She bit her lip to keep from crying out, clutching the bedclothes in both hands. Merciful heavens, such bliss would surely kill her. She bucked and shuddered. Her body no longer under her control but Ian’s. Ecstasy consumed her, spinning her into a glorious abandon.
Just when she thought she could bear no more, he kissed and licked his way up her body.
She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed, stretching upward to stroke him again and again.
“I must have ye, mo ghràdh.”
“Then take me.” She dug her nails into his buttocks and arched to greet him.
When he plunged inside, she lost the ability to do anything but feel. All thoughts and reasoning disappeared, and only mindless delight remained. She met him thrust for thrust, building speed. Ecstasy crested, then exploded with wave after crashing wave. She cried out her joy. She couldn’t help it.
He hammered harder, then roared. Arms locked around her, he shuddered. After what seemed like an eternity of pounding heartbeats, he sagged to the side and rolled to his back, pulling her along and draping her atop him. Breath coming in ragged gasps, he hugged her tighter. “Mo chridhe.”
“Mo leannan.” My lover. My sweetheart. Contentment hummed through her. She pecked a kiss to his throat, smiling at the salty, sweet taste. Aye, this is what she’d missed for so very long—a precious connection with another.
He slipped the covers up over them, keeping tight hold of her in the process. “Ye asked me if I regretted my words.”
Pleasant drowsiness, a floaty weariness threatened to overtake her. She struggled to pay attention. “Aye.”
“I told ye I did not.” His fingers tickled up and down her back, hypnotizing her deeper into a sweet lull. “What about yerself? Do ye regret finding yerself caught in such a marriage?”
“I am more than contented.” She nestled her cheek more comfortably into the dip of his shoulder and hugged a leg around him as she settled in beside him. “And thankful to be so blessed.” A yawn escaped her. “Forgive me.” A vague worry of seeming callous stirred through her dreamy fog. “Ye’ve made me feel so safe and warm, sleep is about to overpower me.” If he only knew how contented he’d made her feel. Not just with the loving. But with all he’d done for her and the boys.
“Sleep, lass,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and hugging her close. “Now, we have a lifetime together.”
As soon as she allowed her eyes to close, it was as though her inner demons considered it a call to action. The peaceful drowsiness disappeared, and her mind whirled, tumbling across the less enjoyable moments of the past few hours. She ached to rise and pace out her thoughts. What was the real reason for Colin’s reappearance? What did the devil really want from her?
The slow, rhythmic shifting of Ian’s chest beneath her cheek assured her he slept. She eased away, untangling herself as gently as possible. There was no way she could remain in the bed with so much on her mind.
“What troubles ye, lass?”
She toyed with the idea of lying about needing a visit to the chamber pot but decided against it. Ian deserved the truth. Always. “Forgive me. I didna mean to wake ye.”
“Dinna fash yerself. I havena slept well since Glencoe and do fine on verra little rest. Now tell me what troubles ye?” He pushed upward, elbowing the pillows behind him as he sat up and leaned back against the headboard.
“I dinna trust Colin.” She retrieved her shift and slipped it on, then fetched her knitted shawl to pull around her shoulders. The air held a sudden chill. “He came back here for a reason, and that reason had nothing to do with missing the family he always despised.” She glanced back at Ian and immediately felt the fool.
Here she was with a braw, handsome man, her husband by oath, and once the paperwork was sorted out—they’d stand before God and Father William to make it official for the church. Yet, all she could think about was the heartless arse who’d caused her nothing but pain. She couldn’t help it. More was at stake here than just herself. Her precious lads had already endured so much. “Forgive me,” she repeated.
“For what?” Even in the shadows, she could tell he looked confused. He climbed out of bed, padded over to the fire, and stirred the coals to coax a higher flame. After adding wood, he straightened, brushing his hands together. Fine and tempting in his nakedness, he held out a hand. “Come closer to the fire and tell me yer worries.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “And stop apologizing. I told ye—I need verra little sleep.”
“It’s not for yer loss of sleep that I beg forgiveness. I’m sorry I’ve tainted our first night together with my fretting.” She took his hand and clutched it to her chest, then ran her fingers across the scratchy stubble of his day-old beard.
She’d shave him when morning came—if he’d allow it. She looked forward to a lifetime of tending to her husband in the little ways only a wife knew. It was the least she could do after all he’d done for her. “Ye deserve better than an anxious wife.”
He seated himself and pulled her into his lap. Arms wrapped around her, he settled them both more comfortably into the cushions. “I dinna know that I deserve anything, but I do know I promised to protect ye and the lads. We’ve plenty of time to chase away the uneasiness of the past.” He touched his head to hers. “And my mam always told me to never put too much weight on any one unpleasantness, aye? It takes a fair amount of highs and lows to create a lifetime of rich memories.” He hugged her closer. “With any luck, ye and I will have more highs than lows. I’d say we’re due, ye ken?”
The fresh wood popped and shifted deeper into the fire, sizzling as its sap heated and bubbled through its splits. He scooped up her hand and tapped a kiss to each of her knuckles. “Tell me, if ye can, any other reasons ye know of that might tempt Colin to return? How might Tor Ruadh benefit him?”
“For the life of me, I dinna ken.” She considered fetching them both a drink but didn’t wish to rise from Ian’s lap. The way he was idly tracing circles against her hip was quite pleasing. “I’ve no money. No land other than a small plot big enough for a few sheep and some hens. And as Alexander said, the land and the croft truly belong to Clan MacCoinnich now—not me.” She shook her head, scowling at the fire. “There is nothing here for him to claim or barter away.”
“He seemed intent on reclaiming his duties for seeing after the horses that were sold, assuring they were properly transported.” With the lightest touch, he slid aside her shawl and shift, baring her shoulder to his kisses.
“But that was barely a living because he made so few trips. Rarely did he travel with the stock himself. Usually, he was one of the herders moving them about the glens.” She would’ve shrugged, but Ian’s attention to her shoulder and neck was too pleasurable to interrupt. Instead, she pulled her shawl away and dropped it to the floor. “He was a lazy man. Always found others to go in his place.”
“Dinna fear, lass, nor waste any more time worrying after the fool. He’ll be watched, I assure ye.” He slipped a hand inside her chemise and cupped a breast.
She leaned back, closing her eyes as she wiggled her bottom back against the promising hardness in his lap. Perhaps Ian was right. She shouldn’t waste her time worrying when there were much more pleasant distractions at hand.
One hand to her breast, the other between her thighs, he nibbled and kissed her bared shoulder as he stroked and dipped his fingers inside her. Sweet Jesu, his fingers were as talented as his mouth. Grip locked on the arms of the chair, she squirmed, bucking upward into his hand as she lay back across his chest. “I need ye,” she gasped.
He lifted her up, faced her away from him, then sat her back down, thrusting deep inside her as he kept a hand between her legs, still stroking, teasing.
Rocking back and forth as he worked his fingers faster, her senses reeled. She’d never known of doing such. Where had he learned this rapture? As she whirled into the sweet abyss, he bucked higher, lifting her. She gave herself to wave after wave of bliss, then fell back against him gasping.
Without a word, he wrapped an arm around her waist and stood. He walked them over to the bed, gently draped her belly down across it, then pounded away, rumbling with a groaning growl until he shuddered and emptied inside her. He fell across her, brushing her hair aside to nuzzle a kiss to her ear. “Into the bed now, aye? Ye’ve made me weak in the knees.”
“I am in the bed,” she teased, twisting to treat herself to a long, slow kiss.
“Vixen.” He flipped her over, tossed her deeper into the pillows, then climbed in beside her.
She threw a leg over him and curled into the curve of his arm. A sigh escaped her as he pulled the covers back over them.
Ian hugged her tighter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Dinna worry,” he admonished. “I swear all will be well.”
Stretching to kiss his cheek, she smiled. “’Twas a sigh of contentment. I promise.”
He shifted against her with a deep sigh of his own. “Good.”
She settled back down, her gaze on the flames flickering in the hearth. Aye. This is good. As her eyelids grew heavy, then finally shut, a blood-curdling scream split the night.
*
Ian rolled out of Gretna’s embrace, cursing as he stumbled across his boots while searching through his discarded clothes for his dagger. Why in hell’s name hadn’t he set some of his weapons on the table by the bed? What a damned fool. He’d sworn to protect them, and instead, he’d allowed his cock to override his common sense.
The chilling scream rang out again.
“Ian, stop!” Gretna had already yanked on her shift and was partway to the door. “It’s Finn and one of his dreams.”
The terrified wail sounded like the child was being skinned alive. Ian held tight to his sgian dhu. “Stay behind me just in case, aye?” Unabashedly naked, he vaulted around her, cracked open the door, and scanned the sitting room for intruders. All was quiet until Finn squalled out another high-pitched keening.
“He does this when he’s had more than he can handle during the day,” Gretna explained in a hushed tone. She stormed forward and entered the boys’ room ahead of him.
God’s beard. How could such a sound come from such a meek lad? Ian followed her.
Evander and Rory crouched on either side of their brother, attempting to block him safely in the center of the narrow bed while he thrashed and fought as though being attacked.
“I’m here now,” Gretna said in a calm, soothing voice. She took Rory’s place at Finn’s side, hugging him out of the way. “Well done, son. Well done, indeed. Get ye back to yer bed.”
Rory yawned, spared Ian a sleepy glance, then climbed back under his covers as though his brother’s actions were as normal as drawing breath.
Feeling utterly helpless and hating every moment of it, Ian moved to the foot of Finn’s bed. “What can I do?”
“Fetch him a fresh léine, if ye would. Poor lamb. Looks as though he’s wet through this one.” Gretna leaned over her son, crooning softly as she gently patted his shoulders and touched his head. The child’s wild fighting weakened. “It’s all right, lad. We’re all here. Come back to us. Come back to where it’s safe.”
“And dinna ye dare make fun of him,” Evander warned as he glared back at Ian, then returned his attention to his brother. “He canna help it.” He pulled extra linen from the side table and held it ready to slide under Finn.
While Ian understood and admired Evander’s love and loyalty to his brother, the boy’s warning still stung. “I would never do such a cruel thing,” he said as he hurried across the room and fetched Finn’s dry clothing. The damned feeling of being more hindrance than help increased as he laid the fresh shirt on the end of the bed and stood there.
“Go to bed, Ian. There’s nothing ye can do here,” Gretna whispered as though sensing his discomfort.
Nay. Ian took that as a challenge. He’d promised to help and protect, and that’s what he’d do. As Gretna eased the boy free of his terrors and cleaned him up, Ian returned to their bedchamber. He placed the dagger on the table beside the bed and donned his own tunic, frantically trying to come up with a way to help. He returned to the lads’ room and found Evander already back asleep. Finn sat on the edge of his bed, calmly leaning against his mother.
“I’m sorry, Master Ian,” Finn said in a weary whisper.
The boy’s words cut his heart. Ian sat on the edge of the bed beside the lad. “I thought ye were going to call me, Da?”
Finn shrugged. “I didna think ye’d still want me to after what I just did.” He kept his voice so low, Ian had to lean closer to hear him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
Pain for her child’s suffering creasing her brow, Gretna remained silent. She hugged him closer and pressed her cheek to the top of his head.
“Ye’ve nothing to be sorry for. Ye battled a demon and won,” Ian said. “Every warrior screams a war cry to send fear coursing through his foe.”
Still tight in his mother’s arms, Finn watched Ian as though deciding whether to trust him. “What’s yer battle cry?” he finally asked.
“The MacCoinnich cry,” Ian said without hesitation. “Je ressuscite!” he shouted.
“What does it mean?” Finn asked, sounding a little stronger.
“It means I rise.” Ian stood. “A MacCoinnich never allows anything to suppress them or hold them down in any situation.” He held out his hand. “Would ye like to sleep in our chamber tonight? There’s nay much night left, but ye can either sleep alone, or myself and yer mother will snug ye in between us.”
Finn straightened out of his mother’s arms and looked at her. “Can I, Mama?”
Gretna nodded, then gave Ian a grateful smile. “Yer da said ye could.”
With Finn between them, they returned to their chamber. Once inside, Finn looked up at Ian with a leery look as if expecting a cruel prank. “Ye said I can sleep with Mama if I want, aye?”
“Aye, lad.” Ian squatted down and looked Finn in the eyes. “I shall never lie to ye, boy. Ye have my word, ye ken?”
Finn’s eyes rounded even more, then he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck. “Thank ye, Da,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice taking full ownership of Ian’s soul.
Ian picked the lad up, placed him in the center of Mam Hattie’s bed, then climbed in beside him. Gretna settled in on the other side and pulled the covers up over them all.
Finn smiled and snuggled down between them. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
Closing his eyes, Ian concentrated on the peaceful sound of Finn’s faint breathing. Just as it had mesmerized him into a peaceful state of relaxation, he felt the softest touch to his cheek.
“Ian? Are ye still awake?”
He smiled. Gretna’s soft whispers in the darkness were sweet as any song. Without opening his eyes, he answered, “Aye, love. What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she said. After a long pause, she added, “Again, I’m sorry we’re such a burden, but I thank ye from the bottom of my heart. I dinna ken what we would do without ye.”
He pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “Do something for me, love.”
“Anything.”
“Stop thanking me and no more apologizing for being a burden, aye?” He turned his head on the pillow and found the sparkle of her eyes in the shadows. “I dinna wish to listen to such for the rest of my life, ye ken? Neither yerself nor the boys are a burden.”
She stroked his face again, then shifted close enough to lay her hand on his shoulder. “I shall do that, my love, but I fear those words must be replaced by some I willna stop saying no matter how often ye ask.”
He covered her hand with his, unable to fathom the answer to her riddle. “What words?”
“I love ye, Ian,” she whispered. “And I know in my heart, I shall love ye for all time.”
Her quiet declaration both surprised and thrilled him. His response came unbidden. “I fear I love ye, too, lass.” He’d not said those words to anyone in a
very long time, almost ten years, in fact. He’d not felt the need until now. “God Almighty, what the hell do we do now?”
In the darkness of the room, he sensed her smile more than he saw it. She squeezed his shoulder. “We sleep. Such a quandary is better saved for when we’re rested.”
Wise advice. “Aye.” Ian awkwardly patted her hand and closed his eyes, fatigue winning out over panic. “Sleep well, love.”
“Sleep well, dear one,” Gretna whispered, then rolled to her side. “Sleep well.”
Chapter Nine
With a yawn so wide his jaw popped, Ian faced the crisp wind combing across the mountain. He’d not struggled this much from lack of sleep in a while. Of course, a lot had happened in the past few days. Rubbing the corners of his eyes, he blinked against the weariness, then snorted out a laugh. While it was true he was tired, oddly enough, he felt more settled and at peace then he had in years.
“I’ll damn sure not tell anyone but Gretna,” he swore to the breeze whipping at his kilt. Nothing was more irritating than hearing some wise arse saying, I told ye so.
He strolled along the walkway atop the skirting wall, viewing the busyness below. Alexander had spoken the truth. Catriona had outdone herself by pulling together so many activities in so little time. He shook his head, remembering his brother Alasdair’s sage advice: never underestimate the furious capabilities of a woman with child.
Cheers rang out from the south yard. Archery contests. Stone put. Caber toss. All manner of games meant to entertain every age from wee bairns to the aged had been set up and were in full force. Food and drink were everywhere. It would be a wonder if enough stores were left to survive through the winter.
He scanned the people milling about, both within the protective walls of the fortress and across the outer grounds. The nearest allied clans had been invited as well, and all had come. One last great celebration before winter set in. This many folks gathered in one place set him ill at ease. Especially with Colin Neal’s reappearance and the man’s true intentions yet unknown. Old instincts tensed Ian, readying him for battle. The sound of footsteps made him turn around. His tension tightened when he saw the look on Sutherland’s face. “Did ye find him?”
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