His green eyes reflected the flames, turning more gold than green... like those of a wolf’s, and a tiny, feral smile turned the corners of his mouth. He said, without much heat to his words, “The only tale my wife should tell is the truth, and if that not be the case, she will find herself accursed in truth.”
Lìli turned away.
How quickly they veered from compliments to threats. And yet somehow she felt a little less nervous with the knowledge that he was not immune to her. Still... her purpose here was becoming all the more confused, for despite that she told herself she was simply playing her role, nothing in her life had ever felt more real than this—from the desire she spied in his gold-flecked eyes, to the danger she sensed lurking just beneath the gentle warning. Something compelled her to warn him as well, for what if it were true? What if he grew to love her? What if she buried yet another husband? Then again, she would bury him anyway. At least this way she could lay the blame at someone else’s feet.
“Tisna me who ever claimed I was cursed,” she reminded him, meeting his gaze once more. “Still, I have already seen one husband put beneath the ground.”
“Is that a warning, mo cridhe?”
Aidan watched her expression, trying to read her.
Her lovely breasts rose with the catch of her breath and her eyes flickered with recognition of the affectionate words he used. My heart. For, aye, it seemed she was weaseling her way into his, despite the careful guard he kept.
And yet … strip away their associations, and they were much the same, he mused. They both hailed from the same past, the same proud nation. Only her kinsmen took another path, while his yet another. Dressed now as she was, with her hair adorned by a circlet of silver, bearing his howling wolf’s head device, there was nothing left to remind him of her ties to Scotia, and certainly not to England. How much of her heredity was gone by now, he wondered, supplanted by Sassenach customs? For what else was Scotia now but an arm of England? He wondered: Was there aught left of her Pecht heritage? In truth, she might have been fully Gael, but cloaked in his colors, with her dark hair sweeping into the night, and her face kissed by the firelight, she looked more like a Pecht queen.
“Nay,” she replied finally, her voice no more than a whisper. “No warning.”
God’s truth, but he had forgotten that he’d even spoken so enraptured was he with her beauty. Her violet eyes sparred with his, challenging him at some deeper level, unknowingly feeding his carnal hunger, for the desire to possess his wife, body and soul, became tangible in that instant. The need to hear his name whispered upon her lips was undeniable. Only one thing was certain: He desired her with a hunger that he wondered could ever be sated.
All sounds faded for the space of a breath, and it seemed the world paused. Even the breeze broke, as though the gods themselves held their breaths to see what he might do... and still she would not look away.
“Take heed, sùilean gorm, if you continue to look at me just so, I will take it as an invitation.”
He'd called her Blue Eyes.
Lìli blinked, unable to look away.
The beat of her heart quickened and her palm felt sticky against the cup in her hand. Suddenly, as though fed by the passion ignited between them, the fire beside them seemed to surge, burning hot, dancing wildly. Flecks of golden ash rained down from the night sky.
“Drink up,” he said softly, eyeing the wooden cup in her hand.
He quaffed the rest of his own, and called out to the crowd, “Slàinte mhòr agad!”—Great health to you all!—and then he tossed his wooden cup into the writhing flames and looked into her eyes.
Lìli shivered, but held his gaze.
There was no way to avoid what she sensed was to come, though come what may, she vowed to do this on her own terms. Shuddering at his intense look, she did as he bade her, drinking full half a cup, and then she too threw her cup into the bonfire.
Suddenly without warning, Aidan lifted her into his arms and raised her high, exclaiming to one and all. “Oidhche math!”
Just like that, he bade them all good night.
Chapter Eighteen
The night grew dark as they slipped away from the bonfire.
The sound of revelry faded behind them and Lìli’s heart beat a staccato in her head. With every step her husband took, she imagined herself closer to the black sin that would condemn her soul to hell.
Aye, but dinna think of that just now.
Aidan spoke not a word as he whisked her down the long pier toward the crannóg. In the darkness, the pitch torches roared past her ears, the winking of flames scant competition for the glowing stars in the clear night sky, although were it not for the torches, the hall itself would have been immersed in blackness—swallowed by the bottomless darkness of the loch.
Silent and surefooted, Aidan bore her inside the hall, passing through the dimly lit room, and toward the laird’s chamber, where she had slept the night before. And then, once inside the laird’s bedchamber, he set her down upon her feet.
She felt dizzy and cold, her fingers icy and trembling.
In anticipation of the bedding perhaps, the brazier had been lit and the fire gave off a tawny glow but failed to warm the room. Unattended fires were not prudent in this wooden fortress, and this one was barely a flicker.
Tonight, the shutters were closed against the night sky—as though he would keep all that transpired in this room a secret wholly unto themselves. The thought gave Lìli a shiver of trepidation, for now was the moment when she would discover whether her husband was a savage or a gentle man. There were dark promises in his eyes that she could not read.
He closed the door gently and went to the brazier, stoking the flames, and for a long moment, silence permeated the room, the pop of green firewood the only sound that dared to defy the quiet. Her head swam a little—the effects of the uisge no doubt, but she was glad for the heady brew for it gave her a courage she might not otherwise feel. No matter that she told herself she was not afraid, her shivers betrayed her.
Divesting himself, he hung his claymore on two pegs upon the wall—clearly, he did not sleep with it. And with quiet precision, he set his dirk aside as well, and proceeded to remove his breacan and tunic, tossing them to one side upon the floor, away from brazier lest they catch a spark from the flames. Then he lingered by the fire to stoke the embers, completely naked save for his boots.
Silhouetted by the firelight, he stood with his back to her, unashamed. His shoulders were wide and muscled and the firelight danced upon his swarthy skin. Lìli had certainly seen him bare-shouldered before, but unpainted in the soft light, this was far more intimate. One long scar ran across his left shoulder and another lower at his side. His buttocks were strong and lean, the muscles flexing as he moved the poker about the brazier.
Shivering softly, Lìli told herself it was the cold, but even now she was growing warmer as she watched. And then he turned to face her suddenly, and she gasped, her eyes widening of their own accord, for he was somewhat larger than she had anticipated, despite that he was not yet fully aroused. Lìli swallowed convulsively.
“Now, my little dove, we will discover how willingly you come to me.”
Lìli tried hard to still her tremors. “W-why must you doubt me? I spoke the same vows as you.”
He chuckled low, but there was little mirth in the sound. “Why indeed.”
It wasn’t a question.
He strolled to the bed while Lìli remained precisely where he had set her down by the door, and he sat down to unlace his boots. All the while, Lìli watched, wide-eyed and shivering every so oft as he made quick work of unlacing his ties. She blinked, and one boot came off. He tossed that aside with a thump, and began to unlace the other, eyeing her all the while. “In all my years I have ne’er taken a woman unwilling, Lìli. I’llna begin now.”
By all that was virtuous, she was quaking like a virgin, and he sought to put her at ease. “Tell me true... did you wed once and bare a child?” Since she
had arrived without her son, there was no proof of that, save the word of men Aidan did not trust. To look at her simply belied the fact, for even wrapped in her new arisaid, he could make out the lithe form of her body.
She lifted her chin and pulled the arisaid more tightly around her shoulders. “I-I did.”
Aidan frowned, for the gesture meant she either feared him—although he’d given her no true reason to as yet—or she did not wish to lie with him.
Both scenarios displeased him.
She was his wife now, but Aidan would never force himself upon any woman, not for any reason. Not for peace between nations. Certainly not for any alliance with David. Not even to prove to himself that he was immune to the plea he spied in those violet eyes.
“I will ask you only once more... is this…” He gestured at the bed, lest she mistake him. “… your will, mo cridhe?”
Her eyes darkened to black in the shadows of the room, and her voice trembled but she answered him at once. “I have said... many times now... aye.” And yet she clutched the arisaid more tightly to her breast, her knuckles whitening over the effort of holding the wool closed.
“Then prove it,” he demanded.
She seemed startled by the challenge, but Aidan merely sat, waiting for her response, determined to make her show him. “W-What would you have me do?” She swallowed visibly.
Like a poppet on a string, his cock stirred between his legs. “To begin with, you might speak my name... once... so I may cease to think of this as a business arrangement.”
“I f-fail to see why one should preclude the other,” she told him. But despite the mettle in her words, she stammered, and his lips curved a little, admiring her.
He considered her answer a long moment, and then nodded, acknowledging the fact as truth. In this, he must give her leeway, for he could not expect her to declare affection for him in the meager time since he had known her. As yet, there had been little enough tenderness between them, but he would remedy that at once. His own vow to steel his heart against his Scoti bride was forgotten for the instant.
Even frightened as she seemed, her eyes challenged him and her posture remained proud. He sensed something in her that sent his pulses racing and his blood singing through his veins. She would not be easily won, but she would be worth every ounce of patience he could muster.
He had been told he was a tender lover, and if he was, it was because he could not rouse himself with unrequited passion. Whatever war they might be waging outside this room, he would not carry it within his bed. “I would see you,” he demanded. “Let go of your shield, warrior maid.”
Lìli blinked in confusion. “My shield?”
He smiled darkly, and said, “The arisaid. If you come to my bed of your own free will, I would see you walk to me in the glory you were made.”
Lìli’s head swam. Forsooth, it seemed his entire demeanor had changed once he’d closed the bedroom door. Drawn to the heat of the fire, she moved closer to the brazier, unmindful that by doing so, she would offer him a clearer view.
But something in his gaze compelled her.
The hunger she spied in his eyes emboldened her. Whether it was the uisge or something else, she didn’t know, because she had never been so immoderate even in Stuart’s presence, but she suddenly loosened her hold upon the arisaid, her breath catching nervously. Something about the appreciative gleam in his eye persuaded her to drop the cloak more effortlessly than the hot fire blazing at her back. It fell to the floor with a soft whoosh, and then she stood there for his appraisal, her breath trapped painfully in her breast.
And still he waited, not stirring from the bed where he sat, apparently unwilling to breach the distance between them. She might have thought he was displeased, save for the look of desire in his eyes. Seduced by that look, she reached for the hem of her gown and pulled it up and over her head, allowing the soft wool to float down to the cloak at her feet. And then she stood there, cool air kissing her skin, pebbling her nipples. The fire warmed her bottom.
It was the longest seconds of her life.
Aidan sucked in a breath at what she had revealed to him.
His eyes, greedy for the sight of her, swept the length of her body, and his breath caught in his lungs.
Her limbs were limned by the firelight, her hips painted with tawny light. And though he could not quite see her eyes now for the firelight blinding him, his gaze was drawn at once to the apex between her thighs, where the golden flames licked between her legs. His mouth watered as he thought of putting his tongue there, and his cocked stirred once again, stiffening against his thigh. “Ye are lovely,” he said at last, lest she mistake his reluctance to go to her. He needed to know beyond a shadow of doubt that she accepted him of her own accord.
“As are you,” she returned, and it took Aidan a little by surprise. He chuckled low, inordinately pleased that she thought so, no matter that he had never considered his countenance before now. Her nipples hardened before his eyes, and points of light danced before his eyes, but not even the uisge could not have kept him from hardening fully at the sight of her tentative smile. His shaft sprang forward like that of a beardless youth’s, ready to pounce.
Still he didn’t move.
He waited.
The circlet of silver remained in her hair, and she looked like a princess standing there with her chestnut waves shining by the firelight.
“What more must I do to prove myself?” she asked softly, and Aidan could not help himself. His hand sought his shaft, craving her touch, but he stroked it merely once, and shuddered, holding it firmly within his fist as he enjoyed the sight of his lovely bride naked by the fire. “Come here, Lìli,” he said, and shuddered with barely restrained ardor.
Lìli’s heart thumped like drums beating against her ribs.
She saw where his hand went, and was shocked by the complete lack of inhibition. There was nothing diffident about her husband’s manner. And yet, he seemed completely restrained, hardly showing any reaction save for that small gesture.
The fire warmed her bottom, but the desire in his eyes started yet another flame, one that flickered in the deepest recesses of her body. Even before she took a step, her body convulsed in secret places, startling her with the reaction, for this was not anything she recalled from her first coupling with Stuart. Her first husband had been a mass of groping limbs in the cold darkness.
Nay, this was something far, far different.
As though carrying her with a will of their own, her feet padded across the wooden floor, closing the distance between them. And then she stood before him, and still he refrained from touching her, until the tips of her breasts ached from the cold... or more... with the need to be touched by his warm, strong hands.
After a moment, he reached up to pluck the silver circlet from her hair, gently working it free of her pins. He tossed it on the far side of the bed. His eyes pierced her and he spoke low and soft, full of calm. “If ’tis your will, you may turn and walk out that door, Lìli—this moment—and I would gladly send you home with men aplenty to see you safely to your door.”
God help her, but Lìli didn’t wish to go.
“If you do not,” he warned. “If you stay, if you lie beneath me... I will never ever let you go. Do ye ken?”
Like a flash of lightning, Kellen’s face appeared before her. Rogan’s threats accosted her, along with all the promises she had made. There was no doubt by the look in her husband’s eyes that he meant every word he spoke.
“Do ye ken?” he persisted.
Lìli nodded, her heart hammering.
But there was only one path for her to take now. Precisely where it would lead she could not know. For answer, she dared to reach out, setting her hand to his cheek and he turned his face into her palm, groaning deep in the back of his throat …
Chapter Nineteen
Aidan could not see her eyes to know how she took his warning.
He half expected her to dress herself and leave, half ex
pected her to respond with practiced words of reassurance, but he did not quite expect the response she gave.
Ach, he’d meant to let her set the pace tonight, but when she touched his face, all reason fled. His arms went about her waist and he drew her into his embrace, pressing his lips against her warm, sweet breasts. The scent of her was intoxicating—clean woman and flowers.
His tongue ventured out of its own accord to lap the salt of her flesh and he found her skin sweet and soft. “I am bewitched,” he murmured beneath his breath. “I have never desired a woman so much…”
Hearing the passion in his words, Lìli shuddered against the warmth of his embrace. His fingers splayed across her back, pulling her toward him eagerly to suckle at her breasts. The intimate gesture shocked her for only her babe had ever suckled there. Her cheeks flamed, the warmth pale in comparison to the heat that was now growing in her womb. She made some keening sound that was alien to her own ears, and her head fell back in abandon. She cried out softly as his teeth gently nipped at one nipple, pressing gently but greedily.
Confusion muddled her brain, for his touch was far too gentle to be that of her enemy—and yet that was how she must see him, or she was truly doomed to fail.
Suddenly he lay back upon the bed, pulling her atop him.
Gasping in surprise, Lìli let herself go.
Was she such a wanton that she could desire her enemy so much? That she could grow wet for his touch? To her dismay, she felt the dampness between her legs as he positioned her so that she straddled his belly.
Behind them, the firelight provided the only light in the room and the bed dwarfed even her husband. She blocked the light from his face, but she could still spy the gleam in his eyes, until he closed them again, groaning as his head fell back, baring his neck to her. Were she a practiced assassin, she might have slit his throat right then and ended it all, but she was not, and she was beginning to doubt that she would ever be so bold. Nor could she find it in her heart to wish to carry out such a sin.
Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) Page 17
