Fiona opened her mouth and then closed it, feeling her face warm with embarrassment. “Ye doona want to share the bed with me.”
“Christ.”
She looked at him, trying to will away the sting of tears. She had been silly to think he might want to hold her and kiss her again. “’Tis all right if ye donna wish it.”
“Christ.” Kier moved so swiftly he was only a blur in the dim light from the low-banked hearth. “Holy Mother of God, forgive me.”
He swooped Fiona up and deposited her on the bed so abruptly she scarcely had time to catch a breath between the movements. And then his weight was on top of her as he claimed her mouth.
Fiona’s mind reeled as all her senses came to life at once. The fresh scent of him, the delicious taste of his tongue penetrating her mouth, the feel of his silky hair swishing the sides of her face, the look of smoldering desire in his eyes and the sound of something not quite human—but that may have been coming from her. She didn’t know.
The length of his hard, muscular body against hers pressing her down into the soft fluff of feathers made her body respond without any help from her befuddled brain. Fiona arched her back, wanting more friction for her achy nipples. Kier moaned and she heard a ripping sound, followed by the feel of cool air fanning her exposed breasts. The cool was replaced with the heat of his mouth as he closed it over one enticing bud and Fiona gasped as he began to suckle. The sensation was exquisite and she mewled softly as his palm began to knead her other breast while he rolled its tip between finger and thumb.
Fiona grasped Kier’s shoulders, tugging at his shirt, wanting to feel his bare skin. With a stifled groan, he ceased sucking and sat up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. A moment later, his trews followed, and Fiona had only a glimpse of the huge, hard protrusion jutting from a nest of inky curls before he bent over her.
Good God in heaven. How was that going to fit inside her?
Logic took flight again as Kier resumed his ministrations to her breasts. Never in her wildest imaginings—or naughty conversations with Mari and Abigail—had she ever thought her breasts could be so sensitive. Kier was teasing her now, circling an aureole slowly and then flicking his tongue across the hardened nipple. Fiona arched again, silently begging for him to suck and fill the achy need, but he merely blew air across the wet tip, the coolness of it causing a rippling quiver all the way to her belly.
Kier chuckled before turning to torment the other breast in the same manner. “I knew you would be responsive. I just didn’t realize how much.”
“Arrgh.” She’d meant to form a word, but speech seemed to elude her. Instead, she clutched his head, pulling it down against her. He laughed and then closed his mouth on her breast, bringing blessed relief as he drew hard and deep.
Lost as she was in the erotic pull of his mouth alternating between her breasts, Fiona hardly noticed as Kier’s hands tugged her torn gown down. It wasn’t until he lifted his mouth and she felt his tongue gliding along the flesh of her belly that she realized she was totally naked. Instinct made her draw her knees together, but a hand on her thigh stopped the motion.
“Do not be shy now, lovely Fiona,” Kier whispered as he shifted his body and spread her thighs. “The best is yet to come.”
Fiona tried to sit upright as his tongue slid between her folds and he began slow, sensual licks upward, but his hands were holding her bottom half down, his shoulders keeping her legs apart. She shuddered as a pulsation began there that made the suckling of her breasts something akin to a kiss on the cheek. The pulsing grew stronger like a drummer’s roll as Kier teased her hard, little nub with the tip of his tongue, alternating flattening it to increase the pressure and then easing, abandoning it to nibble the soft insides of her thighs. Fiona twisted, raising her hips as much as she could, her whole core throbbing now with want. She heard his soft chuckle again and then Kier attached his mouth to her bud, sending the throbbing into a hard, hammering beat that matched her heat and her mind went blank as her entire body thrummed in accord to the explosion between her thighs.
She barely had time to regain her breath when Kier shifted again, aligning his body to hers. She felt the round, satiny head of his manhood prod her very center and then she was being stretched and filled as Kier thrust deep.
Fiona stiffened, clenching her teeth to hold the pain in check. It seared through her like a knife held into flames. Above her, Kier stilled.
He looked at her in shock. “You are a virgin?”
Her breathing shuttered, almost returning to normal as the pain began to subside. She nodded. She could feel Kier’s thickness inside her, but it wasn’t hurting as much. “I told ye I was nae married.”
“May God forgive me.” Kier started to withdraw, but Fiona grabbed his waist. He gave her a startled look. “You…you want to continue?”
She nodded again, giving him a small smile. He hesitated and then began a gentle, slow thrusting. Fiona picked up the rhythm to his strokes as the pain receded and was replaced by a new ache, this one more of need. The inner throbbing began anew, building in strength, causing a ripple of spasms along her core as Kier’s tempo changed, becoming faster and deeper. Fiona’s lower belly thrummed, her legs quivered, her breathing grew shallow and then her body shattered. Kier plunged hard one more time and then withdrew, splurting something hot and wet across her stomach.
He rolled onto his back, tucking his arm under her shoulders and bringing her closer to him, stroking her hair but not speaking.
He didn’t have to. Fiona nestled her head on his shoulder contentedly. She finally knew what Mari and Abigail had been talking about.
Jesu! What had he been thinking? Kier grimaced as he slipped out from under the covers the next morning and dressed quietly. He hadn’t been thinking at all, at least not with the head attached to his shoulders.
He glanced back at the bed before he let himself out the door. Fiona slept like a bairn, maybe because she was finally exhausted. She’d awakened him three times during the night, her soft touch arousing him before he was even conscious. Each time, he’d taken her. Each time, she’d responded eagerly. Each time had been better than the last.
Jesu.
She had been a virgin. At least he’d had the sense not to spill his seed into her.
Kier made his way down the stairs where the barkeep’s wife was bustling about, wiping up last night’s mess. The delicious scent of bannocks baking wafted from the kitchen, overcoming the smell of stale ale. He detected bacon frying as well. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d expended a lot of energy in bed.
He needed to clear his head. What he really needed to do was dunk it in the horse trough, but a fast jog would have to do. Fiona would be waking soon and he needed to decide how to handle what had happened last night.
Kier set off at a brisk pace. When he’d arrived in Cobh, he’d been so sure what he would do. Marrying Fiona would free her from her father’s authority and keep her out of the asylum. She’d be under his protection and, in time, perhaps her memory would return and she’d recall exactly what had happened to her.
But that was when Kier had thought she was Mrs. Brice MacLeod.
Fiona’s being a virgin changed everything. She had been telling the truth that she had no husband. Her insistence that Walter Avery was not her father, that he had abducted her as revenge against her brothers, did not seem as unlikely to believe now—and, if that were true, then Fiona’s brothers were real as well.
Kier was honour-bound to marry her since he’d taken her maidenhead, but if she had a family—a real family—then he needed permission from the eldest brother. How would he find them?
It was a question he still pondered when he returned to the inn. Fiona had just finished dressing when he entered their room. The look of relief on her face made him feel guilty that he’d left while she slept.
“I went for a w
alk,” he explained, even though she hadn’t asked.
She gave him a small smile and limped toward the door. “I’m nae sure I can walk too far this morning.”
Kier felt like a dolt. Of course, Fiona would be sore. He should have ordered hot water for her before he went out. Sakes, he couldn’t even think straight when space separated them. “I am sorry if I hurt you.”
“Ye didn’t.” Her smile widened. “Well, maybe a little, but was nae more than I asked for.”
He smiled back. “It will not hurt each time. You’ll see once we are married.”
Fiona stopped so suddenly he nearly bowled her over. She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Married?”
“Yes. I came to Cobh to tell you. If we marry, Walter Avery—whoever he is—will no longer have authority over you. You’ll not be an inmate of the asylum.”
She blinked. “I see.”
“Besides, now that I have basically ruined you—”
“I doona feel ruined.”
“Perhaps not, but society will see it that way. Since I took your virginity, I have to be responsible and marry you.”
“Responsible?”
“Of course,” Kier went on. “I have a duty to take care of you now.”
“Duty?”
“It is the only honourable thing I can do.”
“Honourable?”
“Yes. Why are you repeating what I say?”
Fiona paused by the door. “Those are grand words, but I am nae hearing the one that is most important…love.”
Kier hesitated. “I am not sure I know how to love. Perhaps I can learn.”
“I doona think love is a thing to be learned. My brothers and cousin all kenned they loved their wives when they married them.” Fiona tilted her head and looked at Kier. “What happened last night was what both of wanted, nae?’
“Yes. Absolutely. How can you doubt that?”
“Then it was a gift to me. Let it be at that.” Fiona gave him a sad smile and turned away. “I will nae marry without love.”
Kier didn’t think he’d ever been so frustrated. Fiona had preceded him downstairs to break their fast and when they got to the room, Inna and Maureen were already there. The carriage awaited them and there had been no opportunity to talk to Fiona alone the entire day.
Last night had been the best he’d spent in his entire life. Fiona had proved to be as insatiable as he was. Kier wanted to tell her that kind of response didn’t happen with just anyone. He’d never experienced anything like it before, although since he seemed to blunder everything he’d said, perhaps not talking about past experiences would be the wiser thing to do.
He was confused too. Society—and certainly women—set great store by a man’s sense of honour and duty. Responsibility and obligation he understood. Love he did not. Kier knew his mother had loved his father. She’d taken her own life in despair over his father’s death, yet he’d never seen passion spark between them like it did with Fiona and him. His father had been gone much of the time, conscribed to King George’s army. His mother had always been proud that his father was doing his duty.
Why was that not enough for Fiona? She would have a good life with him. Kier would see to that. The fact that she had put her complete trust in him said something. He had a duty to live up to her expectations and see her needs met.
His feelings were still unsettled when the carriage rolled into Dublin. Fiona grew visibly nervous in the private hack heading toward the castle, so Kier spent his time reassuring her she’d not be locked in a room again. She’d given him a grateful smile but shaken her head when he’d said he wanted to talk about their marriage.
He sighed as he paid the driver and escorted Fiona up the steps to the front door of the castle. With time, he would convince her to see things his way.
Seamus opened the door for them and then skittered away quickly as they entered. Kier was about to ask why the odd behavior when he heard booted feet in the parlor.
Two men stepped into the foyer. Two tall, muscular men wearing kilts. The dark-eyed one wore a broad sword and had a knife handle protruding from each boot. The golden-eyed one had an array of knives in his belt as well as a huge claymore slung across his back. Both of them widened their stances to fight.
Fiona shrieked, flinging herself at them.
And Kier knew he was looking at the MacLeod brothers.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jamie lifted Fiona, spinning her around so much that her head swam. When her toes finally touched the floor, the bear hug Ian enveloped her in nearly took away the rest of her breath. “Stop!” she pleaded with a laugh.
“Ah, ’tis good to see ye, lass,” Ian said, still holding on to her.
“Aye, and when we catch up to Wesley Alton, he’ll be drawn and quartered with nae aid from horses,” Jamie added.
Kier looked from one brother to the other. “Wesley Alton is Walter Avery?”
“Aye,” Ian said. “’Tis a pity the bastard is in France.”
“So it is all true then. Fiona was committed to the asylum under false pretenses.”
“Of course ’tis false. Fiona is nae mad. What kind of a fool would think otherwise?” Jamie clenched a fist and took a step toward Kier. “Did ye rape our sister?”
Ian put a restraining hand on Jamie’s raised arm. “Let the mon speak first.”
“What…what are you talking about?” Kier asked.
“Warden Kelly received a letter from Alton claiming Fiona had written him, saying she’d been raped by her caretaker.” Ian gave Kier a leveled look. “Since the letter came from Alton and I ken Fiona would nae write such to him, I give it little credence—but I would hear from ye that my sister is untouched.”
“He dinnae rape me,” Fiona said.
Ian shifted his dark gaze to her. “Can the mon nae speak for himself?”
“Of course he can speak. Ye just heard him,” Fiona replied.
“’Tis nae what I asked.”
“I did not rape your sister,” Kier said.
Jamie narrowed his eyes. “’Tis nae the question I asked either. Does the lass remain untouched?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I forgot how bossy ye are, Jamie.” Fiona shrugged. “Kier may have kissed me.”
Ian raised a black brow. “May have? He either did or dinnae. Which is it?”
Fiona frowned. “He did, but I wanted him to.”
Ian turned back to Kier. “What other liberties did ye take?”
“I…God help me, I should not have—” The sentence was cut off as Jamie smashed his fist into Kier’s face. His head snapped back, but he remained standing.
“Stop it!” Fiona beat her small fists against Jamie’s back. “Stop it!”
Jamie turned, catching her hands in one of his. “I will nae allow ye to be used.”
Fiona yanked her hands back. “I was nae used, Jamie MacLeod! Nae more used than your Mari was by ye.”
Jamie straightened to his full impressive height. “Ye ken naught of how it was.”
Fiona lifted her chin. “And ye ken naught of how it was here either.”
“I should not have taken advantage of your sister.” Kier wiped a trickle of blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “I had no wish to disrespect Fiona.”
Ian stepped in front of Jamie before he could throw another punch. “Ye admit then that ye took our sister’s virginity?”
Kier took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and nodded. “I did.”
“I wanted him to!” Fiona protested.
“Then you will be willing to marry her?” Ian asked, ignoring Fiona’s remark.
“Yes. I already suggested it.”
“Then ’tis settled,” Jamie said and unclenched both fists.
“Aye, ’tis settled,” Ian added, extending a hand toward Kier. “Welcome—�
�
“Nae.”
Jamie and Ian both turned to Fiona, incredulous looks on their faces. “Nae?”
Fiona folded her arms across her chest. “Nae.”
Jamie sighed. “Why nae, lass?”
“Kier doesnae love me.”
“He will in time.”
“That is what I told her,” Kier said. “I told Fiona I honour and respect her. I will protect her with my life—”
“’Tis nae enough,” Fiona interrupted.
Ian frowned. “’Tis a good beginning, lass,”
Fiona placed her hands on her hips. “Would ye have married Jillian if ye dinnae love her? Or ye, Jamie? Ye would nae agree to live in London if ye dinnae love Mari.” When neither brother replied, she lowered her hands. “I only ask the same for me. I willna marry a mon who is nae sure.”
Ian exchanged a glance with Jamie and then nodded slowly. “So be it then.” He looked at the valise Fiona had dropped. “Is that all your things? If we hurry, we can sail with the ebb tide.”
“I…I…” Fiona looked at Kier. A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he stared straight ahead, saying nothing. Fiona lowered her gaze. What had she expected? That Kier would suddenly declare he loved her? She might not have much experience, but she knew love didn’t work like that. And without love, she couldn’t stay.
Fiona reached to pick up her valise, willing away the sting of tears. “I am ready.”
“I am troubled about Fiona,” Jamie said to Ian three days later after the Sea Lassie had traversed the Straits of Dover and turned eastward toward the inlet of the Thames. “She’s scarce spoken a word since we left Dublin.”
Ian lowered the telescope he’d been using and placed a hand on the bowsprit’s rail. “I ken. Fiona rarely misses a chance to stand at the bow of the ship either, and she’s stayed down below the whole time.”
“”Do ye think she was harmed at the asylum? Bedlam in London is a horrible place. Do ye think Fiona was treated cruelly?”
Ian looked thoughtful. “’Tis unlikely, since she was boarded at the castle. O’Reilly dinnae strike me as a mon who’d tolerate torture. ’Tis lucky for her—and us—the women’s ward was full. Alton wanted her in the asylum proper.”
Sister of Rogues Page 27
