Enticing the Weary Warrior

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “Ah.” She worried her lower lip for a moment, then asked coyly, “Are you going to stand there all night fully dressed, or are you going to join me?”

  “We’re going to talk about the fire and that fresh scrape on your cheek first,” he said.

  “I knew you were going to say that. I don’t want to talk about either one.”

  “We’re going to discuss it. I saw someone running from the stable. Did you see anyone?”

  “Yes, but he was covered head-to-toe.”

  “You couldn’t identify him?”

  “No.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I saw something come swinging at my head and when I ducked I lost my balance and fell into the post in the middle of the stable, which is how the scrape appeared, along with a few splinters. It didn’t knock me out, but it gave him the upper hand. Then I was tied up and left to fate’s whim.”

  “Who do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know. I only saw this shadowy figure above me once or twice. I think they were afraid of being recognized, because that was when he threw the hay over my face.”

  “What else did you see? Anything at all that will help in discovering who did this? Any thought as to who it could’ve been?”

  “I. Don’t. Know,” she growled in frustrated anger. “Don’t you think I would be leading a group to hunt them down if I did know?”

  “Calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down! I almost died tonight,” she said, grounding her palms into her eyes in an attempt to stem the tears.

  “Come now, the Megan I knew was made of sterner stuff than this.”

  “The Megan you knew was a foolish girl who thought she had the world figured out. That girl had no idea that things and people could be ripped away from her so easily, but I do.” Megan fisted her hand and hit her chest for emphasis. “I know how precious life is, and I refuse to stand by and allow some faceless person to try to take it from me.”

  “I promise, no one is going to harm you.”

  “How can you promise that? Are you going to set guards on me all day long and while we sleep as well?”

  “If necessary,” he promised stoically.

  “You can’t do that, Liam,” she countered looking up at him with tears clinging to her dark lashes. “You can’t wrap me in wool and think it’ll keep the world out.”

  “Then talk to me.” He paced the room several times before coming to a stop at the end of the bed, bracing his right hand against the bedpost. “Who would be angry enough at you to want to kill you.”

  She shrugged and plucked at the bedcover, refusing to look at him.

  “I can think of two people.”

  “Oh?” she tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Stop this act. You know very well that there are two men that would like to at least do you bodily harm.”

  “One is supposed to be awaiting trial in Newgate,” she argued.

  “That is easily checked.”

  “You said two,” she paused a moment, considering people she had been near lately. She looked up at Liam, startled, “You don’t think Henry would do something?”

  “You are a woman who embarrassed him in front of his peers. I think that could anger a man enough to do something foolish. Besides that, I fired him in a very public setting. So, yes, I do believe he might want to seek revenge on us,” he emphasized the last word.

  Megan shook her head and wrapped her slender arms around her tented legs. She rested her chin on top of her knees and watched Liam. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

  “I don’t think we should rule out Paddy’s uncle as a suspect.”

  This comment brought her head up quickly. “He’s in Ireland.”

  “What happened could easily be hired done.”

  “Why? What purpose would he have?”

  “He wants Legend.”

  “What?!” Megan exclaimed incredulously.

  “Word must’ve reached him about Legend’s promise as a champion. He had paperwork sent to The Jockey Club stating that he was Legend’s legal owner. The day I left here, I intercepted a courier from the club informing me that Legend had been disqualified and stripped of the win. I had ten days to counter the claim in order to keep the win.”

  “I don’t bloody believe it,” Megan said, her hands fisted so tightly, her knuckles had turned white.

  “I presented the information they requested, but I am sure Lord Dalmore is rather angry at being routed.”

  “But I have no paperwork showing that I’m the owner of Legend other than a letter that he sent after John passed away saying that I could take Legend and Belle only. Even then I couldn’t lay my hand on that piece of paper to save my life.”

  “I had the appropriate paperwork,” Liam calmly replied.

  “Which was?”

  “A letter from the Prince of Wales stating that Legend was granted to me for service to the Crown, and that as his owner I could enter him in any and all races I saw fit, as well as collect all winnings from said races.”

  “The Prince of Wales…” Megan’s mind worked frantically trying to piece together everything he had told her with some things he had not. When she worked it out, she leaned forward and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You’ve known about John wanting Legend since you and Da’ went to London to get the marriage certificate.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not going to deny it?”

  “There’s little point,” he shrugged, and leaned negligently against the bed post with his arms crossed over his burly chest.

  “You could at least act ashamed for not telling me about the situation.”

  “I had taken care of it. There was no need to worry you.”

  “Let me see if I understand this. Because I’m just a silly little woman, there’s no need for me to worry about things like that. Is that what you’re saying, husband?”

  “You’re putting words in my mouth that I did not say, wife.”

  “Oh, really? Because it seems to me that is exactly what you meant.”

  “I was trying to take care of things for you.”

  “By keeping them from me?”

  “Dammit, Megan, can you quit being so bloody stubborn? I wanted to help you. I thought…”

  “You thought what?” she prodded when he didn’t continue. “Let me see if I can guess. You thought that by taking care of Legend’s paperwork, it would ease some of the pain of your having been gone for five years.” She watched as a flush spread across his face and he stood upright, looking around the room as if for a quick exit. “That’s exactly what you thought,” she said with a hollow laugh, climbing out of the bed in all her feminine glory. “Did you stop to think what would have happened if you had not intercepted that courier? I could very well have been arrested for horse theft because I did not know any such paperwork existed that would prove me innocent of such an accusation. But you didn’t think about that did you? You just had to be the bloody hero one more time.” The accusation hung heavy in the air between them.

  “Meg, I—”

  “Well, let me tell you something, Liam McTavish,” she continued, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I don’t care that you’re a bloody earl with connections to the Prince of Wales. I don’t care that you’re a bloody hero. And I truly don’t care that you’re trying to ease your conscience by saving my horse and adopting children for me.” She emphasized each accusation by thrusting a finger into his chest. “What I do care about is that I’m married to a man that talks to me and asks my opinion rather than making decisions first and then telling me about them later. I expect my marriage to be one that is based on respect and cooperation. I’m not a woman to be dictated to and expected to blindly follow along, and if that’s what you think, then I’m afraid you’ve married the wrong woman.”

  “Oh, no,” he grabbed her wrist when she would have stormed across the room, away from him. “I may have made a mistake and overstepped my bounds, but I have
definitely not married the wrong woman,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  Megan struggled against him, pummeling him with her small fists, until slowly the fight dissolved within her with every deeper foray of his tongue within her mouth. Her hands snaked up and around his neck, holding him closer. When he stood upright, she refused to let go of him, forcing him to lift her as well. Megan took the opportunity to wrap her muscular legs about his lean hips. A groan reached her ear and she couldn’t tell if it was Liam, herself, or both of them.

  Seconds later, she felt herself falling through the air, followed by the softness of the mattress at her back. She tightened her legs about him when she thought he would back away from her. Megan leaned upwards and grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled on them sending buttons flying through the air. Some landed softly on the mattress while others pinged and tapped across the floor.

  “Meg—”

  “Don’t say a word. Just kiss me,” she ordered, using the ruined shirt to pull him down to her.

  “Can we talk about this?”

  His teasing words were met with a hard glare. “I want to stay angry with you for a while longer,” she said. Soon she was lost in his kisses and caresses. He trailed kisses down her neck and across her chest. Her back bowed to give him greater access to her alabaster globes and their pink tips. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out when he suckled her strongly, yet tenderly. Megan didn’t want tender, not at this moment. She wanted hot, fast, and angry. When she reached for the fastening of his breeches, he took a step backwards, just out of her reach, frustrating her.

  When she tightened her legs to pull him forward once more, he did something most unexpected. Liam reached up and dug his fingers into her ribs, tickling her, causing her to squirm and laugh when she wanted to do anything but. Megan fought to get away from him, turning onto her stomach, and clawing her way across the bed. She felt his hands on her ankles like manacles, slowly pulling her back to him.

  “Let me go,” she pleaded, glancing at her husband over her shoulder.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured.

  If there had been any teasing in him earlier, it was gone now. He did not appear angry, just intense. Megan could not hide the shiver that passed through her.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied breathlessly.

  “Good. I like you in your current state of undress.”

  “You look a bit like a rakish pirate yourself, especially with that black eye you’re sporting.” She sucked in a breath as his hand trailed up the back of her leg.

  “It was a well-deserved ‘welcome home’ gift from my wife.”

  “Hmm.” Megan still laid on her stomach, her forehead now rested on her fisted hands. She felt him kiss the dimple at the back of her knee. “Ohhh,” she sighed out.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No,” she denied.

  “Are you certain? If you’re feeling unwell…”

  “You know I feel perfectly fine,” she shot him a look over her shoulder and was startled to see the rakish grin on his face. She had seen so little of it since his return, it made her want to do whatever she could to keep it there. Megan knew she could promise not to ever fight with him again, but she knew herself much better than that. She could only try to do better and try to find moments, in and out of the bedroom, to cheer him.

  Her breathing hitched once more when he kept eye contact with her while leaning over her. Liam started at the base of her spine, laving and kissing the dimples that lay just above her buttocks. He seemed to be fascinated by the indentions, until he moved onto her spine, brushing kisses upwards. She could no longer see his face when he adorned her shoulder blades with kisses. Then she felt him push her hair aside and place kisses along her nape, causing her to shiver. He whispered in her ear.

  “You mean to cover me like a stallion does a mare?” she squeaked.

  “Trust me when I say the two truly have very little in common,” he said.

  “I don’t know…”

  “Trust me, Meg,” he whispered.

  She hesitantly tucked her knees under her, as he had requested, and rested on her forearms. Megan heard two thuds in quick succession, indicating he had removed his boots. Then she jumped, when she felt a male finger gently probing her, checking to see how ready she was. Megan wanted to hide her face, knowing that Liam would find her more than ready, despite her hesitation and insecurity. Soon his finger was replaced with the broad head of his manhood, slowly easing into her. Her breath was stolen at how much deeper it felt this way.

  His big, callused hands clasped her hips, holding her in place as he slowly drew back then entered her once more. She wanted to scream at him to hurry as he kept up the excruciatingly slow movements. Megan leaned up so that her hands were under her. She tried to slam backwards more than once, but each time, his hands tightened on her hips, holding her still. There was a spot deep within her that he was striking over and over, driving her mad.

  “Please,” she begged for relief, deliverance from the madness he was forcing upon her.

  “Easy, love,” he whispered against her ear, and brushed a kiss against her arched neck.

  She felt his hands move from her hips to her breasts, cupping her, and lifting her upright. He pulled her towards him so that her back rested against his chest. Megan lifted her arms and dug her short nails into the back of his neck, holding him close.

  “Fly for me, love,” he said huskily as he suckled on her ear, while one hand toyed with the flushed, distended peak of her breast, and the other plied that sensitive bit of flesh at the entrance to her feminine core.

  Megan did exactly as he commanded, her body utterly out of her control. It felt as if she were being flung across the universe, when in actuality she never left the safety of their bedroom. Amid the throbbing sensations from her climax, she felt a gush deep within her. He groaned low, and she felt the vibration of his body through her own as he clasped her tightly to him. Soon he was crushing her face first into the mattress. Megan didn’t care, she merely turned her head to the side so she could breathe, and reveled in his weight on top of her.

  “Meg, sweetheart, scoot over.”

  The words filtered into her hearing but just barely. “Don’t wanna,” she grumbled.

  “I’m not going to sleep half standing, half lying down, with my arse out in the open for anyone to see.”

  “But it’s such a lovely arse,” she said, then squealed when she felt a playful swat on her buttocks.

  “Scoot over,” he repeated and turned down the lights.

  She did so reluctantly, but curled into him just as soon as he crawled into the bed himself and pulled the covers over them.

  “We need to have angry sex more often,” she teased. “And just think, I went to Jack to get that special tea for you, and we haven’t had to use it.”

  “I wasn’t angry and that wasn’t just sex,” he said sounding offended before he rolled over onto his side, facing away from her. He just as quickly rolled back over and propped himself up so he could stare down at her. “What tea, and who the hell is Jack?”

  “It was a tea that would help you relax, but not inhibit you. Jack said it sounded like your mind was manipulating your body, and you needed to separate the two in order to regain control of yourself.”

  “You talked about my physical problem with another man? Did you two have a great jolly laugh about me?”

  “No, you don’t understand,” Megan defended, missing the angry, hurt tone that had entered his voice.

  “No, you don’t understand. I don’t need anyone’s help, not Jack’s, and definitely not yours!”

  “Liam—”

  “Go to sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow.” He rolled over once more.

  Megan stared dumbfounded at the broad, scarred back in front of her. Had she actually hurt her thick-skinned husband? She had only been trying to find a way to help him.

  “Liam—” she tried once
more, only to be cut off again.

  “Goodnight, Meg,” he said, brooking no continuation of the conversation.

  “Goodnight, you big oaf,” she countered, turning so her back was to him, and settled in for a long, sleepless night.

  * * *

  Liam clung to his side of the bed, fighting his need to hold Megan in his arms. He alternately cursed himself for allowing her words to anger him and then for even taking them to heart. He knew she had been merely teasing, but their lovemaking sessions since he returned from the dead had meant more to him than proving himself as a man, physically speaking. She had kept him alive during his darkest days. He had never ceased to love her.

  He rolled to his back and tucked his arm beneath his head as he stared up at the moonlit ceiling. I love her. No, I never stopped loving her, he corrected himself. Liam turned his head and looked at the woman who lay stiffly beside him. He reached a hand towards her and watched as it hovered over her shoulder for long seconds before he pulled it back. It joined his other hand, cradling his head. Why is this so difficult? he thought to himself. I was supposed to be able to come back and simply fall back into the life I had. That was currently not how the situation worked. It seemed for every step forward they were inevitably taking two steps backwards, or three, or four. Their lives had turned into a reckless dance that neither knew the steps to. He only hoped they were able to figure it out before it was too late, and they merely became polite strangers that shared a life.

  * * *

  Gunshots came from every direction—behind him, in front of him, and on either side. The blasts from the cannon reverberated through the air, shaking the ground and lighting up the sky. Smoke permeated the air so thickly it made it difficult to breathe. After every blast and pop, screams filled the air. Orange-red flames licked at the sky.

  A cannonball exploded near him making him fall sideways. White spots dotted his vision. He blinked rapidly to clear his sight only to have more dirt and mud fly into his eyes. Liam rolled onto his belly, trying to remove the debris so he could see once more. He dug his elbows into the ground and blindly dragged himself forward. He remembered seeing a trench just a few feet in front of him before the explosion.