Conn was standing opposite the doorway, holding onto the bed, still wincing a little for the wounds on his chest pulled as he tried to straighten up. However, he could stand. He gave her a pale, triumphant grin, brow slick with sweat.
“Conn!” Leona stared. The priest and Conn looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“I told him not to,” the priest said ruefully. “But he did insist on trying.”
Leona shook her head, smiling, tears dampening her cheeks at once. “Oh, Conn,” she said.
The priest smiled gently. “He's standing, my lady. So I believe I have an office to perform?”
Leona nodded, a lump in her throat, remembering their agreement. “Yes, Father.”
They were married in the chapel. Leona wore a long white gown from the convent, a bouquet of lavender and herbs in her hands, courtesy of her good friend. Father Toby and Sisters Marcia and Florentia were witnesses.
The priest smiled at them, face flushed, his ceremonies completed. “Well, my children, this is a happy event. Now, I think I shall retire to my rooms for contemplation.”
Leona and Conn beamed at him.
“Thank you,” Leona whispered.
“I owe you my life, Father,” Conn said sincerely.
“I did nothing, my son.”
“I, too, owe you much,” Leona said. “And you, Sister Florentia, and Father Toby, and Sister Marcia...oh!” She felt her face wet with tears and turned to Conn.
“Come, lass,” he said gently in their native language. “Let's go.”
They walked out of the chapel into the garden, where they were approached by Sister Florentia.
“I shouldn't tell you this, but Sister Marcia and I have a surprise for you...” she flushed, looking at Leona. Leona looked from the older nun to her friend, a questioning smile on her face.
“It's not here, child,” Marcia said gently. “Come, follow me...”
They led them around the side of the convent, where traders left their wares. The surprise was a cart.
When Leona and Conn frowned at them, bemused, they explained.
“We asked Bruno, the carter, if he'd help us out...” Sister Marcia began carefully.
“He said he'd take you to the village!” Sister Florentia exclaimed. Her mentor frowned at her exuberant outburst and they all laughed.
Leona stared from one to the other. She swallowed hard, her throat tight with feeling. “Thank you,” she murmured to Sister Marcia. “Oh, thank you.”
What they were giving to her was more than just a trip on a cart: it was the chance to celebrate the first night of their wedding away from church precincts. They would be man and wife in truth. It was the greatest gift they could have offered.
“I'll never forget you,” Leona whispered to them. Both women blinked back tears.
“Farewell,” Florentia said, sniffing.
Leona embraced her and she giggled, blinking back tears. Then Leona took her mentor's hands, kissing them. Wordlessly, she turned to Conn. “Should we go?”
“Yes, my lady.”
They smiled at each other and clambered into the cart. Then they were off, heading toward the village.
They were man and wife.
They arrived at the inn at midday. Conn stepped down, still wincing a little as his feet hit the cobbles. He handed Leona down and they stared at each other, smiling into each other’s eyes.
“Come on, lass,” Conn said gruffly.
Leona followed him inside. They had a fine meal together and ordered the best room the innkeeper offered. Then they went upstairs together.
“My wife,” Conn whispered, stroking Leona's soft strawberry locks.
“Conn,” Leona murmured, feeling a blush creep hotly up her throat. “It's mid-afternoon...we shouldn't...”
He smiled. “Why shouldn't we?”
“Conn!” Leona scolded. She felt her stomach tingle as he smiled at her, that naughty grin lifting the corners of his mouth.
“What?” he whispered, pressing himself against her so that he pinned her against the wall as he stroked her hair again, body hard against hers.
“Conn...” she tried to protest. He stopped her words with a kiss. His warm, firm tongue slid between her lips, silencing all further debate. Moreover, as her body caught fire under his kiss, Leona realized that she didn't really want to argue about it. She leaned against him, body tingling all over.
“Come, lass,” he growled into her hair. “Let's go in.”
Leona followed him inside. The curtains were drawn, the sunlight filtering through onto the bed. Leona pressed her body against his as they kissed again in the middle of the room.
“My Leona,” he breathed. “You are so beautiful...”
She felt her body melting under the words, under the warmth of his gaze. His hands reached behind her to undo the back of her dress.
She tensed, and then relaxed as he stroked the back of her neck, whispering sweet nonsense into her hair. She was surprised that she had no memories of violence or fear. Her only thoughts were for him as he kissed her, gently unbuttoning her gown until it fell to the floor.
He pushed her back onto the bed. He looked down at her, desire written all over his face. “You are so beautiful, my wife.”
When he came to sit down on the bed and bent to kiss her, she closed her eyes, letting her senses run wild. His fingertips stroked her throat, moving down to the bodice of the petticoat. He worked the strap down over her shoulder and bent to kiss her breast, sighing with wonder.
“Oh!”
Leona tensed and cried out in amazement. She had not expected that his lips clamped to her nipple would feel so impossibly wonderful. Warm, firm, and teasing, the touch of them lancing through her body and filling her belly with warmth.
He smiled up at her, and then bent to sample her again. She cried out as he took the one into his mouth, cupping the other breast with his hand. Leona closed her eyes, then opened them again as he moved back, whispering her name.
He looked up at her, his brown eyes dancing with mischief. Then he sat up, and, stripped the petticoat from her body, left her lying naked before him. Leona felt her pulse drumming as he kissed a line down her belly, ending at her waist. His lips made damp circles on her skin, the gentle tug of them on her flesh sweetly arousing.
When he reached the place her thighs met, kissing her there, she cried out in surprise and he looked up, a question in his eyes.
“Can I…?”
“Yes,” she whispered shyly. He nodded.
When he kissed her there again, tongue caressing her folds, Leona felt her whole body tense with amazement and she cried out hoarsely. It felt warm, gentle, and amazing. He licked her again, slowly, and then repeated it, faster, tongue moving in little laps. She thought she might die, a strange, almost painful pleasure building up inside her slowly. His tongue moved, making the feelings intensify. Building and building and...
“Oh!”
When she reached the height of pleasure, it was intense. It almost frightened her. She cried out in alarm, feeling like her whole body was melting, as if her physical being had dissolved in a bath of wonder. Then she relaxed, and simply sighed as the waves of pleasure pulsed through her body, leaving her almost asleep.
Conn stood and Leona heard the small sounds of his undressing. When she looked up again, eyes half-open with pleasure, he was wearing only his trews. His chest was still laced with cuts, some of them newly-healed, some still too deep. Her eyes caught the slice-wound in his forearm, and she winced, seeing it. He was so beautiful! As he bent to unfasten his belt, his muscles rippled in the firelight. He was lean and hard and she was sure she had never seen anything so beautiful.
He undressed completely and she stared at him. Strangely, though she had never seen a man without his clothes, she did not feel afraid. She trusted Conn. She knew that he would never hurt her. He was so beautiful. He was so gentle. She was not afraid.
Conn lay beside her. She moved closer to him, laying her hea
d against his shoulder.
“Oh, Conn,” she whispered.
He stroked her hair and smiled at her, looking at her as if he had never seen anything so beautiful before.
Conn had imagined what it would be like and now he had done it: he had undressed Leona and kissed her everywhere. He looked at her where she lay beside him and felt an overwhelming wonder and desire. Her skin was pearl-pale, smooth as satin. The aureoles of her breasts were a soft pink, and the sweet rise of them, nipples stiff in the cool air, fired his body with longing.
He had been holding back, making sure she reached the heights of pleasure, wanting her to know that she did not have to fear him. Now, hearing her moan with pleasure beside him, he could hold back no longer.
He knelt up, looking down at her. Moved to kneel at the end of the bed.
Her eyes flew open as he pushed his knee gently between her legs, pressing her thighs apart. He looked into those sweet sapphire blue eyes and asked a question. “Yes?”
“Yes.” He felt his body catch fire as she smiled at him.
He slowly pushed himself inside her. Her warmth and firmness drew him in, and he gasped. He had never quite believed this would happen. Being inside her, looking down and seeing her face, smiling in pleasure, brow knotted in a little frown.
It, he had to admit, was wonderful. He pushed into her again, and then drew almost completely out, loving the sensation of entering her again and again and again. His wounds stretched and pulled a little as he moved, but he barely noticed. His whole body strained for climax, swamping all else, all other sensations disappearing below the wild fire of his need.
He altered the angle and pushed in more, going slowly at first and then faster and faster, feeling his own need rising and growing, building up with each thrust, and each groan into a wild, unrelenting current of need that was drawing him on and on and on...
“Oh! Oh! Oh....”
He moaned and felt his body pumping inside her as he collapsed onto her soft skin, waves of release making him cry out in amazement. He lay in place, the pleasure of it rippling through him.
At length, he rolled off her, moved to lie beside her. She nestled closer and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Lass,” he murmured. “My Leona. My love.”
Leona snuggled against him, that soft, satiny skin pressing close to him. “My Conn. I love you too.”
He lay with her in his arms, listening to the sound of her breathing and knew that he could never have imagined being so happy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
RETURN HOME
RETURN HOME
The next morning, they rode away from the inn, a delicious breakfast in their bellies and their heads full of plans.
“We should head west until we reach the coast,” Conn explained.
Leona frowned at him, riding by his side on a jennet horse they had hired from the inn. “Conn, we can't risk being seen on the road.”
Conn nodded. “I know.” He had told her of his fight with the Comte, and of how the man had – according to Father Antoine – put a price on his head. As long as the Comte was alive, they would not be safe in France.
“We could go north,” Leona suggested. “Go to Burgundy. We would be safe there.”
“We could,” Conn agreed. They decided that was what they would do. When they stopped at an inn that night, they shared the table with two carters. The talk turned to local events.
“...and it's a great shame. So young he was, too!”
“What has happened?” he whispered to Leona.
“Someone's dead,” Leona whispered back. “Who has died?” she asked the men in French.
“The Count of Cleremont. Only nine and twenty...too young to die in your bed, for certes.”
“He's dead?” Leona whispered, aghast.
“Aye,” the other carter agreed. “Slain in hand-to-hand combat...died of his wounds about two days ago. May God rest his soul.”
“Indeed.”
The two carters crossed themselves piously and Leona did the same, and then turned to look at Conn. His face was white with amazement, telling her he had understood too.
“He's dead,” she whispered in surprise. “The Comte is dead.”
That changed their plans. They decided to go back the way they had come, heading south again, and west. On the way they passed Annecy, skirting the main road.
“It seems Uncle might get his land after all,” Leona commented to Conn when they passed the village, heading ever westward.
“It does,” Conn agreed quietly. “What he'll do with it, a man all alone, I cannot imagine.”
“Me neither,” Leona nodded. “In some way, I feel sorry for him.”
“Sorry! Leona!” Conn looked at her in amazement, shifting in his saddle to face her. “After all he did?”
“He didn't actually do anything,” Leona said softly. “He is scheming and ruthless, yes; but I couldn't help liking him.”
Conn shook his head and said nothing. They rode on past the small, whitewashed village and on into the growing dusk.
A week later, they reached the sea. Passage to Scotland proved not too hard to find; and the rest of Leona's necklace paid for it. The crossing was swift and neither of them was seasick, which surprised them both.
Leona stood on the deck, watching the land approach.
So different than when I went away.
She could feel Conn's strong presence beside her, hear the snap of the wind in his cloak. She reached out a hand to hold his, recalling how desolate she had felt when she knew she was leaving him that first time.
He took her fingers in his own and they stood together, while the rigging snapped, the seagulls called and the sea bore them toward their homeland.
When they reached the docks at Queensferry, Conn walked off first, and then bowed to Leona, helping her ashore. They walked up the quay together.
“My lord! My lady!” the innkeeper greeted them in their native tongue. “A pleasure to have such fine folks staying here. Welcome!”
Leona felt the words wash over her, spoken in her own language. She turned to Conn, blinking back tears. He too was smiling, a grin of pure delight.
“We'll have your best room, sir! And a bowl of stew and mugs of ale!”
They celebrated that night and then afterward, in bed, they lay together on their home soil for the first time.
Leona snuggled against Conn, feeling his already-familiar presence in the darkness. The only sound was the crackle of the fire in the grate and the soft whisper of his breath. “Conn,” she whispered.
“What?” He rolled onto his side, body pressed to hers. She felt her own body tingle with arousal, feeling evidence of his desire for her, pressed against her hip.
“We're back. We're home.”
He stroked her hair. “We are, lass. That we are.”
They made love slowly at first, then with complete abandon. Leona felt as if her whole body had melted, consumed in the fire of their passion. She lay beside him, skin wet with sweat, her whole body relaxed inside and out.
The next morning, they made love again, then left, beginning the long ride home.
The forests and glens, hills and lakes seemed as familiar as always, though made new and wonderful again in their absence. They talked, laughed, chatted, and rejoiced in everything, from the solemn grandeur of a pine tree to the smell of heather. When they reached the last few miles of the journey, they fell entirely silent.
I'm here, Leona thought, trembling with wonder. After all my long adventures, I'm here at home.
She knew Conn was feeling it as well, for he was completely silent. They rode through the trees, Leona's heart pounding in her chest as she heard and saw and smelled all the familiar sights and sounds of home.
“Who goes there?”
Leona felt her face split with a smile as Alec, the gate guard, shouted a challenge.
“It's Conn McNeil, you rascal,” Conn shouted back, throwing back the hood of his cloak. “And th
e Lady Leona. Open at once! We're home.”
“Conn?” Alec went gray with shock. “You...we thought you were dead! The master held a mass in your name! And Lady Leona? We heard you'd settled in a foreign land! Welcome! This has been a house of mourning. Now it's a house of joy!”
Leona stared at Conn in wonderment. They thought Conn was dead? Her settled? Leona felt her heart beat faster.
“They're in for a shock,” Conn chuckled.
Leona nodded, feeling strangely apprehensive. She hadn't seen her family for months! What would they say? What would they think of her? What would...
“Daughter..?” Alina was on the step. Dressed in black velvet, hair bound back, she walked slowly down the staircase from the great hall, as if she had grown suddenly old.
“Mother!”
“Daughter!”
Alina ran down the stairs toward her and Leona ran up to meet her, launching herself into her arms. She drew her mother's slim body firm against her, shocked at how frail she seemed. “Mother! It's me! I'm back!”
Alina smiled, stepping back and looking into her face, a hand stroking her hair. She searched Leona's eyes then nodded. “Daughter,” she said, smiling. “You are happy. I am so glad. Your journeys have brought you to a sunny shore.”
Leona shivered, recalling her mother's prophecy. “Yes, Mother. They have. I am so happy.”
“And this is Conn,” Alina said, looking at him in wonder. “I did wonder if you were not alive somewhere. I said...”
“Conn!” A voice screamed, cutting through Alina's soft statement. They all turned toward the top of the staircase.
Chrissie was standing there, her cherry red gown blowing back as she ran, her face suffused with wonder, tears streaming down her cheeks. She cannoned into her son and held him to her chest, sobbing and laughing, kissing his face. “Oh, Conn!” she breathed. “It is you! It really, really is! I thought I heard your voice in the courtyard! Oh, my boy. My own wonderful boy...”
“Conn!”
Alf appeared behind them, Amice at his side. Alf raced to his brother, wrapping him in a bear hug that almost knocked him off his feet.
The Highlander’s Dilemma Page 19
