Aidan had thought it would take longer, but Margaret was right. John was silent, still bowed from his beating, but Catherine was as efficient as a field general, deciding what they could take and what they would leave. She was shocked to discover that one of her rescuers was the Laird of Clan MacTaggart, but relieved at the same time. Clan MacTaggart was well-known for its defenses and its warriors. There would be no marauders near Doone Castle, and that seemed to make her easy.
The family had a short stocky northern pony of their own, shaggy as a sheep, and after touching noses briefly with Bram, it looked completely content to trail along behind.
Aidan thought with a bit of amusement that he had simply thought to go to the South and to come back without letting the dust settle on his boots. Now, he was leading a veritable entourage north again. When he looked at the bruises on John's body, however, or when he came too close to Catherine and saw her flinch, he knew there was no other way he would have it.
They could not travel far or fast with the children and only two mounts, but Aidan decided he wouldn't fight it. Everyone wanted to be well away from the cottages, where so much violence had occurred, and by the time the sun was dipping toward the horizon, they found a sheltered spot next to a cliff to make camp.
"We'll be faster tomorrow," Catherine said anxiously, her two young boys cuddled close to her hips. "It was only that today—"
"Today should be forgotten," Aidan told her. "I did not bring you along because I thought you were soldiers on the march, and I will not leave you behind either."
That was enough to draw a small smile from Catherine, and she bowed her head in thanks. Perhaps it would be best to put her with a pair of widows he knew in the valley rather than a family. She might heal faster if she did not have to be constantly startled by men, even ones who did not mean her any harm.
There was still some blue in the sky when Margaret came up to him.
"Will you come with me?" she asked.
He looked at her wryly.
"I think answering yes to that question has been the start of all of my problems to date," he joked, but he got up and followed her, blinking a little as she picked up his cloak to take with them.
She led him away from camp, around a corner to a sheltered cove that was half-bordered by a swift-running stream. The cove led into a cave, one that was dry and kept off the wind, and with a tug, she led Aidan inside.
“Give me your cloak,” she said, and bemused, he handed it over and watched her spread it over the clay. The light was dying fast, but even without a fire, he could see her eyes gleaming in the dusk, like a cat or a fox.
He was distracted by her eyes, by the red of her hair, so distracted that he didn't realize she was unlacing her dress until she pulled it over her head. He stared as she laid her dress aside and reached for her shift as well.
“Margaret! What in all the blazes are you doing?”
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
“I want you, Aidan. And after today, after having both our lives at risk? I don't know that we should deny ourselves anything.”
She was shaking, and Aidan realized what it was. The desire that he carried for her, that he suspected would always be a part of him, cried out at being denied, but he stepped closer to put his hands over hers, to stop her from removing her shift. In truth, if she took off her shift, he knew that he would take her, no matter what the better part of himself might have to say about it.
“Come here, darling, come here.”
He sat with her on top of his cloak for what felt like a small eternity, simply waiting until her shaking had subsided a little. He wondered if it was his imagination, but she also seemed to grow warmer, as well, softening in his arms until, with a great sigh, she simply leaned into him, calmer, if not happier.
“Why didn't...?”
“You didn't really want me.”
“I do! I always... that is...”
Aidan did his best not to respond to that bit of knowledge, instead shaking his head with a slight grimace.
“You wanted to be away from what you were feeling. Today was hard on you.”
“And you as well.”
Aidan shrugged.
“It's no shame to admit the truth. Killing's never an easy business, and no matter who we save, there are always those that we didn't. But I at least have been through this before.”
Her laugh was soft and forlorn.
“You must think that I am such a fool.”
“No, never that, Meggie. I'll admit I did some cursing when I woke and found you gone. The entire way here, believe me when I say that I was sorely contemplating turning you over my knee and giving you a lesson you would not soon forget.”
“Oh!” She squirmed a little against his side, and Aidan dropped a kiss on her head.
“Don't worry. That went away when I saw what the soldiers had done. It was something that needed doing, and we were the only ones there to do it. That must be a good thing.”
There was a beat of silence, and when Margaret spoke, her voice was cautious.
“Would you not have returned for them yourself?”
“As I said, I have done this before, Meggie. You cannot save everyone. You cannot even save the people you most care about sometimes.”
Aidan wondered if he was making excuses for himself, but this was not the time to pursue that. The only thing that mattered in this moment was Margaret next to him, her body soft against his and her soul as raw as fresh-plowed land.
“I don't want to believe that,” she said quietly.
“You must.”
She must have been more tired than he had thought, because she went quiet after that. He thought that she might have been crying, but if it purged the hurt rather than made it fester, it was all right.
Finally, Margaret let out a soft laugh.
“I'm a fool, aren't I?”
“Never.”
He built them a fire, and they curled up together in front of it, her back to his chest. Aidan could feel his desire for her stirring again, but it was less important than making her feel safe and hoping she got some sleep.
“Rest well, Meggie. You can't run forever.”
The only response was her soft breath. Either she was asleep or pretending to be so, and nothing else mattered.
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chapter 28
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Margaret wasn't sure what had woken her up. It was still dim, but there was a slight softness to the northern chill that made her think that it would be morning before long. Somewhere close by, she could hear a small bird starting its gentle trill, a nuthatch, she guessed. It had been so long since she had heard one that for a moment, she was simply stricken with the beauty of it, how gorgeous it was and how lovely.
Am I finally coming home?
For some reason, at that thought, she turned to look at Aidan, who was curled around her like a heavy blanket. He was still sleeping, and she thought that he must be exhausted if she could toss and turn without waking him up.
It's been such a while since I have looked at him, not that there is very much to see in the dimness of the sheltering rock.
She could just make out the shape of his face, the fall of his hair that was in some want of cutting. The rest, she found she could fill in from memory, though whether she was remembering something from her recent travels with him or from the boy he had once been, it was difficult to say.
She knew the color of his eyes as well as she knew her own name, and she had touched that scar on his face so many times, when it was first healing and after.
It occurred to her that she would always know him, always have that intimate knowledge of Aidan, and that warmed her.
Experimentally, Margaret pressed her body against his, and she could feel the change that wrought in him. He was still sleeping, she would stake her life on it, but she could also feel a certain kind of tension entering his limbs, making his ar
ms tighten around her. After a few moments, she could also feel his manhood start to respond as well, and that made something low in her body quicken, turn warmer than she thought she would.
What does it matter? What does it matter when he means this to me, and when we are so very close?
She hooked her bare leg over his clothed one, bringing herself even closer to him, sliding her body along his with her lower lip clenched between her teeth.
Margaret could feel the moment that Aidan came away, quick and silent though it was.
"Meggie—"
Margaret realized that she could not stand to argue with him now, to rehash all the things that stood between them, all the hurts and all the pain. Instead, she laid her fingers over his lips, making him still.
He quieted, but she could tell he was gazing at her in confusion. His body wasn't confused, however, especially not when she pressed against him again.
When it looked like he might want to speak a second time, Margaret pulled herself up far enough so that she could wrap a loose arm around his neck and drag him down for a kiss. It was a little clumsy at first, her teeth knocking against his, something that was almost a bite, but then she felt the change come over Aidan as well.
One moment he was trying to understand what in the blazes she was doing, and the next he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him, kissing her with a passion that she could tell had been dammed up for a long time.
"Meggie, Meggie, are you sure?" he whispered.
She nodded.
"More than I have been about anything."
A rumble rolled through his body, half protest and half need, and then she felt something almost like a physical snap as he gave in to what they both wanted.
His mouth on hers was ravenous, and when he pulled her shift over her head to throw it aside, she felt like a meal laid before him. He couldn't get enough of tasting her, his hot mouth warming her in places where she hadn't even been aware that she was cold before. It felt good, too good, and then she had to dig her hands in his hair to draw him back up to her, to kiss her further.
Aidan's hands ran up and down her body, and she thrilled at how they shook. She couldn't be afraid that this was one-sided, Aidan simply responding to her need. He desired this at least as much as she did, and she couldn't have denied him if all the Scottish army assembled to watch them.
She whimpered as his palm stroked down her chest, past her soft belly to the fluff of hair between her legs. Something in her body remembered the slight hurt from the last time they had done this, but after a few minutes of gentle coaxing, her legs opened, and he could stroke the softness there.
"Ah, but you feel so good, lass," Aidan murmured against her ear. "Will you let me touch you?"
"Yes. Oh, yes, please, Aidan..."
He chuckled, and the quiet sound sent tingles through her body, made her cling to him to try to bear it.
"Do you like that?" he whispered, and before she could answer him, he lapped gently at the rim around her ear even as he caressed her between the legs. The two strong sensations coursed through her, and all she could do was arch into his hands, clinging to him so that she could better bear it. It was pleasure of a kind she had not felt before, and when Aidan kept going, it became something so intense it was almost hard to bear.
Just when she thought she was going to squirm out of her skin if he kept at it for one more moment, he stopped, dropping his lips to the crook of her neck and kissing her there even as his fingers pressed deeply into her body.
The shivers of pleasure changed, became low rather than high, and she felt her body relax into his. There was no pain, not even some remembered remnant. Instead, only pleasure that hummed through her body with a deep and lasting sweetness.
"I do not want to hurt you, love," Aidan murmured in her ear, "but by all the saints, I cannot resist you."
"Then don't," Margaret murmured. "Don't stop."
She thought that he would rise up over her again, but to her surprise, he rolled to his back and tugged her on top of him. Margaret found herself straddling Aidan's still-clothed body, the tenderness of her inner thighs against his clothed legs. She felt exposed, naked as the day she was born and sitting up on top of him.
"Aidan, what are...?"
"Here, I'll show you."
He reached down to unfasten his trews, and she gasped a little when she felt his manhood bare against the flesh of her thigh. She remembered how very good he had made her feel, and before she could think twice about it, she wrapped her hand around the shaft, closing her hand around him hesitantly.
Aidan groaned, and now it was light enough that she could see him looking up at her, a slightly awed expression on his face.
"What you do to me, darling..."
"Was it... I mean, was it bad?"
"With you? Never."
He closed his hand over hers, tightly but without pain, stroking himself with her hand twice. It took her breath away when she realized that he was showing her how to touch him, how he touched himself. It was intimate, and she wanted to explore it more, but then he was urging her forward.
"Aidan..."
"Ride me."
Margaret felt her cheeks flaming at his words. She had wondered why she was straddling him, and here was the answer. Biting her lip, she raised herself up so that she was centered over him, his hands on her hips making her feel steadier. She could feel the tip of his manhood press against her opening, could feel how broad he was. At the same time, she could feel Aidan shook with the need for her, and that made her braver.
She circled her hips experimentally over him, drawing another groan from him, and something about that sound broke her control. She didn't want to do anything but be as close with him as she could be and pressed herself down on top of him, gasping as he filled her. His hands on her hips tightened, and he had to bite down on a groan as she settled on him fully. Then, as if on some signal that they could both hear, they looked into each other's eyes.
Oh, but I love him. Somehow, she knew that he was thinking the same thing.
She was the one who looked away first, and when she shifted her weight, it was as if the last lock holding Aidan still had burst. His hands closed tightly on her hips, and then he was lifting her and pressing up into her as if she weighed nothing. For a single moment, she could marvel at his strength, and then the pleasure caught her as well, rolling in waves over her, nearly dragging her down before pulling her up again.
"Oh, oh, Aidan, it feels good, so good!"
His voice was so low she could barely hear it, but she could detect her name and more importantly, his need for her.
The pleasure came in ever-deepening waves, and just when she felt as if she could not take it anymore, it drew back, leaving her gasping.
The smooth rhythm that Aidan set made her whimper in pleasure, but when his body tensed under hers, when he started pushing up into her with more urgency, she felt something in her wind tighter and tighter.
The sensations throbbing through her were so great that she almost wanted to fight them off. It was too intense. Surely, it would tear her apart, but Aidan would not stop, and she could not ask him to.
When he arched his body and spilled into her, a groan caught between his teeth, Margaret found her own peak. The climax made her close her eyes tight, but she could still see white bursts of light behind her eyelids, still feel her body shake as if it would come apart.
Margaret knew she was murmuring Aidan's name, telling him she loved him, telling him all sorts of things she likely shouldn't, but she couldn't keep anything back from him then. All that mattered to her in that moment was being with him, feeling how very good he was, how much she belonged to him.
Her pleasure left her as limp as a ragdoll, and she collapsed against Aidan's chest, still joined with him. She listened to the strong beat of his heart as it slowed, relished the touch of his hand as he stroked her hair out of her face.
She almost thought she could fall asleep there, b
ut Aidan rolled to one side, pulling away from her with an infinite gentleness and care.
He started to say something, but she touched his lips again. Everything made sense in this moment. All that mattered, all that truly mattered, was here, between them, utterly perfect. Words, especially the words that they had flung at each other, would always ruin it.
Aidan subsided, but she knew that he would not stay still for long. It wasn't in his nature, and nor was it in hers. However, she could enjoy the quiet for a little while longer, live in the perfect world where they were only perfect together.
She was vaguely surprised that she couldn't see steam coming up from their bodies after what they had done. She could feel how cool the morning breeze was, but they both seemed immune, a fold of Aidan's cloak thrown hastily over their hips.
Around them, the birds were singing, the world was coming back to life, and they were one day closer to the end of their time together.
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chapter 29
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“We cannot sleep forever, Margaret.”
“Are you sure? Have we ever tried?”
Aidan laughed a little, and then tugged the cloak off her, leaving her bare body exposed to the cold morning breeze. Margaret yelped, reaching for the wool again, but he pulled it back.
“Get dressed. We should make as much distance as we can.”
“You are a monster, Aidan MacTaggart.”
“Aye, a terrible beast. Go on.”
She sighed dramatically, and he was grateful to see that the darkness that had filled her eyes the night before was gone. Well, he knew that it would not totally leave for a while, and if she was like some of the men he had known during the fighting, it might not leave her ever. However, she looked happier today, and oh-so beautiful, and he would take it.
“Meggie, come here.”
She was grumbling over the dirt on her shift, and after she slipped it over her head, she came back to him, a slightly wary look on her face. It occurred to Aidan that he would always remember her like that, the brightening light in her hair, her eyes glowing with a kind of loveliness he wasn't sure he had ever seen anywhere else.
The Highlander’s Lost Bride (The Highlands Warring Clan Mactaggarts Book 2) Page 14