by Amy Jarecki
Ian walked to the table and knelt. “I failed ye.” He reached out, but held his trembling hand in midair. Unworthy to touch the healer who’d taken him in, Ian clenched his fist and pulled it into his chest. “I’m so…agonizingly sorry.”
He half expected Niall to pat his head and utter a comforting word, but he lay motionless, his life drained before his time—dead because of Ian’s actions. He’d let Niall down, and now Merrin was without her father—an orphan.
Ian looked to the cross above the altar, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Forgive me.” He rested his head against the table and tried to regain control, but his shoulders shook. He should have sent Niall and Merrin back to Brochel with Friar Pat. Blast her mark. Once anyone got to know her, they’d realize she couldn’t possibly be a daughter of the devil.
And if they hadn’t gone with the friar, Ian should have faced Rewan and let him do what he must. Niall should not have been the one to lose his life.
Gradually, Ian’s breathing returned to normal.
A small hand rested on his shoulder. “Ye’ve returned to us.”
Though he couldn’t deny fond feelings for Janet MacKenzie, she wasn’t the woman he wanted to see. “Rewan will bother us no more, m’lady.” He stood, bowed and kissed her hand. “Thank ye for your hospitality.”
A sad smile turned up the corners of Janet’s lips. “’Tis the least I can do.”
“And how are ye?”
“I’ve been better.” She glanced toward the door as if she feared being overheard. Grasping Ian’s hands, she stepped closer. “Once Ruairi sent word of divorce, Father arranged for me to wed into the MacNeil Clan.”
Ian swiped his hand across his face. He didn’t want to have this conversation now. “So soon?”
Janet ran her hands over her belly. “I’m with child.”
Ian tugged at a knot in his shoulder. “Ye are?.”
“Me da believes ’tis Ruairi’s babe.”
Ian gasped. He’d made love to Janet once—right before he agreed to spirit her away. He’d been her guard. Often she would invite him in to play chess or just talk. The poor lass had been so lonely, locked in the tower, and then the inevitable happened. “Is it…mine?”
“A babe that makes me heart swell with joy as this one does could only be yours, Ian.”
He should have been happy. He’d fathered a child. But he owed his life to Merrin. He loved Merrin.
Ian blinked. Merrin’s lovely face filled his mind—but he had to make this right. He forced his eyes open and meet Janet’s gaze. “I cannot allow ye to marry the MacNeil when ye carry me child.”
Janet shook her head. “The agreement is signed. Robert MacNeil kens I’m with child and will raise it as his own.”
Ian paced in a circle. “How could ye do this? Ye must have known I’d want to raise me own flesh and blood.”
Janet pattered to him. “But I cannot marry ye. I’m the first daughter of a chieftain. Me dowry is worth more than your brother’s entire island of Raasay. Ye ken. We’ve talked about it.”
“Aye, but that was afore I realized ye carried my bairn.”
She wrapped him in an embrace and rested her head upon his chest. He felt…nothing but remorse. She held him tighter. “Ye will always have a place in me heart, but I will do as me da commands. And one day, I’ll tell the babe of the brave warrior who spirited me away from a tyrant laird—and his heart will discover who his true father is.”
Ian forced himself to cradle Janet’s back. How could she do this to him? And all because he was a second son? Only good enough to fight for a lady—never good enough to marry one?
Janet held him at arm’s length. “There’s a lass above stairs who’s wrought with despair.”
Ian clamped his jaw and ground his teeth. “I must see to Merrin. I promised her da I would take her into me care.”
Janet led him to the chapel door and told him how to find Merrin’s chamber. His heart dropped to his toes as he climbed the stairs. Janet never had any intention of marrying him. She’d used him to spirit away from a miserable life and too many men had died because of it. Would he have done the same again? He most certainly would not have stood idle while Ruairi’s abuse continued.
He waited outside Merrin’s chamber with his hand on the latch. The news he’d fathered a child, together with the day’s events, weighed heavily on his mind. He thought to head to the stables and make a bed of straw in the loft. But he couldn’t leave Merrin alone, fretting about his return—he must face her. Ian opened the door.
Gar growled from across the room.
He stepped inside. “’Tis only me.”
The dog bounded up to Ian and rubbed against him. Ian ran his fingers over Gar’s wiry coat. “Merrin?” he whispered. “Are ye awake?”
The coals in the hearth cast enough light for him to see Merrin’s form curled under the bedclothes. The poor lass desperately needed sleep. Ian started back for the door when the tub caught his eye. Aside from swimming in frigid water, he hadn’t had a bath since the day Merrin had sponged him in his half-conscious state. How long ago that seemed now.
Ian stripped and sank into the tepid water, his knees against his chest. He found a cake of soap at the bottom of the barrel and held it to his nose. Primrose. Merrin’s smell. He used the cloth to scrub every inch, to scrub away the death and violence.
Merrin stirred.
He cast his gaze to the bed. Her eyes remained closed, the duvet rising and falling with her breath.
Ian toweled off and wrapped the drying cloth around his waist. He lit a candle with the embers of the fire and set it in the iron holder beside the bed. The light flickered across Merrin’s face. In slumber, she was as beautiful as a white rose.
Ian bent down and kissed her forehead.
She moved ever so slightly. “Ian?”
“Aye, my love. ’Tis me.”
“Ye’re…back.” Her words slurred.
He shifted his hips onto the mattress. He moaned—the softness of feather down calling to his stiff limbs. “Rewan will never bother us again.”
Merrin’s eyes widened. “Ye killed him?”
Ian laced her fingers through his and pressed her hand to his lips. “I spared him on the promise he’d take me dirk back to Stornoway as proof of me death.”
“Ye lost the beautiful dirk your da gave ye?”
“Aye, ’twas more than worth the price of peace.”
Merrin tried to sit, but dropped back to the pillow. “Do ye think he’ll do it—tell Ruairi Ye’re dead?”
“Aye. Rewan was me friend for years. He’ll honor his word. Of that I’m certain.” He prayed it would be so, but didn’t want to think about that right now. Ian ran his hand across Merrin’s forehead. “Ye look flushed.”
“They gave me a tonic of potent chamomile. It made me ever so sleepy.”
Ian pulled her head into his lap and stroked her long tresses.
“I suppose ye’ll be leaving me now.” Her voice was strained. A tear pooled on Ian’s arm.
His hand stopped. “What?”
“You’ve found Janet—and I saw the way she looked at ye.” Merrin bit her bottom lip.
“True, Lady Janet is here, but only for a time while she awaits her new husband.”
Merrin struggled to sit. “Are ye planning to marry her so soon?”
“Nay, lass. Her da’s betrothed her and her dower lands to Robert MacNeil, Chieftain of Barra.”
She blinked, gazing at him with those intoxicating, almond-shaped blueberry eyes. “Ye’re not leaving me?”
He cupped both her cheeks between his palms. “I will never leave ye, Merrin. I love ye.”
She tried to speak, but Ian covered her mouth and showed her how deeply his love ran. He would not be there for the birth of his first child, but he would stay beside Merrin, and by the grace of God, when they found a home, she would bless him with many bairns. In the days to come, he would share his plans and listen to hers. But presently, they needed to m
ourn. “Ye must rest. Ye’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”
Merrin nodded. “I dunna ken how to feel. I’m happy ye’re here, but me heart aches for Da.”
“I ken, mo Bana.” Ian stood. “I should let ye sleep.”
Merrin tugged on his hand. “Stay.” She scooted over and patted the bed. “’Tis large enough for us both, and I’d feel so much safer with ye here.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but by her side was the only place he wanted to be. Ian dropped the cloth from around his waist and slid beside her.
***
Merrin’s breath caught when Ian released the cloth. Yes, she’d seen him naked in the cottage, but she’d never seen him standing before her with his face stricken by tragedy and eyes filled with desire.
His manhood lengthened. Full, masculine, but not yet erect as it had been in the forest. Desire flooded her body. A tickle of guilt needled at the back of her mind. Merrin could no sooner stop her physical reactions as she could dampen her sorrow.
Ian smoothed his hand over her new linen shift. “This is much heavier than the other.”
“’Tis new. The other was but in tatters.”
“It smells like spring rain.” He nuzzled into her neck.
She curled into him. “Everything is so grand. I’ve never slept on anything as nice as this bed, and the chamber? Why, I believe ’tis as large as the entire cottage on Fladda.” A gasp caught at the back of her throat. “But…that’s gone too.”
“Do no’ think on it tonight,” Ian purred. “Right now, in this moment, all that exists is you and me and this wonderfully soft bed.”
Merrin’s body radiated with heat as Ian ran his lips along her neck. “Ian?”
“Aye?”
“I want ye to show me how a man breeds with a woman.”
A low chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Only ye would find the words to attack me most basal desires.”
She brushed the hair from his face. “I want ye to.”
“Make love to you?”
“Is that what they call it…making love?”
“Aye, lass.”
She met his gaze. “I may live in solitude for the rest of me days, but I will nay forget how ye make me feel. When ye lay your hands on me, me whole body comes alive, and yearns for more.”
“’Tis the same for me.”
“Truly?”
“Ye are so fine to me, Merrin. Do ye not know what ye do to me?”
She smiled, not quite sure how to respond.
“I shouldn’t be naked and lying in bed beside you, but there’s no place I would rather be.” He took her hand and led it under the bedclothes. He showed her how to wrap her fingers around his manhood. Merrin gasped. It was hard as a bedpost.
“Ye stroke it like this.” He led her hand along his shaft in a gentle, rhythmic motion. His breathing sped. “But not too much or ye’ll make me come too fast.”
She pushed the bedclothes aside to better see him. “Come?” Her thighs quavered, right at the spot where he’d touched her in the meadow. The place where he’d caressed her flesh and she’d come undone in his arms.
“Spill me seed.”
“Ah, and make a bairn.”
Ian frowned and pressed his hand to his eyes.
“Have I said something wrong?”
“Nay.” He pulled her atop him and closed his mouth over hers. His kisses were more forceful than ever before. ’Twas as if he could hold back no longer.
Merrin straddled Ian’s hips. The column of his manhood pressed against her sacred spot. That same hot desire screamed for friction and she rocked her hips as if they were controlled by a force outside her body. Up and down she slid against him, her own moisture spilling over him.
Ian grasped Merrin’s waist and held her firm. “I cannot take your innocence. Not when I have nothing to give ye.”
Merrin arched her back and met his gaze. “We have nothing but our bodies and our lives.” She smoothed her hand over his rugged cheek. “That’s what I want to give.”
He untied the cloth that hid her scar. “Do ye ken what Ye’re saying?” The slip of linen fell to the floor.
“Do ye no’ want me?”
With a chuckle, Ian rolled her onto her back. Pressing the length of his body into her side, he kissed her again. “Can ye no’ tell I want ye more than life?”
“Then take me.” Merrin reached between them and found his manhood. “Show me what ’tis like to be a real woman.”
“Ye are a real woman and more,” Ian growled as he tugged her shift up and over her head.
He cast it aside and pushed her legs open with his knees. “I do no’ want to hurt ye.”
“Nothing ye can do would hurt.”
“It might at first.” He placed his hand on her belly and smoothed it down to her mons. He slipped his thumb across her womanhood and teased her with quick flicks over her soft folds. With a quick inhale, Merrin bucked against his hand. He went further and slid a finger inside her core. “Ye’re so wet for me.”
Merrin ground her hips around him. “Is that good?”
“Aye, it excites me to the brink of madness.”
She uttered a throaty growl and reached down, covering him with her fingers. She stroked as he’d shown her.
Ian grunted and threw his head back with a stirring moan. He then dipped his chin and tapped his tongue to her breast. He suckled and massaged both her breasts. Merrin moved restlessly beneath him, as if her nipples were attached to her sacred place. She wanted him everywhere. Ached for him.
Merrin pulled his manhood toward her, craving it.
Ian gently tugged against her grasp. “I cannot hold back any longer.”
“I do no’ want ye to.”
“But a woman’s pleasure should come first.”
“Can we not come together?” The words seemed erotic, strange on her tongue, but enticing. She wrapped her fingers around him again and guided his manhood to the very place where his hand had been. He clenched his eyes shut. Merrin sucked in a quick gasp. “Are ye hurt?”
“I wanted to wait, but me flesh is too weak.” The rounded tip of his manhood stretched her entrance—so much larger than his finger. Ian’s breathing came faster. Merrin watched his beautiful lips part with desire. Merrin sunk her fingers into his buttocks and pulled. He slipped further inside and held himself still.
A sharp pinch caught her breath. “Ian.”
His muscles tightened. “Am I hurting ye?”
“Nay.” Hurting? Aside from a little discomfort at first, she’d never felt anything so wonderful in her life. She could utter not another word. Noises she’d never heard before emitted from her throat. All she could do was tug him deeper, needing more of him, forcing him to an unknown destination. On his elbows, Ian held himself above her, tense, trembling as he allowed her to pull him until he filled her completely.
With a stuttered breath, he looked into her eyes. Merrin had never seen a more beautiful sight as Ian’s face, sky-blue eyes intense, mouth parted. She rocked her hips around him. He eased his lips over hers. Gently, he pulled back, then thrust deep.
Merrin cried out. She’d never before felt anything so staggeringly pleasing.
He held tight again and hovered over her. “Are—”
“Do no’ stop!” She strengthened her grasp on his buttocks and showed him what she wanted. The twinge of pain forgotten, she spread her legs wider and dictated the pace.
Ian’s breathing sped. Merrin curved her hips into him. Her cries came faster until everything burst into thousands of brilliant stars. Her body convulsed over and over and over. Ian threw back his head and roared, shoving himself deep within her, pulsating along her inner walls.
His breath easing, he met her gaze again, his intensity replaced by tranquility. “I love ye, Merrin.”
She wrapped her arms around Ian’s back and kissed him. They had bonded, connected by the intimacy of love. Only this moment mattered. She would cherish this merging of souls for the rest of her life
.
Chapter Twenty-three
Ian opened his eyes. The only thing that told him a new day had arrived was the faint beam of light shining through the space where the furs didn’t quite cover the window. It had been a long time since he slept in a bed as grand and a chamber as large. He’d forgotten what it was like to be a son of privileged nobility. His uncle certainly hadn’t paid a mind to his lineage during Ian’s fostering.
Deep in slumber, Merrin nestled into him. After finally succumbing to the chamomile tonic, she most likely wouldn’t wake until the midday meal. Ian hoped not. She would need all her strength to face the task of laying her father to rest.
Ian closed his eyes and inhaled. He would carry the cross of Niall’s death for the rest of his life. How could Merrin even bear the sight of him? Would she grow to resent him, even now that she’d given him her innocence? He smoothed his hand over her hair and let his heavy eyelids close. He’d be there for her, protect her, always. No matter what.
But his mind refused ease. What was next? How could he provide for Merrin? With all that had happened, dare he approach Alexander and seek a place at his brother’s table? Could he allay the suspicions about Merrin that pervaded Brochel Castle? Would Alexander stand beside him, or take the side of the superstitious?
Could he talk to Janet about providing a recommendation to the MacRae constable? Could they remain at Eilean Donan? Ian did wield a steadfast sword—few could best him. He’d make a fine henchman or man-at-arms for any clan. But with Ruairi spreading rumors about, he might be forced to settle for a position assisting a smithy, or worse.
Ian pulled Merrin closer and inhaled her scent. It calmed him—told him they would pull through. Somehow.
The door latch clicked. Ian held his breath and reached for the hilt of his sword. The door creaked and light flooded the chamber. He held perfectly still. A servant hadn’t entered his chamber to light the fire since he was a boy. Memories flooded back. His loving mother, his older brother who challenged him at every turn. Calum, his imposing father, a man to respect and to revere.
Footsteps pattered inside.
Gar barked and leapt to his feet.