Michele Sinclair - [McTiernays 05]

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Michele Sinclair - [McTiernays 05] Page 30

by Seducing the Highlander


  Craig was barely holding on to his control. He could not wait to lose himself in her again, but seeing her writhe and beg for his touch made him desire to do more. He wanted to touch her in ways he knew would pleasure her, and seek out the special little spots where she was extra sensitive. Her pleasure in every way heightened his own.

  He eased his finger back out of the snug passage and used her own moisture to lubricate her small, swelling button of desire. He repeated the action slowly and deliberately, easing his finger into her and then teasing the small nubbin of female flesh. He did it again and again until Meriel threw back her head and cried out.

  Smiling to himself, Craig started to kiss a path down her breastbone to her navel, tasting her with his warm tongue. Again, he slipped his finger into her, then added another. Her hips bucked, and he knew she was ready. Bending down, he took her in his mouth, his tongue hot and rough and insistent. He feasted on her, plundering the sweet interior she so willingly offered.

  Meriel could not control her body. She writhed. She twisted. She shook. She buried her fingers in his hair, raking his scalp with her nails. Her whole being was on fire, delighting in the heat. Craig cupped her hips, lifting her tighter against his mouth. She shuddered again and again as he tasted the heart of her, refusing to let her climax fade despite her cries and weak struggles.

  Meriel knew she could not take anymore. If Craig did not enter her soon, she would die. “Make love to me, Craig. Please.”

  Craig raised himself up and leaned his head to hers. He nuzzled her ear with his nose and lapped its lobe with his tongue. “Whatever brings you pleasure,” he breathed. Then he straddled her, shifting his hips onto hers, pinning them to the bed. Meriel gasped at the touch of his heated body. She had forgotten just how large her husband was, then was lost in sheer pleasure as he started to tease her opening.

  Meriel moaned his name and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him to her with an urgency that matched his own. Waiting no longer, Craig lifted her hips and plunged between her thighs with one powerful surge. She was more than ready for him as he buried himself in the warm softness of her. When he was safely inside, he drove deep, seeking release and reassurance and the comfort of knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  They strained together, their breath coming in short gasps. Instinct drove Meriel to meet each thrust, riding him with a wild abandon only he could create in her. A powerful force began building within her, becoming more fervent, more intense with each silken stroke. When Meriel parted her lips to cry out her pleasure, Craig instantly clamped his mouth tightly over hers, swallowing the soft sounds of her passion. A second later he joined her, surrendering to his own erotic release.

  A hoarse exclamation of triumph and pleasure escaped Craig’s lips and he sagged against her. He lay there for some time as they both caught their breath.

  Eyes closed, Meriel rolled onto her side and stretched, before curling into the curve of his body. A smile pulled on her lips. She felt decadent. Devine. Craig lowered his arm and slipped it around her, settling her head more comfortably on his shoulder. He felt good. Better than good. He felt magnificent. Conquering and all-powerful.

  Long minutes passed. Meriel’s fingers stroked Craig’s chest. She loved the feel of his crisp hair, his smooth, hot skin, his wonderful scent.

  Craig stroked her arm. “I did miss you,” he said softly. “More than I thought possible. I think most of my anger came from my disappointment at your not being here when I came in.”

  Meriel digested the admission and felt somewhat mollified now that she understood what had made him so emotionally explosive. It had not been from her lack of effort—but the lack of her presence. “I will try to be here next time.”

  Absentmindedly, Craig moved his hand to her hair, enjoying the sensation of pulling his fingers through its softness. “All week I had visions of you eager for my arrival, cooking me dinner, and my whisking you away from the hearth and back to our bed the moment I came in.”

  Meriel giggled at the image. “And I ruined all your plans.” She looked up at him. “Is my cooking dinner really that important to you?”

  Craig shrugged his shoulders. “I just think it would be nice,” he said, keeping private his real thoughts about Hamish and the meal she had cooked him. Meriel would tease him about being jealous and he would not be able to deny it, as it was the truth. He was jealous, but he was also curious. He saw what Meriel would do for a friend and was keen to see what effort she would put out for him.

  Meriel resettled her head in the crook of his shoulder. “What if I try to cook dinner tomorrow night?”

  Craig hesitated. “No eating at the castle?”

  Meriel smiled. “No castle, no father, no sister . . . just you and me, and whatever I can make for us to eat,” she answered.

  Craig growled his pleasure at the idea, rolled over, and proceeded to make slow, sweet love to her again.

  “Meriel?” The hesitancy in Craig’s voice was undisguised. Part of him was annoyed with himself for again being shocked at the state of his home, while the other part kept vacillating between concerned and mystified.

  Like yesterday, he had approached their cottage and made enough noise to ensure Meriel realized he had come home. And like before, he opened the door, eager to see both a dinner on the table and her beside it, radiating beauty and joy at his arrival. And once again, he found neither.

  However, there were some differences.

  His pile of dirty clothes was no longer visible, but he suspected that was because all of his belongings that had been stuffed into the kitchen were now on the floor covering them up. Unfortunately, they also consumed most of the table, three of the four chairs, a good portion of the floor, and from what he could see at the front door, at least one of the two chairs in the back. But what truly caught his eye was the kitchen area. Though empty, it no longer looked unused. It appeared as if a huge fight had taken place inside and Meriel had lost.

  “Meriel?” he called out again, and a second later she emerged from the bedroom, proudly carrying a large black cooking pot. She flashed him a large, satisfied smile that reminded him of when one of his younger, inexperienced soldiers won a difficult training match against an elder. But, physically, Meriel did not look the victor.

  Her hair remained partially styled, or at least partially braided, but the other part was unruly, with pieces of food embedded in it. If Craig had to guess, he would say that her face had become quite sticky with sweat more than once and that she had used her hand or sleeve or something with flour on it to swipe her brow and slick her hair back. The rest of her appearance was not an improvement, but it did match the state of the cooking area. It looked as if all the things needed to make a meal had exploded in his home. He blew at a feather drifting down in front of him and had a sick feeling that Meriel had also attempted to clean a bird.

  Meriel sashayed past him and with a loud thunk placed the heavy pot on the dinner table. “Welcome home, husband,” she said in a silky voice, reaching up on her toes to give him a kiss.

  Although not really inspired, Craig returned her peck, secretly glad she did not try to initiate something more before leaving to go back into the kitchen area. He swallowed. “Ummm. What were you doing in the bedroom with the cooking pot?” he asked.

  “Oh, I needed more to room to cut up the meat and the potatoes, so I decided to do it in there,” Meriel answered as she started to search a pile of items crammed into a large wooden tub.

  “On our bed?”

  Meriel laughed. “Sometimes you men have the craziest notions,” she answered, standing back up, waving a bowl and a spoon in the air. “Now you can eat! I cannot wait for you to try it!”

  Craig inhaled deeply and peered inside the pot. The smell was far from appetizing. He sank down onto the chair again, perplexed. Meriel was obviously very proud and considered what he was about to dine on a considerable accomplishment. He sat down and watched her scoop out a large serving of what he assu
med was supposed to be stew. Then she pulled out a chair with several fragments of unused material on it and sat down.

  Craig was shocked that Meriel had no problem sitting on items that a couple of weeks ago he could not lay a shield on. He began to search for some bread to quickly put in his mouth lest he say something that might start another fight. “Where’s the bread?”

  Meriel’s mouth twisted as her expression became one of guilt and frustration. “There isn’t any,” she admitted. “Or at least none you could eat.”

  Craig inhaled deeply again and told himself that he had eaten plenty of meals without bread. Another would not hurt. Purposefully delaying taking a bite of the stew, he looked for something to drink. “Is there any ale?” he asked, hoping his chipper voice did not sound as insincere as it did to his own ears.

  Meriel wrinkled her nose and wiped it as if she smelled something unpleasant, and again shook her head. “I did not have time to go get any, but I did get some water. It’s right there,” she said, pointing to a pitcher on his left.

  Craig picked it up and saw something floating on the surface. It was a feather. He was not surprised. If anything, he was more amazed that only one had made its way inside. He took his unused spoon and got it out. “Did you pluck a bird in here today?”

  Meriel’s face lit up with pure joy as if he had just paid her the greatest of compliments. “I did! Can you believe it? I tried doing most of it outside, but when it started to rain this afternoon, I had to finish the rest in here.”

  Meriel scooted his bowl of stew closer to him. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

  “I . . . I was waiting for you.”

  Meriel shook her head and sat back. “I don’t want any, or at least not right now. My stomach has been unhappy with me most of the day. Besides, I’m so tired after doing everything to get dinner ready for you in time, I’m no longer hungry. But don’t let that stop you.”

  Craig knew he could delay no longer, dipped the spoon into the stew, and took a bite. As he feared, he could not even swallow one mouthful and had to spit it back into the bowl.

  Meriel immediately reacted. “Why did you do that?” she exclaimed.

  Craig shoved the bowl away from him. “How could I not? I don’t even know what that is, but I do know that it isn’t edible. The potatoes haven’t been cooked and”—he paused to sniff—“well, no sane man would eat anything that smelled like that!” he said in defense.

  Meriel threw her hands up in the air and waved them about. “It’s amazing you can smell the stew at all, given your own body odor! There is a river between the training fields and this cottage. Next time use it.”

  “I’m not the one who would give grown men night terrors right now, with food in my hair and blood and feathers all over my clothes. And I might have bathed before I came home if I had even one clean leine to put on! I’m guessing that I won’t have any clean clothes to wear tomorrow either!” he yelled back, his anger in full bloom.

  Hot, furious tears burned in Meriel’s eyes. “You expect me to cook, clean, wash, and bathe, when you will not even help me at all!”

  “I don’t ask you to help me train the men, secure the borders, and protect the castle,” Craig protested, uncaring as to the level of stress he was causing his wife. His patience was exhausted. “I have a lot to do, Meriel. You are the one who is home and has the time. Not me.”

  Meriel blinked back her tears, incredulous that Craig actually had the nerve to say—albeit indirectly—that he was busier than she was. He might as well have just come out and said that all things to do with the cottage were her responsibility simply because she was a woman! How did a simple promise to love him and live with him translate into being his servant? She knew that other wives did the cooking and cleaning, but they also did not work outside the home. Those who did usually had older children to help, and as a family they addressed everyone’s needs. Well, right now their family consisted of her and him. And he did not have the sole right to the title of “busy.”

  “It must have escaped your notice, but my day is just as hard and demanding, Craig,” Meriel said through tight lips. “Being married to you did not absolve me of my prior clan duties. I am still responsible for directing and assigning all the sewing and weaving that is needed to support not just Caireoch, but this clan. Winter is coming, and daily I have to go to the castle and answer questions, give directions, and even sit down and help. Right now there is more to do than people to do it. And yet I still came home and made you dinner.”

  Her ending snarl was like a slap in the face. Craig leaned in so that she would have no trouble seeing just how blazingly furious he was. He pointed to the nearly full bowl. “That was many things. But it was definitely not dinner.”

  Meriel was flabbergasted that he was so furious that she had failed at her attempt to prepare a meal. “I did what the cook told me to do! At least I thought I did. How was I to know? I’ve never cooked before!”

  Craig went still. “What do you mean, you’ve never cooked before? I distinctly remember you and Hamish sharing what looked to be an extremely tasty meal that you prepared.”

  Meriel looked bewildered until she finally recalled to just what Craig was referring. “You cannot possibly believe I had anything to do with what we ate that night.”

  “You promised that you would do the cooking!”

  “I did not promise. I said something about the idea being interesting, knowing what would happen—disaster. But you know I have never spent any time in the kitchens. Not to mention that there was no possibility of Fiona letting me anywhere near her haven in a cooking capacity, and I don’t blame her.”

  Craig shook his head. His face was a dull shade of red. “I saw you that afternoon—in the kitchens with Fiona—preparing the meal you and Hamish enjoyed. And what you and he shared was not this dark mystery that even a dog would refuse.”

  Meriel felt her temper start to flare again at the insult. “Of course you did. I needed you to think I was cooking for him.”

  An appalling silence filled the air for several long seconds. Through an extraordinary act of will, Craig managed to quash his rage and regain his self-control. Meriel had manipulated him. She knew it was one of the few things he abhorred, and that she had intentionally done so to him was not to be born.

  He rose to his feet. To avoid her, he pivoted and marched around the table the long way, which was also the most cluttered pathway to exit the cottage. By the time he reached the door, he had tripped and nearly fallen twice. “I cannot and will not live like this, Meriel.”

  He slammed the door shut, leaving her to stare at nothing but empty space. Well, neither can I, Meriel said to herself. Craig might have had expectations as to what married life would be like, but so had she. And in her mind, so far she was the only one doing the compromising, trying to make things work.

  Meriel grabbed a blanket and opened the door, knowing her father and her sister would welcome her home with open arms if she went to them. But there would be consequences to such an action. It would change her father’s relationship with Craig. Crevan would be caught between defending his brother and dealing with his wife, for Meriel had no doubt that Raelynd would be on her side, even if Meriel was in the wrong. She and Craig would eventually get past their anger, but it did not necessarily follow that her family would as well.

  Meriel stopped and turned around. She could not do it. She could not potentially hurt her marriage, her sister’s, or even risk the clan losing a much-needed commander, over a fight. This was the life she chose and she refused to run away from it. She would stay, and when Craig returned it was going to be her turn to say a few things about how she could and could not live.

  Turning around to face the evidence of her afternoon from hell, Meriel went and dumped the contents of the bowl back into the pot and began cleaning the mess of feathers and flour. When she was done, she carried the pot outside the village and dumped its contents. She then headed to the river, deciding she would rather fr
eeze by bathing in the chilly currents than carry water back and warm it for a bath. After freeing her hair from the grime of her cooking attempts, Meriel donned her chemise, but she was unwilling to wear the filthy gown. Wrapped in a blanket, she snuck back to the cottage, glad it was dark so she had avoided the few people who were moving about the village.

  Craig took both ends of his sopping wet leine and began to twist it in an effort to wring as much water from it as possible. He did not believe that just swimming while wearing the garment would render it clean—but it had to help some, if only with the stench. And while he did feel better physically, the absence of filth had not improved his mood even slightly.

  Pulling the damp shirt over his head, he began to walk along the river’s shoreline, kicking rocks periodically in a futile effort to relieve some of his frustration. A shiver went through him, which only fueled his anger. He hated being wet and cold. Somehow the combination always seemed to make his skin overly sensitive. That he was swimming at this time of year, and at night, he blamed on Meriel. If she had just done what all wives did for their husbands, he would be home, warm and comfortable!

  Shoving his freezing hands underneath his arms, Craig veered away from the shoreline and began heading back. He had meant it when he said that he could not continue to live as they had been. Something had to change.

  He arrived at the door and took a deep breath before entering. Nudging it open, he could see that clutter was still everywhere, but the cooking area had been cleaned and all the evidence of the dinner and its preparation had been removed. Craig walked over to the pile of dirty clothes and grabbed a dry leine. He sniffed it and decided that it was better than being cold.

  Changing shirts was a quiet activity, but he had made as much noise as possible, so she had to know he had returned. When Meriel did not appear, he let go a frustrated sigh and began to make his way to the back of the cottage. He was unsure what he was going to say once he found Meriel, and half hoped that she would start the conversation. He only knew that he was not going to start with an apology, nor was he going to gather her in his arms and tell her how appreciative he was of her cleaning efforts—despite how very much he was.

 

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