by Rae Monet
It was not working.
With every strike of his sword, Richard had wished he were fighting the devil that had attacked Megan. His emotion made him clumsy. Serena bested him at every move. Each bruise and blow she gave was a reminder of how much more Megan had received.
"You are filled with anger. You know this will not help you in battle, only impede you.” Serena stepped closer to him, raising her hand to wipe a streak of dirt from his forehead. Her hand lingered, gently caressing his brow in a motherly fashion. “You must gain control of your emotions or you will only hinder Megan's recovery. I fear for you in this state."
Richard nodded, touched by her love for him. Folding her into his arms, he drew strength and comfort from her.
"Serena. I do not know what to do,” he confessed, releasing her and stepping back.
"You will. Do not fear. You will find the wisdom when it is needed."
"Thank you for being here for me and for Megan.” He clasped her arm in his and recited their ancient Solarian vow."A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne.” We protect our own.
She returned it."A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne, Richard."
She smiled and he absorbed this small moment of happiness. The next instant, a deep pain bit into his stomach. His arm tightened on Serena's.
Someone is in agony.
He started to glance around when he heard Megan's cry. An identical cry came from his throat. He dropped Serena's arm and ran, Serena directly behind him.
He dodged around the trees as he felt Megan's pain increase. His heart clenched in fear. Breaking through the trees, he gasped and slid to a stop.
Megan knelt in the middle of the settlement tearing off the splint that held her wrist and broken finger immobile.
Richard rushed forward, yelling, “Megan, stop!"
Instead of slowing, she tore at the device more frantically. As he neared her, he saw desperation in her face. Then his hands touched hers and he absorbed a jolt of her pain.
She jerked away from him. “I told you dinna touch me,” she screamed.
It is time to stop being nice, he thought.
He tugged her hand away from her damaged wrist splint, and spread his hand over it. “Megan, you will cease this destructive behavior immediately."
She shrieked wordlessly, her mouth pulled back with an injured animal's anger. As if determined to demolish the splint, she reached down and tried to jerk his hand away from her. He resisted her weak pulling easily.
"Stop it!” she yelled and tried again to pry off his hand.
Sweat ran down Richard's face, dripping onto his shirtless chest. When Megan struck out at him, he sorrowed but remained immobile. He told himself she needed to let out her anger and he would rather have it be on him than on her splint.
He let her hit him again and again until the last of her energy withered away and she slumped. Then her head raised and her hand came up to cover a red welt she had left on his chest. Richard sucked in his breath. This time instead of feeling her hurt, he felt only the desire that always came when the flesh of hers touched his.
Her gaze met his and he saw her apology in her tear-drenched green eyes.
"Richard,” she whispered. He felt her strained voice all the way to his soul. “It inna fair."
One arm folded her against his chest, another slipped under her knees. Lifting her effortlessly, he stood.
"I know, Megan, I know,” he whispered in her ear.
Her head rested against his bare shoulder, her body relaxing. The arm with the splint on the wrist came up to wrap around his neck.
He stood in the middle of the village, his breath laboring as he absorbed the pain of the small woman resting so trustingly in his arms. His arms tightened. His head dropped to burrow in her heather-scented fiery hair. She began to sob, her tears dampening his shoulder.
"I know, Megan,” he repeated. “I know."
Her hand gently caressed the back of his neck. Unexpectedly, awareness far beyond the absorption of her pain invaded his body, making him shiver down to his toes.
"I'm sorry, Richard, for striking you."
His heart clenched. He kissed the top of her head. “Do not worry, my beauty.” The second the endearment left his mouth he regretted it.
She grew rigid in his arms.
"Megan,” he lowered his voice, compelling her eyes to meet his, “you are mine. You will always be my beauty. Whatever that animal said or did, I vow to you I will make you forget."
* * * *
Richard's reverent declaration surprised Megan.
Her small hand soothed gently over his brow as she began to realize how much he must have also been suffering. He was absorbing her pain, along with her anger and shame, healing her wounds, and all the while remaining strong and giving her comfort.
"The trees,” she said, feeling another wash of shame.
Understanding, he needed no more explanation. He helped her into the trees, setting her down and turning his back to her.
The next moment he scooped her back in his arms. She closed her eyes as he carried her back inside the shelter and laid her on the bed. Leaning over her, he continued to cradle her in his arms, treating her as if she were fragile and precious.
Megan hugged him closer, ignoring the ache she felt when his chest rubbed a sore spot.
She needed him. And more importantly, he needed her.
"Richard, I have been so selfish. In my own pain I've forgotten about yours."
His body began to tremble. His face burrowed into her throat. She felt wetness on his cheek. Her good arm was immobilized from his weight. Like a wolf pup, she rubbed her chin against the top of his head.
He pulled back and she moved her uninjured hand. This time her muscles didn't seize, and she was able to lift her fingers to his cheek to wipe away the moisture.
"We will heal together, my beauty. Please help me,” he asked as his large hands came up to frame her face. “Please promise you will help me, not fight me.” His hand strayed to her lopsided splint. “Please,” he requested again, his eyes pleading with her.
"I will try.” It was the best Megan could promise.
"Megan, that is not good enough. I need you to commit to work with me, not against me, or this will not succeed.” The determination on his face was fierce. In one quick second, he had changed from her gentle healer to the strong warrior she knew he could be.
"Promise me!” he commanded.
Tears formed in her eyes. She raised her hand and ran it over his face, watching him suck in his breath. Her hand strayed lower over the spattering of hair on his chest to rest on his heart.
Megan was stunned at what she felt. His heart was pounding so rapidly she wondered why it hadn't jumped out of his chest. Unmoving, he watched her face, as if giving her permission to make the next move. She sighed. Her hand cupped the back of his neck, his unruly dark hair curling over her fingers. He shivered under her palm. She applied a gentle pressure, and he automatically moved closer.
Megan realized how much she had to live for. This man in her arms was worth healing for, was worth fighting any army for.
He was her man.
She pulled him toward her swollen bruised lips that had been ravished so brutally by a man who she would always hate with all of her being. Only Richard could replace the memories of horror with a reminder of his love.
"Kiss me, Richard,” she softly requested.
Gently, he touched his lips to hers. “Promise you will help me,” he whispered against her lips.
"I promise I will help you from now on."
* * * *
With Megan's vow, a huge weight was taken off Richard's shoulders. His arms encircled her. He wasn't kissing her anymore, she was kissing him. Small butterfly kisses were raining on his cheeks and jaw and forehead.
Richard smiled at the sensations her slight kisses were evoking in him. At last he took over, his lips taking hers in a joining so sensual Megan gasped when he released her to breathe.
His warm breath bathed her
face, and his tongue came out to gently line her swollen bruised lips. Then he claimed the trembling softness of them again, his tongue tenderly entering her mouth. Tentatively, her tongue touched his. He groaned as his arms tightened around her, his pulse fluttering against the small hand touching his neck.
"Love me, Richard."
Megan's plea made him draw back slightly.
"I cannot. You are not well. It will hurt you,” he said with regret. He brushed back her red hair and framed her face with his hands.
She was so beautiful, this woman of his. Even with her bruises and welts, her eyes black and her cheek swollen, her inner beauty radiated a unique attractiveness that pulled him to her like no other.
"I do not care. Please erase the touch of that man. Please.” Her last sentence was croaked out as tears ran down her face.
Like a fire lit in his mind, he understood what she was requesting. She wanted to replace the memory of her violation with his love, his soft strokes, and the magic that flared when they touched.
"God, Megan.” He hugged her to him. “I am afraid of hurting you,” he admitted, something he would never do to another living person.
"I know, but this is what I need.” Her soft voice vibrated through his body.
"God's Blood.” He groaned as he gently kissed base of her throat. She moaned in response. He pushed away from her, then jumped up and threw the bolt on the door. He returned to the bed, sitting down next to her.
Desire for her filled his mind. He wanted to make love to her as much as she needed him to. But the injuries she was trying so desperately to erase from her mind were the same obstacles that would prevent him from granting her impulsive request.
Other things he could do. He could bring her to pleasure to expunge the memories that caused her so much pain. His pleasure would be in watching her enjoy his embraces again.
He began at her ankles, his touch light and non-threatening, moving slowly upward. As he tenderly stroked her calf, he slid up her nightdress exposing more of her legs. He concentrated on projecting his healing powers into his hands while he massaged her legs. Bit by bit, inch by inch, he moved up her thigh, casually moving the garment aside as he went.
Her pulse accelerated. Her breath began to hitch, changing to moans. He felt a similar response in himself and took a deep breath, trying to suppress his desire. As quickly as he could, he stripped off his tunic, leaving only his breeches, which he had no intention of removing.
With sure movements, he bent and stroked her cheek. Slowly, he lay next to her on the bed. Despite the care he took, the cot moved. She winced. He cringed, feeling her pain.
He shook his head with regret. What he wouldn't give to take every pain away from her. Alas, he could not. His powers were limited, but he would try to the best of his abilities.
He moved back and continued to stroke her legs and thighs, his movements gentle and sure. The tenseness eased from her body and she began to relax against his touch. His healing hands continued their explorations. When her shift slid up to the top of her thighs, she helped as he removed it from her body, exposing her damaged body in its naked splendor.
Richard attempted to calm his rage at the bruises and welts discoloring almost every inch of her alabaster skin. His gaze sought hers and he saw the tears form in her eyes.
"It's horrible, is it not?"
Her question broke Richard's resolve. With determination, he unlaced his boots. Dropping them to the floor, he gently laid next to her, gathering her trembling body in his arms.
"You will heal, my beauty."
She tensed at his endearment, but he continued to stroke her hair while he pressed his legs between hers. In that moment, he was closer to her than he had ever been with anyone else. Not only in a physical sense but also mentally, even more so than with his sister.
"Place yourself in my hands and I vow you will heal."
Her tears rolled down his neck before he heard her soft murmurs of anguish. Reaching behind her, Richard pulled the coverlet over their bodies. Her small hands came to rest on his chest. Even as he realized it was his job to heal her, the pull of her femininity bled through his mind.
Yet he held back. She was so small and so helpless, he couldn't take advantage of her. He needed to protect her, not use her damaged body to slake his lust.
"Rest, Megan. I will be here when you awaken.” He felt her shift next to him and settle into his arms.
"But...?” Her question stopped before it began. She buried her face in the hollow of his throat.
Richard knew what she was asking. He stroked her hair, and then lightly ran his hands down her injured neck.
"Megan, rest, we have plenty of time to love."
At his words, he felt her body relax again.
"Thank you, Richard."
He wrapped his arm around her waist. He felt the steady rhythm of her breathing against his throat.
He waited until he knew she was finally asleep before he released his breath and his tears, trying to ease the tension her pain caused in him. He closed his eyes. Resting his chin against her hair, he took several deep breaths, attempting to calm his distress.
"Please, God,” he whispered against her hair. “Please convince me there was a reason for this, please...” His whisper broke off as Megan stirred. Her hands resting on his ribs moved around to hug his back, finally settling on the Raven of his shoulder. She murmured in her sleep and settled back into his body.
"Please give me the strength to help her though this, God, please.” Richard's prayers went unheard by Megan as she slept in the comfort of his healing arms and rested comfortably without nightmares.
For the first time in a long while, Richard thanked the Gods for his gift.
Chapter Eight
Megan kept her promise not to hinder her healing. For three months, Richard stroked and held her every chance he had, trying to erase the memory of the bastard's touch and replace it with his own. Her young, strong body was healing naturally, but he wanted to make sure her mind healed as well.
His own body was in torture. With every day that passed, with every stroke of her skin, he wanted her more. But even though he felt their sexual connection grow stronger each day, Megan was not physically or mentally ready to couple with him. It was taking him to the limit of his control to keep their foreplay from going too far.
He dropped down next to Megan at the river and stretched out on the blanket. Lately, she'd been coming to the river to watch the sunlight sparkle on the rippling water. He guessed it reminded her of the stream near her home, her secret place that she'd shared with him.
"How are you today, my beauty?"
She smiled, not stiffening any more at his use of his pet name for her. He studied her as she turned toward him. Most of the bruises on her face had healed, fading to a gray shadow on her white skin, a dark reminder of a cruel day. Richard reached over and traced the lines under her eyes.
"You need more sleep."
She rolled her eyes. “You hog the bed."
He had taken to sleeping with her to absorb the pain of the nightmares. But even with his assistance, she still slept restlessly. And lying next to her, his body pressed to hers with his cock swollen and aching, wasn't doing much for the quality of his rest, either.
Last night, he had brought her to orgasm, slowly stroking the plump folds between her legs until she shattered with release. The radiance of her face in that second was the most beautiful sight Richard had ever seen. Afterward, she had cried, then fallen into a blissful, quiet sleep.
He had stayed awake, holding her, unable to take care of his own relief. Finally, he'd dozed off. But when he'd awakened this morning, his cock was still as stiff as a tent post.
He smiled now and ran a hand through her red locks. Anchoring his hand to the back of her neck, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her body on top of his. She shifted, her groin lined up with his, her breasts pressing against his chest. There wasn't anything more he wanted to do at that mom
ent then sink his erection into her.
It was time to tell her how he felt.
"Megan,” he whispered between nibbles on her lips.
She lifted her lips from his. “Aye?"
"I'm in love with you."
"Whaaat?"
Richard grinned at her stunned expression. He stroked her jaw, and his mouth followed his fingers.
"You heard me."
"Richard—I don't know what to say."
Richard sat up, taking her with him. “You can say you love me too. You can say you'll consent to be my wife."
She stood. Richard stayed where he was. He didn't like what was happening. Even though he'd promised he wouldn't do it, he opened his senses.
She does love me. I can feel it.
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Megan, what is it? What holds you back?"
She turned away from him. Richard got up and eased behind her. Putting both arms around her, he rested his chin on her head.
"Tell me, my beauty. What is it?"
"I can't wed you."
Richard sensed her regret.
"Can't, Megan? Or won't?"
"I can't. I ... Richard ... I...” She started to cry.
"It's all right, tell me."
"I'm damaged."
Richard immediately turned her around to face him. He tried to contain his anger but it radiated off him. He saw her wince. She lowered her head. He placed both hands on her face and forced her to look at him.
"You are not, nor will you ever be, damaged, my beauty. Ever."
She dropped her gaze. “Look at me,” Richard commanded.
Her eyes snapped up to meet his.
"Ever."
She searched his face, as if trying to see the truth. He kissed her then, an angry meeting of lips.
When would she trust him?
He tried to tamp down the harshness he felt, his tongue mating with hers. She made a sweet noise and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
Richard walked her three steps back to a sprawling redwood and placed her back against the tree. He grabbed her ass, pulling her off the ground.
