He turned her onto her stomach so that she lay raised on her elbows as he placed slow, teasing kisses, assisted by his tongue and his fingertips, down her spine until she gasped and sighed, arching her back.
He had been with other women before, but they all seemed so far away and forever ago. Forgotten. With her, everything felt new.
“Your body … is so lovely. As lovely as your face, and your heart.” He paused, grazing his lips over the small, enchanting indentations just above her buttocks, and made his way back up to the place between her shoulders. He smoothed a hand down her back, to her hip, pulling her smaller, slenderer body against the length of his, so that she lay on her side.
Pressed against her softness, his arousal grew. Her arm came back, and she touched his face. He bent, testing the skin of her neck with his teeth, and skimmed his fingertips up, over her ribs. She responded with a soft giggle, and squirmed against him, in a way that made him lose all patience to be inside her again.
“I want you like this,” he whispered, taking hold of the inside of her knee, and lifting … widening her legs, bringing her hips toward him. Stroking her, he found her slick and ready.
“Hurry,” she whispered, her thighs clenching against his hand.
Grasping hold of his cock, he guided himself … tilted his hips and thrust, entering her.
“Ah…” she gasped, tossing her head, her hair back.
She was so narrow, so tight. His mind went hazy with lust. Another thrust, and he was fully ensheathed.
“Like this,” he murmured, moving inside her. Pleasure tightened his every muscle. Awakened every inch of his skin. Making love to her was better than any fantasy his mind had ever conjured.
He rose onto one elbow, aligning her against him so that they both lay on their sides, her upper leg lifted and bent so that her foot rested on the outside of his calf.
With his hand on her waist … sliding down over her stomach to stroke between her legs … he guided her into a slow rhythm. Drawing her hair aside, he kissed her neck, her cheek. Squeezed her breast. Oh, god, yes. Perfect.
But it wasn’t enough. Clenching his teeth, he pulled out and rolled her to her back.
“I need to see your face,” he rasped.
He kissed her, hard and earnestly. Because even now, he almost couldn’t believe it was her. That they were here making love in her bed. Tonight couldn’t last long enough. Spreading her legs, he exerted every fragment of his control, and slowly entered her again.
“Mmm.” She sighed. “Oh … Magnus.”
Buried inside her, he lowered his head and caught her nipple in his mouth, and sucked and licked until her hips came off the bed, hitching higher and harder to match each pull and push of his rigid sex.
The muscles of his abdomen flexed with each thrust. His stitched wound stung, but the pain only heightened his pleasure.
“I’m not hurting you?” he rasped.
“No…” she whispered through swollen lips.
Unable to hold back, to control his desire, he rose up on his knees, and seized her buttocks high against him. He sank into her, deep and hard, watching the beautiful sight of her breasts bouncing, nipples hard as diamonds, as he thrust into her, again and again. Too hard and too rough, he feared, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
A ragged sound broke from her lips, but peering down, he saw ecstasy on her face, her lips curled into a dazed smile.
“Magnus.” Her nails gouged the backs of his thighs, where she clenched him tight.
She felt so good. So hot. So tight. The bed frame creaked and groaned, and he prayed the stone walls would silence the sound to outside ears.
Just when he thought he would explode, her womb clenched him tight, and pulsed in climax around him. His bollocks seized tight and he saw stars at the back of his eyes. His body fractured and he drove deep, his cock throbbing so powerfully he groaned in combined bliss and agony, feeling in that moment, illuminated, as if he’d ventured inside heaven. For the second time that night, he spent himself inside her.
Gasping, kissing … their bodies relaxed into a tangle of arms and legs.
Breathing hard, he pressed his forehead to hers, and kissed her mouth. “Did I hurt you? I know I did.”
She half-chuckled, half-groaned. “It felt wonderful at the time, but now…”
Carefully, he withdrew from her body. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She peered at him steadily, her cheeks pink. “Give me a moment, and I know I will want to do it again.”
“I fear that we have almost certainly created a child tonight. It is my fault. I should have been more careful. I should have shown more control—”
“Shhhh,” she whispered, her eyes bright, kissing him. “I’m not sorry. Whatever happens.”
They lay together, embracing, for a long while, until their breathing slowed.
“I must go,” he said, his chest tight with regret. “It is almost dawn.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” She squeezed him tight, burying her face in his neck. “But I know you must.”
He turned her face and pressed a kiss to her mouth, drawing his knuckle down her cheek. “I could kiss you a thousand times, and it wouldn’t be enough.” He peered at her solemnly. “They aren’t just words. I hope you know that. I’m sworn to you, heart and soul.”
She squeezed his hand, tears welling in her eyes. “And I to you.”
“I meant what I said.” His gaze fixed on hers. “You are mine now. I would die to protect you. Do not doubt that.”
She nodded. “I do believe you.”
“And do not risk drawing attention to yourself, asking questions all about. I will find out what I can about your sister.” He kissed her once more, slow and lingeringly, and stood. Retrieving her gown, he helped clothe her before dressing himself.
“Stay here, where it is warm,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Sleep.”
“I will, but here.” She went to a wooden chest, and a moment later turned. “Lock the window behind you when you go.” She pressed a key into his hand.
“You should keep the key,” he said.
“I told you. I’m not leaving without you, so I don’t need it.”
At the secret door, he looked over his shoulder at her once more.
She did not smile, but lifted a hand. She looked small and fragile and so very alone. His chest tightened, already aching for her.
Hell. He strode across the room, framed her face in his hand and kissed her once more.
Backing away, saying nothing, he returned to the door, and passed through, securing it behind him. He descended into darkness, his mood growing surlier and surlier with each step he took away from her.
Leaving through the window, he locked it behind him, and jumped down, because he’d kicked the ladder down where it wouldn’t be seen by anyone who might happen to wander by. He made his way around the wall of the tower, to enter the castle. The guards greeted him with knowing smiles, allowing him to pass without question. He would not be the only warrior who crept in at early-morning hours, after having spent the night in a woman’s arms. On silent steps he passed through the Pit, his ears met on all sides by deep snores.
“So … who is she?” said a voice off to the side.
He looked there, and saw Chissolm pushing up onto his elbow, his face darkened by his beard, bleary-eyed.
“What are you talking about,” he answered, doing his best to keep his manner easy.
“Y’er a man who values his sleep. And you aren’t one to stay out until dawn reitheachas around with just anyone.”
Chissolm was his friend, but Magnus flinched inwardly at the vulgarity, because it hadn’t been like that with Tara.
But Magnus had never been one to share stories of his exploits, so it would not seem strange that he answered over his shoulder, as he disappeared into his chamber.
“No one you know.”
*
Tara walked along th
e cliffs, looking out over the ocean, with Anna walking beside her. A cold wind lifted her cloak and veil, but inside she felt warmed through, remembering the night she had spent in Magnus’s arms. She counted the hours until night fell once more, when she knew he would come to her and make love to her again … and again.
Where was he now, she wondered? Safe, she prayed. He would be on his guard, she reassured herself, and Hugh would not be able to make such a cowardly attack on him again. He was an exceptional warrior and could protect himself, of that she had no doubt, but she too must know how to survive. She would have not only his heart, but his respect. They had not talked of marriage, but even now she might carry his child. If she was to be the wife of a highlander, either here or abroad, then she must be strong as well, and not simply exist as a woman in peril, in constant need of protection and defense.
She could not help but wonder where he intended to take them when they left this place, or who the people were that he trusted so greatly, above the people of his own clan. As much as he held her heart, he remained very much a mystery to her, and she wondered if that would ever change.
Last night he had urged her not to draw attention to herself by asking questions about Arabel’s death, that he would find out what he could, but she had walked this way for a reason this morning, because yesterday, before Hugh had attacked Magnus, she had seen the castle cemetery in the distance, along with a church.
A short time later, she and Anna entered through the stone gate. Though they’d not requested any escort, a warrior had followed them from the castle, no doubt dispatched to keep watch over them, even though they remained in sight of the castle. Together, she and her maid walked the rows of markers … and then walked them again, this time more slowly.
“She isn’t here,” said Tara, her body gone numb with shock and sadness.
Not only did she not know of a certainty how her sister had died, but she didn’t even know where her body had been buried.
“I don’t understand it,” Anna replied. “I don’t even see any new graves, awaiting markers.”
“Neither do I. Lady Alwyn told me there was a priest present when she died.”
“Where else would they have buried her?” the girl murmured. “There is nowhere else. They wouldn’t have placed her in the village cemetery with the common folk. Not the ward of the Earl of Buchan.”
“Come, let us return to the castle,” Tara said, blinking away tears. “There is no need for us to remain here.”
Together they climbed the hillside, and made their way along the cliffs again.
“The days grow colder now,” Anna said. “Let us go inside, where there is a fire, and it is warm.”
Tara nodded. There, she would ask the lady where her sister was buried.
“Mistress,” said a male voice from behind them.
Tara turned to find Hugh standing very close.
She let out a startled breath.
Chapter 11
“May we talk?” he said, reaching a hand for her.
Instinctively, she stepped back so that he would not touch her.
“Perhaps there,” he said. “Inside the garden wall, where the wind is not so bothersome?”
He smiled, a courtier’s smile, and the thought flitted across her mind that he would be handsome if he had a soul, but she had never seen any light in his eyes, only darkness.
And she could not forget the repugnant thing he had done in attacking Magnus.
“We are very cold from our walk,” she replied, unable to infuse warmth into her voice. “Perhaps you would like to join us in the tower, where you can also visit with your mother, who is still not feeling well. I know she would enjoy your visit.”
He shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes off her. “She has a tendency to talk overly long, and at present I have no time for that, I am afraid.”
She had no wish to be alone with him, but she could not refuse his request. He had proven himself a coward, and so she would not fear him anymore. At least not here, in the open and daylight, with others about.
“As you wish,” she answered, and joined him, but she pretended not to see the hand he offered, so he instead touched the center of her back as they walked.
Anna followed them at a distance, which gave her some comfort.
Entering through a narrow back gate, he led her to a space inside the castle wall where there was no real garden to speak of, but several benches, statuaries, and alcoves fashioned of sea-weathered stone.
He looked at her for a long moment. “I fear I shocked you yesterday when I struck out against that man.”
Remembering the blood that had spilled from Magnus’s side, as a result of Hugh’s craven act, sent a tremor moving through her.
“That man. Do you mean Magnus, your half-brother?” She spoke calmly, refusing to let him unnerve her. “It did not seem fair or honorable, striking him from behind. But ’tis none of my concern—you may do all things, as you wish. After all, you are the laird’s son.”
She mocked him, but he seemed not to know.
He let out a dark laugh. “You must know there is much more to the story. I am only repaying him in kind, for all he has done to me.”
“What has he done to you, so that you would want to harm him in such a way?”
Harm him. No, he’d attempted to murder Magnus, plain and simple.
“What has he done to me? He was born. That’s what.” Hugh gave a cold smile. “He is nothing but a baseborn cur. One day, when my father is dead, I will not suffer his presence in this place.”
She would hear no more of his hate for Magnus. Soon, she and Magnus would be gone from this place, never to return. There were other matters to discuss.
“Hugh, I know you did not care for my sister, but she is part of my family and I wish to visit her grave. Can you tell me where she is buried?”
She scrutinized his face, watchful for any clue. His face went slack, and a full moment later, he shrugged.
“In the cemetery, of course.”
“I went there, and I was unable to find her grave. There is … no marker bearing her name.”
His thick eyebrows went up. “That is because … the marker I chose for her, has not yet been completed by the mason. Very soon, I think. I will send a servant to ask after it later today, if it pleases you.”
She was not convinced by his words. She and Anna had both seen there were no new graves without markers. She felt just as certain as before that her sister’s remains did not lie in the hallowed ground of the cemetery.
“It would please me,” she answered, because she knew not what else to say.
“Mistress Iverach … Tara…” he said.
It was the first time he’d spoken her given name, and she did not like it. It felt too personal, too close, when she had already sworn herself to another. Just being here with him felt wrong.
“Yes,” she answered tersely.
“You and I have had a bad start, but we will be married in a matter of days.”
“Hmmm,” she answered in a whisper, glancing away.
No, they would not be. She could promise him that.
“Don’t you agree that we should learn to get along? To know one another better.” He came toward her, but she moved aside, pretending to look at a statue of a lion.
Her heartbeat hitched. “’Tis true. We barely know one another. You should come to the tower for the midday meal with your mother, and we can talk, and learn more about each other.”
He did not give up the chase, but came close to stand behind her.
“That isn’t what I mean, and I think you know it.”
Tara shivered. She hated him being this close to her, and speaking to her in that tone. His behavior made a mockery of everything real and meaningful between a man and a woman.
She turned to face him. “I do not understand why, from the first moment, you have felt the need to torment me. Did my sister do something to anger you? If so, tell me what she did.”
&
nbsp; Like lightning, his hand moved to snare her wrist with bruising strength, and he seized her close. “Tell me, have you ever been with a man before?”
Anna’s voice sounded from behind him, soft and fearful. “Mistress. I do believe the lady will be expecting our return.”
Hugh snarled over his shoulder. “Get away, peasant, lest you wish me to punish you for your impudence.”
*
Magnus watched them from the window of the laird’s counsel chamber, a snarl hovering at the back of his throat. Tara had insisted she was strong enough to withstand Hugh’s aggressions, and perhaps she was, but he could not simply stand and watch as Hugh laid hands on his woman.
He answered the question put forth to him by the laird. “Aye, each warrior, as of yesterday, has in their possession both a short and longsword.”
Tara.
“And horses?” the Alwyn asked.
Hugh was touching Tara.
He forced a calmness to his voice, which he did not feel. “We have added twelve to our stable. I suspect the Kincaid boasts more, but with our skill—and the backing of Buchan’s forces—I have no doubt we can best him and his mercenaries on the field of battle.”
If Hugh hurt her, he’d kill him.
At this pause in the conversation, Magnus moved forward, forcing calm over his demeanor, his manner. “Laird, were is Hugh? As your son, should he not be included in these discussions?”
“Indeed,” he answered, with a lift of his eyebrows, looking around the room as if he only now noticed the absence of his son. “Was he informed the council would be meeting?”
He sounded tired, where the subject of Hugh was concerned. Put out. Annoyed.
“Indeed,” answered one of the older council members. “Within the last hour.”
The Alwyn scowled. “Perhaps he was waylaid by other matters.”
His statement carried a tone of derision that Magnus had not heard in the laird’s voice before, when speaking of his son.
But Magnus did not care at the moment … because Tara. His heart pounded in his chest.
“Perhaps so,” Magnus responded, impatient … worried, to the point of being breathless. “If you will excuse me for a moment, I will go find and inform Hugh. I know also he will wish to be here, to have a voice in this meeting, as your heir should so rightly do.”
The Rebel of Clan Kincaid Page 20