by Wine, Mary
Nothing could have prepared her for how much she enjoyed it.
Craved it.
The thunder crashed above them as Faolan began to move. He was an extension of the storm, formed from its swirling mass. She felt connected to the water, soaking her, like every drop of rain fed her strength.
“More,” she demanded. “More, Faolan.”
He growled again, moving against her in hard, deep thrusts. The pleasure grew from every motion of his hips. Cora met him every time, feeling the moment building. Inside her, something was tightening. It was like a string being stretched to the very breaking point.
When it came, it was explosive. Cora twisted in its grip, grinding herself up to meet Faolan’s next thrust. He let out a cry as his body drew taut. She’d never felt so connected to another person, and in that exact second, she wasn’t sure where she ended, and he began.
They were simply part of one another.
“Come now, lass.” Faolan lifted his head from where it had been resting on her shoulder. “I’ve got to get ye inside before ye freeze.”
Her legs were weak when he let them down. The water on the stones beneath her feet was cold. A shiver went up her body as Faolan grasped her hand and tugged her behind him. Across the top of the tower and inside. They both left a trail of water on their way into his chamber.
“Christ… I’m sorry, Cora.” Faolan ripped his wet clothes off. His kilt made a wet sound as it hit the floor.
“I should have brought ye inside.” He turned to stoke up the fire and pushed some new wood into it. Crimson light illuminated him. Every inch of his body was sculpted with hard ridges. Cora found herself mesmerized by the sight of him in nothing but his skin and firelight.
Was it selfish for her to look at him in such a way?
Perhaps, and yet at that moment, it simply felt intimate.
And her chemise didn’t suit the moment. She plucked the wet hem off her thighs and pulled it up her body, but the fabric was stubborn. Faolan moved, straightening and coming to her rescue. His greater height allowed him to tug the stiff fabric free. It made a little wet plop as it joined his clothing.
“I liked it,” she muttered. Reaching up, she smoothed away the frown marring his face. “I wasn’t cold.”
He moved her so she was close to the fire. She felt the heat drying the water still coating her skin and driving the chill from her body. More water was running down from her wet hair to puddle around her heels.
“Ye astound me, Cora.” His voice was a rough whisper. “I want to be tender…for ye.”
He reached out to stroke the hair back from her face. His fingers trembling as he struggled to control his strength.
“I like yer touch, Faolan.”
One side of his mouth twitched and curved upward. “I saw the sheet, Cora. I truly meant to leave ye in peace tonight, to heal.”
“Oh…so that is why ye did no’ come to me chamber.” The words were across her lips before she realized how exposing they were.
She suddenly felt shy. Cora shifted, unable to master the impulse to squirm. “That is expected…and well, it seems to be valued by many.”
He laid his hand on the side of her face, stilling her with the simple gesture. Cora lifted her face and looked into his eyes.
“I’m a beast, Cora, but it pleases me to know ye came to me pure.”
His tone was edged with rough emotion. Was it brutish? To enjoy knowing he’d spilled her virgin blood? Cora wasn’t sure, but the flicker of contentment in his eyes didn’t strike her as possessive. At least not in the same way that other men had looked at her. Faolan seemed to see her and not just the things she brought with her to their marriage.
Ye’re looking too deep…
Perhaps she was.
“Ye are a treasure, lass. Never doubt that I understand yer worth.”
He turned her so her front was facing the fire. Faolan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his face in the hair on the back of her head, which was half dry. He drew his hands up her belly, across her ribs, up further until he was cupping her breasts.
“Ye are perfection, Cora.”
Outside, the storm was still raging. The walls buffeted them from the wind and the rain. It was more than the walls, though. What Cora felt surrounding her most was Faolan. His hard body pressed up against hers. Suddenly she understood why a woman was softer. It was so she might fit against a man more completely.
She felt like her curves were melting into Faolan.
Cora felt more complete against Faolan than she’d ever felt in her life. It was as though she’d finished a book and suddenly discovered there was another volume. While there had been hints of things yet to come, the discovery was as startling as opening her eyes for the first time.
Never had she imagined the sheer scale of wonder awaiting her.
Faolan stroked her. His hands moving over her skin like she was crafted of the finest velvet. She lay her head back against his wide shoulder, letting her hands rest on his hard thighs. The darkness beyond the firelight was the perfect frame for the moment. Cora drifted away on soft waves of sensation. The heat began to build inside her, little by little, with every slow stroke.
*
Faolan didn’t rush this time. He was savoring the moments which lead up to the point when he lifted Cora off her feet. He cradled her against his body, walking toward his bed with unhurried steps.
He wanted to feel her heart beating.
Wanted to listen to each little gasp she took when he found just the right way to touch her.
He’d been too hurried before to taste her nipples. Each one was a tiny rosebud that drew into a hard point when he took the time to flick them with his tongue. He closed his mouth around one and drew upon it. Cora made a little sound of delight, which sent heat into his member. He nuzzled a path to the opposite breast and gave it the same treatment.
This time she arched. Rising up off the bed to offer the peak to him. Her hands were on his upper arms, her fingers splayed wide as she clutched him closer.
He wanted to do so much more, and yet, he couldn’t seem to hold back the urge to roll over her. Somehow, being beside her was too far away to tolerate.
He needed to be closer.
An intense spike of satisfaction went through him as she cradled him between her thighs. Her embrace held a welcome he’d never believed possible between a man and woman.
She let out a little sound as he entered her. A cross between a growl and a purr. The sheer uncivilized nature of it stroked a chord deep inside him. Down where the part of his personality which had never been tamed lived.
Cora opened her eyes, and he saw the desire glittering there.
It wasn’t coy like Noreen’s had been.
Something new ripped through him, a sense of discovery that surprised him.
It was like finding out that fables were real.
Afterward, Faolan lay beside Cora, attempting to decipher his feelings. His lust was satisfied, and yet, he still craved her company. In fact, he was certain he’d rip into anyone who made the mistake of opening the chamber door and interrupting them. He was possessive and defensive.
Was it love?
Was the need pulsing through him to cuddle Cora close that thing which had driven his mother to her ruin? If so, he should have considered it something to be wary of for he’d seen his mother suffer for years because of her choice to follow her heart. His father hadn’t formed as deep a connection as she had. He’d moved on to another favorite and another throughout the years. His mother had simply been one of a handful of companions who his wife tolerated until the attraction wore off. Once that happened, the discarded female had been put out, and his father hadn’t offered even a silver penny to help any of them.
Seems ye are no’ too much like yer sire, laddie…
Such was a pleasant thought. For Faolan had never been able to completely harden his heart against his mother. Because if she had not followed her heart, he w
ould not have been born. Aye, his life had been hard, but it had made him strong.
Strong enough to hold onto the position of laird. When it had first landed on him, he’d not been too interested. It was a duty. Another one he was expected to shoulder because of who had fathered him.
Now, he smoothed his fingers along Cora’s bare arm.
Well now, being laird meant he had the right to lay with Cora and keep her as his wife. All of the duties and lack of rewards was suddenly worth every bit of suffering he’d endured because he’d arrived at a place where he might enjoy the fruit of his efforts.
He’d not seen it coming.
Faolan slowly smiled in the dark. Malcolm had certainly done his best to ensure Faolan never laid his head down inside the McKay stronghold.
Well, ye’re here, laddie…
Cora shifted. Faolan adjusted his hold and tucked the bedding up to her chin.
Aye. He was indeed the laird.
God help any man who thought to remove him.
*
Munro Land…
“Staring at that map will nae reveal Cora’s fate.”
Rolfe Munro muttered as he placed a measure of whiskey next to Buchanan.
Buchanan looked up at Rolfe. “I’m grateful for the welcome ye’ve given us.”
Rolfe shrugged. “When this storm breaks, I’ll ride out with ye.”
Buchanan nodded and returned to looking at the map. Each clan kept records of their own territory. Sharing those maps wasn’t common. Rolfe was trusting Buchanan with the details of the land the Munros called theirs. Information on where creeks flowed. Most importantly, ones that were not year-round.
“I would no’ have allowed her to depart if I’d suspected there might be such a severe storm,” Rolfe added as he came to lean over the map.
“I believe ye, Rolfe.” Buchanan looked his fellow laird in the eyes. “Cora has always had a fickle fate.”
“Five of yer Retainers are dead, Buchanan.”
Buchanan looked back at the map. He could feel Rolfe watching him.
“I won’t believe it until I find her.” Buchanan closed his eyes against the little voice inside him that told him how grizzly a scene it might be when he, at last, discovered where Cora was.
Buchanan looked back at Rolfe. “If this map is correct, she might well have been carried to McKay land.” He tapped a place on the map. “Here. They were building a tower there. If she made it that far, she might have found shelter.”
Rolfe drew in a stiff breath. “There are two towers now. But Malcolm McKay is no’ a good sort. Best to hope yer sister is not in his keeping. He’s the sort of man who would make the most of that situation.”
Buchanan curled his fingers into fists. “I’ve not done as well by her as I should have. She should have been settled, but I just kept thinking she wasn’t ready.”
“She wasn’t,” Rolfe agreed. “I saw it sure enough when she was here.”
Buchanan grinned. “And yet ye allowed her to leave. Now that is an insult, man.”
Rolfe shrugged. “If I wanted a dutiful, contracted bride, I’d have locked her abovestairs until she softened toward me.” He sent Buchanan a knowing look. “Ye understand that there can be more between a husband and wife.”
Buchanan reached out and cupped Rolfe’s shoulder. “I hope ye find it.”
“Just as I hope ye find yer sister.”
Buchanan nodded. “If any female could survive that storm, it would be Cora.”
“But the McKay have sent no word,” Rolfe added. “Still, knowing what I do about Malcolm McKay, it is nae beyond possible Cora is there. He’d consider her a prize worth keeping.”
“I’ll cut his balls off if he’s ruined her,” Buchanan promised.
But he knew he’d have to get Cora out of the McKay stronghold first. “I’d best send for Cormac Grant,” he muttered. “We might need assistance.”
The sound of a bell ringing drew both their attention. It was coming from one of the gatehouses at the top of the wall. Rolfe headed toward the stairs, climbing them quickly as Buchanan followed. There was a steady stream of Retainers joining them. The storm was fierce, but whoever was looking for shelter would not be allowed in unless Rolfe deemed them safe. A miscalculation could translate into a disaster for the entire clan.
“Grants, Laird!” Sholto, Rolfe’s senior captain, reported. “Seeking shelter. Claims to be Cormac Grant riding at the head.”
“Cormac is off his land?” Buchanan questioned.
Rolfe lifted his arm and signaled to the gate for them to raise the bar. In the rain, it was a difficult task. Buchanan watched the Munro Retainers straining to get it done as their boots sank into the mud.
He followed Rolfe down to the great hall. The long tables were pushed back against the walls with the benches stored on top of them to clear space for sleeping. With the storm raging overhead, every dry spot was needed to shelter the clan. The Retainers had rolled themselves into their plaids to sleep. Now they were awake as they waited to see why a party of Grants was knocking on their gate.
“I’ll be,” Rolfe declared as Cormac entered the hall. “I haven’t seen ye in years, man.”
Cormac grinned. He clasped wrists with Rolfe. “I’m grateful ye let me in.”
Cormac turned to Buchanan. “Yer wife sent me word about Cora. Is there any news?”
“It’s possible she’s on McKay land.”
Rolfe extended his hand toward his study. A few sleepy-looking maids were beginning to appear with food for the Grant Retainers. The men were soaked to the skin and grateful.
Buchanan was grateful, too. His wife had taken up the duties of sending out the necessary letters. He scanned the number of Grant Retainers and felt his confidence grow. If Cora was on McKay land, Malcolm would think twice about holding her if all three clans were united in the effort to recover her. Beyond that, Buchanan wouldn’t think about what might have happened to his sister. Whatever her circumstances, he had to bear some of the responsibility for allowing her to depart from his own stronghold. A man had to safeguard his own.
Buchanan contemplated Cormac.
“Aye, I know well we have unfinished business,” Cormac responded. “Me father takes a great deal of me time, but that is my duty as a son. I should have sent for Cora two years ago. But the truth is, me father might have harmed her. He’s taken to seeing ghosts and thinks to run them through. His mind has gone soft, but his body still has strength.”
Cormac drew in a stiff breath and shared a look with Rolfe. “I know ye understand that it’s not something I wish to be common knowledge.”
Rolfe’s own father had been ill for many years. Somewhere in the stronghold, he was clinging to life in stubborn defiance.
“Let’s find her first,” Buchanan said firmly.
Rolfe and Cormac shared a look behind Buchanan’s back. It was one full of the knowledge of the dark possibilities Buchanan might have to face. But blood was blood. So, they’d ride with him and hope they never had to call on him to be at their backs in a similar situation.
Chapter Nine
Someone pounded on the chamber door just after daybreak.
Faolan groaned. Cora shifted and squeaked when the door was opened before Faolan bid anyone enter.
“Gainor…” Faolan growled. “What are ye doing here so bloody early?” He tossed the covers over Cora’s head as Yestin and Lonn followed Gainor into the room.
“What are ye doing?” Faolan demanded once more as he climbed out of bed.
“There’s a matter needing yer attention, Laird,” Yestin answered.
His voice was grave. Cora felt something tingle on her nape as she peeked over the edge of the bedding.
“Here, now,” Brynna spoke as she came into the room.
Faolan had barely pulled a shirt on as Brynna and the Head-of-House bustled into the chamber with three maids in tow. Brynna propped her hands on her hips.
“Ye’ll have to be going, Laird,” Brynna said. �
�We need to get the mistress up and dressed so she can appear below. All of ye men…out with ye!”
The maids weren’t willing to wait either. They began pushing the captains out the door.
“Now…just a moment…this is the laird’s chamber,” Gainor protested.
“And the mistress is not presentable,” Brynna insisted as she took Faolan’s boots from one of the matrons and pressed them into Gainor’s hands before she closed the door firmly in his face.
Cora stared at the Head-of-House. Brynna clapped her hands together. It was a bold action, one which sent a sense of foreboding through Cora.
“Come now, Mistress,” Orla encouraged her. “Ye need to be up and dressed. Do nae keep the priests waiting.”
The maids pulled the bedding back, allowing the crisp morning air in. Cora was quick to get on her feet as she shivered. But she stopped as her brain processed what Brynna said.
“Priests?” Cora asked.
Brynna’s expression hardened. “They are waiting below.”
The maids were suddenly all looking down. Tension knotted the muscles between Cora’s shoulders. She dressed in silence, noting that Brynna buttoned her doublet all the way to the top this time.
The Church and its representatives were not to be taken lightly. Even Brynna was wearing a linen cap over her hair this morning, and she brought one over to Cora. It was a delicate one, with a small decorative stitch running along its edge.
“Best to tone down yer natural coloring a bit, Mistress. If ye do nae mind me saying so,” Brynna muttered as she tucked the cap into place.
The sense of foreboding intensified.
But Cora refused to cower. She stood up.
“Let’s see what the priests need today.”
The odds were not in her favor. But Cora squared her shoulders and kept her chin level.
As mistress of the stronghold, she’d face whatever the matter was without shirking.
*
Faolan curled his fingers into the fabric of Yestin’s jerkin.
“They refused to tell me, Laird,” the senior captain would not be intimidated.
Faolan released him. “Forgive me.”
“I’m no’ too happy to see the Church up here,” Yestin replied. “It is rarely a good reason which brings them.”