“Stop,” Hugh said through his teeth.
Morrigan opened her eyes. “I displease you, milord?” He’d loved her actions on the night of their first joining. Had she done something wrong?
“Hugh,” he muttered. “No, wife, you please me too much. I cannot love you in a slow seductive way when you move so. ’Twould go too fast.” He swept his large hand over her hair. “All about you excites me, wife.”
“I’m pleased.”
His eyes narrowed, flaming over her. “And you shall be even more pleasured, my sweet one.”
He laved her breasts with his tongue, moving down her middle. His tongue then moved in her navel as though he’d already begun the magic cadence that’d driven her mad on their spousal night.
When he moved lower, she remembered the wild beauty of the first time and she began to tremble.
He lifted his head. “Don’t fear me, beloved, I would make you hot.”
She reached down, pulling his head down to her again. “I would have it, too.”
Then his tongue entered her and she would’ve screamed if she could’ve found the breath. Instead only a gasp escaped her as he began the wonderful dance that sent sheaves of fire through her body.
Moans mixed with endearments as each urged the other to higher peaks of joy. Morrigan heard cries, not knowing if they were hers or Hugh’s.
Her body began to shake as though with ague. She felt the same taut trembling in him. Clinging to him, she grew hotter as she whispered love words to him. Higher and higher he took her until she thought she couldn’t stand any more.
In a burst of delight, colors flashing around them they rose together, clinging, joining, never wanting to part, hammered together by the very love that seemed to tear them apart in passion.
They held each other in the quaking aftermath, trying to gulp air, their bodies slick with love dew, their limbs flaccid.
When Morrigan felt his stillness she thought at first he was asleep, but when she looked up at him there was such an arrested air about him, it flashed through her he’d been disappointed. “What? Hugh?”
He embraced her, kissing her hair. “Look not so worried, wife. ’Tisn’t you, my love, that makes me ponder. Our first time was all that Heaven could want.” He squinted down at her.
“What?”
“I had the strange sensation that we’d loved before, that we’d joined our bodies at another time.” He grimaced. “ ’Twould sound unreasonable to you.”
“No. It… it sounds most intriguing.”
“Does it, wife?” With a crooked smile he leaned down and kissed her long and hard. When he lifted his head, his smile broadened. “You are as out of breath as I.”
“I am.”
“And my dreams of you do not distress?”
“No. I’m happy you dream of me.” She buried her face in his chest, not wanting to face him. “And… and how did that make you feel?”
“Strange.”
“No doubt.”
He lifted her chin. “None has ever touched me as you did, my love. I tell you true.”
Tears filled her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“ ’Tis not a time for sadness, my beauty.”
“No. ’Tis joy I feel.”
“As I do.”
Curled in his arms, she let sleep overtake her. Loving this man, feeling so safe, she swore to God and all the gods and goddesses that she would protect her beloved Hugh.
Daybreak came with a kiss.
“Good morning, my love.”
Morrigan smiled, lifting her hands to his face. When she went to move, her mouth dropped. “I… I fear we are connected.”
Hugh grinned. “I know we are. I find joy in it.”
“Then we must be content.” Even as she said it, she could feel his hardening body within her.
He smiled. “You have a power, wife.”
“Nay! ’Twould seem you do.”
He laughed, his mouth running over her. “I could eat you at my trencher, wife, in very small bites.”
Meaning trickled through her like fire. “Then there’d be no more of me.”
“Ah! But that’s why I content myself with nibbling only.”
How could such mundane words have such heat? She was flushed with wanting once more. She pressed her breasts against him.
“Nay, wife. I canna’ allow it. ’Tis too torturous for me.”
“You like it not?” She was being coquettish. Foolishly so, since she was more than sure that he liked it very much. So certain was she that she twisted her body against his, so that he turned within her. It elicited a long, whispered curse from those lips so close to her own.
“No! Not yet.” He held her tight.
“Yes,” she whispered back, feeling the sensations erupt in her, gripping him hard, wanting the wild cascade that could shake her to her soul.
“Christ!” Hugh muttered, scooping her even closer, plunging into her as she rose to meet every thrust of his with her own.
In blinding light they came together, spinning out of the chamber, beyond any constellation, holding each other in the wonderful world only they could create.
“I will never let you go, wife,” he mumbled into her hair.
Morrigan lifted her head with an effort, he held her so closely. “What if I say the same?”
“Say it.”
The slumbrous look to his eyes had her trembling. “I will never let you go.”
He laughed, catching her lips, his tongue tangling with hers. “Good,” he told her when they were both breathless. “I will gladly give you the chains to bind me.”
She laughed with him, then sobered. She reached up and traced his cheek with one finger.
“Why so solemn, wife? Did you not find joy in our coupling?”
“You know I did.” She inclined her head, swallowing. “I have something to discuss with you.”
“ ’Twould seem it has great import to you.”
“It does. It’s about our marriage day. You see—” The sudden banging on the heavy wooden door to their chamber interrupted her.
“Maman? Don’t, Eamon. It’s all right. I can go in. Maman! Open the door. Someone has shut it too tight.”
Hugh laughed when Morrigan stared at the chamber door, aghast. “I shall tell Eamon to let him in.”
Morrigan yelped, skittering across the bed and off it, grasping at a coverlet when her husband stared at her. “Tell him to go away,” she said through her teeth. “Stop looking at me.”
“I can’t. You’re too beautiful, wife. I want you again.”
Stunned, Morrigan glared at him. “Stop this, you’ll kill yourself.”
He grinned. “I’ll chance it, milady.”
“Not now.”
“Maman!” Rhys bellowed. “Stop pulling me, Eamon. I can go in.”
Morrigan had to clear her throat three times before she could speak. “I’m coming, Rhys. I… I was napping.”
Hugh guffawed, earning a wifely scowl. “Eamon,” he shouted. “Take him to the great room.”
“I’m trying, Hugh. By God I am.”
“I can go in, Eamon.” Rhys was still shouting that as his voice faded. Eamon must have persevered.
In short order the chief of the clan and his bride met with the vociferous Rhys. Hugh looked content, lazy. His spouse looked distraught, shooting warning glances at him every few seconds. Those of the clan in attendance, and as usual there was a goodly number, looked at one another, struggling not to smirk.
Rhys came running toward them, flinging himself at Morrigan, then looking up at her, his brow wrinkled. “I told Eamon it was all right if I went into your room. It is, isn’t it, maman?”
“Well—”
“Most of the time it is,” Hugh interjected. “Some of the time it isn’t.”
“Oh.” He seemed to struggle with the ramifications of that. As he was opening his mouth for another sally, Hugh continued.
“And of course those times you’re not admitted you wil
l go out on your horse with Eamon.”
Rhys straightened in his mother’s hold, a slow smile dawning. “O’ co’se.” He inhaled, then beamed at Morrigan. “I like him.”
Used to his blunt pronouncements, Morrigan had to admit that Rhys still rocked her at times. Now was one of those. “I’m glad.”
Rhys nodded. “Just as well, since we must keep him.”
Morrigan bit her lip, not looking at Hugh and ignoring the smothered mirth sailing around the great room. “There is that.”
Rhys nodded, grinning. “Now, I’ll play kickball.”
“What did you want, Rhys? You haven’t told me.”
He looked pained. “You told me I was to tell you when I left the castle. I told Eamon that, but he said it was all right not to tell you. I told him you’d wallop the two of us.” He nodded sharply at the titters he heard, then grinned. “I like it here.”
“I’m glad,” Hugh said, his tone solemn.
“I thought so,” Rhys said, equally solemn.
The coughed chuckles, barely masked giggles rose again, making the boy smile at those around them. “I’ll play kickball now.”
“You must be careful,” Morrigan admonished.
“I’ll keep my eye fixed to him, milady,” Eamon reassured her.
Rhys nodded and ran from the room, Eamon at his heels.
The others in the great room seemed to disappear just as fast.
“I think you should’ve said that to Eamon,” Hugh whispered. “My warrior looked harried.”
“What is that?”
“You should’ve warned him to be careful. The boy will wear him out.”
Morrigan shook her head. “Rhys is a handful.”
“He’s a lad. I wouldn’t want our son to be any other way.”
Morrigan looked up, smiling, catching his mouth with hers when he leaned down and kissed her. “Hugh…”
“I know you want to talk with me,” he said against her mouth. “This is more pleasurable.”
Someone coughed at the top of the steps leading down into the great room.
Morrigan would’ve pulled back if Hugh had let her.
Holding her close, he looked up, frowning. “Dilla?”
“Milord, I’ve been told there’s a cavalcade coming. Would you have me prepare for guests?”
“Guests? We just had wedding guests crawling all over us. I thought I was to be alone with my bride,” he grumbled.
Morrigan tried to ignore Dilla’s smile but knew she’d reddened.
When MacKay looked around at her, noting her color, he frowned. Then his look lightened. “Rest easy, beloved. Dilla’s had an armful of children, and Andra still chases after her.”
Morrigan frowned.
Dilla laughed. “I’ll see to all, milord.”
“Don’t make them too comfortable. I’ll not want them around for long.”
“Hugh!”
He whirled as though the sound of his name on her lips shocked him. “Should you call me by name at any time, I’ll be there, beloved.” He reached down and scooped her into his arms, carrying her out of the great room and up the stone stairs.
“Will you?” She circled his neck with her arms, holding him.
“I will. ’Tis my covenant to you.”
She pressed hard against him when he entered their chamber and kicked the door shut. In moments he had her out of her clothes, kissing her, squeezing her bare skin with questing fingers.
“Hugh, we can’t…” She wanted him so much she wished the arrivals to perdition.
“I know. I hate it.” He kissed her again.
Morrigan forgot what she was going to say. “I… I should ready myself to greet our guests.” She was repeating herself! Why did words seem so meaningless when all she wanted was Hugh’s loving? She yanked at his tunic until it was removed.
He pulled back from her. “Do.”
She inclined her head. “When you leave.”
He shook his head.
Morrigan looked down at herself. “You must. I’m unclothed.”
“I know. I unclothed you. How could I forget?” He moved back from her, his gaze going up and down her form.
She felt deliciously hot, but not shamed or embarrassed. His body was so beautiful and she loved looking at him.
Sighing, she backed to the bed and sat down. “We must be sensible. We cannot have what we had before when others expect our presence.”
He approached, leaning over her, bracing his hands on the bed to both sides of her. “ ’Twas wondrous what we had. I would have it again and again.”
She gasped when he lifted her up once more, holding her aloft in front of him. “Sirrah…” At his shake of the head, she started once more. “Hugh—”
“Ah. Better.” He touched his mouth to hers, his tongue intruding. They clung as though they couldn’t let go.
Morrigan sighed into his mouth when he pulled back.
“I don’t want it to end, either, beloved.” He kissed her again. “Soon we’ll be alone.” He released her, grimacing. “I can’t look at you without wanting you, wife.” He scowled toward the door. “See to the fools who interrupt us. I would talk to Toric.”
Eyes widening, Morrigan stared after him. “But… but you must greet—”
“I’ll be there, wife,” he called back.
“You’re not fully clothed,” she whispered, not sure why the thought of Dilla or any other seeing him that way would anger her.
After his departure a vacuum ensued when nothing seemed alive or moving.
Then, like clockwork, the castle was put in motion again. Morrigan donned a robe, sighing at the joy in her life with the wonderful MacKay.
In moments hot water was being trekked across to the caldarium. Morrigan had heard of the special rooms for hot baths that had come with the Romans when Hadrian’s wall had been built. She knew that there were a few Welsh who had them. She’d never seen one until coming to Castle MacKay.
“ ’Tis ready, milady,” Mavis said, peeking at her from the aperture leading to the caldarium. “If you would prefer I will lave you—”
“I will do it, Mavis. Thank you.”
The attendant beamed. “The boy is with Eamon, milady. The guests have been given tidbits at the trencher board. Garments have been taken to the laird. I will put bricks on your bliaut, milady. All is in readiness, as you would wish.”
“I thank you.” Morrigan couldn’t help but like the friendly MacKays. Nor could she fault the seeming ease with which they organized everything. None seemed to hurry or fret, but a great deal was accomplished in short order, and done well.
She hurried through her laving, wondering if the rules of etiquette used in Wales were the same as those of Scotland. She would need to have instruction so that she wouldn’t offend by omission of act or commission of error.
She washed as she pondered this, astonished at her body’s tenderness. A vision of Hugh rose in her mind, their coupling a colorful memory.
Hurrying as best she could, she dressed with Mavis’s help in a very plain cloth of Cathay gown with an embroidered bliaut over it. The rich sea green made her hair glow with a thousand red lights through the ebony. Though she wore little jewelry, her spousal ring, surrounded as it was with diamonds, was opulent enough. Her head cover was a filmy veil with a circlet of gold holding it in place.
The attendant returned to put the chamber in order.
“You are most lovely, milady,” Mavis remarked, her tone shy. “All MacKays are most proud of your beauty and acumen.”
Unaccustomed to compliments from her rough-hewn family, Morrigan felt emotion rise in her throat. “I thank you for your kind words.” She reached out and squeezed Mavis’s hand, then turned toward the door. She missed the look of wonder on the attendant’s face.
She descended the stairs almost at a run, wondering who it could be, wishing she’d asked Mavis.
Dilla was at the bottom. “ ’Tis Lady MacKenzie and Lord Kieran who await you. They seem extremely
overset. I’ve given them refreshments.”
Morrigan touched Dilla’s arm. “Thank you. Lord MacKay is with them?”
Dilla bit her lip. “Not yet. ’Tis the mare, you see. She’s about to foal, and her time is never easy.”
Morrigan wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Being Welsh she realized how important the equines were, and how some were more dear than others.
Dilla moved aside and Morrigan moved to the top of the step leading down to the great room. Lady MacKenzie was there, threading her hands together. Kieran had crooked his arm on the high mantel, resting his forehead there.
Morrigan paused. Mother and son did, indeed, look overset. “Good day to you.”
Lady MacKenzie was on her feet, about to rush toward her, arms wide, when she stopped, eyes dilated as she looked at Morrigan. “Surely ’Tis a new fashion in mourning.”
“I… I beg your pardon.” Morrigan looked at a very surprised Kieran, whose gaze seemed locked to her raiment. “I don’t understand.”
“Do not try to be brave, milady,” Kieran said, his strong voice solemn. “We heard from the runners, and came as soon as we could.”
Lady MacKenzie opened her arms, her smile sad. “We’ve come to solace you, my dear.”
“You have?” Morrigan tried to think who could have expired in her family.
“Yes. We’ve heard all the details from the runners.”
“Runners? What runners? For what?”
Lady Maud MacKenzie studied her, then eyed her son. “This has been too much for you, has it not, poor dear?”
“Madame, I—”
Hugh burst into the room, smiling at her.
Lady MacKenzie gave a sharp cry and swayed.
Morrigan rushed forward. She and Kieran reached the woman at the same time, catching her as she swooned.
“Christ!” MacKay smacked the gong to the side of the wide entrance to the great room. “I’ve not had that effect on females.”
Morrigan looked over her shoulder, frowning. He shrugged.
Dilla came running, eyeing her laird.
“Get something for her ladyship. She’s fainted.”
Dilla nodded once and was off at the run.
Hugh then moved past his wife and Kieran, lifting Maud into one of the heavy fireside chairs so much favored by Egyptian builders.
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