It was his way of telling her, swiftly and convincingly, that she had not lost him at all.
Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, Darach led her to a grassy area near the shore. They sat side by side, and he told her, in a voice still fraught with disbelief, all that Sibylla had said.
When he had finished, Laurien felt such a confusing knot of emotions that she could barely think. Her first feeling was elation at the thought that he was at last free, quickly followed by fear that he might never overcome his bitterness… might never make room for another woman in his life.
“God’s mercy,” she whispered, “can you ever forgive her?”
“I already have. I was not sure I had it within me, but I had to grant her forgiveness.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not guiltless in this. Eamon started all of it with his selfishness and greed, and Sibylla continued it with her revenge. But I allowed the anger I felt to consume ten years of my life. If I call Sibylla a coward for hiding all this time, I must call myself a coward as well.”
“Nay, Darach, that is the last word anyone would use to describe you—”
“I fled from what I feared, just as she did. I shut myself away from everyone, as she did—because I did not want to risk such betrayal again.”
“You were afraid of being hurt. And you are angry at yourself for giving in to your fear.”
They sat in silence for a time, gazing out across the loch as day passed into night. Red-brown rock formations towered out of the waters, their dark shadows stealing across the loch’s glassy surface.
“How is it,” Darach said softly, “that you know exactly what I feel before I am even able to put a name to it?”
“Because I love you,” she said, almost to herself.
Darach turned toward her with a look of surprise.
And only then did she realize what she had said. Her throat drew tight at the vulnerability she saw so clearly in his eyes. She lifted her hand to brush her fingertips over his tanned cheek.
And she said it again.
“I love you, Darach,” she whispered. Once out, the words took on a strength all their own, and she said them again, reveling in the feel of them on her lips. “I love you. I love you.”
Darach circled her with his arms, drawing her in tight.
“And it is not bravery to be fearless,” she told him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Rather it is bravery to feel fear, and do what you must nonetheless.”
He stroked a hand through her hair. “My wise and learned demoiselle,” he murmured. “Laurien, if you had to make a choice…” He hesitated, then finished his question quickly. “If you had to make a choice between returning to Tours and staying with me, here, which would you choose?”
Laurien remained silent a long moment. He was asking her to stay with him, yet he said naught of love, or marriage.
But for so many years now, love and marriage had meant only bitterness and betrayal to Darach. He needed time to see them in a different light. He might be free of his past, but he was not yet free of himself, not yet able to say the words she longed to hear.
Would she be willing to stay, knowing that? Willing to give him the time he needed?
She thought of her studies and her work at Tours, all her friends, Sister Emeline…
And then she remembered the wisdom Sister Emeline had shared in her letter.
Even though your future will be different from the one you had planned, sometimes God sends us His greatest blessings in the most unexpected ways.
“I would stay here with you,” Laurien replied, and knew that she spoke her heart’s truth. “A life without the man I love would be no life at all.”
He smiled, his blue eyes as warm as the sky lit by morning sunlight. He drew her closer and eased her down onto the grass. “I am willing to guess,” he murmured, “that there was one part of the castle that was left out of your tour today.”
“And what is that?”
“The master’s bedchamber.”
Sighing, Laurien returned his smile. He might not yet be able to speak of his love for her, but she would happily settle for a demonstration. She let the full force of her love and passion show through her gaze. “Aye, milord.”
“Well then, milady.” He lifted her in his arms as he stood. “Let us remedy that oversight without delay.”
Chapter 24
Darach watched the first rays of dawn shimmer through a crack in the shutters and dance along the floor of his chamber. He and Laurien lay side by side in his bed, his arm wrapped around her waist, their bodies pressed together in warm union amid a tangle of sheets and blankets. He felt pleasantly exhausted.
They had kept each other awake most of the night, giving themselves to one another again and again. Laurien had surrendered to him completely, holding back nothing, by turns crying out his name and whispering words of love.
Have we been together so short a time? he thought in wonder. She fit beside him so perfectly, fit his life so perfectly, filling all the empty spaces within him. It was hard to imagine a time without her. Yet only a handful of days ago, he had been utterly alone. It was like falling asleep in a desert and awakening in an oasis. She was the water his parched spirit had thirsted for, the gentle rain that cooled the fires of longing within him.
He accepted all she could give, and marveled that she gave without demanding aught in return. What astonished him even more was the fact that he wanted to share so much with her—his secrets, his past, his future. He would give his very life for her, if that was what love demanded.
Love. The thought should have shocked him, but it did not. He was not sure when he had first known the name for this feeling that overpowered him, he had been fighting it so long.
But in the radiant first light of dawn, he found himself calmly accepting it as fact, yielding to it without a battle. This love for Laurien had quietly become a part of him, until it was no more changeable than the beating of his heart or the color of his eyes. To fight it now would be to fight himself. Instead he chose to revel in his own surrender.
He brushed his lips through her hair, thinking I love you, wanting to say it, but finding the words still caught in his throat. Instead, he planted a kiss on her shoulder, then rubbed his chin lightly against her back, tickling her with the stubble of his beard. She moaned softly and tried to roll over, but he held her still.
~ ~ ~
Laurien sighed, enjoying his hard-muscled strength surrounding her. Her body felt deliciously weary, tender in all her most sensitive places. Part of her wanted to savor the only hours of rest she had had this night, while part of her did not want to be separated from Darach even by sleep.
And the rogue was trying to make the choice for her, nibbling the nape of her neck.
She really should awaken so they could talk, she thought fleetingly. His eyes, his hands, his body had spoken eloquently of his love all night, but he could not seem to say the words. She knew how difficult it was for him, but she yearned to hear him say it. Only then could she hold him in her heart with a woman’s certainty.
He feathered an exquisitely arousing path of kisses over her shoulder, then pressed his hips against her. Laurien gasped at the feel of his hard arousal nestling the curve of her bottom, astonished that he could still desire her so, after the long and passionate night they had just shared.
She moaned when his tongue found her ear and flicked teasingly at the lobe. The man would be impossible if she kept giving in to him so easily.
“Saints’ breath, if you make love to me again I shall faint,” she whispered. “Darach, we need to talk…” Despite herself, she tilted her head back, baring her neck to his kisses.
“Later.” He nuzzled the tender skin of her jaw. Holding her tightly against him, he nudged her thighs apart with his knee.
“Darach, I am serious… we need to—” She cried out softly when his hand suddenly left her waist to find the moist core of her desire. She was already so sensitive tha
t his lightest touch nearly sent her into madness.
His fingers, exquisitely gentle, grazed her delicate bud. He explored her, opened her, until Laurien lost all memory of what she had been about to say, lost capacity for speech of any kind. When her lips parted, she uttered not a protest but a gasp of sweet longing.
Her pulse quickened. She felt open and vulnerable in this position, but any uncertainty she felt was drowned in the liquid fire that Darach’s touch sent flashing through her. She trusted him completely, knew that he alone could sweep her to the heights where they soared together as one.
His fingers parted her soft folds, and she could feel the blunt, heavy hardness of him pressing against her. He slowly, slowly began to ease himself inside her, his fingers returning to stroke her tender bud of desire. Her body tensed as a riot of sensations overwhelmed her, the pleasure almost too intense.
“Shhh,” Darach ordered in an urgent whisper. “I am here, and you are safe with me.”
His words worked like a spell, weaving around her to soothe her. Laurien opened to him, her softness yielding to his steely hardness. He thrust forward, gently filling her until he possessed her completely. She uttered a soft moan of satisfaction and joy at discovering how deep she could take him in this position. The sound became a cry of protest when he withdrew. Her body tightened around him, trying to hold him deep within her as he began to move slowly.
His fingers returned to work their magic in the damp curls between her legs. She arched against him, her lips parting in a soundless expression of pleasure. She felt an exquisite sense of feminine power, knowing she was the sole focus of all his passion. At the same time, she was vividly aware of the masculine power he wielded over her, a fierce, demanding strength. Yet she did not fear it, because her strengths balanced and nourished his. To be complete, to be whole, they needed each other.
Only together could they create a new and unyielding power that began and ended with love.
She felt utterly alive with awareness of him, the heat of his body, his solid muscles flexing and straining against her back with each deep thrust. They moved together like waves on a sea, ebbing and flowing one into the other. Laurien was lost in the motion, in the unbearably sweet sensation of his rigid length caressing her feminine depths.
When she thought her body would shatter with the tension, release at last blazed through her, shimmering with such intensity it left her trembling in Darach’s arms. He joined her an instant later, embedded deep within her, filling her with a liquid rush. His hoarse shout of exultation rang out, and then he sank down into the sheets beside her, utterly spent, his breath warm against her neck.
Incapable of movement and unwilling even to contemplate leaving the bed, Laurien sighed when he eased out of her and turned her in his arms. She had time only to place one light, damp kiss in the thatch of hair on his chest before sleep claimed her.
~ ~ ~
She awoke sometime later, noticing that Darach’s arms no longer surrounded her. He had gotten out of bed and was beginning to dress.
Laurien could barely raise her head from the pillows. “Where are you going?” she objected sleepily.
“To see if Malcolm’s message has arrived yet. Stay here and sleep,” he whispered, as if afraid to disturb the gentle feelings that still swirled through the room. He bent over her for a kiss, smiling down at her, his eyes still dark with passion. “You look especially beautiful at this time of morning, Camhanach.”
As he left, Laurien started to snuggle back down into the sheets, still half asleep, then sat up suddenly in vexation. He had done it again! She had wanted to talk when she first woke this morn, certain he was ready to declare his love for her… and he had neatly managed to distract her and get away without saying a word.
Throwing the sheets aside, she got out of bed and began to dress. This new habit she had developed of following Darach’s orders—without even thinking twice—was quite alarming. She had better stop being so compliant, lest the man become insufferably pleased with himself.
She found him in the great hall, alone before the hearth. He was studying a piece of parchment, his expression grim.
“It is not what you expected?” Laurien asked, worry edging her voice as she descended the steps.
Darach looked up as she approached and gave her a chagrined half smile. “And I thought I could keep you abed all day. Foolish of me to hope I had you in hand at last.”
Laurien ignored his attempt at humor. “Is it the message from Sir Malcolm?”
Darach nodded. “Aye, ’tis from him. I recognize his writing.”
Laurien could tell that something was wrong, and that he was trying not to let her see his concern. She touched his sleeve. “Darach, what is it? What has happened?”
He tipped her chin up, smiling at her reassuringly. “Naught for you to be concerned about.”
Laurien knew he was trying to protect her, a very noble and very male impulse that she did not care for one bit. “I want to help.”
Darach relented at last and handed her the missive.
She read it quickly. It was only three lines: A problem has arisen. I must discuss the situation with you in secret. Ride with all haste and meet me at Strathfillan, alone. “Why does he offer no details?”
“It may be that de Villiers has not secured the alliance.” Darach swore softly. “I do not want to think of what that would mean for Scotland.”
“Nay! Oh, Darach—”
“The only way to find out is to ride to Strathfillan as Malcolm asks.” Darach folded the paper and tucked it into his tunic.
Laurien could tell his mind was made up—and she knew from past experience that it was pointless to argue with him. “You are leaving,” she said hollowly. “And I am to stay here.”
“I have ever admired your quick mind, milady.” His tone had become light and teasing again. “Ranald is already having my horse saddled.”
He put an arm around her shoulders. Laurien tried to push him away, feeling unreasonably angry with him. She did not want to be treated like a fragile creature in need of safekeeping. She wanted to share every part of his life, the danger as well as the laughter and joy.
Darach did not allow her to leave his embrace. “Laurien, ’tis for your—”
“I do not care if it is for my protection. What about your protection? Am I not allowed to care about you?”
“Aye, that you are.” He kissed her tenderly. “But that discussion will have to wait. ’Tis time for me to leave.”
Giving her no chance for further questions or objections, he led her from the hall, one arm still around her shoulders. Outside in the bailey, a stable boy stood beside Darach’s horse and Ranald waited with his cloak and his sword.
Darach quickly donned both, looking at Laurien. “You will not follow,” he said, gently but firmly. “You will not leave here.”
“You will try to remember you are not made of steel,” she said in the same tone. She felt a pain in the pit of her stomach as she watched him fasten the scabbard around his waist.
“And your promise?” he insisted.
“I give you my solemn word, I will be here when you return… if you promise to return to me safe and whole.”
A spark of humor still lighting his eyes, he came over to her and caught her about the waist. “Demanding demoiselle.” He kissed her, a hard, possessive kiss that was over too soon, leaving her feeling as if she might sink to her knees.
“Aye, I promise,” he whispered for her alone. Still gazing down at her, he spoke to his steward. “I leave her in your care, Ranald. If aught befalls her, you shall answer to me.”
“She shall have the protection of this keep and every last man in it, sir,” Ranald assured him. He motioned for the stable boy to join him and they walked back toward the keep, discreetly giving Darach and Laurien privacy to say farewell.
As the steward left, Darach started to say something to her, then seemed to reconsider. With one last kiss, he silently released her and starte
d toward his horse.
Laurien wrapped her arms around herself, noticing for the first time the biting cold of the autumn wind. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she blinked rapidly, not allowing herself to give in to the fear and worry she felt.
Darach was beside his stallion now, one hand on the bridle, the other on the saddle. Suddenly he stopped, stood still a moment, then turned around. Surprising her, he strode back to her, pulled her into his arms, and held her tight.
He said nothing, simply held her against him, one hand reaching up to tangle in her hair. Laurien could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart pounding as if he were running a race. Then he brushed his lips against her cheek and spoke in a voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a growl.
“I love you.”
For a moment, Laurien could not believe what she had heard. The next instant she felt as if she were soaring on the wind. His words filled her heart and she looked up at him, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“You already knew that,” he said, his tone gently accusing as he kissed her tears away.
“Nay.” She leaned into his embrace and held him to her with a fierce strength she had not known she possessed. “I hoped.”
“Now you know,” he said gruffly. As if to ward off any further discussion or doubts on the subject, his lips lowered to hers, capturing her in a kiss as sweet as it was brief, like a flame flaring to life, only to be suddenly extinguished.
He crossed the bailey again, this time mounting his horse. He turned toward her one last time, and their gazes locked across the distance. Holding the stallion in check, he looked so powerful, invincible, every inch the warrior. His gaze felt like a physical touch, and she knew that he was capturing her image just as she was etching his into her mind and heart. Please, God, she begged silently, bring him back to me.
His Stolen Bride (Stolen Brides Series Book 0) Page 29
