Shimmers of light pulsed from the left.
Rois looked over.
A fairy wearing a dark green gown watched her.
Nay, ’twas the recklessness of her dream that invented such a crazed thought. Unsure of anything, Rois turned. Outside the window, sunlight peeked over the ridge, the richness basking the curve of land.
Griffin’s exhale had her glancing at the bed, and her heart ached. Soon, he would awaken.
And leave.
Without her.
Destiny is yours to choose.
She whirled toward the hearth. The flicker of flames remained unchanged, but the woman’s whisper echoed in the chamber. Rois touched her brow, found the earlier headache gone. Heaven help her, she had lost her wits.
Linen shifted.
Griffin.
On a deep breath, she faced him. Dream or nae, the elder was right. Destiny was hers to choose. If she and Griffin made love, their marriage would be real. But if they made love, would he accept her into his life?
Over the years she’d acted on her passions, followed her heart, but now was different. Love guided her, that of knowing a woman’s yearnings, of wanting forever with the man she loved.
A man who wanted her.
Determined, Rois stepped forward. A sheen of golden light grew, filled the chamber. With her mind emboldened, she released the finely spun sheet, and it puddled into a heap upon the floor.
On a nervous exhale, she sat next to Griffin. How was she to seduce him? However much she wanted him, the choice must be his. But she would surely try and make refusing impossible.
With one last glance up at the fairies on the ceiling, she leaned over and slowly kissed his neck. Savoring his taste, she caressed his face as she moved up, and with her each kiss, her body warmed, ached with the need of him.
“Griffin,” she whispered as she lay her body flush over his and feathered kisses upon his neck, along the soft curve of his mouth.
His eyes slowly opened, clouded with pleasure. On a groan he drew her against him and was kissing her back, hot, hard, taking her every demand, giving until she was wonderfully breathless.
“I want to make love with you,” she whispered between heated kisses as his hands found her naked flesh, stroked her with a knowing touch until her entire body ached.
His mouth demanding on hers, he turned her over until she lay beneath him, his hands skimming along her skin with mastery, his every touch igniting her desire more than she could have believed.
Rois gasped as he cupped her breast, slid his thumb along the hard tip, then again, sending her mind into a blistering spin.
At her unsteady breaths, through the haze of pleasure, Griffin smiled, savoring her gasps of pleasure, her trembles of need—for him. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the dream. He was making love to Rois. It was so real he could taste her, feel her move against him with a wanton slide.
“Griffin!”
He stilled, and his entire body screamed at his hesitation, but ’twas as if she’d spoken. It could not be. “Rois?” He waited, prayed he was wrong.
Her body slick and hot trembled against his. “A-aye?”
God’s teeth! He opened his eyes, met her gaze burning with need. “I—”
“Make love with me.”
At her sultry request, heat surged through him, blurring the lines of sanity, of why it was important to leave her untouched.
Her slender hand slid down his chest, freed him.
Cool air slid over his fullness, and he groaned against the pleasurable ache. “I—”
“I need you, Griffin.”
His breaths coming fast, he caught her hand. “Rois, we cannot do this. We both agreed.” And he damned his every word.
Rois’s body trembled as she pressed her face against his neck.
Griffin drew a ragged breath, then another. Warmth slid down his skin.
She was crying.
Shaken to the core, he caught her face within his hands, staggered by the rush of emotion pouring through him. He wanted her, desperately, always. Bedamned his blasted position with King Edward!
“I never wanted to hurt you,” Griffin rasped.
A fat tear rolled down her cheek, then another. “’Tis too late. I love you.”
His heart slammed. Words he’d longed to hear, words he wished to return. “You cannot.”
She wiped away the next tear with the back of her hand. “As if what we feel is up to either of us to choose?” Hurt wrapped her voice. “Think you I wanted this? Wanted you?” Anger creased her face, then utter hopelessness crushed her expression. “Damn you, Griffin, you are my enemy!”
The passion in her words tore him apart, her vulnerability more so. “No, I am not.”
Unsure eyes stared at him, the edge of hope tearing him apart. Should he tell her of his secret life as Wulfe? Dare he? And God help him if she knew he loved her as well.
On a shaky breath, he swept his thumb across the velvet of her cheek. “You are an amazing woman, Rois.”
“Do you want me?”
The doubt within her words shook him. He held her gaze, needing her to understand that he struggled to hold himself back. “Very much so.”
“Never before did I understand loving someone so much that I ache with it.”
“Do not,” he breathed, savoring her every word.
Another tear wobbled upon her lid, then rolled down the curve of her cheek. “Too late. I—”
“Rois—”
“Nay,” she whispered, her words raw in their passion, “let me finish. I want you, more than I ever believed I would want a man. But I willna beg. If you leave this bed, ’tis your choosing, nae mine.” Eyes as green as Scotland’s fields blurred with the rush of more tears.
Griffin drew her against him, her each shudder like an arrow to his soul. “I want you as well,” he whispered, his lips tasting her skin, the essence that would always be Rois, the only woman who’d ever drawn him. “Never will anyone fill my heart as you do.”
“Your heart?”
Her stunned words had him pulling back. “Rois, I—”
“You love me?”
Regret poured through him at the hopefulness in her voice. He could not tell her of what she made him feel, but by God he could show her. Neither would he leave her with her body aching. At this moment it was about Rois, the only woman he would ever love.
With deft movements, Griffin stripped off the last of his clothing. His heart pounding fast, and her taste infused in his every breath, he claimed her mouth. As his hands stroked against the lush velvet of her skin, he pressed her back, rested his hard length intimately against her, her slick heat proof of her desire.
As he drew out each kiss, he skimmed his fingers over the curve of her neck. He lingered at the base and then slid lower, his each movement rewarded by her moan of pleasure.
“I am going to make love to you,” he whispered, “Show you what you make me feel.”
Her lips swollen from his kisses curved with satisfaction. “I would be liking that.”
“Aye,” he said, mimicking the Scottish burr, pleased by her laugh.
“’Tis a pathetic burr, Sassenach.”
“Ouch, lass, you wound me.”
Rois caught his hand, drew it to the curve of her breast, her eyes dark with need. “You, my husband, are wasting time.”
His body tightened, savoring if only for these few moments her words. “A task I will take care of.” He cupped her breasts with his hands, lowered his mouth to taste, suckle each with reverence.
She arched against him, her body responding to his every touch, her passionate responses those any man would dream of. “I want to touch you, taste you everywhere.”
Her eyes met his, widened in understanding, then she smiled a warm welcome, and his heart filled. He sprinkled kisses across the flat of her stomach.
“What is it you want me to do?”
“I . . .”
Red slashed her cheeks, her innocence to him a
precious gift.
“I want to please you,” she whispered.
His mind conjured images of her taking him, touching him, using her hands and mouth. His body jolted. “It pleases me to make you smile, to watch you as I touch you.”
She shivered at his confession. “Then take as you want.”
Griffin swallowed hard. Slow, he must take it slow.
“Watch me,” he whispered, holding her gaze he kissed the silken skin of her stomach, slid his hands in wondrous exploration of each curve, every slant of her body. His tongue feathered across the downy triangle of curly hair.
On a soft moan, she arched against him.
Her woman’s scent lured him, driving him wild as he tasted her, savored how her eyes glazed with passion. He caught her slick nub with his mouth, and slid his finger deep within her heat.
“Griffin!”
At her gasp, he set a slow pace as he flicked his tongue over her swollen, sensitized skin.
On a moan, she arched to meet his every drive, her body’s trembles growing, and her gasps fragmenting to moans.
He increased his pace, understanding what she needed, what for this moment only he could give.
Her body shuddered. “I—I need you.”
“You have me.” Always, he silently finished. He drove his tongue against her slick sheath, loving her taste.
Lost to her need, her frantic movements assured Griffin she’d succumbed to the building of heat, to a moment so perfect a man lived and breathed to find it.
With frantic movements, her hands came down, slid across his shoulders, and urged him up.
“Rois, I—”
“I need to feel you inside me,” she breathed.
He swallowed hard, wishing he could fulfill her request. He stilled. In a sense he could, but he must be careful. With his finger stroking her, Griffin slid up, covered her swollen folds with his hardness.
Her warm slickness welcomed him.
Immense peace surrounded him, enveloped him until he immersed himself in the near experience of making love with her.
She moved against him, her full breasts making him groan. He rubbed his thumb over her slick, swollen nub, gritting his teeth as his length slid across the entrance of her swollen sheath.
Her body arced in a chaotic dance.
Griffin shifted again, careful to not slip and sink deep inside her slick warmth, her pleasure worth the moment’s risk. To ensure her innocence remained intact, he laid his hand over his sensitive tip, pressed his remaining length against her slick length, pressed harder.
She groaned.
Headiness enveloped him, her frantic movements threatening to shatter his hard-won control.
“Griffin, I—” Her body bucked. “I . . . Help me!”
As her body jolted against him striving toward release, he pulled back and drove again.
A creak sounded.
Wood shuddered.
Gave way.
The bed was collapsing! Griffin thrust his hands out to cushion her fall as his body surged forward. Unprotected, he sank deep.
And her barrier of innocence shattered.
Chapter Twenty
Hands gripping the slats of the fallen bed, Griffin stared at the stunned expression shattering Rois’s face, assured with their bodies intimately connected, his expression held the same shock. On a gasp, she turned away, but he caught her wince of pain.
“Rois.”
“I—I . . .” Her voice wavered.
“Look at me.” He struggled to keep his words gentle as his entire body raged to drive into her over and again. And if he did so, he would be a bastard. She was a virgin, or had been until moments ago. She needed tenderness, to understand the beauty and pleasure of their bodies joined. He took another steadying breath.
Encased by the fragile morning light, her chestnut hair fell aside and wary green eyes met his. Her lower lip trembled. “Our marriage is now real, is it nae?”
“Yes,” he replied, humbled by the enormity of the fact. Worries overwhelmed him that between the complications of his serving King Edward and often being away, in the end he would hurt her. Griffin stared at the burst of sunlight streaming into the chamber, the rich rays welcoming the newborn day.
The day he was to leave.
Alone.
Except the collapsed bed aiding in the consummation of their marriage had changed everything.
“Griffin?”
Her unsure whisper refocused him on her shattered innocence. He stroked her cheek. “I never meant to take you so roughly.” Or to take her at all. Now, Rois was his in every way.
She studied his face, hers void of condemnation. “’Twas an accident.”
Anger rumbled through him that she would offer understanding when he deserved none. In an attempt to pleasure her, he’d courted the chance of her losing her virginity.
And lost.
Griffin ran his thumb across the sweep of her lower lip. “Do not excuse me.”
Shadows of laughter filtered through the chamber.
He caught the sparkle of light above and looked up.
Fairies glanced down at him.
No, not fairies, paintings. For a moment he swore one moved.
“Griffin, what are you looking at?”
He tore his gaze from the ceiling. He’d witnessed naught but the exhaustion of his mind. “It is—”
Light glinted from across the room.
He looked over. Inside the bowl on the table, the mate to the halved stone he wore around his neck glowed.
“It is what?” Rois asked.
The shimmer of light faded.
On a rough exhale, Griffin faced her. “Did you see naught odd about the gemstone on the table?”
Her brows drew together in confusion, then she glanced at the bowl. Shaking her head, she turned. “Nay. Why are you asking me if—”
“Never mind.” He’d seen naught. Nor would he give further thought to the images induced by the MacGruders’ talk of their grandmother’s chamber holding magic. This moment was about Rois, her first time making love, precious moments he would give his wife to cherish.
His wife.
Moved by the gift of her in his life, he cupped her face in his hands. With exquisite slowness, he drew her into a searing kiss, seduced her with expertise to make her forget the chaos of the moments before. Feather-lightly, he slid his hands over her naked body, savoring each curve, her every tremble.
Slowly, her body began to relax, her lips responding to his, and her soft writhing shifting to exciting demands.
Griffin lifted his head. “’Twill not hurt again.” Eyes locked with hers, he skimmed his mouth against the slender column of her neck.
Her body stiffened against his, but he understood her nerves. She’d experienced the pain. “Trust me.”
The depth of sincerity in Griffin’s request moved Rois, and tears burned in her eyes. “I do.”
He pressed a kiss against the sensitive hollow of her neck. “I wish to show you naught but pleasure.”
With complete faith, Rois lay back and enjoyed the wanton luxury of his nakedness against hers, of how his fullness tight inside her made her feel complete.
“You taste amazing,” Griffin whispered, his tongue sliding down her skin to encircle her nipple. The warm heat of his mouth against the coolness of the air had her gasping. Then his lips covered and suckled.
Her sensations built as he continued. Inside her, his hardness lengthened.
Deepening the kiss, Griffin began an easy rhythm within her, his strokes soft like a summer rain.
Spasms tore through Rois, each one stealing her breath, increasing her body’s tremors.
On her moan, he slid his thumb down to her sensitive nub to tease her further.
Her mind blurred, and her body grew desperate. Loving the feel of him, his complete passion of her body, she rose up to meet him.
With his next drive, her body began to convulse. His pace increased, heightening her sensation. Brilliant
bursts of reds, blues, and yellows exploded around her, and she cried out.
Griffin’s body tightened. “Rois!”
Warmth spilled into her, and another round of waves took her up again. As her body’s shudders slowed, he drew her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.
Emotion swamped her. She wished they could lay here forever. Then doubts crept through her mind. He’d agreed she was his wife and had seemed sincere, but did he intend to keep her with him when he traveled to England? Or, would he keep to his original plan and send her with her father to Kincardan Castle?
Griffin pressed a kiss upon her cheek. “You are thinking.”
His lighthearted words teased a brief smile. As quickly it fled. She searched his face for a sign of his intent, his answer able to destroy her.
“What?” he urged.
“Now that we have . . .” She took a deep breath and pushed past her nerves. The topic was too important to avoid. “As I am now your wife in every way, will you take me along when you ride to Westminster Palace?” Hesitation flashed across his face, and she swallowed hard. “I see.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, sighed. “You cannot understand the breadth of what you ask.”
The turmoil-roughed reply gave her hope. “That you serve King Edward?”
“Yes. That I have pledged fealty to your enemy.” Griffin damned the peril he would expose Rois to. Firsthand he’d witnessed what happened to traitors of England. The lucky ones were strung up before their wives and children. Those who caught King Edward’s attention were drawn and quartered, their bodies displayed on pikes at town entries.
She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Loyalties are easily changed.”
At Rois’s hopeful voice, he cupped her hand within his, thankful for her belief in him. “I will take you with me.”
A smile widened her mouth. “Truly?”
“You are my wife, whom I adore. Never could I leave you behind.” She threw her arms around him, her fervent kiss making his body harden and his mind frenzied until he wanted to drive into her over and over again as she cried out from release.
From below a man’s voice called out for knights to pair up to spar.
On a shaky breath, Griffin broke the kiss. He held her tight, his body ferocious with need. “Rois, if we remain here any longer, I will make love to you again. For now, we should not. Your body is tender and needs rest.”
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