Charming the Chieftain

by Deanie Roman

  Her moans were throaty, the pleasure explosive. He kissed his way back up and covered her with his heaviness. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, until she was desperate to take him into her body. Seeking fingers skimmed over her dense curls to cup her moist heat circling around the entrance. His touch was light and painfully teasing. She nudged her hips upward, pressing against the palm of his hand until she was shaking with need. She gripped his shoulders, kissing him frantically, wanting to please him in the way he pleased her.

  Already wet for him, she spread her legs wide in encouragement.

  “You’re still too fragile, lass, let me pleasure you with my tongue.”

  She stared into his luminescent eyes and shook her head in a decisive no while her hand glided over his taut stomach to the swell of his erection. His stomach muscles contracted and he sucked in a quick breath when she squeezed him. His forehead dropped to hers.

  “Elisande,” he moaned.

  “Shh, do not fight me. This is what I want, what I need. Do not deny me, please.”

  A quick bark of laughter escaped his throat.

  “I could no’ deny you anything.”

  He lifted his head all signs of jesting gone. “If you feel any discomfort or pain, I will know, so do no’ think to conceal anything from me.”

  “Yes, husband,” she teased as she placed his hand on her.

  He gritted his teeth against the overwhelming urge to thrust his fingers inside the already moist passage. Counting to ten didn’t work either, and there was no way in hell he could resist the temptation she freely offered. He eased into her tight channel, watching for any signs of discomfort. She moaned with sheer pleasure and surged her hips forward eagerly, clenching her inner muscles around his fingers and in moments, he was drenched in her release. He never had any woman react so passionately to his touch. He withdrew his hand and guided his thick, swollen erection into her inch by inch.

  “More, I want all of you now,” she demanded and bit his earlobe.

  He was lost. Thrusting deep, he penetrated her fully and silenced her loud cry of triumph with another ravenous kiss. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, back and massaged his buttocks.

  His insistent groan of pure male arousal became louder as she wrapped her long legs around his lean waist. She angled her hips and he went deeper than he thought he could. He stayed completely still, unwilling to thrust for fear of hurting her. That she needed to be the aggressor was clear, and in one fluid motion, she dug her heels firmly into his taut backside and embedded every luscious inch of his rock-solid erection. Every nerve-ending was fraught with the anticipation of release. And just when she thought she would fall to pieces, an orgasm ripped through her.

  Elisande’s excitement snapped whatever tether of reserve he had. No longer in command of his actions, his thrusts became harder, he drove deep and his rhythm quickened. To his utter astonishment, she met him stroke for stroke, her bliss pure and explosive. Waves of ecstasy rolled through and she screamed Aeden’s name. Only then, when he knew she had reached her satisfaction did he give in to his own. With one violent shudder, he thrust hard and poured himself into her. He didn’t move for long minutes. The sounds of harsh panting filled the room. There seemed no end of the intermittent aftershocks rocking his body.

  She stroked his back and the thought that he filled her with an incredible sense of completeness drifted through her mind. The heat of his body coursed down the length of her and she turned her head to look at him. She knew her soul was laid bare for him to see, and she willed him to understand the depth of her love, wanting him to see that she trusted him to take care of her heart.

  He cuddled her close and whispered, “Mo chroi, my heart,” over and over.

  Afterward, they lay quietly, limbs entwined, stroking one another, the silence occasionally broken by a contented sigh. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her.

  “You seem worried, why?”

  He sighed. “’Tis too little too late, I know, but I want to be sure I didn’t add to your bruises.”

  She gave him a coy smile and walked her fingers over his chest and caressed a manly nipple.

  “I would gladly take a ‘bruising’ from you, sir.”

  He laughed, rolled to his side and ensured she went too. Tucking her close, he smiled faintly as she stretched and then listened to her breaths even out as she dropped off into a healing sleep. Though sated, sleep eluded him. Propping himself on one elbow, he watched her sleep. He lovingly stroked the curve of her cheek. Despite her scrapes and cuts, the texture of her skin was still smooth, soft. He couldn’t stay his hand from caressing her. Just the touch of her skin beneath his fingertips was enough to make him hard. Christ above, he had to find some discipline unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life in a constant state of arousal.

  Smiling at the lusty thought, he bent his head and traced his lips where his fingers had led. Using his lips as a guide, he wove a pattern along the length of her body. He stopped at the slight swell of her belly, dipped his tongue into her navel, giving a throaty chuckle when she moaned sleepily. Finally, after much teasing and tasting, his tongue found what it most sought and he took great satisfaction nuzzling the slight mound and to breathe deeply of the scent uniquely hers.

  God’s teeth, he wanted her again. Guiding his tongue in and around her curves, he made a sensual tour of her womanhood, laving and suckling until she pressed her hips upward to stall his retreat. Entwining her fingers in his hair, she smiled languorously.

  He caught her gaze and whispered, “You taste of clover honey.”

  “Aeden, please,” she begged, until he slipped in two fingers.

  Sitting back on his heels, he took hold of her legs, arranging one over each shoulder. Her eye widened at the position, but any questions she had fled when he drove deep in one commanding surge. Buried to the hilt, he withdrew until just the tip of his manhood teased her and then glided back into the slick passage savoring the snug fit.

  Matching him thrust for thrust, she ensured the frenzied pace by hooking her ankles behind his neck. Sliding his hands from around her calves, he rocked his hips forward and filled his palms with her plump breasts. Rolling and tugging them into a tight pucker. Satisfied, he lowered his head to wet each with his tongue, blowing warm air on each.

  “Aeden,” she moaned, frantic. The sensation of his breath on her skin sent shivers throughout her body. She sank her fingers into his hair, tugging his head to her mouth for a kiss unlike anything they previously shared. And when she started sucking on his tongue, it proved the catalyst to drive them both over the edge into an explosive orgasm. Robbed of all strength, he collapsed heavily between her thighs.

  With great care, she brought her legs down along either side of his body, convinced she would never walk properly again. When he would have moved away from her, she stayed his actions by wrapping her arms tightly around his back.

  “Not yet.”

  Settling back against her, he placed a tender kiss upon her left breast then rubbed his cheek across the nipple. Expelling a long breath, the contentment that had always eluded him saturated his being. What a fool he had been wasting such a precious and rare gift. No more. Tenderly placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek, his arms tightened around her waist and he finally slept.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The aroma of roasted pigeon jolted Addis from sleep. Disoriented, it took him a few moments to adjust to his surroundings. His arms were bound tight around the base of a solid oak tree. His stomach rumbled loudly.

  “Well, well seems sleepin’ beaut-ee is finally awake,” mocked a soldier coming toward him from under the cover of a large willow.

  The others joined their comrade, and created a semi-circle, their hunger momentarily, forgotten as their focus shifted to Addis.

  “’ere Clive, what say we slit the Scot from gullet to belly and wager on how long he’ll live?”

  “’Ell Roy, tha’s no wager. Stake him out in the field and watch the wolves�
�� rip ’em to shreds.”

  “No, please, I’ll do anything, just don’t kill me,” Addis begged.

  The men laughed.

  “Quiet.”

  “Sir Stuart, what should we do wif ’im?”

  “Bring him to his feet. I think it’s time we obtain a few answers from our guest.”

  “What do you want?”

  A gloved hand struck him across the mouth. “Shut up.”

  Blood dripped in a steady stream down Addis’s chin, forming a dark puddle in the dry, yellowish grass.

  “Which clan do you claim?”

  “Maxwell.”

  His answer cast an eerie silence over the soldiers.

  “So, you are one of the riding families known as a Border Reiver?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Nearest is Duncladdagh,” he confirmed.

  “Bloody perfect.”

  “Set up camp here. Sergeant, select a man to relay a message to my lord.”

  “And what if one of the Ferguson’s men should get to it first?”

  “Then you shall suffer his lordship’s displeasure. You would do well to remember the baron never trusts his friends. No matter that he is privy to the barbarous chief’s hospitality.”

  He contemplated Addis while he instructed his men. “Do make our guest more comfortable.”

  A pockmarked soldier cut Addis’s ropes and led him into the woods. This time he was gagged and bound and once again secured to a tree. He raged against Aeden, knowing it was his brother’s fault he suffered abuse at the hands of the English. Silently, he vowed to kill Elisande first. He wanted to watch Aeden suffer.

  • • •

  The forced inactivity exacted a toll on her nerves and in spite of her obvious improvement, Aeden refused to let her join in the goings-on below stairs. Fortunately for her, however, there remained one activity he was unable to abstain from and thank the Lord for that, she thought. On the one hand, he suffered no reservation in refusing her repeated requests to leave their chamber, yet, he seemed entirely powerless to her demand he do his husbandly duty by her.

  Well, she credited him with trying to go without, but, it only took a sultry smile, and a well-placed hand to completely shatter his restraint. Oh, she knew she played unfairly and suffered no shame employing every feminine trick she possessed in order to shred her husband’s tightly wound self-control. She needed his touch like a flower needed sunlight and refused to deny herself.

  Glancing around at the simple comforts of the bedchamber, her gaze settled on the mantle. The surface once held a few personal items, now every vacant space teemed with objects ranging from pigeon feathers to potatoes stabbed with sprigs of thyme. She identified the import of each article, though remained puzzled to why they were there. Taking stock of the items brought a blush of humiliation to her face for believing in Father Fenton so faithfully.

  Regrettably, the superstitious articles were a source of familiarity. She wandered over to the mantle and ran her fingertips over the ritualistic bits and pieces. At one time, being in close proximity would have brought her a sensation of immense comfort. Of course, after her doctrinal discussions with Father Pollock, it now seemed silly to believe a clove of garlic placed inside a front entry retained the power to keep evil spirits at bay, or that a spray of white heather might bring the bearer good fortune. Her fingers skimmed over an Irish stone once thought to be effective in healing cuts and scrapes. Having studied the truth of Christianity, she was unable to imagine a diminutive T-shaped bone — from the head of a sheep no less — was an instrument of prosperity to the person who faithfully carried it on their person.

  Although, if she were brutally honest with herself, a secret corner of her mind still wanted to believe a clutch of goldenrod tucked into a fat brown jug safeguarded against those who would do her harm. Smiling, she placed the offering on a stand near the chamber door. After all, what could it hurt?

  • • •

  Aeden entered their chamber quietly, not wanting to disturb Elisande’s sleep. Surprised to find her out of bed, he hung back in the doorway to observe her peruse the items cluttered atop the length and breadth of the mantle. Her fingers alighted briefly on certain objects and lingered on others. Her movements were graceful, fluid. A smile lifted one corner of his mouth at her slightly baffled look. Coming up behind her, he slipped his arms around her waist. She settled against his chest immediately and nestled her head in the hollow between his chin and shoulder. He savored her response, cherishing her eager surrender to his touch, never withholding her passion from him. Bending slightly forward, he kissed the delicate shell of her ear.

  “Hello, husband,” she breathed.

  His fingers skimmed the undersides of her breasts. Her nipples tightened from the fleeting caress. Tucking a wayward curl behind the same ear he murmured, “You may inspect the clan’s gifts later. Come to bed, wife, I need you.”

  She turned in his arms, her eyes wide. Obviously, his words took her by surprise since he never voiced his desires in such a blunt fashion. To his immense satisfaction, her heart quickened beneath his hand and he gave her a hot, intense look.

  There was something different about his demeanor, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. She met his lingering gaze and the longer she stared into his eyes the truth of what he tried to say without words became evident. His love shone through brighter than the strongest ray of sunlight. Her breath hitched and tears threatened to spill over, but she held herself in check afraid she deceived herself.

  He lowered his head and placed a kiss on her parted lips rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks in soft feathery sweeps. “I should have made my feelings known to you long before now.”

  She held her breath, her face pensive.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, his gaze alive with conviction. “Christ, Elisande, I love you so damn much it hurts.”

  The tears she tried to stem raced unimpeded down her cheeks, wetting the tips of his thumbs.

  Laugh lines fanned out at the corner of his eyes as he gave her a tender smile. “Do no’ cry, my love.”

  His term of endearment was her undoing and she cried in earnest. Somehow, through her tears she managed to reach up and lock him into a drugging kiss. It went on for some time, until his lips left hers to wander over her skin streaked with tears. When he broke off the kiss, he pressed his lips to her forehead.

  Then, suddenly the atmosphere seemed charged with tension. Anxious, she pulled back to search his face.

  “Aeden, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  An uncertainty crept into his loving expression. His disquiet unsettled her and a sense of alarm overshadowed her profound joy of moments ago.

  “I should like to hear the words, wife,” he stated in a gruff voice.

  The radiance of her smile caught him off guard as she threw her arms around his neck and held on as if she would never let go. He encircled her waist, immediately careful of her healing injuries. She nuzzled his neck and the faint pressure of her lips on his jaw sent a shudder through him.

  “Dear Aeden, I love you so much my heart aches with the weight of it.”

  Her eyes reflected his pleasure as he savored her fierce words.

  “You let it slip in your sleep, but hearing it now is sweeter than I ever imagined.”

  Standing there, staring into her golden eyes, he basked in her love and he was kissing her with the fervor of a man in love, deeply, wildly, and unreservedly.

  • • •

  The scent of their lovemaking hung heavy in the air as they lay, legs entwined, skin to skin.

  He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled. “Come back to me, love. You went away for a while.”

  She traced his lips. “I could never leave you for long.”

  He slipped an arm over the small of her back and drew her closer, his eyes intense.

  “Know this — you are truly mine, and we belong together. I will never let you go.”

  “Yes,”
she agreed her tone fierce.

  Her body urged his to take her again, but much to her consternation, he rose from the bed. She gave his auburn locks a slight tug wanting him to fall back into bed. Abruptly, he straightened. Obviously he had other plans. She tried not to let her selfish need to keep him to herself spoil their dreamlike morning. In the end, he was the Maxwell chieftain with numerous duties and responsibilities. Of course, he must go about his day. Therefore, she wasn’t too surprised when he placed one last kiss on her slightly parted lips and began to dress.

  “Clothe yourself wife, I do no’ wish to waste the day’s warmth.”

  Disgruntled, she tried one last time, glanced pointedly at the bed, only to gain an amused grin from him. “I believe I’ve created a libertine.”

  She pouted prettily, to no avail. Sighing she asked, “Where are you off too, my love?”

  An odd expression crossed his face and his roguish smile slipped a notch. She thought his reaction curious.

  “You seem shocked?”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “I never thought I was the type of man to gain satisfaction from such a honeyed endearment, but I do.”

  “It’s just as well,” she replied in a silken voice.

  One eyebrow shot up. “Why is that pray tell?”

  She slid to the edge of the bed and leaned forward allowing the cover to slip and display a hint of one creamy breast. He swallowed, hard. She had him right where she wanted him.

  “Why is what?” Huskiness lingered in her tone as she pretended ignorance.

  His bright, clear blue eyes were riveted to her exposed breast. She made an almost imperceptible movement and the hand that held the blanket drooped a little more to catch on the tip of a rosy nipple. She intertwined her fingers with his and propelled him frontward. His knee hit the bedframe and he jerked back as if he had been doused in ice water.