“Angus!” Her hands grabbed his shoulder as he touched her intimately.
“What dae ye want, sweeting?” He rumbled against her breast. “Tell me, yer wish is me command.”
He wanted nothing more than to strip off every stitch and bare her to her skin, but he would only do that after she told him to. He was no brute to take what he assumed was his. He might be hard as stone, and lust was almost eradicating every rational thought, but he had to think of her comfort first and not his desire.
“Love me?” She asked tentatively. “Like before.”
“Me pleasure,” he grinned felinely. Reaching up he grasped the neck of her gown with his teeth while his hands worked the fabric from the bottom. The gown’ ties were already loose from behind and the neck slipped down easily to bare her pert, round globes. Instantly, he sucked one nipple into his mouth.
Her hands dug into his hair as she squirmed beneath him, her wiggling only heightening his desire until the only sound in his ears were her moans and the pounding of his blood. With his hand on her thatch of curls, he stroked her, swallowing her gasps and moans as if they were the water of life, before inserting a finger into her body and then another.
Her hands were clawing at his clothes, wanting them off. His presence was needed for the supper but diplomatic relations paled in comparison to this intimate relationship. Was there really a question at all? Sitting back, Angus unpinned his fly plaid and removed the whole ensemble in one smooth moment, then his shirt while he toed off his boots.
Magdalene had lifted up to tug the gown off and then slid back on the bed as Angus covered her. The skin to skin connection was heady, and addictive. He kissed her shoulder and down her collarbone to the full beauty of her breasts.
Her hand slipped from his hair to the back of his neck as he teased her other nipple before taking it fully in his mouth and suckling her. Tenderly he touched her, coaxed her legs to wrap around his hips as his length slid inside. He swallowed down her cries as his lips were sealed to hers. Her skin was getting damp and her pleasure was painted on her face. Angus spun them around so she could sit on him.
Her body was hot, tight, and bursting with a desire that matched his own as she rocked on him. His hands ran back and forth over her ribs, her sides before he grabbed her behind. Her head leaned back and rays of the evening sun highlight her face to pleasured radiance. She arched her back, pushing her breast closer to him, and he chuckled low in his throat at his wife’s passion.
That word—the second it passed through his mind—stunned him and he stopped canting his hips. Wife…was she already his wife? His hand reached up to curve around her neck and her face nuzzled into his palm. His thumb traced over her lip. That answer to his question was apparent—yes, she was going to be his wife, so he vowed to make love to her as if she already was.
When her climax hit, her head was back and the line of her neck was a graceful arch. He removed himself from her before his seed could enter her. After the rigidness left her, she sighed heavily and softly sunk to lay her head on his chest. He wrapped a hand around her waist and the other under her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair and kissing her temple.
Me wife…. I love the sound of that.
Chapter 23
Keswick, England, 1258
It was getting harder and harder for Lady Larie to forgo her faith and self-control and allow the temptation to utilize a dagger or wield a hammer to bash her deceitful brother-in-law’s head in. John Crompton had become so controlling she wondered whether the amiable-minded man she had always known had ever existed. Perhaps his calm, Benedictine-monk persona had been a sham.
The day he had discovered Magdalene was gone, John had summoned her to his meeting room, remodeled from her late husband’s, sat her down and coldly asked her why her daughter was suddenly missing. The polite conversation they had was rife with cold, subtle threats and not-so-subtle accusations of subterfuge while both showed their disregard for the other’s authority.
Larie was kneeling on a thick pillow inside the compound’s chapel, just a few feet away from the altar. The sun was setting on the sixth day of the week, a nearly a full month since her daughter Magdalene had run off to Scotland. There was no word from her arrival at Perse’s by way of their falcon messenger and though Larie was getting worried she had to lean on her faith to carry her through. Magdalene was no fool, she had not raised her that way. A little naïve, yes, she was, but she was no fool.
Almost everyone she had known and who were her allies was gone. Mrs. Croft was gone, most of her personal servants were gone, and were replaced with young girls who were more loyal to John than to her. Half of the footmen, knights, and groundsmen were gone, too, and she could not bribe the old stablemaster to hide a horse at the edges of the compound so she could ride away to the King because he was gone, too.
After a thoughtless slip that she was going to seek help from the neighboring barons, John had set spies on her—everywhere she went a convenient maid or a happenstance squire was there. If she could only get the word out to the King about her, maybe he would assist her in finding the perpetrator who had killed her husband as the inquires and probes as to who had done the heinous act had gone cold.
John kept assuring her that he was handling the matter but as far as she could see he was dragging his feet and besides praying about it, her hands were tied as far as pushing the cause herself. Thank God Magdalene had escaped this tyranny before it had gotten so much deeper. Soon it would be the kalends of July closing in onto the beginning of another month of Magdalene’s absence. Clad in her dark widow’s gown and veil, Larie had taken refuge in the chapel more than she did in her own home.
There was more peace inside this hallowed space than anywhere in her house, a place she would now give every coin she had for it to suddenly shatter to rubble. She did not want to acknowledge that if the house crumbled over John’s duplicitous self, she would not cry a tear but it was there, lingering on the edges of her mind.
She closed off her prayer of petition to keep Magdalene safe, launched into a recitation of the “Our Father” prayer and ended with the “Hail Mary” prayer. She lit a candle and crossed herself once more before leaving the chapel into the dusk of the evening. It was a surprise that there was no guard hovering around the doorway, as the distrust between her and John was peaking to its highest.
With this heightened attention to her, notice about her receiving a letter by a falcon would have been in John’s ear faster than her taking the damn thing from the bird’s leg. Then the location of her unsuspecting daughter would be in peril and there would be nothing she, Larie, could do to stop John from going after her.
There was not going to be a moon overhead that night and a cold breeze ran over her, preceding a strange shiver of premonition that crawled down her neck. She squared her shoulders and walked through the threshold into to entrance and then further into the corridors.
“Ah, Lady Larie,” John’s deceptively calm voice interrupted her. “I was just looking for you.”
“Why?” She asked plainly. “You know where to find me at this hour of the day.”
“True,” John nodded. “Let’s say I thought it disrespectful for me to interrupt your prayers.”
He looked calm and amiable but Larie was having none of it. “What do you want, John?”
“I realize that there is no one here who could counsel you on your husband’s death. I was not as close to him as you were, and as you surely know, we have had our disagreements on many issues. I know you’re grieving so I have arranged for you to go spend some time in a convent,” John said calmly.
“You’re sending me to a convent?” Larie said dryly. “For true counsel, or are you just trying to remove me from my home?”
“Don’t be absurd,” John replied calmly, “This is your home for as long as you are alive. I am only doing what I think is best for you, seeing as this is a hard period for you.”
“And where is this abbess?” Larie asked while
running down a mental list of abbesses near her.
“St. Hild at Streanaeshalch,” John said coolly.
“Halfway across England and at the shores,” Larie said simply. “Nearly a weeks’ worth of travel, across dangerous lands. Are you hoping for highwaymen to come across me, or a mysterious accident to happen? Perhaps a sudden tumble from a window into the lake there or a for sudden flood to sweep me away?”
“Nothing of the sort, and stop making your mind run ahead of you,” John said easily. He reached up to tug at his collar and sighed. “Larie, this hostility has to stop. I mean no harm to you.”
“I agree,” she replied. “But I would believe you more if you had not removed all those who I was familiar with and fill those spaces with your spies. However, I will accept the abbess, John, mostly for my peace of mind than yours. When do I leave?”
“On the morrow,” John replied. “At dawn.”
“I’ll be ready,” Larie said turning away. “Have a good night, John.”
Never had she been this sure that John was removing her to take more control of his dead brother’s territory. Aside from his hunger for power, something was off with John but she did not know what it was. Moreover, she was stumped on how to stop, remove, and reverse his deeds to her and the people who her husband had fought for all his life. Maybe this sequestering to the abbess was a good thing, she could probably get word to the King that way and possibly Magdalene.
“I pray you are safe, my daughter,” she said quietly as she passed the door of Magdalene’s empty’s room. “Please be safe and come home in one piece.”
Chapter 24
Warm hands, the tickle of the scruff of a beard on her cheek, and lips nibbling at her neck coaxed her awake from sleep. Blinking herself awake, Magdalene felt Angus’ warm, hard body behind her. She had done it again, once more had she given herself to Angus but the shame she had expected to feel was middling to none.
It might be wrong in many eyes but…Angus is the man I love. I’d do anything for him.
It was still dark but Magdalene was sure that soon enough pink light of the early morning dawn would begin to fill the eastern sky and slither under the fur coverings. Angus’ warm touch was rounding her side and his fingers were slipping southern to her hip. Her stomach began to clench in anticipation for his intimate touch but it did not come, instead, he only rested his hand there.
“I ken yer awake, lass,” he murmured on the back of her neck. “I ken there are things we have nae said to each other and this is the time when I ken its best to say those things we haven’t had the courage to say in the light of day.”
Her stomach was clenching now for another reason.
“I thank God for the moment I came across ye in Edina. Yer a breath of fresh air, mo ghràidh and if it was up to me, ye’d never leave me. I dinnae care if yer nae a Scot by birth. I cannae recall anyone leaping in to fight for me as ye did with Ithel.”
The mention of the woman made revulsion steam in Magdalene’s chest. “I have never been more moved to violence before that moment, I wanted to slap that liar silly. How dare she?”
He laughed low in his throat and hugged her tightly, so tightly she could feel his dormant manhood against her backside. “And I never doubted ye would.”
Resting a hand above his, Magdalene snuggled back onto him. “You’ve defended me, I thought it only right to do the same.”
Kisses were being traced along her shoulder and warm desire was pooling inside her. She felt wanted, desired and cared for with every touch of Angus’ fingers, every kiss, and even his languid smile made her heart beat faster.
“Angus,” she said, with her eyes pinned on the far wall. His arm was around her so he could feel her increasing heartbeat. “My Father never truly loved my Mother. He married her for the sake of propriety and a status claim. As a child, I’d never see them embrace each other or speak as I had believed those in love would do. Once I asked Mother why and she told me it was only a marriage of convenience. He was more married to his barony, and my mother to the church, than to each other.”
Rough hands softly turned her and warm deep eyes were looking at hers. “It’s a sad part of life, sweeting, me parents had theirs arranged, too, but me Faither had already set his eyes on Mother, so theirs was one of both arrangement and love.”
“That is what I fear,” Magdalene said quietly. “A marriage without love.”
Confusion showed on Angus’ face, “Lass, what are ye afraid of?” Her pried her hand open to lace their fingers together, “Tell me them all, and I meal all, Magdalene.”
“You told your mother you love me,” Magdalene’s voice was hushed, scared even. “How do you know its true love and not…not a byproduct of our joining? I’m scared, Angus, that mayhap… mayhap this sensation might go when we separate and reveal it for just…lust.”
She took in a trembling breath. “The only people I have loved in my life are my Mother and my Father, however distant he was,” Magdalene said quietly. “I don’t exactly know what loving a man…loving you, should feel like.”
Angus coaxed her to face him but she kept her eyes on his chest instead of his face. Not deterred, Angus took her hand and rested it on her chest over her heart. “When ye look at me, what do ye feel here?”
“It beats harder than normal,” she admitted.
“And when I’m away from ye,” he added, “What happens then? Dinnae be afraid to tell me.”
She nibbled her lip, afraid to admit the truth of what she felt. “I…it hurts sometimes.”
“And when we make love?” He asked patiently. “How does yer heart feel?”
“Full,” she never hesitated to reply. “Especially when you look at me. It’s like you can see through to my soul. But that is not what scares me….”
“What does?” He used his knuckles to prod her head up. “What scares ye?”
She took in a breath and her words came out in a rush. “I hate to be the one who truly breaks your heart. That night when you confessed to me what Ithel did, I could feel your pain. What if…what if you truly love me and I’m forced to go away, to leave you? You have such a kind heart, Angus, you’re patient and forgiving and so very caring. You don’t deserve any more pain than you’ve already had and—”
Her ramble was cut off with a kiss, a kiss that made the latent sparks of need inside her deepen. There was just something about his callused hands on her body that amazed her. His touch was so unbelievably gentle for a warrior who could take enemies down with a mere swipe of his sword.
Pulling away, her hand traced the line of his jaw, the curve of his eyebrow, and the small crescent scar she had not even seen across the bridge of his nose. He nuzzled into her touch.
“Aren’t you worried about that?” Magdalene asked. “Doesn't that frighten you, knowing I might not be able to stay here?”
“It does,” Angus replied, trying to sear his sincerity into her mind with his gaze. “But best ye believe, I will fight me hardest for ye to be with me.”
The pink-golden rays were now flittering under the fur coverings as gradually their bodies came into focus. Magdalene pressed close and rested her hand on Angus' heart, “What do you feel when I do this?
“What I always feel when ye touch me,” Angus grinned slyly as he took her hand to lead it down to his thickening length. “But I will nae make light of it. I feel a renewal in my soul with ye here. Me life was only about me clan and what was best for them that I stopped caring what was best for me. Ye’ve put that light back into me, Magdalene.”
“I feel…. honored?”
He chuckled, “You should be…” taking her hand he asked, “Are ye still worried about the castle knowin’ cause I’m not afraid to show my love for you from the rooftops.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying about it but you… don’t do that,” Magdalene said, “We’ll figure out another way to let it be known.”
“The reason I said it is because I’ve already missed supper last night a
nd we cannae dare miss this meal,” Angus said.
“They know that you are with me,” Magdalene asked.
“If they dinnae ken last night they surely ken it now,” Angus snorted. “It’s nae as if they dinnae ken that I’m partial to ye, they all ken it.”
“All?” Magdalene squeaked as she reached to pull the covers over her head. “All?”
The sheets were pulled away and Angus was chuckling while tugging them further off. He reached over and stuck his hands into her side, and a laugh erupted from her at his tickling hands. With her flailing and twisting she ended up on Angus’ lap and suddenly his hands stopped the torture.
Her chest was still heaving with her giggles and a touch to her hip quieted her. Magdalene looked down to see Angus’ head tilted to the side, his hair a bright contrast to the pale sheets. Fondness, amusement, and affection were in his gaze. Like a moth being pulled to a lamp, Magdalene leaned down and kissed him softly.
The Highlander's Fiery Bride: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 20