Moon Craving

by Lucy Monroe

  She giggled and soon his chuckle followed.

  When her gaze traveled around to the other eaters in the hall, she found Niall glaring daggers at her and her giggles faded to nothing. She could not forget that along with her husband’s trust, the revelation of her secret had lost her a friend.

  Later, tired, Abigail excused herself to retire.

  “I will escort you to your chamber, my lady,” Guaire offered.

  But Talorc stood abruptly. “I will go up with my wife.”

  Abigail took her husband’s hand with some trepidation. She was not sure she wanted to be alone with him where he would feel free to continue berating her for her deception.

  He noticed her hesitation and frowned at it, his hand closing firmly over hers. She looked back at the table and saw Niall give Guaire a look that made little sense.

  The huge warrior looked hurt in some way, but Guaire had done nothing to hurt him.

  Chapter 16

  Talorc locked their door after leading Abigail inside the bedchamber and then leaned against it, facing her. “You and Guaire have grown very close.”

  “He reminds me of Emily.”

  Her husband’s shoulders jerked in surprise. “My soldier reminds you of your sister?”

  She giggled at the implication. “Not because he is feminine. He may not be as fierce as you, but he is a strong soldier. I would trust my safety in his hands,” she said, repeating something similar to what Una had said once.

  “So, how does he remind you of Emily?”

  “He saw value in me before he learned my secret and that did not change after.”

  Talorc’s brows drew together. “According to what I saw at dinner tonight, many members of the clan feel the same.”

  “Yes, it is amazing. Only Guaire was already a good friend, and then he showed himself to be a true friend both standing by and standing up for me. Even with Niall, who intimidates most clan members.”

  “Like Emily did when you first lost your hearing,” Talorc said, clearly able to draw a logical conclusion.

  “Emily saved my life twice.” Abigail wanted to make her husband understand why her sister was such an important part of her life. “When I had the fever, no one wanted to risk exposure to nurse me.”

  “Not even your mother?”

  “Especially not my mother.”

  “So, Emily nursed you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You said she saved your life twice.”

  “Fear of the inexplicable is strong in my father’s keep.”

  “Yes?”

  Abigail nodded. “If the rest of the keep had been made aware of my loss, they might well have insisted on ridding the keep of me.”

  “Your father would have submitted to the demands of his people?”

  “I know only that my mother would not have been disappointed to see me gone.”

  He said that word again, the one she did not understand.

  Unable to meet his gaze directly and say what she wanted, she peered up at him through her lashes. “I did not believe I would ever have a person in my life who was more important to me than my sister.”

  “You want me to believe I am that person?” The tension in his body was easy to read.

  Emotion clogged her throat. “Yes.” More than anything.

  Several long seconds passed in silence while he watched her and she watched him from beneath her lashes.

  “I want proof.”

  Her head snapped up. “What?”

  “Prove to me how much you want to be with me.” He put his arms out. “Come here.”

  This she could do.

  Without hesitation, she walked right into those arms that always made her feel so protected and safe. His spicy, masculine scent washed over her, filling her with longing. She looked up at him, letting her love shine for him to see if he wanted to. “Please, don’t send me away, Talorc.”

  He did not reply, but his mouth claimed hers with raw passion. He tasted like the mead from dinner and that feral flavor she associated with him alone. It was a heady combination and she didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. The pure bliss went on and on and yet felt like it was over in a moment. She was so dazed by it, he had to touch her eyelids to let her know he had something to say when he lifted his mouth from hers.

  She allowed her eyes to flutter open.

  His expression was all fierce possession and wild desire. “Mine.”

  “Yours.” If only she could know as surely that he was hers.

  “Show me.”

  She nodded, finally understanding what he wanted her to do to prove his place in her heart. He wanted her to offer the one thing that was not and had never been part of her deception, something far removed from her sister and anyone else.

  The untamed passion she felt for him.

  With that in mind, she undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor, her hands already busy tugging at his plaid. She needed to get to bare skin, not just because he wanted her to prove something to him, but because she craved the intimacy he gave only to her.

  The blue, green and black tartan came away from his magnificent body with ease. He had not worn a shirt, so the loss of his plaid left him totally, gloriously naked. His body glowed with vitality, his muscles rippling with tension under his golden skin.

  His manhood was half-filled and getting thicker by the second, his testes hanging low and heavy with seed. Knowing he would be planting that seed deep in her body soon, she quivered in her core, the thought of having his child unbearably sweet.

  The smell of dried sweat and musk filled the air between them, calling to her senses like an earthy elixir. She did not understand it, but he brought out an unrefined element in her character that had her responding on the most basic of levels with and to him. Like an animal with its mate, she found not only the sight of him pleasing, but his smell and taste as well.

  “You like to look, don’t you, my angel?”

  Her heart leapt at the endearment and she nodded, still reveling in the saturation of her senses.

  But the way he felt under her fingers was the most wondrous thing of all. To have the freedom to touch him anywhere, any way she liked, and to have that freedom extended even now was beyond believing. In the best possible way.

  Unable to resist taking advantage of that freedom, she reached out and caressed him, sliding her hand down his neck, across his chest and down his stomach until it hovered just above the nest of hair that crowned his manhood. Her entire being shuddered in pleasure at the jerk of his body and his rapidly burgeoning erection that showed the instant effect she had on him.

  Curling her hand around him, she hissed at the heat emanating off his hard flesh. “So hot, so strong,” she whispered, watching his face for more signs of his pleasure.

  They were there, in the way his eyes closed beneath his furrowed brow, and his lips parted to suck in and release his panting breath.

  He thrust toward her with his hips, his hardened staff sliding against her fingers. “So good.”

  She dropped to her knees and kissed the spongy tip. His knees bent and then he straightened them, and she could tell he remained standing by will alone. She nuzzled into the black curls of his pubic hair, inhaling the unique scent of his sex. His now-rigid penis rubbed against her cheek as she searched out more of the enticing fragrance.

  He grabbed her head between his big warrior’s hands and guided her so her mouth slid along his stretched, taut foreskin. She blinked at the dark red head, pearls of liquid weeping from the slit. Then she lifted her gaze to his.

  He raised one brow as if asking what she would do now.

  She knew what she wanted. To taste. She leaned forward the scant distance between her mouth and his manhood and lapped at those delicious-looking pearls, loving the salty sweetness.

  He used his hold on her to guide her mouth farther onto his hardened shaft. “Please …”

  She didn’t want to miss his words, but the pleasure in her mouth was irresistible.
Her eyes slid shut as her head tipped forward to take him in as deeply as she could. He hit the back of her throat and she concentrated on relaxing her throat and enjoying the sensation. She sucked as she pulled backward, swirling her tongue over his head. Delectable.

  His knees tried to buckle again and she repeated the move, increasing the suction of her mouth until her cheeks hollowed out. Continuing the loving with her mouth, she began stripping her own clothing off. He liked looking at her and she wanted to give him everything to show him that she was his.

  She had to slide her lips off the silk-wrapped stone column of his flesh in order to remove her blouse and shift though.

  He took the opportunity to move to the furs, where he lay back, propped up on his elbows, his strong, muscular legs spread wide. He beckoned her with one hand. “Come here.”

  The expression of need on his face filled some of the cracks in her heart.

  She did not bother to stand, but crawled across the floor, her breasts swaying and her gaze fixed on his.

  His gorgeous blue eyes widened and then narrowed to slits as his body shuddered in pleasure.

  Power surged through her with the knowledge that by simple acts such as this, she could make the mighty Chrechte laird come undone.

  She stopped on her hands and knees between his legs. “I love you.”

  Something flared in his face, but he remained silent. Waiting.

  She licked her lips and watched as his Adam’s apple moved to indicate he had groaned. Placing one hand on each of his thighs, she leaned forward until her mouth once again closed over his member. Feasting on the pearls of moisture that continued to leak from it, she concentrated on pleasuring just the bulbous tip.

  She used one hand to slide his foreskin back to give her better access and lightly dragged her teeth across his slit before dipping inside with the very tip of her tongue. His hips bucked and he took hold of her head again, his fingers buried in her blond curls. She sucked and licked and gently slid her teeth along his hardness, barely letting them touch. He began to thrust on his own, but never so hard he choked her.

  It was wild, wanton and utterly decadent.

  And then he was coming, his essence filling her mouth and bursting across her senses. She swallowed, taking him into her with joy that marked her soul as his lips and teeth often marked her neck.

  “Abigail. My angel. My true mate.”

  This time she didn’t blink at the voice. She did not try to hear it, or anything else, again. She just enjoyed it. She did not care if it was her imagination or not. That voice spoke in a tone of awe, affection, maybe even love. She let the emotions wash over her. It did not matter in that moment that they were fantasy; they fed her hope and the kernel of happiness that she always felt in his presence.

  He lifted her from her place between his legs with gentle hands, his expression almost reverent. “Sweet wife. My angel.”

  Tears pricked her eyes and she did nothing to force them back. The feelings were too big to hold inside.

  He pulled her up to lie on the furs with him, his hands caressing her as she settled against the ultrasoft pelts. “Now, I make love to you.”

  “You already did.”

  His eyes closed and then opened, the blue surrounded by a golden glow that sent shivers through her. “You are perfect for me.”

  “Even flawed?”

  “We are all flawed in one way or another.”

  Her mother did not ascribe to that theory, but Abigail could thank God that her husband did. “You are perfect for me.”

  “As it should be.”

  Then he went about proving to her just how perfect for her that he was. Big calloused hands skimmed over her body with touches both gentle and demanding, drawing forth an uninhibited response. He caressed her neck, her belly, her thighs and finally her breasts, nipples and that spot of ultimate pleasure between her legs. She cried out in sheer delight when he entered her, responding eagerly to the long, drawn-out pace he set.

  Her climax took her by surprise, sending her body rigid as she felt his seed, hot and wonderful, inside her.

  They curled together in the furs that she loved better than any wood-and-rope bed because she and Talorc shared them.

  Chapter 17

  Abigail could not believe the difference it made in her days having her clan know of her inability to hear.

  She no longer had to constantly maneuver herself so she could see people’s faces. Knowing she needed to read their lips, the clan members made sure they faced her when they spoke to her. No one got impatient when they had to repeat themselves, and that made her more willing to ask them to do so. People made sure she “heard” important news personally, not relying on her overhearing it.

  She was aware of what went on around her on a level she had never achieved before. And it was magnificent. She felt like she truly belonged.

  Each day in this new, open environment, she relaxed more. She tried new things, ventured farther afield in the holding, meeting clan members that did not often visit the fortress. Guaire was often her companion, but she missed Niall’s friendship. That was not to say she did not see him. Along with the intensely curious Earc, he frequently accompanied her and Guaire on their forays to visit herds-men and other far lying clan members.

  But Niall acted as the silent escort, rarely speaking to Guaire or Abigail, and turning a fierce frown on them any time they touched in friendship.

  Una had gone back to treating her laird’s wife less than warmly as well. Abigail tried to talk to other women about her chilly demeanor, but the housekeeper denied any negative feelings. Nevertheless, in ways both subtle and overt, Una made it clear she would prefer Abigail leave the domestic duties to her.

  However, Abigail refused to give up her place of domestic leadership in the tower. She was Talorc’s wife and would not allow another woman to make her feel inadequate in the role. Whatever grudge Una held against her, Abigail was still lady of the keep. Full stop. Period.

  While she had no desire to lord her position over others as her mother did, she was not about to be walked over either. Thus, she moved delicately into a more solidly supervisory capacity each day. She made it a point to give personal direction to the women who helped Una do the cooking and cleaning for Talorc and his elite warriors.

  And continuing in her campaign to make the great hall and the rest of the tower more of a home than a fortress, Abigail instructed Una in further additions and changes she wanted made.

  Chairs now flanked the great fireplace and fresh flowers graced the banquet tables. A long plaid, about four feet wide, hung down the wall behind the table at which Talorc, Abigail and her husband’s highest-ranking soldiers sat. She was embroidering the Sinclair coat of arms in black thread on a piece of blue silk she had brought with her from England, which she planned to sew onto the banner’s center.

  Una resisted the changes, complaining to others about the fresh flowers and additional furniture to dust in the great hall. When she thought she could get away with it, she also countermanded Abigail’s orders to the other women.

  Abigail was contemplating what to do about that while she worked in the now-thriving herb garden. Despite the widow’s negative attitude, Abigail did not want to remove Una from her position. She kept hoping Una would settle to Abigail as her lady and start acting accordingly.

  In that way, she was very different from her mother, she knew. Sybil would have had the woman thrown out of the keep and off her husband’s lands for such behavior. No question.

  Abigail wondered sometimes if she gave Una so much tolerance because she could not stand to be like her mother. Was her compassion good for the clan, setting a positive example of tolerance? Or did her unwillingness to take direct action weaken her position as lady and therefore the sense of stability in the clan?

  She could not decide the answer to these questions and was wishing her sister were there to advise her when a commotion caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see wha
t was going on and stopped still to stare in shock.

  Talorc and Barr were walking with a big, black-haired warrior wearing a dark blue, green and pale yellow plaid. He had his arm firmly around a much smaller woman holding a baby.

  Abigail rubbed her eyes to make sure they were not deceiving her, but the same glorious vision showed upon opening them again. Her brain might trick her into thinking she’d heard her husband’s voice, but this had to be real. She wanted it to be so badly, she ached with it.

  Abigail gave a glad cry when she allowed herself to accept the recognition of gold and brown curls surrounding a beloved face.

  Emily!

  Abigail popped to her feet and rushed to her sister, dropping her little trowel, her skirts flying. Emily was running, too, her expression mirroring Abigail’s sheer elation. Abigail threw her arms around the other woman, little one and all.

  Kisses on her cheek and a one-armed hug that was hard enough to take Abigail’s breath told her it was true. Her sister was really here. Tears tracked down both their faces as they grinned at each other.

  “I worried I would never see you again,” Abigail choked out.

  “I knew God would not be so cruel, but I will admit I never considered he would use Talorc of the Sinclairs to restore you to me.”

  Abigail’s gaze flicked nervously to her husband to see how he took her sister’s words. While they had reached a rapprochement of sorts and their lovemaking was more intense than ever, he had never openly acknowledged her words of love, though she told him each night, and often at least one time during the day. It went without saying that he never said the words back.

  They had never discussed her plan to use him to get to her sister again, but the knowledge of it was a barrier between them. Invisible, but felt all the same.

  However, right now, there was nothing but indulgent pleasure on his face.

  Grateful for that much understanding, she smiled at him, her joy making her simple. “My sister is here.”

  “I noticed.” His lips quirked at one side drolly.

  Emily touched Abigail’s cheek in a long-familiar gesture to get her attention. “He invited us to come.”