At least now she was in the keep and he would see that she remained there. Dusk was near to claiming the land and he worried that she was bone-tired from her long day of helping others. After seeing that her clan demanded far too much of her, he swore that life would be different for her once home. She would have time for herself and time for him.
Rogan entered Donald’s bedchamber, the door open. He stopped and watched Emma fuss with the blankets around her father. There was concern in her eyes and he wished he could ease her worries. She had been through enough for one day. She did not need to end the day fearful for her father’s well-being.
“I told you not to exert yourself. Now you tell me you are much too exhausted to eat. You must eat to retain your strength,” Emma scolded softly.
“I will eat a little if you will stop fussing,” Donald said. “I am more concerned about you and the incident at the mill, and why has it taken you so long to come tell me about it?”
“Half your clan summoned Emma for help,” Rogan said, approaching the bed.
Emma turned and smiled at Rogan, happy to see him. “Not half, but close.”
Her soft laughter rippled across him like a gentle touch and damn if it did not arouse him.
She turned to her father, once again fussing with his blanket. “Nessa delivered a hardy son, Anna’s youngest ate too much porridge, Terence was worried about his mare, but she is fine and will birth any day now. Flora’s stomach ailment is finally the child she and Peter have been waiting for and Robert was worried about a section of the crop, which has refused to accept the seedlings, but then I let him plant as he wished so he would learn that the crops must be moved each year and some plots left unplanted. No worries, though, I am having extra seedlings planted elsewhere. The clan will not lack for food this coming winter.”
“You do too much, daughter,” her father scolded with concern. “I order you to go rest.”
“I will, Da, as soon as I wrap the heated stone and place it by your feet to chase your chill.” She turned with a flourish, feeling a light spin in her head as she did and had to steady herself.
“Emma?” Rogan and Donald said simultaneously.
She went to speak, to tell them she was fine when she realized she was not. All light was dimming and she knew she was about to faint.
Instinctively, she reached out toward Rogan. She tried to call his name but darkness claimed her before it could reach her lips, though she thought she heard someone yell his name.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Rogan, grab her!” Donald yelled.
Rogan was moving before Donald finished calling out to him and he had Emma up in his arms before she could hit the floor. He held her firmly against his chest and turned to Donald. “My wife will not be lifting a finger to help anyone else before we leave. See that everyone in your clan knows that or I will make it known.”
It sounded like a threat and Donald was certain it was meant as a threat, but he could not fault his son-in-law for protecting Emma. While he was glad that he did, Donald was not sure how Emma would respond to her husband’s warning. That, however, would be for them to determine.
“I will see that Maura is summoned when a healer is required,” Donald said to appease the imposing warrior. “And Maura tends me well enough. Emma need not worry about me.”
“She will worry anyway. Now I will see to my wife and talk with you on the morrow.”
Donald nodded, concern weighing heavily on him as he watched Rogan leave with Emma tucked lovingly in his arms. He prayed she would do well with Rogan and that Patience and Heather would return home soon. He dropped his head back on the pillow, a litany of prayers falling in whispers from his lips.
*
Rogan felt his wife stir as he entered their bedchamber, and he placed her gently on the bed after shoving the door closed with his shoulder. He pushed a few strands of stray hair off her face that was much too pale as he watched her eyes flutter open. She had felt so limp in his arms that he had feared she had suffered far worse than a swoon.
Emma sighed as she fought to chase the grogginess away, to wake from the dream that weighed so heavily on her or was it a dream? When had she fallen asleep? She raised her hand to touch her husband and make certain it was actually him that she saw sitting by her and not just an image in her dream.
Rogan caught her hand in his and pressed it to his chest. “You will never frighten me like that again.”
She smiled, though she was not sure if it reached her lips, every movement proving to be an effort. She could tell it was truly Rogan and she was not in a dream since he scolded her. But what had she done? She could not recall.
“How are you feeling?” he asked more calmly.
“Like I have battled a hundred warriors and lost,” she said with a soft laugh as her eyes fluttered closed again.
“Leave the battles to me, you are to rest,” he said sternly.
“Is that a command?” She did not give him a chance to answer. Her eyes flew wide open and she tugged her hand free of his, suddenly recalling what had happened. “I swooned. I never swoon.”
“Proof that you have pushed yourself too hard this day.”
Emma sighed and nodded her head. “You are right.”
“What is that you say?” Rogan asked with feigned surprise. “Are you admitting that your husband is right?”
Emma caught the playful glint in his eyes and smiled. “You are right—this time.” Her smile suddenly faded. “My father,” she said ready to rise and go see to him.
Rogan stilled her with a gentle hand to her shoulder. “He is fine. Maura is seeing to him, and he wishes for you to rest. You did far too much today.”
“No more than I usually do.”
“You save that imbecile Daniel every day?”
Emma smiled again. “I do not know how I ever thought I cared for him.”
“Young, foolish love.”
She reached out and took Rogan’s hand, lacing her fingers with his. The strength of him as he gripped her hand sent a warm thrill racing through her. “No, it was not love. It was a need to be favored by a suitor like my sisters. The lads would be after them every chance they got, but they ignored me. And I so wanted to be like my sisters.”
“I am glad that you had no bevy of suitors,” Rogan said his words stinging Emma. “You were meant for me and only me, and I am relieved that no man saw the beautiful gem you truly are, for if anyone had your father would have tired of chasing them off at every turn.” He leaned down and kissed her softly, then whispered, “Besides, no one could ever love you as strongly as I love you.”
Emma captured his lips for a hardier kiss. She loved kissing him, the taste of him so vibrant and virile. It made her feel so much more alive, so much more aware of her own body and the sensations that ran through it. And that he truly loved her made it all the more wonderful.
Rogan raised his head and the pinched look she sent him made him realize that she was not happy he had ended their kiss. “If we keep that up, I will hoist your skirts and take you fast and hard.”
“What do you wait for?” she challenged, feeling the need for him to do just that.
“For you to regain your strength,” he said and stood away from the bed, much too tempted to do as he threatened, though it was no threat. It was pure wicked passion that had him wanting to plunge into her and take her like a man deprived too long of a woman.
“What is there for me to do but lie here? I need no strength for that,” she said with a sweet innocence that was anything but innocent.
“You play with fire, wife. You know full well you will not just lie there. You will throw your hips up against me time and again until you have taken me as far deep into you as I will go, and then you will match me plunge for plunge, greedily demanding more than one climax.” He walked further away from the bed.
Emma felt her whole body blush with excitement, and she could not stop herself from voicing how she felt. “I have always wondered if intimacy
with my husband would prove difficult or enjoyable, and it has proven to be both.” She continued as Rogan’s brow knitted. “It is difficult having such a greedy hunger for you that I feel like a harlot, and it is enjoyable because making love with you goes far beyond all expectations.”
“Damn it, Emma,” he growled and stepped further away from her. “Your hunger for me makes you no harlot. It fills me with joy and it bloody hell turns me hard knowing that you want me as much as I want you and that I pleasure you beyond what you thought possible, for you do the same to me, but…” He turned away from her for a moment, squaring his shoulders as he turned around to look at her. “Whether you admit it or not, you have exhausted yourself today and I will not add to that by making love to you. Rest, eat, and rest some more and perhaps—”
“Later we will make love?” she asked eagerly.
“We shall see,” he said, not wanting to promise and then disappoint her.
She turned away from him.
“Emma?” he said, though he did not approach her.
She turned back with a sigh. “Am I too forward about wanting you, about voicing my enjoyment in making love with you? I truly do not know what is proper and what is not. Heather told me that she would speak to me of wifely duties when the time came. I wonder now was it because she did not know herself and once wed would know what to tell me. The village women would not talk of such things in front of us, though I caught bits of chatter about it when they did not know I could hear them. The only thing I understood from the little I heard was that some women enjoyed their wifely duties and others did not. And it made me wonder why and which one would I be.”
“I am most pleased you are the one who enjoys her husband,” Rogan said with a grin.
Emma chuckled. “So am I.”
“Let me have food brought to us and we can eat and talk more. In the meantime, change into your nightdress so you can rest more comfortably.”
“Will you help me?” she asked, making it sound like an invitation.
“No, I will not,” he said more abruptly than he intended. “I will go see to our supper while you see to the task.” He walked to the door, fighting not to turn around and do as she requested, and then do… He groaned silently at the lusty thought that grabbed hold of him in too many vulnerable places.
“Rogan,” she called out anxiously and had him turning.
“What?” he asked worried that something was wrong.
“Instead of helping me put my nightdress on now, later, you can help take it off.”
“Careful, wife, I may just rip it off you.” With that said he hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Emma smiled and hugged herself. Where had she gotten the boldness to tell her husband how much she wanted him, she did not know, but she liked it. And Rogan found no fault with it. He actually seemed to favor her forthrightness. She felt blessed that fate saw fit to bring them together.
Her happiness, though, was overshadowed by Heather’s horrible fate.
Emma rolled out of bed, her body reminding her of the truth of her husband’s words—she had done too much. But the pain she felt was nothing to the heartache she suffered thinking of Heather. How did she allow herself to be happy when her sister was held captive by a monster?
Pain rolled through her shoulders and down her back as she slipped out of her clothes and into her nightdress. And why shouldn’t she suffer when she had failed not only Heather, but Patience as well. Patience had expected her to return with help, so that they could rescue Heather together.
A single tear pooled in her eye, then fell to roll down her cheek. Her sisters would not stop hunting for her if she had been the one taken. How could she think of her own happiness at a time like this? Heather had reached out to her sisters for help when she had sent that ring. She needed help now, and this was one time Patience’s impatience could prove useful.
Emma went and sat in the chair by the hearth, stretching her chilled feet out to the flames while working to unbraid her hair. She understood that her father wanted to send a missive to the King, but that would take time. Time Heather would continue to spend in the clutches of the Dark Dragon. And what horrors would she suffer during that duration? And what if the King refused to help or, worse, what if he ordered her father to do nothing?
Emma could not live with that thought. To find the Dark Dragon’s lair would be almost impossible, but not so to find Patience. If she could find Patience, then they could work together to find Heather. And Patience may already have information that could make their task easier.
A sudden thought disturbed her. Her father assumed Patience would return home, he did not worry about her, and she was guilty of the same thought. What if Patience was being held captive herself? There was no denying she was an exceptionally skilled warrior, an unlikely trait for a woman. And men, thinking her no threat at all, left her with an advantage. But recalling the attack when Heather was abducted, the ghost warriors did not hesitate to battle Patience. It was almost as if they were well acquainted with her skills.
She eased out of the chair, ignoring the aches and pains that assaulted her and began to pace in front of the hearth. What if Patience was being held captive by the Dark Dragon as well? Surely, if she was continuing to pursue Heather, she would have sent a message by now to let them know she was all right. And there was that dream she had of Patience telling her she was well, but there had been approaching footsteps and that dark, winged figure. Had the Dark Dragon been closer than Patience had been aware of?
She had always thought Patience invincible, having seen her best many a man larger than herself without much effort. But Patience had taught her and Heather to never underestimate your opponent, to do so could prove fatal.
The ghost warriors were opponents of unmeasurable skill. Had Patience finally faced a foe that she could not best? Had they captured her as well as Heather?
Emma groaned with frustration. Too many questions and not enough answers. What she did know was that the Dark Dragon had Heather. What she did not know was what had happened to Patience. And that was where she felt she should start in her effort to find Heather and rescue her.
The knock preceded the door flinging open and Rogan entering, followed by a bevy of servants with platters of food and drink and fresh bedding.
Emma quickly turned away from them, not wanting them to see her distress, and moved to tuck herself and her troubled thoughts in shadowed corner.
Rogan followed her, slipping his arm around her waist and whispering, “You have been thinking of your sisters.”
Emma let her weight and worries fall against her husband’s solid body. He did not ask, he simply knew and for some reason it offered her some comfort.
“We will talk,” he said and hugged her closer against him.
She felt so safe, so protected and yet what right did she have to this security and love when her sisters had none? It did not seem fair.
As soon as the door closed on the last servant, Rogan walked her over to the table that had been moved in front of the hearth and eased her down into one of the chairs. He moved the chair from the other end of the table around to the side so that he could sit closer to her and once he did, he reached out and took her hand. “Feeling guilty over your happiness will not help your sisters.”
She frowned and held tight to his hand. “How did you know?”
“It is a reasonable assumption, since I know how much you love your sisters. I gave you my word and I will give it again and again to you. We will find Patience and Heather,”—he smiled—“though it seems most believe Patience will find her own way home.”
“But what if she cannot?”
Rogan filled her tankard with wine and handed her a piece of bread. “You worry that something may keep her from returning home?”
Emma nodded, taking the bread from him. “What if she has been taken captive?” She took a bite and realizing how hungry she truly was reached for more food.
Rogan
was relieved to see her eating. “The Dark Dragon does not have her or he would have sent something of hers along with Heather’s ring.”
“You are right,” she said excited at the thought.
“Can you repeat that?” he asked with a grin. Her smile returned and it warmed Rogan’s heart.
Pleased that he had alleviated some of her worry, she appeased him. “You are right.”
He held up two fingers and wiggled them. “Twice in one night.”
“You need not remind me. I am well aware of your brilliance,”—she leaned over and kissed his lips gently—“in all things.”
He was tempted to deepen her tender kiss, but he knew where it would lead them, and she needed to fortify herself with food and rest before he would touch her, and not stop touching her.
He turned talk once again to her sisters. “Patience could still be following Heather’s trail.”
“True,” Emma admitted. “Patience is not one to give up easily.”
“A trait you both share, and does Heather share it as well?”
Emma shook her head. “I do not believe so. Heather is a kind and gentle soul. She could ease anyone’s anger with her soft voice and thoughtful words.”
“Then perhaps she can tame the Dark Dragon or at least keep herself safe from him.”
Emma’s brow knitted. “I never thought of that. I have seen her calm angry men and ease disagreements between women. All she has to do is lift a crying babe in her arms and the child cries no more. I have never heard her raise her voice to anyone and, though I have seen her upset, I have never seen her angry.”
“Then I would say that she has the strength and courage to survive this ordeal, and you should keep that in mind, for your worrying will not help her.”
Emma realized that she had continued to grip his hand this whole time and she released it and brought her hand to rest upon his cheek. “Thank you for reminding me how strong my sisters are.”
“It would seem it is a trait all three of you possess, and I suspect that Heather and Patience have no doubt that the three of you will be reunited soon. You would be wise to feel the same. And know that I am here and will do all I can to see that that comes to pass very soon.”
Lords of the Isles Page 143
