by Amy Jarecki
With the click of the latch, tension fled from Lachlan’s shoulders. Finally alone, he ushered Christina to the settee in front of the hearth. “I must commend you, m’lady. The gathering was the best I’ve ever seen.”
Her wavy chestnut hair, devoid of a veil, shimmered in the candlelight as she took her seat. “My thanks, and I must say everyone admired the Christmas tree.” She could smile more radiantly than any woman on the planet and she did so as he slid down beside her. “And I think taking Andrew with ye made him feel more a part of the clan.”
“Perhaps.” Lachlan draped his arm over the back of the settee. “Though I’d imagine Miss Aileen had more to do with Andrew’s good spirits than the tree.”
She chuckled. “Ye could be right. The lad did seem smitten.”
“Anything to encourage him, I say.”
“Agreed. Though King Robert willna approve of a marriage between the pair.”
Now that was so farfetched, it made Lachlan snort. “Who’s talking about marriage? The lad’s only fifteen. He’ll probably have a host of girlfriends before he ties the knot.”
Her fine-boned shoulders shook with her laugh. “I hope ye are right.”
Turning over his hand, he revealed the parcel in his palm. “I’ve been waiting all night to give this to you.”
Her ruby lips formed a delightful “O”. “A gift?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I want to give you a gift, m’lady? After all, you’ve taken me in, made me your champion, given me meaningful work helping Andrew to change his paradigms.”
She scooted away a bit. “Yes, of course.” She offered a sad smile, her gaze drifting to the fire.
Bloody hell, Lachlan bit his tongue. Did he have to screw everything up? He liked this woman, was incredibly attracted to this woman, and had her alone in her chamber with an actual bed for the first time since they’d arrived at Ormond Castle and he was yammering about meaningful bloody work? Holy hell, how much further could he shove his foot into his mouth? He didn’t want to talk about an employer-employee relationship.
Changing his tack, He placed the parcel in her hand and took a deep breath. “Aside from all that, you brought a ray of sunshine into my heart when I thought no hope remained. You have shown me a way of life I thought had been lost forever.”
“’Tis very kind of ye to say,” she said as if they’d suddenly grown distant.
But Lachlan wasn’t about to give up. Not only his foot, he’d put his entire leg in his mouth, and he wouldn’t leave this night until she was good and sure he’d taken it out. “Go on, open it.”
Christina’s fingers trembled a bit as she pulled the leather thong. “Oh my.” She held the cross nearer and inclined it toward the candlelight. “’Tis exquisite. Where ever did ye find it?”
He took the chain and clasped it around her neck. “It seems your smithy is good for more than hammering iron and pulling teeth.”
“Malcolm made this himself?”
“Yep.” Lachlan admired how the amethyst sparkled against her alabaster skin. “Said he found the amethyst on the battlefield at Stirling Bridge.”
“Imagine that. He never told me he dabbled with jewelry.”
“Do you like it?”
“I absolutely adore it.” She grasped his hands between her palms. “Thank ye.”
He grinned, his gaze falling to her lips. A little pink tongue slipped out the corner of her mouth before she snatched her hands away. “Och, I’m glad ye stopped by this eve, else I would have had to wait until the morrow to give ye your gift. The tanner only finished it this day.”
“Excuse me?” Lachlan twisted his mouth. “It surprised you that I gave you a present, but you had something made for me?”
She held up a finger. “Something most practical for a champion.”
He looked around the chamber, seeing nothing but tapestries, lace and feminine things—no size sixteen boots, no horse saddles. The tanner? “What is it?”
“A moment.” She rose to her feet and headed for the garderobe.
Craning his neck, he tried to peer around her. “Should I come with you?”
“Nay.”
After a bit of rustling, Christina came out holding up a leather couton and grinning like she’d just earned her first karate belt.
“Wow.” Lachlan stood and crossed the floor.
“Ye said ye wanted leather armor and I asked the tanner to fashion a coat that couldna be run through.”
He ran his gaze down the fine tooling. “My God. This is a work of art.” The strips of leather had been stamped with a bold star pattern he’d seen on the de Moray crest over the hearth in the great hall. The stitching was so exact it could have been from a machine, though Lachlan had never seen seams so strong. He worked the thick, reinforced leather panels between his fingers. “It’s perfect.”
Christina beamed, her eyes sparkling. “Try it on.”
After unfastening the plaid at his shoulder, he slipped his arms through and she stepped in and fastened the buckles. “I still think mail would afford ye more protection, but this couton is the next best thing.” She placed her palm in the center of his chest. “And I had the tanner fashion it to protect your legs and…um.” Her gaze dipped with her blush.
Lachlan’s heart thrummed a rapid rhythm beneath her fingertips. “You are a wise woman. And I like the slits over my thighs. They’ll make it easier to walk.” He tilted up her chin with the crook of his finger. “How did the tanner manage to make it fit so perfectly?”
“I remembered your measurements from Roxburgh.”
“You remembered. My word, you are amazing.”
She giggled, but still shook her head. “Who would have kent? Give a man a coat of armor and he’ll think the world of ye.”
He brushed her hair away from her face. It hung down her back in thick waves, the curls around her cheeks making ringlets. “I want you,” he whispered.
As if hesitant, her gaze slipped down his new couton and back up, meeting his eyes. “Do ye remember that morn in Roxburgh?”
How could he forget? Simply the mention of it made the fire in his loins rage into an inferno. What had he been waiting for? They were both adults, she a widow, and he…well, he imagined Angela would have secured a divorce in his absence by now. In truth, he was a single man standing in a single woman’s bedchamber and he didn’t give a frig what century he was in.
“Yes,” he replied hoarsely, unable to stop himself from running his fingers through the pure silk of her hair.
She cringed as if a bit embarrassed. “I havena been able to push it from my mind.”
With his next blink, his cock shot up like a rocket, hard and throbbing and impossible to ignore. Dear God, how long had it been? A man could only act like a monk for so long. Christ, he’d been afraid Christina had pushed his advances from her mind—done everything to forget her one fleeting moment of passion. It hadn’t escaped his notice every single day that she’d done nothing further to encourage him. In fact, the few times they’d kissed since, he’d been the initiator. She’d kissed him back, caressed him a wee bit, but it seemed she made every effort to suppress any smoldering desire that lurked deep inside.
He tugged her arm and pulled her into his embrace. “Are you afraid?”
“Nay.” Giving a nod, she lowered her gaze. “Aye.”
“Are you afraid…ah?” He needed to word it delicately. “Afraid I’ll get you with child?”
She gave one slow nod. “That and of what King Robert might do.”
“King Robert?” His brow furrowed. “What does he have to do with us?”
She took a step away and turned her back, hiding her face in her hands. “If Andrew refuses to take up arms for the king, the de Moray lands will be forfeit along with my hand.”
Cold sweat broke out along Lachlan’s skin. Jesus Christ, what she’d just revealed was every bit as awful as being held captive. “Can he do that?”
“I can refuse him, aye. But then I would be cast out of my home and left with no
thing.”
Lachlan gulped. “I could never allow that to happen.”
“Nay?” She faced him, a combination of defiance and anguish contorted her features as she thrust her finger at his chest. “What about that medallion? Ye said ye were from the future. And ye said ye’d be returning home after your work with Andrew was done.”
Dumbfounded, his mouth dropped open. “I—I did say that, didn’t I?” he mumbled, buying time. Why did dating have to be so much more difficult in this century—especially for an accidental time traveler? Christ, in his time, if a woman wanted to sleep with a man without complications, she asked him to use a condom and did as she pleased. But Christina had so many worries hanging over her head. She could lose everything. Her son, her lands, and worse, herself. How could Lachlan promise to take care of her when his own future was completely unknown?
Raking his hands through his hair, he was the one to look away this time. The medallion warmed against his skin like it was trying to give him a warning. But what did the damned thing want him to do? And why was he worrying about a lump of stupid bronze? He’d asked the miserable medal to send him home enough times with no response. Clapping his hand over it, he took a deep breath.
“I honestly cannot tell you what will happen in the future. But I know what I want right now.” The medallion cooled, making him care about it even less. “Right now, I want you. We can do things to avoid pregnancy.” He reached for her hand. “You are a flesh and blood woman and you deserve to be happy.”
Her lips trembled. “But what will the clan say?”
“Why should they know?”
“They always ken everyone’s business.”
“My guess is they already suspect there’s something between us.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “And I also have a hunch they want you to be happy as well. Your clan stood beside you while you gave birth to a bairn after your husband was killed. They stood beside you for thirteen years while you were held prisoner, unable to hold your son in your arms, unable to raise him as you intended.”
She took in a stuttered breath as she grazed her teeth over her bottom lip, her eyes welling.
God, he wanted her more than life itself. He wanted to show her happiness, wanted her to know that not everyone would take from her giving nothing in return. “Not a soul will judge you. I am certain of it.”
“Holy saints, I pray not.” Snapping her hands to his cheeks in a bold move, a tear slipped down her cheek as she raised her lips and kissed him. Raw passion flowed through her lips as she plied him with the most fervent kiss he’d ever experienced. Christina sighed into his mouth—her response far more aggressive than ever before. The fire from her hunger fed his need to have her. His hands slid around her waist and up her back, pulling her soft, feminine body against his hard, masculine one. He pressed the length of his torso against her, but it wasn’t enough. Thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, Lachlan moved his hands down to her buttocks and tugged her hips flush with his unignorably, mind-consuming erection.
The damned couton proved to be too thick a barrier for his driving need. Pulling away, he unfastened the top buckle while Christina started with the bottom, God bless her. When their fingers met, he couldn’t pull it off his shoulders fast enough, though he carefully rested the new armor on the table.
“Dear Lord.” She pressed praying fingers to her lips. “I hate that I have brought ye into the mess of my life, but I could withhold the truth from ye no longer.”
“I’m glad you told me. I would not have you suffer alone.” He raked his gaze down her body and unfastened the brooch holding her arisaid around her shoulders. Dear God, even through the thick wool of her kirtle, the roundness of her breasts enticed him. Then his breath caught as a revelation donned. “There is no place on earth I’d rather be.” He pushed the arisaid to the floor and with a trembling hand, he covered her breast. “I said it before and I meant it. I want you. I cannot make promises about the future, but in this moment and every moment I’m with you, I’ll do anything to see to your happiness.”
A stuttering breath slipped through her lips.
“Please do not refuse me,” he growled. Moving even closer and slipping an arm around her shoulder, his fingers slid lower, past her abdomen and down to her tender flesh. Through the layers of fabric, he caressed her.
Gasping and throwing her head back, Christina rocked against his hand. “My God, I am powerless to resist.”
“Then trust me,” he growled, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the four-poster bed that had been beckoning him since he’d entered her chamber. Ever so gently, Lachlan rested her atop the soft mattress. “On this Christmas night, I aim to show you exactly how much I want you, m’lady.”
***
Christina shuddered right down to her toes. Not with fear, but shudders of want, shudders of pure desire, the likes of which she’d never experienced in her lifetime. Never before had she tremored with want while gooseflesh rose across her arms. Even the deep rumble of Lachlan’s voice made her insides swarm with flutters of desire.
Gazing into his eyes, she pulled loose the bow securing her kirtle laces. “I do trust ye. I’ve trusted ye with my son and I will trust ye now.” Dear Lord in heaven, the words she’d been longing to say finally passed through her lips. Every night since Roxburgh, she’d lain awake longing to feel Lachlan’s touch, longing to be with him, skin to skin.
While he watched her, he unfastened his belt and let his plaid cascade to the floor. Had Christina not been lying on the bed, she would have swooned for certain, for he wore no braies this eve. With a chuckle, he pulled off his shirt and dropped it.
“Perfection.” She wasn’t sure if she’d spoken aloud, but it didn’t matter. Lachlan’s nude body was a sight to behold. He stood naked as God made him, virile and powerful, and every inch desirable. No words could describe Lachlan’s magnificence. Head to toe and halfway back up again, Christina drank him in…all of him. He stepped closer to the bed, his thick erection jutting proudly from a triangle of auburn curls—auburn—much redder than his hair.
Trying to breathe, Christina reached out and touched him.
Arching his back, he moaned with such a rumble, she almost thought she’d hurt him until his manhood throbbed beneath her fingers. “I’m already on the ragged edge,” his hoarse voice growled.
She drew her hand away and scooted over to allow him room beside her. She patted the mattress. “Come here.”
Needing no more encouragement, he slid down beside her, running kisses along her neck while his fingers worked magic. With a few deft flicks, her bodice was unlaced, her shift as well, and his hand slipped beneath the linen while his thick column pressed against her hip.
His lips worked magic, exposing her breasts and suckling one and then the other. Pushing into him, she feared she might explode as his fingers slipped between her quivering thighs. But she wanted more. She didn’t want to come like this, partially dressed. She wanted to join with him. Feel him fill her and take her on a ride to heaven.
Frantic with need, she helped him strip off her kirtle and shift. Rolling into his arms, Christina craved his warmth, craved his hardness. As they kissed, his hard column slipped between her thighs, heightening her need until she was certain she was about to shatter. The heat swirling in her nether parts, the intoxicating scent of spicy male, the gentle caressing of his manhood growing slick with her own wetness made shudders of joy fire across her skin and her breath come in short gasps. “I canna hold back any longer.”
“Me, neither.” Lachlan’s eyes grew darker and a devilish grin turned up the corners of his mouth while he climbed between her thighs. “Are you sure you’re ready for me?”
Prone to him, her knees wide, all she could do was nod while the column of his erection teased her. Only inches from her quivering flesh, she brazenly reached down and guided him toward her. She felt naughty and wonderful and ever so aroused. Never in her life had she done something this daring
before, but Lachlan had a way of fleshing out her insecurities. He made her feel emboldened and beautiful and wanted. She placed him at her entrance and he slid in ever so slightly.
A wispy gasp sucked through her throat.
“God, you are so wet, I could come right now.”
“Please,” she begged, sliding her hands to his buttocks and forcing him deeper.
“You drive me insane, woman.” He took his weight onto his elbows and lay atop her without crushing. Thrusting his hips forward, he slid deeper inside while covering her mouth and entwining her tongue with his. Completely and utterly alive, Christina gave in to the most thrilling experience of her life. Unabashedly, she matched him, thrust for thrust, digging her fingers into his thick bands of muscle.
Together, their breathing sped as they united in a glorious dance between a man and a woman who’d spent too much time suppressing their affection for one another.
Christina closed her eyes and experienced the amazing merging her body and soul with the only man she had met in fifteen years who had made her crave to be loved again. Her years of oppression only served to make their lovemaking all the more pleasurable. Just when she thought the thrill could not grow higher, her body shuddered on a pinnacle of pure ecstasy. Losing complete control, she cried out, bursting like a shower precipitated by lightning.
With her moans of rapture, Lachlan continued to thrust deep and fast. With a basal, shuddering bellow, he pulled away and released his seed on her belly—protecting her from embarrassment just as he’d promised, then collapsed beside her.
As their breathing slowed to a whispered hum, Christina smoothed her fingers along his closely cropped beard. Her need rose again as gradually, he moved his lips toward her. This time, his kiss was slow, deliberate and all-consuming.
Christina’s heart squeezed tight while a tear moistened the corner of her eye. “I had no idea it could be like this.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
After the Christmas season, winter passed in a maelstrom of passionate nights and days too short with the absence of sunlight. Christina managed to survive through every cold and dreary day knowing Lachlan would come to her at night. Unfortunately, after the holiday, Andrew had reverted to his unpleasantness, though he seemed to be respectful of everyone except his mother. But she wasn’t about to give up. She still had several months to win him over before they must travel south to present themselves before King Robert.