Sarah rose and attempted to keep her torn dress around her. Petting the dog that had clearly protected her, she kept her hands on Bella until she settled calmly and with her tail wagging. Doubting it would be so easy to pacify Conall, she walked to his back.
Acting on impulse, she leaned against his shaking back and wrapped one arm around him, the other hand held the ruined gown. “I think I stabbed you but good.” She noted his deep breath and how rigid his abdomen felt under her hand.
When he remained quiet, except for ragged breathing, she took away the feeble attempt at humor. “While I know Bella finished it up, I did stab you before she interfered. Say it, Conall. Say that Sarah beat me.”
One of his hands left the wooden door and covered her hand that stayed on his stomach feeling his breaths. “Aye.”
“Not getting off that easy. Say that Sarah stabbed me.” Just uttering the words made her mind reel and spin.
“Sarah stabbed me,” he whispered without conviction.
“That means Sarah saved Sarah. She can survive. Say it, Conall. Say that Sarah will survive,” she ordered and then waited for compliance.
He answered with a rush. “Sarah will survive.”
Leaning her cheek against his shoulder, she let that sink in. “I will survive.” Biting her cheek to prevent from launching into a song, she mentally chastised the lapse in focus.
But Conall didn’t say anything.
“Now say that Sarah kicked my ass like I was a wee lass.” Again, she went for humor, hating wherever he placed himself. “I can’t hear you.”
“Nay, Sarah. Such words I will nay speak, even for you,” Conall said with a squeeze to her hand.
“Did you hold back on me?” The loaded question could explain his current withdrawn state.
His shrug against her cheek answered it and her ego deflated, but only for a beat.
“So much for you being a wee lass. But you are immense, you know that. I haven’t seen anyone here that rivals you in size. How likely would it be for me to run into someone with bad intentions built like you?” The loaded question flew out of her mouth.
“I dinna ken,” he replied, quick and gruff.
Pleased with the reply, she nodded against him. “You are larger than most. Plus, you knew I would fight you. A random stranger would never know that. Nor would they have any idea that I had a plan. You did. So, in a way, it wasn’t a fair fight.” It made sense to her, but it needed to reach him.
Long minutes ticked by with her against him and his head against the door before he spoke. “Aye, you may be correct. I have never faced a fight kenning my opponent’s strategy.”
Sighing with a bit of relief, she knew she had only begun. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. We have agreed that I fought hard enough to get away while causing some real damage. I have an idea how real life can become and you know that I can handle it enough to survive.”
In her head, crickets chirped to mock his silence. “Where are you right now?”
A raw sound left his throat. “If Bella had nay risen, I would have. . .”
The fading thought brought the spark of truth out into the dimly lit chamber. “You would have taken it to the edge.”
“Past it,” he growled.
Forcing herself not to stiffen with his honesty, she asked, “Did you know I was the body beneath you the whole time?” Not that she would blame absence of thought. For a few seconds her panic had border-lined on sincerity.
“Aye, no other has such fair skin dotted with color.” Conall did have a lovely way of viewing her skin.
“So, what you are saying is that even after I technically stabbed you and ended the threat, my husband would have continued.” Sarah hoped she read him correctly and couldn’t find true concern for her safety.
“No husband should carry the thoughts I held with you struggling beneath me.” Conall threw at her, still not facing her.
Chuckling against his back, she kissed his covered shoulder and stepped back. “Is this more wisdom you learned from the same sources that told you a wife merely suffered through her husband’s needs?” Her tone flared toward the dramatic. Before she could laugh, Conall whipped around to face her with a snarl.
“You mock when I nearly forced myself on you. ‘Tis impossible to make such acceptable.” To accentuate his point, his arms crossed over his chest.
Attempting to regain control of the lesson, she rolled her eyes. “Forced implies my unwillingness.”
His gaze narrowed. “You hold mere scraps of what used to cover you.”
She couldn’t argue that with a hand holding up the gown split down her back with fresh air against her behind. “Well, I am down two,” glancing down at her ruined clothes, she amended, “Make that three shifts and one dress since we’ve married. There was also that shift you tore the day you first took me to see my entry point.” Sarah left out the pajama bottoms damaged by the arrow. Levity would only go so far. “Do you hear me complaining?”
“You would have if Bella had nay stopped my madness,” Conall mumbled.
Sarah sighed as she closed in on him, pressing against his closed off body. Collecting her thoughts, she noted the tension in his neck that spread over his bunched shoulders, the massive muscles rigid. “You might have surprised me, but I think that what we would have shared would have only been a bit rough, kind of like our first night in the baths, even if that started a bit more gently.” Placing her free hand over his heart, she smiled at his stubborn scowl. “I think, like that night, you would have whispered in my ear and any doubt of true intent would have been erased. Again, I would have been willing. Have I ever told you no?”
“You dinna ken what you speak,” he mocked her.
Pulling back and ending the body contact, her teasing faded. “In my time working with people, I have counseled more than a few victims of force.” She intentionally left out the “r” word for his sake. “All of their stories share a common thread of violence, shame, and such pain. I know what I am talking about. I know you and I trust you. But you need to understand that what we share intimately can come in a variety of forms.”
Gazing at her warily, Conall blew out a breath. “I ken you need nay only be on your back.”
“Well, that’s part of it. But think back to that wonderful night in the baths. There was an edge present that we both enjoyed. Tonight, we were dancing on a very different edge, but it was still us. I’m okay with that.”
“You forgive too easily,” Conall told her as his arms dropped to his sides.
“Yes, I do and I always have and likely always will. You need to decide to forgive yourself for having thoughts that may seem a bit too intense. I will tell you if you ever do something that I don’t like or want.” Feeling confident in her command of the situation, she let her gaze wander down his relaxing body and noted the untied pants barely still at his waist that only just covered his arousal.
“Aye, Sarah, I doubt I would have stopped. Do you still forgive me?” Conall challenged, daring her to find the monster he saw in himself.
“Yes, I do. Would you have hurt me?” The question didn’t need to be asked for her sake, only his.
Conall furrowed his brow. “Nay, but it seems wrong to be excited with you fighting me.”
“Yeah, it kind of does, but it happened. We can either tear it apart all night or move forward. I know I am safe with you and you know that I am safe without you.” Smiling up at him, she shared one other thought. “There are people who prefer their sex to be violent and edged with pain. While that isn’t me, your thoughts aren’t unique. Not that I’m saying that’s what you wanted, but I’m not worried about you holding me down.” She closed her mouth before adding that type of act filled best-selling books that the world had read.
“I dinna want to hold you down as then I would nay feel your hands upon me,” Conall said, his tone gentle. Then he tilted his head to the side and his gaze left hers. “I never want violence. You should only be touched with love.”
>
In the past fifteen minutes, I have defeated a simulated violent attack to make him feel better about leaving me for who knows how long. I have stabbed him repeatedly with a comb. He ripped through two layers of my clothing. Bella nearly tore out his throat. We almost had some freaking violent sex that would have bordered way close to the edge of acceptable for both of us. He touches me with love, which is a whisper away from perfection. But best of all, we are talking it out. Damn, I think I love him even more.
“Oh, sweetie, I don’t want violence either. I only want you and I love touching you.” Tentative arms were held out in front of her, physically questioning if she would accept. Without thought, Sarah let those strong arms wrap around her and hold her close.
Conall ran his fingertips up and down her bare spine, sending shivers in their wake. “Forgive my need to have you learn such. My weakness should nay cause you to bear the heavy burden or to be attacked within your chamber.”
Resting her head over his pounding heart, the question of whether the exercise had been good for him or bad bore no meaning. It had done both; brought him acceptance that she could fight if needed but it had triggered a form of lust he couldn’t accept even if the lust had been for her.
“I need to ask you a question,” she began.
His exploring fingertips dipped lower and ran over the curve of an exposed cheek. “I will say yes.” Conall’s reply mimicked their intimate adventures.
Sarah shook her head and wished she could lose her thoughts and mind to the man holding her with his gentle touches and hardness resting against her stomach. “Did that help you or did it leave you in a worse place?”
With one hand cupping her behind and other tangled in her hair, he sighed. “Aye. A bit of both.”
Only concerned with Conall, she let their connection keep her gown up and circled his neck with her arms to hold him close. “Are you concerned that you still want me?”
When her stomach pushed against his erection, a strangled groan left his throat. “I always want you, but fear that my needs come from a dark and violent place and you are my light.”
Letting the compliment wash over her, the poetry called to her heart with the unique message and the weight of consequence on her shoulders. Conall needed to be his own light to survive, not use her as an excuse to be strong when he felt weak and alone. But they’d already danced over enough dangerous ground tonight and she doubted either one of them remained ready for more.
“Oh, sweetie, I can’t even think of you without wanting you, much less be in the same room with you,” Sarah admitted with his hands beginning to wreak havoc with her nerve endings.
His hand gripped the torn dress at her hips and she felt his retreat. “You should have some fear of me given my actions.”
You are so complicated and simple all at the same time.
Pushing out of his arms may have been a mistake, she realized too late as his face fell into a mask of hurt and rejection only to hide it by again facing the door. Grasping to complete her thought, she pushed the ruined gown off her arms and let it fall to the floor in a whoosh of fabric. Wearing only her boots, she bent to retrieve her dagger, which had been safely kept away from their mock-combat zone.
Gripping the dragon-carved pommel, she returned to Conall and hoped she read the situation correctly. Lifting the bottom of his shirt, the dagger split the fabric and she yanked hard until the shirt tore all the way up his back. While he stiffened, he made no move to stop her.
Unable to focus on the massive expanse of rippled muscles, her gaze fell to the scars that showed white on his tanned skin. Each one remained a reminder that he had lived through more than she would ever truly comprehend.
Peter nailed it when he said you weren’t meant for a life of fighting. Your soul is too gentle and kind to reconcile the pain and death. Even in teaching me, your thoughts are lost in what has been. Your concern for me overwhelms me and I should have known better than to let you take us here.
Blinking back moisture at his internal conflict, she pushed the torn fabric over his shoulders to pool on his arms that were braced against the door. As always, her palms practically sang with the need for more contact, for more of Conall pressed against her.
“Did I hurt you?” Sarah asked, already knowing the answer. “Or did I only ruin a shirt?”
This should give the ladies in the laundry something to talk about tomorrow; a pile of shredded clothing from the laird’s chamber will be fantastic gossip fodder.
Conall pulled the shirt’s remnants into his hands and she assumed he studied it, given the angle of his head. “You ripped my shirt.”
“Yep, I did. You ripped my dress. It would seem we are both missing some clothing, but we are both still in one piece.” To prove the missing clothing part, she pressed her naked chest against his back and sighed at the delicious contact. Unable to restrain her hands, they pushed under the untied leather trews to rest on his hips. “Conall, the clothing doesn’t matter.”
The shirt fell to the floor in a crumpled ball. “And yet I touched you with. . .”
“You touched me to prove your point, to teach and not to hurt. I’m fine.” Pressing her lips to the skin under his hairline at the top of his back, she kissed several places feeling his muscles clench everywhere she lingered. “You lost a shirt and you feel fantastic.” Daring to make one final push, she asked, “How do I feel against you?”
A low rumble reverberated against her that quickly emphasized they were done rehashing events never to be changed. Pushing her hands to the front of his hips, she lingered inches away from his arousal, waiting for his reply.
“You feel soft and make my skin burn,” he whispered with his hands reaching behind him to hold her sides.
Okay, this I can understand. Let’s get lost and then talk after we’re done. While I hate that a lesson left us here, I can so work with how you banish nasty demons.
With soft kisses brushing his shoulder blades, her hand skimmed over his taut abdomen and with one finger she danced over the skin of his erection, her most intimate parts tightening in longing at his sharp inhale. “Is this for me?” Distracting his train of self-deprecation had extremely obvious benefits.
“All of me ‘tis yours. But you need to ken. . . I am still. . . not thinking. . .” His voice trailed off when she wrapped her hand around him and began a slow rhythm.
“I don’t want you thinking right now,” she whispered against his back, her mind miles away from helping him with her body flaring to life.
Conall moved with lightning speed, facing her, taking her forcefully against him, shifting to turn them again and Sarah blinked, dizzy and disoriented, to find herself in his arms with her back against the cool door. Without pause, one strong arm lifted her under her bottom and the other grabbed her thigh to wrap it around his bare hips. She’d missed whatever motion lowered his leather to his thighs.
“You should think about who I am,” he growled against her mouth. “You should fear the thoughts of how I wish to have you.” His lips pressed against hers and offered no escape from his kiss and tongue, not that she wanted one.
Sarah clung to his hips, her legs wrapped around him, and accepted the hungry mouth that didn’t ask. With her fingers in his hair, she tugged at the silken strands and whimpered into his mouth when his manhood poised to take her willing body.
Pushing back and gasping for air, she saw it, the war in his eyes. Guilt and lust raged with uncertainty and challenge. His upper lip practically snarled as she tenderly cupped his face and shifted her hips. “I want you, Conall. I will always want you.”
A grunt left his lips as he took what she offered and entered her roughly in one swift thrust. Fingers dug into the flesh of her hips while he took her hard and with abandonment of thought. But she felt more than the sensations of their joined bodies. His burning gaze locked onto hers, sending sparks shooting through her body. Even in the dim light, she could feel his eyes as if they too touched her.
His hip
s plunged hard and then rocked against her, reaching a place inside that made her eyes blur and every inch of her flesh scream with delight. The wave of ecstasy washed over her with no warning, no gradual build-up. Sarah cried out in shock as Conall pulled back, only to repeat the exquisite sensations over and over until breathing became nearly impossible.
She felt every step he took to the bed, both inside her core and with her breasts rubbing against his chest. Sarah struggled slightly as he forced her away until his harsh whisper against her panting mouth banished away all the uncertainty.
“We are nay finished.”
Before her dislodged body fell back on the bed, he rotated her floating form until the soft furs met her stomach and her feet met the floor. Bent over the bed, the exotic texture of the furs seemed mundane compared to the hand that forced its way between to cup and squeeze a breast with unashamed demand.
The manic lust threatened to swallow her whole as Conall ran the other calloused palm over her exposed bottom seconds before he filled her again. Her body bucked back against his to take everything he offered with equal desire and a sharp cry from her lips.
His broad chest covered her back and she relished both of his palms over her mounds that would beg for his touch if they could speak. Each squeeze, every thumb brush over a peaked nipple added to the myriad of awareness and sensation of each and every thrust filling her. Lost in him, in the joining that no longer bordered on demanding, it danced into his possession of her flesh and she gripped the fur between her fingers to hold onto what remained of her sense of self.
Teeth grazed her shoulder and a whimper of longing left her throat a heartbeat before a growl filled her ear. “You should fear me.”
But then his hips twisted while he plunged, and Sarah’s body fell into the chasm of pleasure, heat engulfing her and a breathy scream on her lips.
Gasping for air, she felt his chest leave her back and the tender hands that brushed down from her shoulders to her hips and then down her thighs with him still and hard within her. The back of her thighs wanted to weep with loss when he pulled back and she could no longer feel him anywhere.
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