She learned quickly, imitating everything he’d done with deadly accuracy. Unsure of what to do, she touched the tip of her tongue to him and he reacted suddenly.
‘Bad?’ she asked in a throaty voice.
‘Good,’ he growled back. ‘Too good.’
The witch laughed and applied her newly found skills to torturing him until he begged her for more. She traced a path with her wet, hot tongue.
Ciara would drive him insane from the pleasure. She used her lips and tongue against him as he had on her flesh and he even felt the edges of her teeth graze along the length of him. He knew his release was not far off.
That was when she realised she could take him in her mouth. She opened her lips, surrounded the head of his cock and pushed down until she took most of it inside. Her innocence was demonstrated once again when she paused and he realised she did not know what to do next. He could have died a happy man in that position, but he urged her on.
Tavis deserved the torment he received, for though new at this, it took her little time to master the movements and bring him to within moments of release. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her mouth tightening around him, but he lifted her head.
‘I think I like kissing,’ she said with a smile.
‘Then think of how much you will like the rest of it.’
The words were out before he thought them through, but for a fleeting moment they both realised that it would not be him doing the rest of it with her.
‘Come, Ciara. You should get home before you are missed.’
He slid from the bed and gathered up her clothes, only then realising that she did not move. Well, she did move, but that was only to stretch her body like a cat, elongating her spine and rolling on to her belly, giving him a glimpse of her beautifully sculpted arse. Her long, blonde curls swirled over her body, hiding just enough to be enticing.
‘My parents believe I am spending the night at Elizabeth’s,’ she explained. ‘A last night alone with a dear, dear friend.’
He did not like deceiving his friend and mentor, but the alternative was a slow and agonising death at his hands for even touching his daughter this way.
‘You did not touch me with your hands,’ she said. He’d hoped she’d not notice that. Leave it to her to pick up on it.
‘You asked me for a kiss,’ he said, walking to the bed and holding out her clothes. ‘You got your kiss.’
‘You make it sound like a chore,’ she said, laughing. ‘I thought men enjoyed tupping.’
He sat next to her and tossed the clothes on a stool. ‘Men do. But we are not...tupping. I told you—’
‘I understand your boundaries, Tavis. And I thank you for them. But will touching me cross that line?’
‘You are killing me by inches!’
‘Then we can talk instead.’ She held out the weapon and he suspected she knew it would work. It did.
He turned and was on her before she could react. He lay over her, enjoying the feel of her. He eased one leg between hers from the back and slid it high, grazing the hair and rubbing until it eased up against her womanly flesh.
She sighed and leaned back against him, exposing her breasts to him. He slid his hand across them, caressing them until she arched against him. Positioned as she was, her neck was open to him and he leaned down and kissed her there, enjoying the way she shivered in his grasp.
Every sound she made pushed him to pleasure her more. He moved so that she lay half on him and eased both hands around her waist so he could stroke the folds between her legs. She lifted her leg over his, giving him access and he slipped his fingers along the wet flesh. Her breathing became shallower with each touch and she shifted restlessly against him. This time she and her body knew what to expect and she responded to each caress. He found the little bud buried in the folds and touched it. She moaned and opened more to him. He kissed her neck and bit down gently on the cord of muscle there. Her indrawn breath was her reply.
‘Now, Tavis, now!’ she demanded.
He did as she asked and moved faster and faster against her readied flesh until she fell apart in his arms.
It was magnificent to see and to feel. Neither of them moved for several minutes and it felt incredible to hold her like this.
‘Now it is time for you to go, Ciara,’ he whispered as he relaxed his hold on her and rolled away.
But she followed him and slid her arms around him. ‘Now? Now when you are ready?’
She could feel the moment his resistance melted, for he turned in her arms and slid up against the headboard of the bed, giving her complete access to his body.
‘Here, like this,’ he said, as she knelt next to him and wrapped her hands around him.
‘Like churning butter,’ she said, intent on her purpose once she got the movements in a smooth rhythm.
He laughed then, leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. It made her lose her pacing, but she got it back. He did not laugh after that. He may have panted, he may have moaned, but he did not laugh...
Later, Tavis took one of her hands and slid his fingers between hers.
‘Now you must go,’ he whispered, kissing her knuckles.
‘Aye.’
‘Do you have regrets about coming here now?’ he asked softly, not letting go of her hand.
She started to answer, but what good would it do? So she shook her head. She began to sit up and he helped her this time.
Ciara knew she was not done here yet, even if Tavis did not. She’d come here with two purposes in mind and only one was accomplished. Accomplished well and wonderfully and now she would never have to wonder what it would be like to find pleasure in his bed. But the more serious task lay ahead.
They dressed in silence and he poured her a cup of ale before she left. Ciara knew he would follow her back to make certain she made it safely and without being recognised—he could not help himself. She turned to him before lifting the latch and stopped.
‘I have one more request of you, Tavis.’
‘Do not ask me to watch you marry him, Ciara. I cannot do that, even for you.’
She smiled, her eyes filling with tears. She shook her head and glanced away for a moment. ‘Nay, not that.’
‘Then what do you ask?’ he said quietly.
‘Tell me of Saraid’s death at your hands. I would know why she haunts you even these years later.’
‘Ciara,’ he said, his voice pleading with only that word for her to stop.
‘I would know why the woman you loved above all keeps your heart and soul bound to her, even in death. You owe me at least that.’
He grimaced at her, but it did not put her off.
‘Do you know that I plotted to trip her on her way to the church for your wedding? To keep her from marrying so that you would wait for me?’ Tears gathered once more, but she smiled through them. ‘Elizabeth and I were ready to lunge and bring her down.’ She nodded then. ‘Now when I look back, I realise it was a grievous error on my part not to have done it.’
‘You did not?’ He narrowed his gaze and laughed then. ‘You did? What stopped you?’
‘I saw the way you looked at her from your place by the door.’ She took in and released a breath. ‘I knew then that that was what love looked like.’
‘I did love her,’ he admitted the obvious.
‘You looked at me that way on our journey to Perthshire. I saw it then.’
‘I cannot deny the love I feel for you. I just cannot put you in the same position I did Saraid.’
‘Tell me, Tavis. Explain how you killed her.’ She dropped her shawl around her shoulders and sat down in his chair. ‘I am not leaving, not giving myself to another man instead of the one I love, until I understand what keeps your heart imprisoned.’
‘She was carrying our bairn,’ he said, rubbing his hands through his hair and turning away from her to stare into the fire that now burned low in the hearth. ‘And she had terrible fears about it. Terrible. She would beg me every night not to l
eave her alone. Not to let her die.’ He glanced at her with bleak eyes and then continued. ‘God forgive me, but I tired of it. She became too scared to leave the cottage. Too frightened to do most anything. She would not travel with me. Would not ride a horse. Would not...’
Ciara did not remember this at all. Too young to realise the true intimacy between a man and his wife. ‘What happened?’
‘I swore to keep her safe. I swore she would not die, I would not let her die.’ He shook his head again, but did not meet her gaze then. ‘Connor asked me to see to a task for him that would take me from the village for a day, maybe two, and I accepted the assignment. I could have assigned someone else, knowing how frightened Saraid was—I should have. But, sweet Christ, I needed to be away from her for a short time. I could not breathe, I could not...’
He walked over and splashed more ale in a cup for himself and drank it down. She could feel the pain pouring out of him with each passing moment. He was reliving this dark time in the telling of it.
‘We argued. We argued badly and I left her behind. Told her I would be back whenever I got back,’ he admitted in a tortured voice. ‘I did not know...I had no idea...’ He ran his hand through his hair and stared at her with bleak eyes. ‘I goaded her into something she should not have done.’
Ciara went to him, kneeling before him and taking his hand in hers. He needed to tell this and release the pain he carried deep, deep inside.
‘I carried out my duty. It was a day’s ride away. I was returning when I found her.’
‘You found her? Where was she?’
‘Her pains began after our argument. Instead of calling for the midwife or one of the women, she got on a horse and followed me. She caught up with me a few hours from here and I was still angry. I ordered her off, demanded she return here without hearing her out and then I rode off full of my own bluster and rage.
‘By the time I returned and found her there on the ground the next day, she’d bled so much there was nothing I could do for her.’
‘Tavis, it was not your fault,’ she said firmly. ‘You did not cause her death.’
‘But I did, Ciara. If I’d been more attentive. If I’d listened. If I had stayed. If I’d ridden back with her and saw to her safety, she might be alive today.’
‘That is something that only the Almighty decides, Tavis. Not us. She could have died in childbirth, too. Would that have been your fault?’
‘I gave her my word! Do you not understand? I swore an oath to keep her safe and I rode away.’ His hands shook as much as his voice did. ‘She would have had a chance if not for me and my anger. If not for me...’
He had played a part in Saraid’s death, if he’d acted as he’d just described, but Ciara thought the ending might have been the same no matter what help he offered or what he did. Tavis was too controlled by his guilt and pain to accept any truth that might include his own vindication, but mayhap he would when he thought on it.
Later.
Later, when he considered the error in his decision not to put the past behind him and ignore a future he, they, could share. Or later when he learned how to forgive himself for his failings.
She stood and put her shawl up to cover her head for the walk back to Elizabeth’s cottage. Well, not really to her cottage, for Elizabeth did not know of her plans this night. No one did. She would sleep in the small barn next to Elizabeth’s and then return to her parents’ house in the morning—none the wiser of what she’d done or where she’d been.
‘I know it is too late for us, but I beg you to speak to the midwife, Gunna. She saw Saraid frequently and has a different view of things. It might help you forgive yourself.’
He was too steeped in the pain of dragged-up memories to hear anything else. ‘Twas only then that she noticed the small piece of wood on the hearth’s shelf. Picking it up, she recognised the shape—a heart. Instead of a horse, he’d carved something of himself for her to keep with her always. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she shook her head and walked to the doorway.
‘Farewell, Tavis,’ she whispered as she closed her fingers around the precious keepsake. Ciara opened the door and pulled it closed behind her and ran off down the path.
She found the barn and sneaked inside to hide for the rest of the night. Pressing herself against one wall, she wrapped the shawl around her and waited for the tears to flow.
But they did not. Instead memories of the wondrous passion they’d shared flooded back and she knew she’d done the right thing. Now, at least she could have those memories and this treasured reminder from him while she lived the life of the contented wife of James Murray.
Chapter Nineteen
The next day dawned cloudy and grey and Tavis thought it appropriate, for it matched his mood. She’d left and he sat in the chair the rest of the night, thinking about Saraid.
Not what he wanted to be thinking about.
He wanted to relive the memories of bringing Ciara to life under his mouth and with the touch of his hands. He wanted to remember the sighs and the moans and the breathless way she said his name as she found repletion. He wanted to think about the way she learned what pleased him so quickly and how she managed to bring him to climax with little more than a touch of her mouth or her hands.
Instead, every single mistake he’d made with Saraid, every mean word and thought, repeated in his head all night long. Her fears that swallowed up the woman he’d fallen in love with. Her incessant demands that drove him mad. Her desperation that increased day by day and that he could not seem to resolve. No amount of reassurance had helped. And no matter what Ciara thought, he was the cause of it.
His selfishness in needing to get away from her.
His negligence in taking her fears seriously.
His inability to care for her and to protect her from the one thing she feared most: dying.
He’d failed as a husband and as a man and Saraid had died as a result of it. Would it happen again if he allowed himself to love another? Was it a terrible flaw in his character or had he simply failed once?
He moved through the day barely aware of the goings-on around him. He finished the tasks he needed to see to and decided it was as good a time as any to speak to Connor about leaving Lairig Dubh. Connor agreed to meet him after the midday meal and invited him to join them. There would be no elaborate evening meal this night since preparations were going on for the marriage feast on the morrow.
Connor grimaced after saying it, but Tavis simply nodded and agreed to come back later. He filled the time with training even though the skies opened and it rained for several hours. He did not really feel it and did not feel much of anything this day. The only thing in his favour was that he did not see her at all this day.
He climbed the stairs to Connor’s chamber and found him in the middle of an argument with his wife. He could not make out the words and was waiting for things to calm inside before making his presence known, but Rurik walked up behind him and knocked.
‘That could go on for some time, lad. We do not want to wait here forever,’ Rurik advised.
Since he reported to Rurik and worked with him, it made sense that Connor had asked him to be part of this discussion.
When the voices did not cease, Rurik opened the door and yelled inside, ‘Should we wait out here for you two to finish or can we come inside?’
Tavis shook his head. Only Rurik could, and did, get away with such behaviour. He’d shown up in Lairig Dubh with their uncle, a hulking, half-Scots, half-Norse warrior, bigger than anyone had ever seen, and pledged to Connor’s service. He was the fiercest fighter and most loyal friend Connor had and could count on in any situation. Rurik had even given up his right to the earldom of Orkney to return here when he married Margriet.
So, Tavis understood why Connor allowed him such impertinence.
‘We are finished,’ Jocelyn shouted back, as she walked by them and slammed the door shut behind her.
Rurik knew better than to joke at this moment,
so Tavis just remained silent and waited on Connor. He was pacing back and forth and cursing under his breath, clearly still carrying on the conversation with Jocelyn even though she had left in the middle of it.
‘Wives!’ he yelled as he slammed a cup down and filled it with ale. Rurik walked over to him, poured another cup for himself and handed one to Tavis.
‘Wives!’ he said, raising the cup and then emptying it in one swallow.
Tavis drank it all down without a word about wives...anyone’s wife. Connor sat at his table and motioned for them to sit. Rurik remained standing, as he always did, and Tavis sat.
‘You asked about a new assignment?’
‘I would like to move from Lairig Dubh and thought I could serve your needs better on one of your other holdings.’
The words were out, easier to say than he thought they’d be. He watched as Connor exchanged several glances with Rurik and waited for the reaction.
‘Does this have anything to do with Ciara and James Murray?’ Connor did not lack directness.
‘It matters not, Connor. They will marry on the morrow and return to Perthshire. This is about me.’
‘And moving will do what for you, Tavis?’ Rurik asked. ‘You have been my commander for some time now and I think it’s the best place for you.’
‘Young Dougal would be good. He is a good fighter and ready for more responsibility.’
‘Why do you want this?’ Connor asked again.
‘I need to be away from here. I need to find a place where I am not haunted by my past every day from when I open my eyes until I close them.’
Sweet Christ! He never meant to say any of that. Not to anyone, but especially not to Connor.
‘Once the wedding is done and the Murrays leave, we will speak again on this matter, Tavis. I cannot make a decision until I speak to the stewards and commanders at the other holdings.’
He stood. He did not truly expect Connor to simply approve his request, but he did not expect to be put off for so long.
‘Soon, Connor,’ he said. ‘Make it soon,’ he challenged as he nodded to Connor and Rurik as he walked towards the doorway.
Terri Brisbin Highlander Bundle Page 17
