by Gaelen Foley
“Maggie, wait.” Connor gently barred her exit with a forearm across her waist. “Please. There’s something I need to say to you.”
“Yes?” She lifted her gaze to his, the firelight limning her delicate profile and glistening in her gray eyes, wide with hope and vulnerability.
He lowered his arm to capture her fingers, moving closer. “I…I owe you an apology.”
She lifted her eyebrows, looking amazed.
“I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings, Maggie. And I do respect you. I want so much for you to know that.” He lifted his shoulders in an expressive shrug. “How could I not? You saved my life.”
Connor faltered while she gazed at him. “The truth is, I hate that you saw me fight Darrow last night. That’s the real reason I got so angry. I…” He looked away, speaking with difficulty, but offering her the raw honesty she deserved. “I never wanted you to see that side of me. You, of all people. It was bad enough that you witnessed that, but then I made it worse by how I treated you. And I truly am sorry.”
Dry-mouthed, he glanced at her again. To his relief, she hadn’t fled the room yet. “I, er, I lost my cool because I was scared of what you would think of me. When I saw the look on your face…” His words trailed off, for he didn’t have the heart to finish them.
That was the moment I knew I’d lost you.
Connor lowered his head, his soul heavy as a stone. “I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t so much that I was angry at you for following me. I was angry at myself, seeing through your eyes for that split second, what I’ve become. What I had to become. At the war.”
She nodded, listening. A sheen of moisture had sprung into her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered. “You’re such a gentle soul. A true lady. You should never be exposed to such brutality. But I’m afraid that’s just a part of who I am. So if you don’t want to marry me anymore, I’ll understand.” He swallowed hard. “Or, if you feel we ought to marry for propriety’s sake, I’ll do whatever you want. Everything that’s happened is my fault, after all. I just want you to be safe. And happy.”
“Oh, Connor.” She took a step toward him and then captured his hand in her own. “I don’t think you understand at all how I see you.”
He nodded, bracing himself for whatever hard truths she might hit him with. “Tell me.”
She searched his eyes tenderly. “First, I know how you think I see you. As an ‘Irish savage,’ or some brutal killing machine. But that is not the case. When I look at you, I see my friend.” She lifted her soft, warm hands and cupped his face gently between them. “My lover. My darling. The man who taught me courage, and how to stand up for myself. You want me to be happy? Then you must not speak another word of canceling our marriage, for I can never be happy unless you are mine to love.”
He stared at her, amazed at her clemency as her words slowly sank in.
“Well?” Maggie whispered. She lowered her hands from his face to her sides again, waiting.
Overwhelmed, Connor barely knew how to answer.
“You are so generous to me,” he finally whispered. “You always have been. You gave me a chance when nobody else would. You stuck by my side when I didn’t deserve it.”
“You believed in me,” she countered. “Nobody ever really believed in me before like that, and I certainly didn’t believe in myself.”
His heart clenched and he reached for her hand.
They stared at each other in wonder.
“Besides,” she ventured after a moment with tears in her eyes, “you’ve been generous to me, too. Have you seen my ring?” She lifted her hand with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.
Her little jest took him off guard, but, touched by her transparent effort to cheer him up with humor, he answered softly, “Plenty more where that came from, love.”
She smiled. “But you know that’s not the main thing that I want from you.”
He nodded. “You want me to be a good husband and behave myself, and I shall try.”
“No.” Shaking her head, she rested her hands on his chest. “I merely want to know that you love and respect me as much as I do you. That’s all.”
“I do, Maggie. God, you are on the highest of pedestals to me.” He captured both of her hands and held them. But as he gazed at her, his voice failed him as he realized how desperately he needed her in his life.
The future he’d dreamed of was useless without her at the heart of it. “I just don’t want to lose you. Especially not now, before we’ve even begun, with all this still hanging over our heads.”
“You’ll never lose me now that I’ve finally found you, my beloved.” She stepped into his embrace and laid her head against his chest.
Connor wrapped his arms around her slim body and thanked heaven for this woman—and her patience with him. Closing his eyes, he lowered his face against her head, inhaling the perfume of her hair.
He stared into the fire as he held her, his thoughts drifting faraway. “I’m such an animal sometimes. I’ve had to be. There’s no use denying it. If you’re still with me, then perhaps it’s best you know that.”
“Connor, you survived that long, bloody, horrible war.” She looked up at him earnestly, resting her palms on his chest. “You’re here now, and you love me. That’s all I need to know. Everything else, it’s all in the past. The war’s over now. Napoleon’s defeated. And it’s time for you to start a new chapter of your life, yes? With me.”
“Will you help me do that?” he breathed.
“Of course.”
He nodded wistfully, clinging to that promised hope. Yet, oddly enough, the welling misery tucked away in the back of his heart came on stronger at her tender vow. For she touched something in him; her gentleness woke the sadness he always avoided over the things that he’d seen and done.
It wasn’t easy to live with sometimes. And, deep down, he knew damned well that more than just his wounded side needed healing. But there was never time to ponder such things with bullets flying around one’s head. So he had merely pressed on day after day, year after year, and he’d learned young to cover up sadness with laughter. ’Twas the Irish way.
She must’ve noticed the pensive cast of his face, for she drew him back to the present with a soft caress on his jaw.
“I love you,” she said.
Her sweetness, her artless sincerity, and above all, her innocence brought a lump to his throat. He’d have done it all over again to protect the likes of this precious girl.
Then he mentally shoved the past away, refusing to let it swallow him like Jonah’s mighty fish and carry him down into the abyss.
Maggie was the present, here in his arms. She was his future.
“I love you too, my darling.” A low burst of breathy laughter escaped him in his embarrassment at how well she saw through him. “But, God’s truth, I’d rather fight a battle with the Grand Armee than ever argue with you again.”
She grinned, resting her chin against his sternum. “I’m not so scary.”
“No. But I have a feeling you’re usually right. Which means I’ll usually lose.”
“Ah, don’t worry, Major,” she said, “you shall find me magnanimous in victory. I confess, however, I might enjoy claiming the spoils of war…” She ran a naughty fingertip down the center of his chest to his navel, and tilted her head with a coquettish smile.
“I surrender,” Connor whispered heartily.
Then Maggie bit her lip and gave him a rough little shove toward the bed.
CHAPTER 32
At Last
A rare boldness filled Maggie as she thrust him playfully onto the nearby four-poster. With a husky laugh, Connor dropped to a seated position on the edge of the bed. Handsome as sin in the firelight, he leaned back slightly, his hands propped behind him. The way the fire’s flickering illumination played over his magnificent body had been driving her mad from the moment she’d arrived at his chamber.
Delicious man, he was more temptation tha
n she could resist.
His apology had touched her heart, and now Maggie felt closer to him than ever. Hope glowed within her at seeing they’d had their first real scuffle but made amends.
Besides, she had no intention of letting her darling fiancé go outside in the middle of this storm. That was even more dangerous than what she’d done, sneaking here to his chamber at this hour.
Of course, having come this far, Maggie figured, why quit now?
Her belly quivered with want as she watched the shadows dance across his massive shoulders, the muscular curves of his chest, and down his sculpted abdomen.
She dragged her gaze up from perusing his physique. All it took was one look into his cobalt eyes, and she threw caution to the wind. Her need for more of him tonight was urgent, elemental.
“I see. Queen Maggie the Magnanimous, is it?” he taunted as he trailed a smoldering gaze over her.
“That’s right.” Maggie untied the cloth belt of her dressing gown.
“You can conquer me anytime, love.”
“Good. Because you’re not going anywhere right now.” After sliding the velvet belt free from around her waist, she tossed it, looped, over his broad shoulders, capturing him. “Now I’ve got you,” she whispered with a smile, leaning closer. “And I’m never letting you go.”
“Ah well.” He smiled, watching her with hawklike intensity.
Then she closed her eyes and kissed him for a moment. Beneath his playful banter, she could sense his throbbing awareness of her. It thrilled her, as ever—and told her all she needed to know.
Ending the kiss, she straightened up then shrugged off her dressing gown and let it fall to the floor. His lips curved when he saw her white cotton night rail, but the tingling heat racing through her at his nearness made her loath to continue wearing much of anything.
“Whatever are you doing, my dear?” Connor murmured, and licked his lips.
She climbed onto his lap in answer, kneeling astride him. She slid her arms around his neck. “Don’t you think we ought to make up properly now?”
“Mmm, I do. What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll show you.” She claimed his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, gathering him closer.
His hands curled around her waist. She ran her fingers through his hair, trembling with a surge of feverish yearning. His tongue stroked hers in swirling seduction.
When she ended the kiss, Connor swallowed breathlessly. “I suppose the boys can manage on their own for a while longer.”
“Ah. A man of sense,” she panted. Then she pushed him down onto his back on the bed and braced herself above him on her arms.
“My, you are an insistent lady,” he not-quite-protested.
Deliberately caressing his body with her own, she meant to rout any more foolish talk of his leaving. “You should know by know how stubborn I can be,” she purred.
“Almost as stubborn as me,” he said, then let out a low groan as she gently brushed her thigh back and forth between his legs.
“Perhaps, then, we really are perfect for each other,” Maggie whispered as she set out to entice him.
His eyes swept open and he gazed at her. “On that, my darling, we are in perfect accord.”
She went very still, holding his stare for a heartbeat. I want you.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Taken aback by his tender declaration, Maggie felt her heart clench. “Oh, my darling man, I love you too.” She kissed him, moved. Then, filled with decision, Maggie pressed up onto her knees.
Still straddling him, she took hold of her loose night rail and lifted it off over her head with a smooth motion, offering herself to her chosen mate without another word.
Connor’s lips parted as his gaze drifted over her naked body. Maggie let him look, her pulse pounding. Her nipples peaked in the chill, but she wasn’t cold, merely yearning for his touch.
He laid a warm hand on her thigh planted next to his hip. The other he raised to the center of her chest, trailing his fingers slowly down the middle of her torso.
His reverent gaze followed his caress. “You are an angel,” he said hoarsely.
Her lips twisted. “Usually, Your Grace. But not tonight.” Then she leaned down and claimed his mouth in a series of deep, drowning kisses.
As his arms wrapped around her waist, the feel of his bare chest to hers for the first time was blissful. Her hair swung down to veil the intoxicating kisses they exchanged, and, in moments, she abandoned herself to the pleasure of Connor’s hands gliding all over her body.
His sensuous caresses molded the curves of her back. He gripped the cheeks of her backside in both hands with a low growl of lust.
Without warning, he flipped her onto her back on the bed and rolled onto his side next to her. Maggie tilted her head back, eager to yield control to his expertise.
Connor nuzzled her cheek for a moment. She moaned as his warm, sure hand cupped her breast. But the restless pleasure of his thumb chafing back and forth across her swollen nipples wasn’t enough. She needed his mouth.
She asked for it wordlessly, urging his head down, arching her back. He swung lower in a swift, eager descent and then feasted on her breasts. Maggie smiled with erotic relief at his lusty moans while his hot, wet mouth devoured her, tugging roughly at each nipple in turn. The roughness of his day’s beard against the delicate skin of her breasts heightened her arousal.
Her groans of climbing ecstasy joined his when he slipped two fingers inside of her. Passion exploded in her veins with a wave of even sharper need.
Suddenly, panting and wild, she reached down to unfasten his breeches, impatient to touch and stroke the erection she could already feel waiting for her there, straining at the placket. She had visited this region before, after all. She’d even had her mouth on him, had drunk his salty juices. She was eager to do that to him again, but not tonight.
Now only the hard, glorious length of him buried to the hilt inside her body would do.
He seemed pleased to oblige her. Unfortunately, her fingers were clumsy with haste and inexperience—not to mention shaking with unbearable desire. The buttons of his placket seemed all backward from her angle, frustrating her in seconds, but with an indulgent half-smile against her lips, Connor assisted.
When he had freed his member, he returned to kissing her madly. But Maggie only stroked him for a moment or two before the silken feel of his throbbing shaft in her grip drove her to a state of utter craving for the man.
She drew him atop her and parted her legs to receive him. Connor groaned as she guided the head of his manhood to the threshold of her dripping passage, letting him taste her body’s wettest kiss.
He breathed an intoxicated oath and shuddered, barely holding himself back. Having made her wishes explicitly clear, Maggie slid her hands up his arms and held on tightly to his broad shoulders, weak with hunger, waiting for him to take her.
His eyes swept open, and they stared at each other in the firelight.
His chiseled face was stark with the torment of raw desire, and his blue eyes burned into her very soul.
“Are you sure?” he panted, hesitating.
“God, yes. Connor, please.”
“I want you so much,” he said, his voice guttural.
A needy groan escaped her at his words.
“But, sweeting, we aren’t married yet,” he forced out. “If this bastard should manage to ki—”
“No! Don’t even say it,” she ordered, laying a finger across his lips. “I won’t allow it.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I’ll kill him myself before I’ll let him take you from me.”
His expression changed as he absorbed her fierce vow. Something deeper than lust filled his eyes. He seemed to realize in that moment that perhaps the two of them were more alike than he had previously grasped.
Maggie also understood that now. She lifted her hand and cupped his beloved face. “I’d give my life for you,” she whispered.
He shook his head,
looking speechless for a moment. “I’d never want that. But aye, I’d do the same for you. In a heartbeat.”
“I know you would, my warrior.” She licked her lips, shifting beneath him. “Please, Connor, make love to me.”
His effort to withstand temptation crumbled before her eyes. A surge of thrill swept through her as he bent his head and kissed her with devastating tenderness.
The scruff on his jaw chafed her chin, but his mouth claiming hers was satiny smooth. She parted her lips eagerly for each mesmerizing stroke of his tongue and slid her splayed fingers up through his hair, caressing his head. Her pulse pounded with anticipation as he lowered his body onto hers, his elbows planted on both sides of her head.
While his tongue swirled in her mouth, she was breathless with wonder, shaking with need, and acutely aware of his delicious incursion as he entered her, inch by inch. No words were spoken, but he paused for a heartbeat when he came to the maiden barrier within her; then he thrust into her, and Maggie cried out.
The sensation was raw for a moment, but he held himself in check with a hard swallow, letting her absorb the sweet pain of this blood oath, joining them forever.
She dragged her eyes open and looked at him. Connor was staring down at her with stormy devotion, his eyes glittering like sapphires. “You are so beautiful.”
“I’m yours.” The simple words escaped her without forethought.
Tenderness sobered his expression, then he kissed her brow. As a few moments passed in his patient embrace, her fleeting discomfort receded. She explored the curve of his lower back, his lean hips, and muscled derriere, gradually getting accustomed to the size of him within her.
After a bit, she lifted her head and nibbled a sensuous kiss along his shoulder that let him know she was feeling quite splendid now, and ready for more. He glanced down at her with that irresistible, roguish half-smile, and, slowly at first, they carried on right from where they’d left off.
He was gentle with her; his light kisses skimming along her jaw line filled her with delight. Meanwhile, each coaxing motion of his hips cautiously lured her back into realms of dreamy enjoyment.