Aidan tried in vain to constrain himself.
He willed his heartbeat to still, but his breath remained imprisoned in his lungs and he groaned as her hand splayed gently upon his chest. He laid his head back and peered up at her, bemused, holding her wrist firmly in an attempt to clear his lust-fogged brain. But then he felt her wetness kissing his belly and his shaft hardened completely, rising up against the warmth of her buttocks. He was lost then, from that moment forward.
If he hadn’t already been so mindful of his response to her, he might have spilled his seed then and there. But despite that it had been so long since he’d lain with a woman, or since he had pleasured himself, he was not a boy and would not allow himself to relieve himself as one.
Nay, but when he found release, it would be within the depths of her sweet body and he wanted to feel her womb embrace him as a lover. He wanted to plant his seed there. And aye, he’d meant everything he’d said, for the instant it became a possibility that she might carry his bairn, he would never release her from their vows. If it be within his power, no babe of his would make their way into this world without him to protect and guide him.
“Ride me, Lìli,” he commanded.
For an instant, Lìli had no idea what it was he was asking of her. But his shaft twitching insistently against her backside was an immediate clue. Her heart hammered in her breast as she realized what he meant for her to do.
It was utterly shocking—nothing in her wildest dreams could have prepared her for this coupling. But there was a part of her that reveled in his request, knowing instinctively that he was offering her control over the coupling—over him.
He shifted beneath her, and Lìli swallowed, feeling suddenly as brazen as she had ever felt. Her heart beat mercilessly as she repositioned her weight, rising to allow his shaft beneath her, and then, although she had never done this before, she followed her instinct, shifting her weight forward again so that she lay as though over the withers of a mount. She didn’t give herself time to think about the size of him, or the feel of him begging entrance. She tilted her hips to accept him, and pressed down, sheathing him fully and crying out at the delicious feel of his hot, soft flesh within her body.
Aidan too cried out, a guttural moan, and closed his eyes only an instant, but he reopened them, and demanded once more, “Ride me, Lìli.”
Lìli did not need to be asked again. Feeling heady in a way the uisge alone could never have accomplished, she rode astride his body, arching over the thickness of him caressing her from the inside. He filled her so completely, his body tensing as she rode him, and in that instant she sensed the dominion he had given her over him—as a woman—as his wife.
His gaze glittered like green diamonds through the shadows, and his eyes were dazed and filled with pleasure as she continued to stroke him with her body, coaxing his male gift into her womb. Her skin prickled with pleasure and her body convulsed around him, conveying promises of something more... something mysterious... something magical. Seated atop him, bared to his eyes, with the firelight dancing upon their bodies, she felt transformed somehow, no longer a pawn in the games of men. And in that instant, she dared to think of nothing more than the man who lay beneath her, not the sins she must somehow commit, nor of how she might feel tomorrow. In the instant, she only cared about how she felt... how he made her feel... how she might please him.
His hands crept up her waist, cupping her breasts, kneading softly and arching into his hands, Lìli rode until her body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. From somewhere deep within her, a thread began to uncoil and suddenly she was no longer concerned with the sway she held over Aidan, for his pleasure gave way to her own.
In all her life she would never have imagined that it could feel so good to be filled so completely by a man.
She looked like a goddess atop him, her body writhing before the firelight, a pagan dance as old as time. A lustrous sheen of sweat covered her creamy skin and Aidan could suddenly not bear to allow her to keep her pace. In one swift motion, he repositioned her beneath him, and pulled his shaft out far enough so that he could peer into her eyes.
She cried out, her nails digging into his flesh, urging him back and his heart hammered in his ears. The tip of his shaft throbbed but he held back nevertheless, wanting her to open her eyes and see him first.
Once she realized he would not budge, she lifted her hips into his pelvis, seeking him, throwing her legs around his thighs. She opened her eyes and Aidan reveled in the feel of her legs wrapped around him.
This was the moment he had been waiting for.
Though her eyes were glazed with passion, he wanted her to know beyond a shadow of doubt who was taking her now. He wanted her to realize that from this moment forth she was his, and his alone. “I will give you sons,” he whispered hoarsely, surging down against her, the motion slow and calculated.
“Aye!” she cried softly.
“And daughters,” he said, withdrawing a bit to tease her.
“Oh, nay!” she cried again, and dug her nails into his shoulders, as though she would prevent him from leaving her.
“Buin mo chridhe dhuit!” he whispered, and then words were no longer welcome.
She cried out once more as he thrust deep, seeking her womb. Mindless with the need for release, he rode hard, filling her completely. She met his every thrust as though she understood his words, accepting him fully and with equal passion. Their coupling was fierce, neither relinquishing control, their bodies battling for that heady thread of pleasure. When at last Lìli’s body convulsed beneath him, and she cried out, Aidan spilled his seed into her womb, though even then he did not stop. He rocked against her gently, taking immense pleasure in the way she spread her legs for him, like a flower opening to the sun.
Lìli’s senses scattered, her inhibitions completely swept away by the pleasure his body provided. She wanted him deeper still, deeper despite that she had already discovered the mysteries he had promised. She moaned softly, marveling that even though she’d already felt the heat of his seed inside her, he would not stop. He groaned as though in pain, but continued, as though taking pleasure in the simple act of loving her.
Sated, she released him, letting her arms fall to the bed, enjoying the way he loved her so thoroughly...
She sighed contentedly for his words still rang in her ears... words not even Stuart had uttered—not in any language.
My heart belongs to you.
She didn’t say it in return, but in that instant, everything changed... everything. For no longer could she be his enemy. He was no longer hers.
Chapter Twenty
The chances of the boy surviving the fall off the cliff were minimal, but the urge to slip away to make certain he was dead was unbearable. Still, Rogan resisted, unwilling to undermine his own efforts.
He had taken great pains to be noticed all evening by Aidan’s clansmen, knowing that the instant they found the lad’s broken body they would naturally seek someone to blame. They would look first to their unwanted guests. Lìli’s whereabouts had been accounted for all day and night, so she would not suffer their accusations. His own men, all of them, had remained by his side, and Rogan had slipped away barely long enough to follow the boy and shove him off the cliff, then he had returned straightaway. Not even Rogan's own men were wise to him—they thought he’d gone to take a piss. Stupid Aveline had been with Lìli and the women.
If the boy should survive, he doubted the lad could name him, but with long hours gone now since he had pushed him over the cliff, his survival seemed every moment more doubtful.
Arrogant little twit.
He’d caught the boy watching the women—so intently that he hadn’t even realized he had an audience himself... not even in the end. It had been far too simple. All Rogan had had to do was slip up behind him and give him a good shove. The lad had been standing by the edge, watching the women walk up the hill. His cry of alarm had been muffled by the roar of the waterfall, and not even the
lass whose arse wiggled for the boy while she’d walked away had realized. By the time she had turned around to see if he was still watching, both Rogan and the boy were gone, and for all Rogan knew the lad had drowned instead of breaking his neck. He hadn’t even taken the time to peer over the cliff side to see where the bastard had landed.
With eyes that burned from standing too close to the fire—so that everyone would see him clearly—he watched Aidan bear his bride away, unmindful of anything but the woman in his arms. He watched until they disappeared into the black hole that was his hall, rage threatening to snap his ribs and rip his chest in two.
Once they were gone, his gaze returned to the fire where he watched the last of Lìli’s cup be devoured by the flames.
The whore had had eyes only for the dún Scoti all night, not once looking in Rogan’s direction—as though she’d all but forgotten his presence here at Dubhtolargg. He felt his control of her slipping quickly away, and his gaze fell to Aveline at his side.
Mute, for there were too many ears about, he waited for Aveline to look at him and pierced her with a glare, warning her without words to stay true to his plan. God’s teeth, but he could not even afford to step away into the shadows with her, not even to relieve the terrible anger that was welling up within his breast. He plucked the wildflower out of her greasy hair—the same flower all the women wore as well—and crushed it within his fists.
“You are not one of them,” he apprised her, whispering near her ear. “You’d do well to remember that when I am gone.”
Aveline nodded, peering down at her feet.
Still Rogan was not appeased, because no matter what he might gain after all was said and done he could not bear the simple fact that Lìleas MacLaren would sooner open her legs to a savage than to share his bed or name. With barely restrained violence, he tossed the crushed yellow blossom from Aveline’s hair into the flames.
Aye, but in the end, victory would be his.
Sated and comfortable lying beside his bride, Aidan closed his eyes, remembering the way it had felt to move inside her. He continued to brush his fingers across her belly, reveling in the feel of her soft skin against his callused fingertips. She had given equal measure, rising to his every challenge, and he was pleased to the core of his being.
She lifted sleepy lids. “You have scars on your back … what are they from?”
Aidan smiled softly. “I learned not to anger Lael at a verra young age,” he lied. Now was not the time to reveal that he had earned them the night Padruig Caimbeul had murdered his father and raped his mother. Padruig’s men had restrained him, forcing him to watch her father defile his mother. And then when Padruig was finished, her father’s men had plunged their daggers into his back—two at once—then left him for dead.
“I fear she doesna like me much.”
He spied the worry in her gaze and knew it was genuine. “Gi’ her time,” he advised. “My sister’s loyalty is no' so easily won, but when she gives it, she will give it wholly.”
He lifted a hand to her cheek, caressing her face with a thumb. “Ye truly are beautiful, Lìli—particularly when ye smile. I would see that ye do so often.”
She turned to face him, lying on her side, her violet eyes glistening. Though her words did not match the touch of sorrow he spied in her eyes. “If ye love me often as ye did tonight, I willna be able to help it. They'll think me mad and call me a loon.”
Aidan laughed. “There are many things they may call you, mo chridhe, but òinseach is not one.”
She nodded, and then closed her eyes. “Do ye truly believe peace is possible betwixt us?”
Aidan considered the question, and the woman cozied in his bed. She was hardly what he had expected. He didn’t fool himself into believing the man who had stood smirking over his father’s body with a bloodied blade slung over his shoulder, could regret his betrayal and deception of a people he clearly despised, but mayhap there was hope despite everything?
He waited so long to answer that he thought she might have fallen asleep. “Aye,” he said finally, and her lips turned upward at the corners and she sighed and relaxed.
After awhile, Aidan dared to relax as well, and consider that mayhap, in truth, this marriage could buy his kinsmen peace for a time.
Could he afford to take David at his word? Even after David had stolen his sister Catrìona and spirited her south? In the man’s defense, he had intended, he’d said, to wed Cat to an ally in the name of peace. But Catrìona would never have been happy as the wife of an Englishman, or even a border lord. In truth, she might have cut off her husband’s bollocks and served it to him in his soup. None of his sisters would easily accept such a fate—least of all Lael or Cat.
He lay in the darkness, thinking that it was past time to get up and stoke the fire lest his lovely wife perish of cold while lying naked in their bed. But he lingered, contented and languorous, thinking in that moment of his sister Cat and the man she had wed: Gavin mac Brodie... brother to a chieftain with fealties to no one but his immediate kin. At least he was a Highlander. Aidan’s people had never crossed swords with anyone from that region of the Highlands. Like his own kinsmen, the mac Brodies and MacKinnons kept mostly to themselves, despite the fact that the MacKinnon had blood ties purer than most to the Ailpín line. Like Aidan, he simply seemed to wish to live his life free of strife. Still, the MacKinnon called himself a Scot. So did Gavin mac Brodie, for that matter.
So did his beautiful wife.
What of their babe? The children of their union. Would they any longer be worthy of the Pecht name?
They were saving the real stone for a rightful king, but what if their time had passed? By accepting Lìli as his bride, he had, in effect, put an end to their pristine bloodline. Unless he relinquished leadership to Keane when the time came... His people had become a final bastion in a world that was quickly coming to an end. If he felt ambivalent about their purpose, it was mostly because of that, he supposed. The customs of his people were going the way of his faith.
Una claimed this woman at his side would be their salvation... could she perhaps be his as well?
As he lay there studying the perfect arch of his wife’s brow and the fullness of her lips, he was startled by an urgent knock at the bedroom door.
The sharp sound of rapping boomed through the chamber.
Startled as well, Lìli bolted upright.
The hour was late, and the urgent sound could only mean one thing: Something terrible had happened. She gave Aidan a questioning look.
Aidan arose from the bed and Lìli scrambled for the covers. Without bothering to dress himself, he went straight for the door, cracking it open to peer outside. She heard a fervent female whisper, but couldn’t make out the voice or comprehend the fevered words spoken so low. Her husband turned to pierce her with a look that sent a cold shiver down her spine. “Dress yourself!” he commanded, and then threw open the door, completely unmindful of the woman who stood outside—or the one in his bed.
But his sister Lael was hardly concerned with her brother’s state of dress. Her gaze sought Lìli’s and the fury Lìli spied there shriveled her tongue. She might have asked what was wrong, but before she could even pull herself together, Lael spun and walked away.
Aidan dressed quickly, eschewing the tunic and simply wrapped himself in his breacan. He followed his sister out the door, but not before retrieving his claymore from where he’d hung it upon the wall. “Get dressed,” he demanded again, this time without bothering to look at Lìli. Neither did he bother with his boots, or spare Lìli another glance to be sure she complied. He left her there with the door open wide to the cold, wondering what could have possibly happened. Apparently, he intended for her to follow, so she hurried to retrieve her clothing and dressed as quickly as she was able.
Chapter Twenty-One
“They discovered him near Caoineag’s Pool,” Lachlann revealed when Aidan entered his brother’s room.
Una was already at Keane’s b
edside, examining the wound on his head. “He is quite fortunate,” she said gravely. “He has already awakened once, though just for an instant.”
“Did he say aught?”
Lachlann shook his head.
“Who found him?”
“Meara,” Lael replied, entering behind Aidan. “She couldn’t find him at the bonfire, and went searching where she'd spied him last.”
Aidan frowned.
“Apparently, he was watching the women bathe,” Lachlann added.
Aidan shook his head and sighed, blaming himself for being so pre-occupied with his Scoti bride that he had completely neglected the safety of his family. He sat at the edge of his brother’s bed, setting the claymore down at Keane’s feet. “Where is Cailin?”
It was Lael who answered. “I sent her home with Fergus and Meara—to question the lass if she could. Meara was beside herself with grief after seeing so much blood, and since she saw naught, I dinna believe it was in her best interest—or Keane’s—to allow her in his room.”
Aidan sighed again, the sound weary, as though he carried the burden of the world upon his broad shoulders. “What else do we know?”
“No’ verra much,” Lachlann replied. “I took Glenna and her son home. As I returned, Meara came shrieking like a banshee from the direction of the loch.”
Aidan stared at his brother’s still form, trying not to allow fear into his thoughts. Keane’s body was bruised and bleeding, and he had a cut and whelp on his forehead nearly the size of Una’s keek stane. But his breathing seemed stable. Keane was his only brother, but more than that, for the time being, he was Aidan’s sole heir as well.
Aidan raked a hand through his hair, considering the tale Lachlann relayed. His brother had always been surefooted. That he would have slipped and fallen down any cliff was certainly possible, but not probable. “No one saw anything more?”
Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) Page 18
