Declan pulled back to see fatigue on her features and pushed her hair behind her ears. “You should sleep, wife.”
“Still not ready to answer to that.” She laughed while she held gaze. Hurt still glowed in her pale eyes.
“Then allow me to put Emma to bed,” he chuckled. “She carries my child and needs to rest, or her father will tan my hide on the morrow.”
“There’s a line of us waiting to tan your hide,” she told him.
“So, I would assume.” When she wobbled on her feet, he bent and scooped her gently into his arms. Emma’s breath caught in her throat, and for several heartbeats, he saw the “no” in her eyes. Then, to his amazement, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his neck.
Kissing her head, he took her to her room. “Hold on,” he whispered as he used one arm to pull back the remaining blankets on her bed. In seconds, he had her resting on her pillow and snuggled beneath the warmth, her injured side away from the bedding, away from him.
“Would you put this on the chair?” Emma asked. She handed him a small bundle.
Taking it gently, air whooshed from his lungs at the neat rows of knitting. “You make this for our child?” he questioned, not truly needing an answer.
“Yeah. Kathryn brought the busy-work supplies to keep me from complaining about being told to stay in my bed this afternoon.”
Almost reverently, he placed the bundle on the chair and stared at the woman he could only think of as his wife as she lay nestled in the bed. Without asking for permission, he climbed in beside her and wrapped his body around hers.
Emma stiffened. “What are you doing?”
Her question came far too late to air any true concern. None could have missed his intent when he pulled back the bedding on what he deemed his side of the bed and slowly crept within. That he waited several heartbeats before he cast aside his plaid made the comment hold no true protest. “What I have wished to do each night we were apart. Sleep with you against me,” Declan crooned into her ear as he settled more comfortably around her. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You hurt me beyond belief,” Emma whispered, her voice choked with raw emotion.
“I did and will be filled with regret for our days apart for the rest of my life,” he told her. Minutes ticked by before she relaxed in his arms. “I would keep you warm and safe this night, wife.”
“Still not willing to answer to that,” her sleepy voice told him as she settled his hand on the flat on her stomach.
“Yet you allow me to share your bed,” Declan teased when her head nestled under his chin. “Think of your reputation. You are to be a mother and should nay allow a man to randomly share your bed.”
“Then leave,” she told him while her hand closed over his. It was a mixed signal he could understand.
“Never again will I leave you. You are mine, and I am yours for all time.”
“I’m still so mad at you,” Emma whispered with her body snug against his.
“Be angry, as long as you are mine,” Declan told her after he indulged in a deep inhale of the scent of her hair. Though she kept quiet, the feel of her leg burrowing between his increased their closeness.
Her breathing evened out, and he kissed her sleeping head. “I will never let you go,” he whispered into her hair moments before sleep took him away.
Chapter 30
Gripping tight to the tree in her palms, Emma lost what remained of her breakfast onto the forest floor. Kneeling would have been more comfortable, but the ground still held moisture from the previous night’s rain, and a mud-stained gown only meant more to wash.
Gasping for air, the events of the morning played in her thoughts. She’d woken against Declan, literally using his chest as a pillow. Somewhere during the chaotic events of the previous night she’d allowed him back in, how far she had yet to determine. Though she silently acknowledged that letting him sleep with her was not exactly a tiny “in.”
For the first time in twenty days, she’d woken with a smile on her lips, lips that brushed against male skin. The response was immediate. Declan groaned and wrapped his arms around her. His hands wandered to her behind, making her sigh in return. While she had never counted how many mornings married to him had started that way, in the early hours of dawn, her body recalled each and every one.
In seconds, Emma found herself on her back with Declan’s mouth teasing the skin of her neck, only to kiss down to the skin revealed by a very recently unlaced shift. Lips traced her collarbone, and her back bowed to offer him more.
“I will claim you again, wife. Be warned that no mere loving will take place,” he purred with a rough, sleep-filled voice against her skin. “I need you to be mine in all ways.”
If she had been capable of thought, she knew she would have protested. But thought evaporated, along with her common sense, when his lips skimmed her covered breast. It dawned on her that he wasn’t playing fair, that he had created, and therefore knew, every weakness of her flesh. “Declan,” she whispered; whether in agreement or protest, Emma had no clue.
“Do you need aid with wrapping your ribs?” Cortland called from the main room of the cottage.
They stilled, and Declan lifted his head to peer down at her with electric eyes. “We will finish this later when we are alone.” His words were coupled with his lips brushing against hers, something that never failed to drive her insane.
His eyes widened before he sat up. “Your ribs. Please tell me no harm was caused.”
Emma shook her head. “I’m okay.” She’d felt anything but fine. She had almost completely taken him back, or that would have been how he would have perceived it. Staring up at his perfect features fixated on her, she gave him a hesitant smile.
“I would aid with your wrapping,” Declan offered, lifting her gently from the bed.
Again, she wretched, and again she relived sending him to face Cortland. Wrapping ribs involved being naked, and despite what had almost happened, she wasn’t consciously ready to go there. Her mind still recalled the night she had railed at him naked, each nasty comment he made about her body in the hall, and could not remember that before that he had wanted her.
The forest floor held the littering of the breakfast she had made for two men who doted on her every move. I should remember to count my blessings. I have a father who will do anything for me and who loves me. I have a husband who craves my affection. Emma drew in a deep breath at the thought. I just thought of Declan as my husband. Not knowing what to make of that, she turned away from the mess and staggered to the next tree for support.
From her left came the cup of steaming mint. “At least you are far enough from the cottage that the shovel is nay needed,” Kathryn teased. Despite the humor, the woman rubbed her back and waited for Emma to regain her breathing.
Taking a sip from the cup, she mumbled her thanks.
“The laundry is hung. You timed your sickness well,” Kathryn stated dryly.
Emma glanced through the trees to view the clothing on the line behind the cottage. It had been her and Declan’s wet clothes from the previous night that had spurred the task for the morning.
Letting go of the tree, she grabbed the walking stick and carefully stepped into the beaten yard of the cottage. “What should we do now?” Emma asked. The laundry was done, and they had swept the small dwelling earlier.
“We could stop the sword play that threatens to get out of hand,” Kathryn suggested, leading Emma to the front of the cottage.
Close to the stable, Declan and Cortland battled, and even from the distance, Emma noted training didn’t seem to be an appropriate description. Metal screamed against metal, and both men swung as if their lives depended on victory.
“Your father takes out his anger at Declan,” Kathryn surmised. “Wounded pride heals slowly.”
“Has my da said anything to you?” she asked, not quite understanding how one day he could agree to help Declan reclaim his lands and the next appear to be intent on severely maiming the same man.
“‘Tis about you and your husband. The men are united in their goal. Yet, Cortland was shamed before the clan, as was his beloved daughter. Anger has its place and needs to be worked through.” Kathryn shook her head in mild disgust. “Men can be stupid, foolish creatures.”
“Let them fight. Da always has a purpose when there is a weapon in his hand.” With that said, she made her way to the bench before the cottage and watched the events unfold. Part of her wished she could join them. It had been far too long since she’d had any real exercise.
Kathryn stood at her side. “If you think it best. But do you ken when to stop them?”
Studying the footwork and the blows, she said, “Hope so.”
Kathryn disappeared into the cottage with a passing comment about a midday meal to check on. Minutes later, she returned with Emma’s knitting. “Keep busy and drink your mint.”
Finishing her cup and savoring the settling of her stomach, Emma picked up the project but kept her eyes on the men whose grunts and curses could be heard. The needles clacked, and stitches multiplied while the fighting intensified.
Blood being drawn drove Emma to her feet, that combined with Cortland looking far too pleased when the red showed on Declan’s sleeve. Before she could reach the men, swords again clashed, and she began to question their sanity. Working it out is one thing, blood is another.
Using the walking stick as her weapon, she swung at the back of Cortland’s knees and dumped him on his behind. Before Declan could check his blow, her makeshift bo staff knocked the weapon from his hand and had him on his back on the ground.
“You two are done,” she snarled at them.
To her amazement, Cortland laughed and lifted himself from the trampled grass. “Aye, we are. ‘Tis fine to see your skill still remains, daughter.”
Feeling Declan rise at her back, she kept her gaze locked on the pale blue eyes. “You two go at it again and you’ll see how skilled I am. Enough.”
Shifting to inspect Declan’s arm, she noted the injury to his arm was only a scratch. “Go see Kathryn and have that cleaned while I talk to Cortland.”
“As you command, wife,” Declan cheerily answered her. “My thanks for the sport, old man.” His fingers reached out to skim her jaw, leaving heat mixed with uncertainty in her unsettled belly, then he gave her a quick wink.
“Don’t push your luck,” Emma scolded him before he walked away. She then turned back to Cortland. “What in the hell was that about?”
Instead of answering her, Cortland opened his arms wide and waited for her to settle within. Never being able to resist a hug from him, she settled in his arms and sighed when he kissed the side of her head. “It had already come upon you. Forgive me for nay being there with your mint.”
She shook her head and squeezed him tightly. “I’m good. Kathryn handled it. Now answer me.” That Declan had no idea she was sick daily hadn’t been mentioned.
Pulling back to hold her gaze, but not letting go, Cortland answered, “Declan and I needed that. The young pup needed to ken he is nay invulnerable. Nay to mention that he shared my daughter’s bed, a woman who denies being his wife.”
Emma laughed at the problem-solving methods. “So much for keeping emotions in check when fighting.”
“My anger was nay present. His need to best me, to prove his battle-worth to Emma’s father, is why he lost. For all his skill as a warrior, he can continue to learn. Though beating him makes me feel fine after his treatment of us before the clan. Rouse or nay, words spoken can never be unsaid.” His eyes twinkled in mischief. “Aye, daughter, I had something to prove.”
Emma chuckled at the lesson she thought she followed. Turning to walk back to the cottage, Cortland held her arm and kept her in place.
“I held my tongue this morn but now ask. Do you take Declan as yours?”
A heavy sigh left her lips at the question that had haunted her all morning. Without facing him, she said, “We’re talking for now. I understand why he did all of it. I’m still debating where and if I can find forgiveness and move forward.”
His simple nod answered for him. Then his gaze wandered her from head to toe. “Tell me how you fare after wielding your staff.”
Thinking through the question, she could feel the bruising to her ribs but it wasn’t extreme. The swollen ankle had held up when she pivoted to take down both men. Smiling at him, she declared, “I feel like I could take advantage of Kathryn and Declan being inside.”
Lifting his sword, Cortland stated, “Then let us work on your defense. Danger could still find us here, and I would have you ready.”
Holding out her staff, she parried his first blow and readied for the next, certain it would be more challenging.
~ ~ ~
Making his way down the trail to the loch, Declan cursed at the stupidity that had filled his day. Cortland had bested him and then sought to train his injured wife who happened to be with child. That she had laughed away his concern when he found them in the yard had rankled him down to his bones.
While he tried to recall that she was a warrior, his midday meal had been plagued with doubt at Cortland’s wisdom. Emma should be resting, not battling away the day. A begrudging smile lit his face as he rubbed his backside that still recalled hitting the hard ground. Injured or not, Emma was a force to be reckoned with.
He could smell the clean water of the loch before it came into view. Cortland’s lecture on sleeping with his daughter still rang in his ears. The old man was no fool and had known exactly what he had interrupted early in the morn. If not for the man’s interference, Emma would again be his in all ways. While words of claiming were again needed, for her sake, not his, he felt certain he would have had them from her lips.
Grinning like a fool at the sight of Emma, her back and wet hair gleaming in the sunlight, he had exactly what he needed. Time alone with her.
Plans mixed with concern at seeing her alone in the loch. Cortland trusted the sanctity of his lands too much in his mind. Any could stumble upon her bathing, which he would use as his excuse for disturbing her peace, if needed.
With quiet steps, he stood at the bank and shed his clothing. The water was pleasant against his feet, and his body felt the day’s physical exertions. However, the interrupted early morn plagued his flesh far more than the swordplay. His body and soul craved his wife in ways he could have never imagined.
Making a large splash, he dove and then swam within an arm’s length of his prize.
Emma’s soft laughter greeted his wet ears. “I thought I said I wanted a little time to myself.” She never turned to face him while her hands lathered the sweet-smelling soap in her long tresses. He wasn’t surprised to learn he hadn’t caught her unaware.
“You should nay be alone in the woods, wife,” Declan answered, after shaking the water from his hair. Taking a step closer, he closed the gap between them and removed her hands to have his take over the task. Rubbing his fingers against her scalp, her attempt to hide her sigh failed miserably. He heard the next intake of breath and watched, mesmerized as her head leaned back into his hands. All the while, his hands begged to touch more than only her hair.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, her body suddenly tense.
“I should always be at your side,” he crooned, pulling the lather down the length of her hair. “Time gifts us with a stolen afternoon. There is much left to finish between us.”
Instead of answering, she pulled away and dove under the water. In the clear depths, her hands scrubbed away the soap. When she again surfaced, her back remained to him. “I’m not ready to finish,” she declared without facing him.
>
“Yet this morn you were.” Declan wouldn’t allow the disappointment to show that she denied the passion of the dawn. Pulling the wet flesh of her back to his chest, he ran his nose over her temple and loved that she shivered against him. “This morn you were ready to be mine.” Even hours later, he could hear her gasp when he had covered her body.
No denial crossed her lips, yet no agreement came either. Moving slowly, his hands spanned her stomach, and then his finger drifted to her hips. Mindful of the bruising on the one side, he gripped her gently. “Your body misses me,” he reminded the stubborn woman who greedily sucked in air at the contact. Pressing his hard length against her back, he continued, “As mine misses you.”
When her body attempted to place water and distance between them, he held on. “Tell me that you have no desire for me, and I will leave.” Using her honestly against herself, the rapid beating of the pulse in her neck told him all he needed to know. Emma wanted him whether or not she was ready to admit it.
He let her push his hands away and waited for her to speak. Her voice betrayed all the insecurity he had placed in her heart. “What you want won’t make everything better between us.”
Correcting her choice of words, he said, “What we want will bind us again. Though ken I still see only my wife in the water.”
“Your wife is still hurt and angry,” her back told him. He inhaled sharply at her statement; that she had referred to herself as wife only reinforced that they were still married.
Tired of not seeing the emotions play out on her face, he swam to stand before her. Holding her gaze, her confusion clearly illuminated in her eyes, he kept his voice soft. “My wife is my world.” Taking her damp cheeks in his hands, he dared a brush his against her lips.
He could have wept as she leaned in for more, hesitantly touching his lips in a soft kiss. Lost in her returned affection, Declan pulled her close and kissed with all the longing that had built up during the endless days without her.
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