruff sound of approval he lifted the gown over her head. Elgiva put her hands, trembling, on the tiny red buttons down the center of his long johns.
He tossed the gown on the floor, then grasped her arms and studied her with obvious approval, his lips parted in a slight smile. Lifting one hand, he trailed the backs of his fingers over her breasts and belly, then stroked her thighs. He twirled a finger into the soft mat of chestnut hair between them.
“This isn’t enough fur to keep you from catching cold, big girl.” His teasing voice held a low rumble of passion that curled around her senses.
“Let me see if your fur keeps you warm enough,” she whispered. Elgiva unfastened his buttons, noting breathlessly that his chest moved faster each time she pushed a bit more material aside. The buttons continued to the bottom of his belly.
So did Elgiva.
The darkly haired skin and thick muscles of his abdomen quivered when she brushed her fingertips across them. She slowly, carefully parted the soft red cloth and studied him. She put her fingers out and traced the streak of silver hair from where it started at the center of his chest to where it ended, making a silver background for an even more fascinating attraction.
Elgiva hesitated, desperate to hold him but afraid that she’d do something dramatically embarrassing. Jonathan had never wanted to be caressed like this.
Douglas raised a hand to her face. “Look at me, Elgiva.” She lifted her gaze and saw a question in his eyes. He traced her lips with the edge of his forefinger and said quaintly, “It’s a work of art, I know, but some men want their lovers to do more than just admire it. I happen to be that kind of man. Anything done gently will be appropriate.”
She relaxed and smiled at him. He seemed to understand. “Like this?”
As her fingers caressed inside his clothes he shuddered and kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue against hers and growling gently when she returned the action. “Hmmm huh,” was the only response he could manage, but it made her bold.
Elgiva slid both hands over him, reveling in the amazing variety of textures. She pushed the long johns off his shoulders and molded her fingers to the sheathed mounds of muscle and sinew there. She could barely concentrate because his hands were performing a similar magic on her body, finding every secret route to their ultimate destination.
He paused, his hands cupped possessively over the junction of her hips and thighs. Her eyes were shut, but she sensed his gaze on her face. She met his troubled scrutiny. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he m
urmured. “You don’t have to do this just because I escaped.”
Her breath made a ragged sound as she inhaled. “I am afraid of you. But I think you’re a wee bit afraid of me too. Maybe we can stop scaring each other if we do this … this … I don’t know what you call this, but I can only call it making love.”
His soft chuckle contrasted with a somber nod of his head. “Nothing and no one can stop me from doing something that seems so right. And yes, I want to call it ‘making love’ too.”
Elgiva laughed shakily. “Then let’s give it a try.”
Moving in unspoken harmony, she lay back as he finished removing the long johns. Elgiva gazed avidly at the strong, broad expanse of his back and the sleek grace of his buttocks. His thighs were sculpted; thick but lean and corded where they joined his body. His sex was truly a work of art; it made her hands quiver at the memory of soft, hot skin and the hardness it covered.
He stretched out close beside her and cupped the back of her head. When he smiled, she pulled him to her demanding mouth and made their earlier kisses seem innocent by comparison. Elgiva arched under the slow stroking of his hand, her body opening as if fully ripe for the first time in her life.
She quivered and cried out in pleasure. So this was the way a man should touch a woman, she thought with a flicker of sadness. She had missed even more than she’d realized all these years.
“What’s wrong, sweet doll?” Douglas asked hoarsely, his lips moving against hers. “Why are there tears in your eyes?”
She wondered why she’d ever considered him insensitive. “I’ve waited a long time, that’s all,” she said vaguely. When he frowned in bewilderment, Elgiva forced a small, jaunty smile. “Almost two weeks.”
He shook his head, and she knew that he saw more to her pensiveness than that. “I’ve waited too. What’s really wrong?”
“Nothing. I just … don’t want to wait any longer. Please, Douglas. Now.”
“Sssh. All right. Whatever you want, El.” He drew her closer and carefully moved atop her. “Whatever you need.”
She smiled tearfully. “Dear man, talking that way will get you in trouble that no negotiation can settle.”
“I love trouble. I love being here with you.”
They kissed urgently, while their bodies settled into a position as ancient as the first dreams shared by a man and a woman. Elgiva’s senses flooded with millions of stars; desire calmed her, released her, made nothing seem more important than the second when she lifted herself and met him, taking him in with a silken welcome that made him groan and smile at the same time. He arched against her and completed the moment.
They trembled with shared energy and emotion. He moved his larger, heavier form against her with a finesse that pressed her deeply into the bed without crushing her; she gave him her softest, most vulnerable self but made him understand that he shouldn’t hold anything back.
The kaleidoscope of emotions shifted with the merest signal; new patterns flowered from the changing expressions deep in his eyes and each new attitude of his mouth. She guided him with her sighs and the grip of her legs; with her hands as she dragged them down his back or skimmed the flexing muscles of his hips.
She put her fingertips alongside his face and asked him for time with just that slight hold. He understood immediately and slowed his rhythm, watching her through heavy-lidded eyes filled with need and affection. Her desire became frantic exhilaration, and all she could do was chant his name, then smile, then laugh brokenly.
He covered her face with kisses and surged faster against her. She became somber, stunned by the pleasure rising inside her again. Intense emotions suffused his expression. His mouth was tight with passion but also contentment. Then he winked at her, and it was as if he had said, We’re the only two people who know how wonderful this is.
I love you so much, Elgiva thought with an aching swell of emotion. It overwhelmed reason and fear, but she didn’t care. She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck and held his shoulders tightly while she whispered praises against his ear.
Elgiva moaned as he unleashed his restraint, finally letting himself go beyond control into a fervor that ended with a soft shout followed by her murmured name. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet to her.
They held each other tightly during the satiated stillness that followed, their faces nuzzled together, their mouths seeking quick kisses between hurried breaths. Elgiva adored the hot pulse of his body inside hers, and she was awed by the perfect feeling of trust and unity.
She made a sound of protest when he lifted his torso on braced elbows. But he merely positioned himself where he could study her face. “You are the most incredible woman,” he said gruffly.
Her eyes burned with tears of joy. “Did you know that once you’ve kissed a fairy you can never go back to the real world?”
He smiled tenderly. “Some day we’re going to have to discuss the term ‘fairy’ and what it meant where I grew up.” When she gave him a puzzled look, he shook his head. “I’ll take my chances in Elf-hame. Hmmm.” His voice dropped to a throaty invitation. “Or maybe I’ll convince the fairy to come to the real world with me.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Elgiva slid her toes up and down the backs of his legs, then decided to ensure his staying. She wrapped her legs around him and locked her ankles together. Somehow she’d win him. Somehow she’d keep him.
“A prisoner again,” he muttered gravely, arching one brow.
“Aye. Make the best of it.”
He lowered himself and began kissing her. They sighed at the same time and shared a look of quiet ecstasy. “I will make the best of it,” he promised, and once again, he did.
Douglas woke up sometime after midnight, jarred by Elgiva’s absence from bed. He sat up quickly and rubbed a hand over his eyes, then exhaled with relief when he saw her kneeling on the hearth. She was dressed in her frumpy gown and robe, and she was placing new logs on the fire. Sam lay beside her, yawning.
The emotions that swirled inside his chest finally merged into coherent thought. Trapped inside all that practical cloth is the most giving, the most sensual woman in the world. Now he understood why he loved to watch her, even when she was doing something as mundane as building a fire or reading one of her musty-looking books. She was suffused with quiet passion, an unapologetic enjoyment of food and making love and the simple pleasures of life. He loved her contentment.
Excited plans began to form as he studied her. It would be fantastic to please her with gifts beyond her wildest dreams. He’d buy the MacRoth estate and give her all the money she needed to renovate the shabby manor hall. She’d love that. She’d love him.
“I know a better way to keep warm,” Douglas called softly.
She twisted from the fireplace in a quick, almost guilty way. Douglas smiled at her in bewilderment. “Elgiva?”
She stood and hurried over to him, dispelling his concern with a glowing smile. She took his outstretched hands and sat down close to his torso, curling her legs under her. But her hands were cold and damp. He studied her intently. “Are you feeling all right?”
She started to speak, hesitated, then looked away, as if listening. She shook her head and sighed. When her eyes met his again, they were troubled, and her smile was gone. “We need to talk, dear man.”
Douglas brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them. “I think it can wait. I promise you, everything will be all right.” He cupped her hands to his mouth and shut his eyes. She stroked his jaw, and he nodded happily.
“Please, we have to talk,” she said again. “Would you mind getting dressed?” She pointed to the trousers and sweater she’d draped across the foot of the bed. “I’d like you to come and sit beside the fire.”
More bewildered than ever, Douglas tried to coax her into relaxing. “El,” he murmured, putting a little rebuke into it. He lifted the covers invitingly and watched her gaze dart to his naked body. “Get undressed and come back to bed, El,” he urged. “
And we’ll talk all night.”
She chuckled, but the sound was worried. “It’s not talking we’d be doing.”
“El, do we have to discuss the estate’s future right now?”
“No, not that. Something else. Would you please get dressed?”
He saw the tension in the set of her shoulders and the solemn attitude of her mouth. Elgiva MacRoth was one no-nonsense lady. Douglas intended to teach her the pleasures of being impractical. But he was patient.
Douglas sat up and held out his arms. “How about a hug to warm me up before I get out of bed?”
She looked distressed but snuggled into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair. “Name something you’d really like to have, El. Something that’s not the least bit practical. Something you’ve never thought that you could have. Something you want simply because it would make you happy.”
“Children,” she said in a tormented voice.
Shaken, he wished he’d been more specific and saved her from such sorrow. Yeah, Kincaid, he said to himself. Explain that you meant the important stuff. Jewelry. Cars. Money. Douglas kissed the top of her head. “Are you certain that you can’t have children?”
“No, but it seems likely. Jonathan was as healthy as a horse. And all of his brothers had children.”
“Did you and Jonathan ever see a doctor about the problem?”
“No. Jonathan wouldn’t go. It shamed him, he said. If we weren’t meant to have any bairns, then that was that. What point was there in learning whose fault it was?”
Douglas gritted his teeth at such backwardness. “Didn’t he wonder if the problem could be corrected with medical help?”
“No. He was a proud man. He was a shy man. And as I said, the problem was likely mine. I didn’t want to know the truth either. We were married for life, children or not. Why be humiliated when it would change naught?” Her hands clasped his and clenched them tightly. “I think you’re safe, Douglas. You don’t have to worry about becoming a father from tonight’s frolic, if that’s why you’re asking.”
Legends Page 10