“Wait,” he whispered near her ear, his breath stirring her hair, damp now with perspiration.
Then she felt him enter her, slowly, stretching her to accommodate him, only a little and then out. Slowly again, in a little farther and then out. One more time, slowly, farther still and out.
“God, Connor, don’t stop. Now,” she pleaded.
“Now,” he echoed, sliding his hands to her hips and driving himself into her.
The sting was instantaneous, and when she gasped he stilled inside her and waited, kissing her neck, her cheeks, her eyes as she panted.
“Should I stop?” His voice was strained, as if he’d forced himself to say the words.
The sound made Cate feel powerful and in answer to his question, she rocked her hips away from him and back, tilting, pressing, taking him deeply into her.
He growled, deep in his throat, or was it a laugh? She couldn’t be sure, swept away as she was on the frenzy of feeling he was building in her again.
When the sensations flooded over her, she held on to his shoulders tightly, digging her fingers in to anchor her against the feelings she thought might sweep her away.
Within seconds, his fingers clamped around her hips, holding her close as he surged into her, his body pulsing in a series of shudders.
They lay together, their breathing ragged, their bodies damp, as Cate considered what she’d just done.
No regrets. When she woke up tomorrow in her own time, she would still be thankful for this particular memory.
After a time, she reluctantly moved from the bed to find her clothing and dress, unwilling to awaken, naked and alone, in her own bedroom. When she returned to his side, Connor pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head.
They lay quietly, snuggled together. Though she fought it, Cate could feel herself drifting off.
“Connor?” She whispered his name one last time.
“Aye?”
“When I’m not here when you wake up in the morning? I mean, when the Faeries do their thing or whatever and I’m gone, I just want you to know that I’m glad I came. That I was here, with you. I wouldn’t have missed this time with you for anything in the world.”
“Aye, wee Caty. I would no hae missed our time together either.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, tucking her close under his arm, where she felt protected and safe. Where she wanted to stay.
CHAPTER 22
Connor awoke on his back, a foreign weight on his body. Foreign, but entirely welcome. Cate covered him like a blanket, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her arm across his chest and one shapely leg draped across his thighs. If he shifted his position but a little, the warm, moist center of her would be perfectly positioned over the part of him that had already come to life at the sight of her sleeping there in his bed, at the thought of having her once more.
Instead of shifting, he swallowed hard, took a couple of deep breaths and looked down at her again. In the morning light filtering through the curtains of the bed her face looked peaceful, delicate, beautiful. The small thin strap of the silky garment she wore had slipped down off her shoulder, exposing the creamy whiteness of her skin. Her perfect breast, barely covered, pressed against his chest. The same perfect breast he’d explored so thoroughly last night.
He wouldn’t think it possible that he could harden more, but he did, painfully so. And as he did, he once again swiftly considered the whole shifting idea, but discarded it as she stretched against him, opened her eyes and smiled. Suddenly he found himself unable to even think, let alone shift.
“Good morning.” Her smile, sleepy and seductive, struck at the center of him. She slid her leg off him and stretched again.
Pins and needles shot through his body. He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. More than he wanted his next heartbeat. Having her last night had done nothing to slake that need. If anything, it made it worse. No, he couldn’t give in to that again. He’d dishonored himself enough.
“Good morning.” His voice croaked like a young lad.
“I’m still here.” Her eyes opened wide and she sat up quickly in bed, the other strap falling from her shoulder and the top of her little covering started to sag.
He watched her sitting there, holding his breath. If her top fell down, if he saw her right now, naked in front of him, he’d have to take her. He’d have no choice, no control over it. His heart raced, not really sure which option he wanted more.
She put both her hands on his chest and leaned down to his face. “I’m still here. The Faeries didn’t take me.” She hovered over him, wearing a silly grin.
It almost made up for the vision of heaven he had when he lowered his eyes from her face.
“Good Christ, woman, yer almost completely out of yer clothes. Do something.” He could barely get the words out.
She looked down. “Oh.”
She tugged the straps high up on her arms as she sat up straight. Now her stomach was exposed, her perfect little belly taunting him with its very nearness. The perfect little belly he longed to revisit with his hands, his mouth.
He made a gurgling noise and sat up, gasping for air.
“You don’t wake up so well, do you, Connor?” She rolled off her side of the bed, throwing back the curtains. “I’m still here.” She said it with wonder in her voice.
She’d gone daft. Overnight. She’d lost what little sense she’d had. Of course, he should have recognized that last night. Perhaps that would have helped him do as he should have done.
He thought he might be able to stand finally and was just swinging his legs off the bed when she threw back the curtains on his side.
“Why am I still here? I’m supposed to be gone. What happened?” She was leaning over him again, a small frown on her face.
This would never do.
He took her by her shoulders and pushed her back, standing up in the process, although not all the way up. He couldn’t quite manage that just yet.
“I dinna hae any idea why yer still here, Cate. But you most certainly are, I can assure you of that.”
She seemed to notice his posture now. “Are you okay? Is there something wrong? Can I do anything for you?” She moved closer, putting her arm around him, leaning her face close to his, concern clear in her eyes.
There was most certainly something she could do.
“No, give me just a minute.”
He breathed deeply and then straightened, looking down at her. She was lovely in the morning light.
Cate backed up and crossed her arms under her breasts, exposing even more of her flat little stomach, the shiny cloth pulled tight across her breasts. Breasts that would, he remembered from last night, tighten and harden with merely the slightest stroke of his hand. And when he tasted her . . .
He groaned, shaking his head. “Yer killing me, Cate. Put some clothes on.”
“What? Oh.” She picked her jacket up off the floor and put it on. “Is this better?”
“Aye, it is. Thank you.”
She smiled and patted him on the back as she passed, moving over to poke at the fire. “Well, looks like we made it through our wedding night, doesn’t it? That should make all your noisy partygoers happy, convinced that we’re really married. Maybe we can take down the barricades now.”
“Och, Christ, I almost forgot.”
He strode back to the bed and stripped the covers away, tossing them to the floor, searching.
“What the hell are you doing? Have you gone crazy?” Cate’s eyes were enormous.
There he found what he sought, in the center of the bed—a few small drops of dried blood. He ran his hand across the spot and looked up at her, guilt eating at him. He’d done that, broken his vow to protect her from harm, taken that from her.
He started to pull the cover from the bedding.
“Don’t even tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” She looked incredulous, her mouth slightly open.
The various scenes of what he
could do with that mouth passed quickly through his mind before he answered.
“Weel, we could hae let them watch, but this will serve as proof.” He’d planned on cutting himself, using his own blood to accomplish his proof. He’d never thought it would come to this.
She froze at his words, turning her back on him. “No. Of course you’re right. I never considered they’d want proof. I didn’t plan any of . . . ” She paused, shaking her head. “I just can’t think of why you’d want to show them that.” She pointed back at the bed without turning to look at it.
“Because they’ll check. For proof of consummation of the marriage.” Surely she could understand how it was.
“That’s barbaric. I can’t believe anyone would intrude on something so personal, so private.” Her words were low, strangled as if she forced them out.
“It’s no barbaric. It’s proof. If we dinna consummate the marriage, we’re no married and I’d no be released from my service to the king. Now it’s done.” He stood and frowned at her.
She kept her back to him, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. “Good. Now it’s done. And now you’re free to leave aren’t you? You don’t have to stay in here with me anymore. You can move that stuff away from the door, and you can leave, can’t you?”
“Aye, I can.” He didn’t understand. Moments ago she was happy and playful. Now she had completely shut off from him.
Had she finally understood that she hadn’t gone home as she’d thought she would? More than likely, and she was angry about it. Angry with him for what he’d done to her.
He moved the furniture and opened the door.
“Rosalyn should be back later today. Shall I send her to you when she arrives?” He spoke stiffly, without looking at her.
“Yes, please,” she mumbled as she sat down in one of the chairs, her back still turned to him.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was crying. There was no understanding women. Not any of them. This one least of all. He slammed the door shut behind him.
With luck, there might still be a bottle of Duncan’s whisky in the room below.
* * *
Connor stood before the fireplace in his favorite room, staring into the ashes left by the fire, which had long since burned out. Even this room, with all its warm memories, gave him no comfort.
He held in his hand the proof he’d deliver to the king’s man today. The proof that would free him to take charge of his destiny and that of his sister as well. The proof that had so offended Cate.
Margaret had brought the bedding to him earlier, dropping it in his lap and staring disapprovingly at him until he insisted she speak her mind. And speak her mind she did, telling him in no uncertain terms that she had expected better of him as a new husband on his wedding night. That she’d never thought the young man she’d helped to raise would leave his new bride so unhappy.
“She sits in her chair just staring into the fire. I canna get her to eat, or rise, or even to bathe, and you ken how she loves that. It fair shatters my heart what you’ve done to that wee lassie,” she had scolded. “You’d be best off to go back up there right now and fix things between you, or you’ll regret it for all yer days.”
There was much about Cate he’d regret all his days. It shamed him that Margaret assumed he’d hurt Cate, but there was no way he could tell her the truth. That Cate mourned because she was still here when she’d expected to be returned to her own time and her family, not because he treated her ill on her wedding night.
He gave a short mocking laugh. It was, in fact, he who suffered, both the shame of having allowed a woman to entice him into breaking a sacred vow and, worse yet, the mental agony of knowing he would make the same choice if given the opportunity again. He could not refuse her; he wanted her too badly for that, no matter how he fought it.
Had Duncan’s idea of asking her to stay been the answer to his problem? He wanted her body, there was no doubt about that. One night had done nothing to satisfy that need. He felt possessive of her, wanted to protect her. But could he ever feel more for her—could he ever trust her enough to allow himself to feel more for her? He didn’t know if he would ever be able to answer that question.
Insistent knocking interrupted that line of thought, saving him from continuing to battle his inner demons for now. Niall poked his head around the door.
“They’ve arrived. The king’s man is waiting in yer public solar below, as you requested.”
“Good. Hae you told Rosalyn that Cate requires her attendance?” He didn’t meet the man’s eyes. He couldn’t face the censure he feared he’d find there.
“Aye. She’s on her way up to see our lady even now.”
Connor turned, proof in hand, and headed out to face the man waiting in the room below.
* * *
Cate continued to sit as she had since Connor left her, huddled in the chair by the fire, her arms clasped around her middle. The tears had ceased long ago. She had none left. And still it hurt. It hurt so badly.
Proof. Last night had been nothing more to him than a way to provide proof of a consummated marriage. The time they spent together, the closeness they’d shared—none of it meant anything to him. It was all a little play for the benefit of his king and some mysterious “they” who were going to come to check, physically check, for crying out loud, whether or not the final act had been completed.
Still, it was her own fault, once again. He’d tried to tell her last night, made clear his feeling about women. Even tried to dissuade her from her rash decision to sleep with him, reminded her that it was his duty to protect her. She’d chosen to ignore it all, so sure she’d never have to face him again.
But she did have to face him again, humiliated as he rooted through the covers searching for his proof, his trophy, exposing it, and what they’d done, to the world.
So now what? Why was she still here? She desperately needed to talk to Rosalyn. She had to figure out what to do next. Rosalyn hadn’t returned to the castle—at least, not as of an hour or so ago when Margaret had been in to change the bedding.
That had been truly awful. Margaret hastily changing the covers on the bed, hovering around, trying to get her to eat, sympathetically offering to prepare a hot tub so she could soak her “poor wee” body. And finally, her efficiently whisking away that all-important piece of evidence Connor would need to prove their wedding had ended successfully.
Cate wanted to curl up in a little ball on the bed and wallow in her pain, in her shame, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to climb back into that bed again. It had seemed such a haven last night, a place separate from the rest of the world, a place where Connor had confided in her and shared his feelings. She had hoped then that he trusted her, cared for her. She’d been foolish enough to ignore everything he’d said, to let herself imagine he might love her.
Only a light tap sounded at her door before Rosalyn entered, drawing Cate from her melancholy thoughts.
“Niall said you wanted to see me? What is it?” she asked, coming into the room.
“I’m still here.”
“Aye. Yer still here.” Rosalyn continued to give her a questioning look.
“I’m still here. I did everything I was supposed to do. I got married. Connor gets to stay home, Mairi’s safe. My task is done. I even wore the necklace all night. Why haven’t I popped back to my own time yet?” Cate rose from the chair and walked to meet Rosalyn at the door as she spoke. “I don’t understand.”
Rosalyn took her hand and guided her back to the chairs, where she sat beside her.
“The necklace has nothing to do with it, Cate. The magic acts on its own. The necklace merely held the magic, pointing the way for Connor to find you. No.” She shook her head sadly. “Yer still here because you’ve no done everything you asked for. It all must be finished before the magic will work.”
“But I have. I asked to complete the task, to get married, to save Mairi, to go home safely.” Cate shook her head
in confusion. “Then I tied the cloth on the tree and . . . ” She stopped in midsentence. Her eyes growing large, she slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “Oh no.” She stood and started to pace. “No, no, it can’t be that last bit. Not the true love thing. Don’t tell me that’s why I’m still here.”
“Aye, I’m afraid it is.” Rosalyn nodded sympathetically and patted the chair beside her, motioning for Cate to return to her seat.
“Well then, we just have to go back.” Cate sat. “Back to your Faerie Glen. You’ll just have to talk to them. Explain to them. That’s not going to happen. I have to go home. I have to get away from here.”
“Going back to the Glen will no help you. I’m afraid it disna work like that. I’ve no the power to change what was asked for that day.”
“Well then, how does it work? You had the power to get me here.”
Desperation clouded her mind. There had to be a way. She couldn’t stay here, facing Connor every day knowing how he felt about her.
“You must try to understand the way of the magic. My ability is no so strong as some. My mother, for instance, was stronger in the power than I am. We, the daughters of the Glen, are marked from the beginning of our lives. The lighter the mark, the less power we can use. The first time we access the power, we go to the Glen of our mothers and ask to be recognized as a daughter of the Fae. If we hae the mark, the Faeries speak to us and lend us their power. Then we can . . . do things.” She shrugged. “It’s no so easy to explain. Since the power belongs to the Faeries, and they only lend it to us, it often works in the way they intend, no so much the way we do.”
Rosalyn stood and paced, rubbing her hands together. “For any small things I might need, I could do them right here. But for something requiring a great deal of power, like reaching into time, I needed the magic of the Glen, to call on the power of those who live there. That’s why we traveled there for me to cast the spell into the jewel.”
“So, why wouldn’t you be able to draw on that power again if we went back there now?”
Rosalyn stopped pacing and ran her hands up and down her arms. “There is no power strong enough to stop what the two of us hae brought about.” She sat down again, taking Cate’s hand.
Thirty Nights With a Highland Husband Page 21
