“I want you so much,” he whispered into her ear.
She shivered. “I want you.”
It seemed so strange, to say those words. She felt her body light with a flush, even as she knew, in her heart, that she had never spoken anything more truly.
The door creaked as he pushed against the hinges and, with his arms still wrapped around her, they collapsed into the bed together.
“Oh, Irmengarde,” he whispered.
He was on his back looking up at her and she thought she had never seen anything, or anyone, so amazing. She let her lips press against his and sighed as he reached for her, pulling her down against him.
“My sweetling,” she whispered in his ear.
He laughed and gripped her waist with his powerful hands, and she felt at once helpless and remarkably safe as he squeezed her. She felt his hands move up her back, starting to unfasten the buttons of her dress. Her heart started to thump as he started to unfasten them, one at a time.
He rolled over, and she was on her side as he gently undid the last button, and then with a sort of contained urgency, began to work the dress down her body. His hands stroked her hard, while his lips pressed on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth with abandon.
She sighed and felt her own hands running down his back, her fingers stroking his muscles, clawing at the shirt he wore. He made a small noise in his throat and she saw him smile. She lay back as he finished undressing her. His lips moved to her throat.
His body was lean and hard on hers, and she relished the weight of him pressed to her even as he started to kiss her neck.
He bit her skin tenderly, moving his mouth down, and his hands started to tug at the laces of her gown. She felt her body heat up with excitement as he undid them and worked the petticoat down to her knees, pulling it off her body with urgency.
Her breasts were throbbing, the tips hardened. She wanted him and for him to touch her there.
His lips found her breasts and his fingers worked at the one while he sucked the other. She gasped and closed her eyes, wondering how she had never before felt such intensity of response.
“Oh, my lass,” he whispered.
She sighed as he kissed down her body, and gasped as he stopped at her belly. He looked up at her, eyes sparkling playfully. She gasped again.
“I want to make you happy,” he whispered. He parted her thighs and his lips busied themselves at the place where they met. She felt him draw the little nodule between her folds into his mouth and work at it with his lips in a way that made her start to groan aloud.
He was sucking and nibbling and she closed her eyes, sighing and gasping as the feelings slammed through her like waves on water. It was getting more and more intense. She couldn’t hold out any longer. The feelings coursed through her and she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth tight.
Suddenly, it felt as if her body was dropping away, carried on a feeling so intense she cried out, moving as if she’d been struck down. She collapsed below him.
He crawled up her body, his face covered in smiles. He drew her against him and held her close, and she kissed him, still half asleep. She could feel the urgency of his need and she parted her thighs to let him press it against her.
He knelt between her thighs and guided himself into her, then she cried aloud as he started to move. He moved with exquisite urgency, pressing on all the places in her that wanted him so. She felt the same sweet sensation start to build inside her. He was gasping, gritting his teeth, pushing into her again and again…
He cried out, his voice tight and strained. He collapsed on top of her. She held him in her arms.
They drifted off to sleep.
Later, she awoke. He was lying behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist. She listened to his breathing. It was slow and controlled.
She felt his breathing change as she moved closer. Perhaps he wasn’t as much asleep as she’d thought. She moved closer and was surprised to feel his hand grip her breast.
She gave a little gasp, and rubbed her buttocks against his waist. He had been asleep, but she felt a hardness there and realized he was more than a little ready for more.
She moved against him, amazed at her own boldness. Never with Clovis would she have even thought about her own pleasure. She felt her hand slip back and guide him into her. He gave a low laugh.
“Och, lass. You’re eager.”
“Yes,” she whispered, as he pulled out and plunged into her again. “I am.”
She smiled and, as he moved in her with delicious slowness, she felt amazement that he was, first, so gentle, and, second, that she felt no fear to initiate things with him. A slow tear traced down her face.
As he started gasping and crying out, she felt her own need building. They cried out together and lay very still. His arm was around her and she felt more love flood through her heart than she had ever felt before. She sniffed.
“Och, lass!” he sounded shocked. “You’re alright? I didn’t hurt ye?”
“No.” She whispered. His concern moved her even more, and she bit her lip, lest she cry even more. “Nay. I’m crying because I’m happy.”
He chuckled. Drawing her close, he kissed her hair.
“And I’m happy too, lass,” he whispered in her ear. “The happiest lad.”
She smiled and, together, arms around each other, they drifted off to sleep.
The next morning she awoke to the sound of birdsong, gray morning and the soft, even sound of his breathing from behind her.
FINAL BUSINESS TO SETTLE
Brogan rode beside Irmengarde, watching her hair lift on the breeze and still unable to believe how lovely she looked.
The forest was cold, the day dark, but his chest was lit as if from within with joy and wonder. It was the day after their wedding and they rode through the forest on a path they’d never used here before.
“Irmengarde?” he called, loving the fact that he could say her name. “How far, now?”
She turned to face him, a bright smile twisting that delicious, full-lipped mouth and making his loins ache again, even though they had already made love that day, before breakfast. “Another mile.”
“Grand,” he called back. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither,” she added.
They sped off along the path.
As it was, Brogan thought, lingering behind a little, he could wait to reach their destination. In fact, part of him would have been more than happy to wait indefinitely. This whole route made him anxious. Even though they had chosen to take another pathway.
They were on their way to Tysdale fort.
I still can’t forget last time we rode here.
He bit his lip, shivering. Last time he and Irmengarde had been anywhere near this place, she had been condemned to die, and he had been running to avoid crossbow fire. He couldn’t quite have faith that all that was ended.
They rode on into the woods. Soon enough, the grim towers showed themselves, sticking up between the trees. His heart sank.
“Who goes there?” A guard challenged. He recognized his face.
“Fergal, ye ken who it is. Let us pass?” Brogan said grimly.
His friend nodded, face grave. “Aye, Brogan. Her ladyship might wish to wait to see the baron? He is sequestered with his confessor now.”
“I am no longer baroness Tysdale,” Irmengarde said swiftly. “And I will see the baron at his earliest convenience, as any petitioner might.”
Fergal looked at Brogan, then seemed to catch a look on his face, for he looked swiftly at the ground again.
“As you wish it.”
She nodded and rode past him into the yard.
When they dismounted, Brogan came to stand behind her, reaching for her hand. The gesture was as much for his own assurance, as for her. He felt afraid in ways he never had before. He looked up at the grim fortress and wondered what they would do if the baron chose to ignore his vows and attack them?
He stepped between Irmengarde and th
e wicked looking slits of windows, from which a bolt or arrow could be so easily aimed at her heart.
“Should we go in?”
“Yes.”
She went up the steps behind him. They were shown by a silent servant into an antechamber, and there they waited.
“This is so unlike him,” Irmengarde murmured.
“I know.” Brogan was feeling nervous too. He paced back and forth, but then, seeing her distress, sat down on a settee. She joined him.
“If you like, I’ll go in alone.”
“Would you?” she swallowed hard. “Oh, thank you.”
He shrugged. “I have no reason not to.”
“True.”
They exchanged a nervous smile. When the steward returned, Brogan stood alone.
“I will come with you to the baron.”
The fellow frowned, but led Brogan away. He found himself standing in a hallway before a stark, unlit office. The floor was simple stone, devoid of rushes. The place was furnished with a desk and several cupboards, nothing more. Behind the desk sat the baron. His face pale, beard short, he looked unwell. The only thing to link him to the arrogant auburn-haired man Brogan met was the hard gaze.
“So,” he began. “I believe you took the documents to the bishop?”
Brogan looked at the floor. He couldn’t help thinking that he’d caused all this man’s misfortune. Despite himself, he felt guilty about it.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“You see,” the baron coughed. “I’m an ill man. I don’t think I have much time. I want to say that I hold nothing against you.” His voice was firm.
“You don’t?” Brogan instantly felt on guard. The mouth might be sketching a smile, but those eyes were flat with rage. He found it very hard to believe that any good words would issue from the mouth of this particular man.
“Why should I?” The baron shrugged one shoulder. “My opponent outdid me. Is that a crime?” His expression was bland, but again there was that piercing hatred in those cold dark eyes.
“Usually, no.” Brogan was very hesitant. He took an involuntary step back. This man was not somebody to be trusted. He couldn’t make himself think otherwise, even though he knew it was unfair. That, in this room that smelled of creosote and coal, of pain and resignation, the baron must be telling him the truth.
The baron raised a brow. “Precisely. So, I would like you to sign this deed, which entrusts you with the management of this estate.”
“I thought the church was taking it?” Brogan frowned. He felt his heart start to thud, suddenly on the alert again.
“I would prefer it to stay in good hands,” he said smoothly. “So, will you sign? It would make my retirement into priestly life more bearable.”
Brogan frowned. He still wasn’t sure. “Very well,” he said.
Clovis beamed. He saw a focus come back into those implacable eyes. He shivered.
“Well, then!” the baron sounded much more cheerful now. “Here. To the future! Go on, sign.”
Brogan hesitated. He knew the deeds were to be passed on to the church. He’d had that from the bishop himself. It was – unfair or not – the way things were managed. The baron was already dressed simply, like a monk. He clearly meant what he said.
Shrugging, Brogan reached for the quill pen. He had no idea how to sign anything, but he could make crosses. He tapped the quill on the inkwell, feeling strange – he’d never held one before.
At that moment, he heard a whisper of steel on linen. He tensed and jumped back, as the dagger the baron held sliced upwards, across the desk, questing for his heart.
“Curses!” the baron howled, as Brogan danced back, heading for the door. “You scoundrel…”
As the words followed him, Brogan backed away, until he was down the hallway. On the ground floor, he bumped into a priest dressed in dark robes. The priest frowned.
“I am here to escort his lordship to our monastery,” he announced. “If you know whether or not he is at home, or his whereabouts, please inform me.”
Brogan inclined his head as the man bowed politely. “He’s upstairs, in his office,” he said shakily.
“Thank you.”
Brogan half ran back to the hall.
“Irmengarde?” he called to her. “We should leave. Soon.”
Irmengarde frowned. “What happened?”
He told her.
She reached for him and held him tight against her. “Oh, Brogan. Oh, the evil…I’m so glad you’re safe.”
He held her close. “Me too.”
Irmengarde frowned. “Well, then,” she said. “We should go.”
“Yes.”
They looked at each other. He felt his hands tighten on hers. He tried to fight the urge to kiss her.
“But…” she paused. “We have a few things to settle. And I want the horses.”
He nodded, feeling his heart beat fast. “Yes. Grayswift.”
“And Snowstorm.”
“Yes.”
Smiling, they headed to the barn. Brogan saddled their horses, and then he waited for Irmengarde, who had gone upstairs. When she came down, she was with a woman Brogan hadn’t seen before, and Bonnie, who was carrying a big leather-wrapped bundle.
“Brogan?” she said gently. “This is Mrs. McNeal. Bonnie, you might know. Mrs. McNeal, may I present my husband?”
The older woman’s eyes widened. She chuckled.
“By! Lass. You did better second time around.”
Irmengarde looked at Brogan and they both started laughing.
“Yes,” Irmengarde said gently.” I reckon I did.”
Brogan just blushed and squeezed her hand.
“I’m so lucky,” he whispered into her ear, while the two women went to load a cart with the belongings they’d brought along.
“No,” she said, looking up at him with that soft-eyed stare that made his body start to ache. “I am lucky.”
Laughing, arms around each other, they kissed.
While they rode, the two women following in the cart behind them, they discussed their plans together.
“I have a claim on my father’s lands,” Brogan said. “They’re vast farmlands, and he won’t want to keep the whole place going on his own. Not now that he’s ailing. So…”
“Oh, Brogan!” Irmengarde reached across. “You really think we could stay there? On the farm? Oh! How wonderful…” she trailed off excitedly.
Brogan’s brow went up. “I wouldnae have expected ye tae be glad,” he admitted honestly.
She turned around and gave him a firm stare. “Brogan Covell,” she said slowly. “Don’t think for me.”
He laughed, and a big grin spread across his face. “Very well, lass.”
They both laughed. Behind them, in the cart, Mrs. McNeal yelled out.
“You two! If you’re making up your minds where tae go, bear in mind that some of us are looking for a space for us, and ten grandchildren.”
Irmengarde laughed aloud. “You’re welcome to come with us! We have great need of a healer where we’re going.”
Brogan raised a brow. “Aye, lass. We do.”
Irmengarde nodded. “We do. Especially if…when I bear a child.”
“What?” Brogan stared at her, face twisting with surprise. “You mean you…”
Irmengarde started to laugh, and his heart soared inside him.
“Of course, I want to have your child,” she said. “I never thought I couldn’t. I always suspected it would be possible.”
Brogan felt as if his heart had just been suffused with light. He had assumed she was unable to have children – simply because she’d been wed for almost two years and never had one. Stupidly, he had never considered that it might not be due to anything about her.
“Och, lass,” he said. He was dazed, grinning and happy. “Oh!”
She grinned at him.
“Och, you two lovesick lambs!” their friend called irreverently from the cart. “How about stopping for a bite to eat somewhere? I
’m half starved.”
Bonnie chuckled and Brogan felt himself smile. Irmengarde laughed.
“if you wish.” She called back. “We can stop this very moment, if you want?”
“Stop the cart!” Mrs. McNeal yelled instantly.
They all laughed.
Swinging one leg over, Brogan jumped down from his horse. He went to Irmengarde and stood beside the saddle, reaching for the reins.
“You gallant gentleman,” Irmengarde chuckled.
He blushed and helped her down, even though he knew it wasn’t necessary. Together they sat by the cart, eating the bread and cheese Mrs. McNeal supplied.
“You know, lass,” Brogan whispered. “We’ve got everybody we need, to start a proper farm.”
Irmengarde nodded. “Oh, Brogan. I suppose we do.”
He nodded. “We have a good future ahead, then.”
She smiled warmly. “I reckon I knew that already.”
He blushed. “Aye.”
They kissed.
EPILOGUE
Irmengarde looked out of the window onto the dark clouds. The rain was falling now, which was a good sign. The days had been long and hot, and now it seemed that autumn was settling in again.
“We’re going tae have to get the crops in,” Mrs. McNeal said from the window.
“Yes,” Irmengarde agreed. She set aside her tapestry, looking fondly at the brightly colored designs on the fine linen. She’d never enjoyed sewing quite as much as she did now. She had been confined to her bed for the last few days and she had relished the quiet hours and the chance to sit, unworried, over her tapestry work.
“Och, lass. You’re no’ unwell?” Mrs. McNeal asked. “I’ll be staying close by, these dark days.”
She smiled. “I am well. How long, do you reckon?”
Mrs. McNeal grinned. “By taking a look at ye, I’d have reckoned it would be yesterday, by now.”
Irmengarde chuckled gently. “Oh, Ettie,” she sighed. “You do say the strangest things.”
“I’ve seen twenty expectant lasses, if I saw one!” Mrs. McNeal said defensively. “And you’re going tae bring that baby intae the world in a few days. Don’t fret.”
Her Highland Protector (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 2) Page 20