by Mia Pride
Several more moments of silence passed before she finally asked, “Where is our son?”
“He is safe with Morna. He knows nothing of what happened. He need not know ever.” She looked up at him this time with her sad, red-rimmed blue eyes. The look on her face made his heart constrict with longing to hold and comfort her. Aye, he would hold her all cursed night once the fire was built.
Striking the flint stone against his stick of iron, he created the sparks to feed the kindling, then started piling more small branches on top until the fire roared to life and sent a blaze of warmth over his face.
He sat down carefully next to Clarice and drew her closer to his body’s heat when he felt her tremble, though he was certain it was much more than the cold causing her to shake. It ripped him apart to see the woman he loved so shaken up. Her eye was bruised yet again and he hoped desperately that Gregory was truly dead, for if he was not, Jeoffrey would make sure he was very soon.
Clarice laid her hand on his shoulder and began to sniffle. Though her tears caused his heart to crack and though he longed to take away the pain, he knew it was a good sign to see her release her emotions. She was coming out of her shocked state and crying would help her heal. He wrapped his arm tighter around her, keeping her warm with the cloak he knew to be Gregory’s. As much as he hated to see that bastard’s cloak wrapped around his woman, he was not so prideful as to make her remove it. The night grew colder with every passing hour and she needed warmth.
“Are you hungry, love?” She shook her head and let out another sob.
“I was s-so worried you would not come for me,” she whispered as a hard chill ran through her body, causing her to jerk. He had never seen her so distraught and he took a deep steadying breath to try to keep him calm.
“Clarice, I will always come for you. Why would you doubt it?” It hurt him to hear her admit that she believed he would not come for her. Had he not shown his love well enough for her? Had she traveled all this time, thinking he would simply let her go?
“You thought I left you once and you did not seek me out. I thought, mayhap you would believe I had left you again. And I was not sure what that awful woman told you!” her voice rose to a shrill pitch just before a torrent of tears fell from her eyes. “Ealasaid lured me to him! She preyed on my will to be kind to her. She let him take me!”
Jeoffrey had to get her calm before she went into hysterics. He would deal with Ealasaid when he returned, but for now, the damage done to Clarice was devastating him. Making shushing noises, he pulled her onto his lap and stared at the fire in silence until he felt her go limp in his arms and her breath even out with the rhythm of her sleep.
He had to protect her. Though Gregory was most likely dead, Clarice had almost been taken from him twice now. As soon as they reached Caledonii on the morrow, he would find the druid and marry Clarice with haste.
Her heavy breathing and the relaxing crackle of the fire threatened to pull Jeoffrey under sleep’s spell. He needed the rest, having not slept for almost an entire day. His body ached, his stomach growled, and his eyelids felt as heavy as boulders, but at least his heart was full as he held Clarice against him and he sent up a prayer of thanks to the gods for bringing him to her just before that bastard took something from her that could never be taken back.
Laying her down on the wool blanket carefully, he adjusted the large cloak still wrapped around her neck so that it encased her into a warm cocoon and then he laid down next to her, draping one arm over her waist. His large legs formed against hers, the tops of his knees nestled into the back of hers. Her hair smelled of wood smoke and the pine scent of the woods, but he could still detect the soft fragrance of wildflowers in her tangled waves as her head rested against his chest. Aye, he would die a happy man, if only he could wake up every morning to the soft feel and sweet scents of this woman for the rest of his days.
Taking the end of the wool blanket, he threw as much of it as he could over his shoulder, although his own red and blue plaid cloak was doing well to warm him, and within moments sleep took him away.
Chapter 10
Clarice awoke with a start. She felt a large, heavy body weighing her down and began to thrash wildly, pummeling her fists at any part of the body she could reach while screaming in terror. At first, she thought she was having a nightmare, for the world around her was pitch black, but the sound of leaves rustling above her head snapped her back to reality. She was still in the woods and Gregory was pinning her down.
“NAY!” she cried as she tried to shove his solid weight off her, but she was much too weak and her shaking limbs only hindered her ability to fight.
“Clarice,” she heard a calm, familiar voice soothe against her ear. “Tis Jeoffrey. You are safe, love.”
All the fight drained from her body instantly as relief washed over her. All the memories of that night flooded her mind: her abduction, Gregory’s admission that he had killed Harrold and Paulene, his story about why he had fled Ériu…and then the terror of his forcing himself upon her. That’s when details went hazy.
Somewhere between his foul breath against her neck, the feel of his enormous weight pinning her down, and the sound of her dress being ripped from her body, she had gone into some form of shock. Perhaps it was better that way. There had been no way to escape, though she had fought and failed. Her shocked state had deadened the memory, but not nearly enough to help her forget.
Then Jeoffrey arrived and Gregory’s weight went limp atop her body. The fear of suffocation had taken over her then as her lungs compressed. She was certain she would die at that moment. A crack had rent the air…and then blood…so much blood. Her body shivered at the memory. Blood had always made her abnormally queasy, but seeing Gregory laying there with his blue gaze staring at nothing would haunt her forever.
Now she was safe with Jeoffrey. Realizing she was back in his arms, she clung to him, feeding off his strength and warmth. He murmured reassuringly into her hair as he rocked her small body in his lap, but it was enough to make her stop quivering in fright and hold on tighter.
The strength of his body against hers had always been her safe haven. Nothing in the world had ever felt more right to Clarice than when their bodies came together. It healed her. It made her whole. It erased pain and strengthened their love. Clarice had always sought solace in Jeoffrey’s arms and he had always willingly given it. It was not only because he was a man and she a woman. It was a special bond only they shared. It was a bond of the soul, their souls.
She knew Jeoffrey had shared his body with many lassies before they had found love, and she assumed he had shared his body many more times during her four-year absence, but that never bothered her. She knew what she felt, what they shared, was a true gift from the gods and having been blessed so readily with their son was a sign from the goddess Brigid that their two bodies had been made to create life.
Even after four years apart, that irresistible pull had only grown stronger. It was as if her soul had been starving for nigh on four years and now that Jeoffrey was here to feed that hunger, she would never be satisfied. He had lovingly teased her in the past about her wild, insatiable nature, her constant desire for him, but she could not care. It was true. Nothing felt better than when Jeoffrey made love to her and she had always sought ways to get him alone. She had reveled in the many ways and places he could give her pleasure. And now, with her body feeling tainted by Gregory and terrorizing memories invading her mind, she longed to replace them with something else, with the beauty of his love.
Cradled in his lap, she rocked her hips against his, hungrily seeking his lips with hers. “Make love to me, Jeoffrey,” she whispered against his parted mouth, slipping her tongue into his briefly, then pulling back slightly when she felt him tense. She knew his honor was warring with his desire. Jeoffrey would see bedding her as taking advantage of her traumatized, weakened state. He would never expect to lay with her after she had been attacked, believing that she required rest. But that was
far from the truth; she needed so much more from him in this moment than rest. Her body was sore but her need was greater than the pain.
“Please, Jeoffrey.” She gyrated against him and felt his large arm muscles jump with restrained need against her shoulders. “Help me erase the pain. Replace the bad memories with ones of love.”
“Clarice, I—”
She cut him off with a hard, angry kiss. “Nay, Jeoffrey Mac Conrach. That man made me feel used and dirty. Help me wash it all away. Cleanse me with your love…please,” she croaked again, worried he would continue to hesitate, or worse, reject her altogether.
But when he growled and flipped her onto her back, supporting his weight above her with his outstretched hands on either side of her head, she knew what would come next. The storm. The lightning and thunder that surrounded and consumed them when they were alone and their bodies were pressed together.
His lips came crashing down onto hers and she opened willingly, allowing him to take everything she had. It was all for him. His tongue danced in her mouth, mimicking what she hoped their bodies would soon be doing together.
The cursed dress she had worked so hard to create for their wedding now felt like a burden. It was an unwanted barrier between her body and his. Reaching down frantically to pull at the hem of her dress, she wriggled until it slipped beneath her bottom and dragged up her hips. She was exposed from the waist down, but it wasn’t enough. Only skin on skin would do in this moment. She needed to feel every inch of him pressed against every inch of her.
He must have felt the same, for he untied the cloak around his neck and tore his tunic over his head, throwing them both in a pile behind him haphazardly. His warrior’s build was impressive, all hard muscle with not an inch of flesh to spare. He had never been a bulked-up man like some warriors, but he owned a lean strength that took her breath away every time. Four years of not seeing him like this had made her ache. He had grown in those years. His chest muscles bulged and glowed in the blue light of the moon above. His waist tapered and that one muscle that had always driven her mad trailed beneath the line of his trousers and all she could think to do was yank on the flimsy string keeping his now straining manhood hidden from her gaze.
He cursed under his breath and let out a slow hiss as he sprang free and her warm, small palm gripped him firmly. “Clarice,” he groaned as he lowered his mouth to hers again, running his tongue along the seam of her lips as she continued her ministrations.
Without removing his mouth from hers, his hands came down to her hips and yanked the hem of her dress up past her stomach, then her breasts, and finally over her head. His lips lost contact with hers as he pulled the dress off completely and threw it behind him to rest on the pile of his own garments.
Clarice gasped and arched as his mouth clamped down firmly on her breast. He sucked hard, knowing exactly what she needed at the moment. She needed a fast, hard, passionate round of love making and Jeoffrey was clearly ready to give it. She moaned his name and squirmed as his mouth detached from her pert nipple with a pop and instantly descended on the other. Her breasts had always been sensitive, sometimes arousing her simply by rubbing against the rough wool fabric of her dress. But when Jeoffrey’s touch swirled around the tip, it was enough to make her mind spin out of control and a hot fire of need pool between her legs.
“I need you, Jeoff,” she whispered. “Make the pain of the past four years go away, all of it.”
It seemed he needed no further prodding, for whatever slim control he had vanished at her plea. A heartbeat and a breath later, he was burying himself in her with as much desperation as she felt herself. Her hands came up and gripped his back at the same time her legs wrapped around his waist. Though his weight upon her and his heavy ragged breaths were a familiar comfort, she would never tire of watching Jeoffrey lose himself to her, nor would she tire of losing herself to him.
“I love you, Clarice,” he ground out through clenched teeth and he pushed deeper into her. “Never leave me again. I cannot bear it.”
“Never,” she whispered, digging her nails into the flesh of his backside, wanting to mark him as hers forever. As he filled her body, his love filled her heart. She felt safe, cherished, whole. How had she survived four long years without this man who made her heart nearly pound out of her chest with a simple glance from across the room?
Looking up at the sky, Clarice saw that the darkness of night had begun to transform into the pinks, purples, and corals of dawn, streaking the sky with light. Though the chill of the early spring dawn wrapped around their bared bodies, the heat of their love consumed her entirely as she arched up and moaned, begging to feel more of him as his rhythm grew more frantic. Their breaths exhaled as visible wisps of air that melded into one as Jeoffrey’s lips just barely grazed hers, his mouth breathing life into her.
His hand came down between their united flesh and when she felt the soft graze of his fingers stroke in circular motions over the most sensitive spot between her legs, explosions of pure ecstasy melted her from the inside out, causing her to shout out his name. Clarice clung to him for dear life, feeling as if she may fall to pieces without his strength to keep her from coming apart.
Sweat broke out over her skin, cooling her overheated body as the breeze brushed gently over her. She knew Jeoffrey was about to explode with his own release when his body went rigid and his hips began to work faster. Again, his mouth came down to devour hers, swallowing her gasps of delight when a low growl came from his throat. His tongue plundered her mouth violently and she welcomed the assault, pushing back with her own tongue just as his body shuddered over hers. Tearing his mouth from hers, he panted and dropped his weight onto his elbows. His deep brown eyes gazed into hers with a look that caused her heart to constrict. It was a look of pure love and possession, of a man determined to own her completely. And he did. He had owned all of her since she was just a wee lass.
Tucking a stray sweaty tendril of hair behind her ear, Jeoffrey leaned down slowly and pressed his lips to hers. “By the gods, Clarice. What power do you hold over me? I will never tire of your touch.”
“Do you promise?” A single tear escaped the corner of her left eye. The aftermath of their lovemaking was always just as powerful as the act itself. It left her vulnerable and exposed in a way that made her feel as if she could easily shatter into a thousand pieces. She had never felt worthy of Jeoffrey’s love and yet he had always freely given it.
“I promise to all the gods in all of Ériu and Alba. You are it for me, mo chroí. I was scared out of my mind every second I was away from you. If I lost you…” he stopped and breathed in the scent of her hair deeply and wrapped the wool blanket around her body. “I would not have survived it a second time.”
“I am thankful for your faith in me, that you knew I would never willingly leave your side. I wish to go home to our son.” She missed Wee Jeoffrey so much, there seemed to be a dull aching pain in the center of her heart, like a piece of her was missing. She had never been away from her son for a single day and never wanted to be again.
Jeoffrey looked up to the sky and took in the bright rays of sun barely showing through the towering tree’s branches overhead. Birds chirped their early morning welcoming song. “Aye, tis time to continue home. We have a long journey. Are you able to bear it?”
“Aye. I am sore from my ordeal and the hard ride on Gregory’s horse, but I would endure any amount of pain to see my son again.”
Jeoffrey bent over to collect their garments, examining her destroyed dress with a frown. “I am truly sorry your wedding dress was ruined, love. I know how very hard you worked on it.”
His voice was low and sincere. It was enough to make more tears well up in her blue eyes. She did not cry for the loss of the dress, but seeing the tattered remains of it gathered in Jeoffrey’s hand was a painful reminder of all she had endured. She was meant to become his wife and instead she had been betrayed by Ealasaid, stolen away by Gregory, and roughly treated before almos
t being violated. Looking at the now murky yellow dress balled up in his hand, all her emotions finally released like a kick to the gut, causing her to hunch over and grip her stomach.
“Clarice,” Jeoffrey whispered as he stepped forward and enfolded her in his embrace. “It will all be alright now. You shall see.” She was glad to hear he knew her well enough to know she did not cry over the ruined dress, but instead over the events of the past night. She was a tough lass who seldom allowed the weight of the world to crash down on her, but even she had a breaking point.
“Raise your arms over your head,” he commanded gently and held the dress out. She did as he bid and felt even more love for this man as he quietly dressed her, then tied his cloak around her neck, pulling the hood over her head to shield her from the elements. The sun had not yet warmed the world around them and she would catch a chill if she was not careful.
Jeoffrey then quickly dressed himself and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her with a kiss on her forehead. “You gave me your cloak,” Clarice commented, noticing just now that she was wearing his red and blue plaid cloak instead of Gregory’s dingy, musty gray one.
“Aye.” That was all he said. That was all he needed to say. She understood that he would never keep his own cloak, forcing her to continue to wear the garment of a man who had tried to harm her, and she loved him all the more for it.
“Good morrow to you both.” Still clinging to one another, they turned to find Alastar behind them with three horses in tow. He had a knowing gleam in his eye but Clarice would never be embarrassed. Alastar had seen her in Jeoffrey’s embrace enough times in his life. A few times he had caught them doing much more than embracing, but he never did more than send them that arrogant smirk and knowing look. “Are you ready to depart?”
“Aye,” they both said in unison. Jeoffrey bent over to pick up the wool blanket from the ground and shook it out before rolling it up and strapping it to his satchel.
