A Warrior's Taking

by Margo Maguire

  Desperate to feel her bare skin, he opened her bodice and let her gown drop to the floor. “You wear too many layers, moileen.” But he made quick work of them and was soon cupping her naked breasts in his hands.

  “You smell as delicious as your peach pie,” he said, trailing kisses down her neck. “And feel as soft as th’ moss at Ravenfield. Y’are magnificent, lass.” He reached her nipple and sucked it into his mouth.

  Sarah arched her back and held his head in place. “Oh, please…”

  He knew what she wanted, but he intended to make slow, perfect love to her, sending her to the peak and back as many times as she could bear.

  Framing her breasts with his hands, he pressed his face between them, then lowered his mouth to her belly. He knelt and grazed her mound with the palm of one hand, then pressed a kiss to the small nub that was the center of her pleasure.

  He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her legs go weak. Easing her onto the bed, he unfastened his breeches and followed her down, his body desperate to possess her.

  He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping through her mouth as he slipped his hand between her thighs, wanting her with an urgency that left him breathless. Mindless. Burning.

  She was tight when he eased one finger inside her, and moist with arousal, her hips writhing, moving against his hand. When he pulled one of her hard nipples into his mouth and swirled his tongue ’round it, she whimpered and nearly came off the bed.

  “You are so beautiful, moileen.” He laved her nipples and stroked her cleft until her breathing quickened and he felt her muscles contract in pleasure. She shuddered and cried out, her features taut, her hands tightening in his hair.

  She kissed him fiercely, slipping her hand into his breeches. He felt a fierce delight at her tentative caress and cupped her hand, moving with her, tutoring her as she skimmed her hand down the length of his erection. His breath quickened as she explored him, probed him gently with her fingers. He groaned aloud when she encircled his cock and stroked him.

  Brogan arched into her palm before kicking away his breeches. He needed a moment’s reprieve or he was not going to last, but she showed no mercy. She raised herself over him and took control, stroking him while she pressed hesitant kisses to his chest, then to his abdomen.

  His entire body contracted when he felt her tongue on his belly, and he nearly climaxed when she touched it to the tip of his erection. He propped himself on his elbows to watch her tentative movements, first licking, then taking him into her mouth and sucking deeply.

  Growling with need, Brogan pulled away, shifting their positions, pinning her beneath him. He thrust one of his legs between hers to spread them wide, then moved between them, positioning his cock at her entrance, whispering her name as he entered her.

  Taking care to avoid hurting her, Brogan found bliss in one slow stroke. She was hot and tight, her body an exquisite match for his own.

  Sarah gasped at the intrusion of his body into hers. He held perfectly still, surely to allow her to adjust to his size. In the faint light of the room, she could see a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, hear the harsh rasp of his breath.

  Touched by his gentle care, Sarah knew that she loved him. She’d been right to come to him. She raised up to brush a kiss on his mouth. Whatever discomfort she might have felt was gone, and her compelling need to draw him inside returned in force.

  “Sarah.”

  The sound of her name on his lips whispered through her, and she knew he must feel as she did. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she moved her hips, welcoming him, urging him to fill her deeply.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said. “Not a man on earth could resist you.”

  His eyes shuttered closed as he withdrew, then slipped inside again, and found a rhythm that deepened her arousal. Letting her feminine instincts rule her movements, Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist and met his every hot, slick slide, arching against him in wanton abandon. He towered over her, braced on his powerful arms, his thighs hard between her own. Sarah felt utterly female, cherished and protected as he made her his.

  Fire blazed through her and she dug her nails into his shoulders as the tempo of his movements increased. Sarah felt herself spiraling toward that explosion of sensation he’d caused earlier, and their intimate bond became complete when he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

  He touched her again, caressing that most sensitive place between her legs, and the low burn of her arousal burst into flame. She was consumed by sensation, pure and exquisite as he thrust one last time, then lowered his body onto hers and shuddered with his own completion.

  Chapter 14

  Brogan rolled to his side and pulled Sarah with him. He tucked her into his embrace, curling his body ’round hers. Smoothing her hair back from her face, he feathered soft kisses on her cheeks, her ear and nose, and realized this bed had never been as appealing or felt as comfortable as it did with Sarah in it.

  He could hardly believe there had been no sorcery in their lovemaking, for it was the most magical experience of his life. He’d lost control entirely.

  And he wanted her again.

  “I hurt you.” He considered using magic to ease her pain. But he would not draw Odhar attention to Sarah.

  She gave a slight shake of her head and moved closer. “Perhaps a little at first.”

  Brogan tightened his arms ’round her as an unfamiliar aura of balance came over him. ’Twas an easing of the turmoil that had plagued his soul since Kieran’s death.

  Coherent thought fled his mind when he felt Sarah’s lips on his chest. She eased her way down and touched one of his nipples with her tongue, sending arrows of fire through him. He swallowed thickly. “Sarah, moileen, you cannot…’Tis too soon for you.”

  He gripped the soft flesh of her buttocks as she licked each of his nipples in turn, aware that he could not make love to her again. Not until the soreness of her body subsided.

  He drew her up to face him, and when their eyes met, he felt mindless once again. “Sarah, you are so…” He took a deep breath. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

  She glanced away in embarrassment. “You are the only one who has ever thought so.”

  “Then everyone else is a fool.” And they would realize what they had missed when they saw her at Mrs. Pruitt’s the following evening. She was everything a man could possibly want…intelligent, considerate, passionate…

  An ideal bride.

  He muttered under his breath and pulled her against him. Crowell did not deserve her, nor did any other Tuath he’d met. Yet Crowell was the man who’d engaged her affections for some time. If he were to return them, Sarah would be content. ’Twould never be a céile match, for he sensed that Crowell was too shallow a man to feel a deep connection with his mate, but there was no other course to follow.

  And he had spent far too much of his attention on Sarah’s problems and too little on his own. He had a riddle to solve, and it was not going to get done while lying in bed with his lovely Sarah.

  Absently, he caressed her back, drowsy and full of sòlas, yet preoccupied by a troublesome and unfamiliar sensation that he was missing something of importance.

  She sighed and let her body relax against his, and he couldn’t think clearly. He only wanted to pull her closer and keep her with him forever.

  Yet he knew he could not. From the deepest corner of his mind came the reminder that he could not stay with her, nor could he take her to Coruain with him.

  He felt her sigh against him. “If only I could convince Mr. Ridley to allow me to keep the girls,” she said quietly, “all would be perfect.”

  “Sarah, moileen, can you no’ trust me to fix everything before I go?”

  Sarah felt ill. Of course he still planned to leave. Nothing had changed.

  Nothing, besides giving her virtue to the man she loved, the man who did not return her feelings. She was a fool.

  He tightened his arm around her, but she pushed away and slid to th
e edge of the bed, fighting tears. She couldn’t very well blame him for taking what she’d freely offered, but her heart splintered, nonetheless.

  She reached down and gathered her clothes, hurriedly dragging them on. Not even the harshness of her life in Craggleton had prepared her for this kind of hurt.

  “Sarah—”

  She skittered away from his touch and left the room, carrying her shoes with her. If she stayed any longer, she would surely succumb to her tears, and her earlier despair had not served her well. Yet compared to all she’d had to endure over the years, this was nothing. She would survive.

  She’d gotten only partway down the hall before Brendan caught up to her and drew her into his arms, her back against his chest. She felt his breath on her cheek. “I’m…sorry,” he said. “I should never have—”

  Sarah bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

  “I don’t want your apology, Brendan. Just…just let me go.” Before she could no longer control her tears.

  He hesitated a moment, but soon released her, and she went down the stairs with as much dignity as she could muster. She stopped to put on her shoes, then let herself out the door at the back of the house, hardly realizing it was nearly dusk.

  Her tears began to fall in earnest as she started down the path to Ravenfield. She wiped them away and reminded herself that life had seemed bleak before, but she’d managed to go on.

  She’d been mistaken in coming here to Brendan’s cottage, too upset to think clearly. There was no hope of a future with him. It was a bleak realization, but true. Sarah knew better than to delude herself into thinking that what had transpired between them was anything more than a brief affair. She’d been nothing but an amusing diversion for him.

  And she hadn’t even been particularly amusing, not when she was about to be separated from Ravenfield and the children. There had to be a solution to the situation. She just hadn’t thought of it yet.

  Or had Brendan figured it out for her? He’d said that John Crowell wouldn’t be able to resist her. Had he wheedled the invitation to Mrs. Pruitt’s for the purpose of putting her in the squire’s company, then paid for her to buy cloth and make a gown that would attract him?

  The notion was too appalling to consider.

  She meandered back toward Ravenfield, moving carefully due to the unfamiliar soreness between her legs. Brendan had known about it and prevented them from making love again, causing Sarah to wonder how many other women he’d known so intimately.

  How many other women had believed he cared for them above all others? The thought gave her pause, but it was a question she did not want to ask. The answer might be too painful.

  It seemed forever since she’d thought John Crowell was the embodiment of all that was worthy in a man. And Sarah had been pathetic, thinking that one polite nod from the squire, likely given absently, had made him the most fitting candidate for marriage.

  Now she could not consider herself a fit wife for anyone. She would attend Mrs. Pruitt’s soiree in her beautiful gown and know that the intimacies she’d shared with Brendan made her exactly the kind of woman who was scorned in decent society.

  Aware that Maud would look after the girls, Sarah took the long way back to Ravenfield, so it was dark when she lifted the latch on Ravenfield’s garden gate and went inside. She walked past the fountain and went toward the house, but her attention was caught by a light shining through one of the gaping windows of the ruins. She craned her neck to look at it, puzzled and annoyed to think anyone would wander down there without permission.

  Brendan had mentioned that someone else was mucking about the ruins, and Sarah felt just perturbed enough to go and confront whoever it was.

  She diverted her course and headed for the castle, wondering whether one of the girls might have gone out there. Or perhaps it was Andy.

  A clear warning came into her mind, cautioning her to stay away from the castle, causing her to stop in her tracks. The thought was stronger than any premonition she’d ever had, yet she could not very well allow a fire to burn on the site. It could spread to the house, endangering all who were inside.

  She resumed her dash toward the ruins, gathering up her skirts to hop over the lowest wall. The light was moving toward the caves, and Sarah immediately thought of the search Brendan had been conducting ever since his arrival.

  Perhaps someone else sought the same dull stone he’d described. He’d said it had no value, but if that were the case, why had someone else come for it?

  There was so much she did not know about the man. He’d asked her to trust him to make everything right, but how could she do that? He spoke so little of himself and of his reason for coming to Ravenfield…How was she to put her faith in him?

  She tamped down the tears that threatened again, and hurried down the slight incline of the old castle bailey. With only the flickering light beyond the castle wall to guide her, she headed for the steps where Brendan had fallen…where he’d first kissed her.

  Distracted by the thought, she tripped over something in the dark, and fell to her knees.

  It was Andy Ferris. “Oh dear God,” Sarah whispered. She glanced up at the wall and realized he must have fallen. Surely he’d known it was dangerous to wander those ruins in the dark. She shook him. “Andy? Andy, come now. Wake up. We must get you to a—”

  She let out a gasp when her hands came away wet and sticky. Bloody.

  Her alarm deepened. Why had he gone climbing about in the dark? He had never done such a thing before, being content to sleep in the barn or one of the caves.

  Before Sarah had a chance to consider what she might have done to prevent Andy’s accident, she heard a sound behind her. Turning, she saw a shadowy form coming toward her. She pushed up to her feet, but before she could even gather her thoughts, the figure raised its arm. Sarah tried to shield herself from the blow, but it came, nonetheless. She felt a sharp crack at the top of her head, and saw stars swirling at the backs of her eyes. Then all went black.

  Brogan knew Sarah needed some distance, so he allowed her to go on ahead without him. He berated himself in every possible way for hurting her, for taking what he’d wanted—what he’d needed—without thinking. He’d betrayed her innocence, drawing her to him without a thought to the consequences for a Tuath woman.

  He’d waited long enough. ’Twas dark, so he was going back to Ravenfield. He’d have gone there whether the Odhar were near or not, just to be close to Sarah in the little time they had left.

  He crossed the small Hartwell garden and went out to the barn to saddle the mare, but was interrupted by an intrusive thought.

  “M’lord Brogan!”

  Brogan stopped in his tracks at the sound of Colm’s voice. He rubbed his forehead in bewilderment, unsure that the thought he’d heard actually belonged to the dragheen. He felt unsettled enough to hear voices on the wind, when the only voice he wanted to hear was Sarah’s.

  He must have been addle-headed when he took her to bed. There was no other explanation for his poor judgment. Yet he’d wanted her with an urgency that was unsurpassed. He wanted her still.

  “Something has happened. You must come. Now!”

  ’Twas definitely Colm.

  Brogan wasted no time, but tightened the cinch and jumped onto the mare. He headed to Ravenfield as a feeling of dread spread through him.

  Sarah. Something had happened to Sarah.

  He kicked his heels into the mare and increased his speed, riding dangerously fast in the dark, all the way to Ravenfield. Dismounting at the garden gate, he left the mare to wander free, and went into the garden, seeking Colm.

  “What’s happened?” he demanded, noting the lack of any lights in the windows of the house.

  “’Tis Miss Granger, m’lord,” said the dragheen, and Brogan’s heart dropped to the pit of his belly.

  He jumped into the fountain to face Colm, impatient with the slow-moving creature. “Where is she? What happened to her?”

  “She saw a lig
ht near the caves,” he said. “Interlopers. I tried to warn her away—”

  “No’ a sìthean, come to do mischief?”

  Colm ruffled his feathers, a grating sound on Brogan’s ears. “Sir, I couldna see. But I think not.”

  On their own power, dragheen could not move more than a few feet from their station. Brogan was aware of the guardian’s limitations, yet that knowledge did not lessen his frustration. “How long ago?”

  Colm hesitated. “It took some minutes for me to catch your attention, m’lord.”

  “Mo oirg.” Brogan’s thoughts had been fully preoccupied with Sarah. With the way he’d hurt her. With the gaping hole in his soul since she’d left him.

  He wasted no more time, but pulled his dark coat ’round him to cover his white shirt as he took off at a run toward the ruins. Stealthily, he vaulted over the low wall and went into the first chamber of the castle ruins, silently searching for whoever did not belong.

  There was no torch, no lamp lit anywhere in the vicinity. He hurried through the open chambers, but saw no sign of any intruders. But in the last chamber, near the stairs where he’d first kissed Sarah, he discovered her lying unconscious in the grass.

  Another body lay adjacent to her. Not a child, he realized with relief.

  Brogan knelt down and took Sarah’s hand in his as he touched her forehead and shifted his vision to look for magic. “Sarah…”

  She was breathing, and he said a quick prayer of thanks. Taking a moment to light a match, he perused the body that lay nearby. ’Twas Andy Ferris. With a cursory examination, Brogan concluded there was naught to be done for him. Once again he glanced about for signs of anyone—of Eilinora or one of her followers—hovering nearby, but saw naught.

  Returning his attention to Sarah, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the house, pushing open the door that led to the kitchen. ’Twas not far to the room where he’d slept before he’d started spending his nights in the ruins, so he took her there and laid her gently on the bed. Reluctant to let go of her hand even for a moment, he quickly lit a lamp, then sat down on the bed beside her and leaned close, rubbing her hand, speaking softly, imploring her to awaken.