“I want nothing more than to bury myself deep within you and feel your pleasure take hold of me.” Lifting his face enough to watch hers, he knew if he kept up the gentle motion, she would find her pleasure in only several heartbeats though he doubted her innocence allowed her that comfort. He wanted to see her expression as she cried out into the night. Soft sounds left her lips, and her hands reached his face to pull his mouth back to hers. That her hips lifted to meet him filled him with a new resolve that he could bring them both pleasure and change the fate he dreaded to one that pleased him beyond measure.
He continued to mimic what could be between them and struggled to maintain his control. His thoughts warred with sending her away and removing his trews to take what he wanted so desperately. Never have I craved a woman as I do her. Emma could solve two of his problems. He needed her with a fire he couldn’t control, and he longed for an honest woman to take as his wife. That she loved his daughter only fueled his thoughts and his longing. So be it. She only needs to agree.
Rocking against her, he whispered, “Do you ken what it means if I take you now on my bed? I need you to be aware of what is about to happen between us. Has anyone explained what it will mean when your blood is found as proof of our joining?” Before she could answer, he pressed his mouth back to hers and teased her with soft brushes rather than a kiss to become lost in.
Even with her body moving in concert with his, her eyes widened, and she groaned and tore her lips away. “Oh, shit.”
Laughing as his lips brushed hers, his hunger grew with her recognition of what their night would bring and mean in the light of the next day. “You will have a lifetime to regret this night. A lifetime in this bed with me.”
Smiling against his kiss, Emma’s hands ran the length of his back. “The laird is going to be really pissed at you, though he will most likely blame me.” Then her hands stilled, and he knew she thought through what he was saying. “You so don’t want to be stuck with me. The laird will be furious, not to mention I think I will, too.”
“You want me as much as I want you. Your body screams of your desire for me.” Losing the hunger and humor, he lowered his tone to bring forth his other half. “I also want you, Emma.” Her eyes widened at the laird and then returned to their half-closed state that signaled her desire. She will have all of me.
Slowing his hips gradually, he grinned when she attempted to grind beneath him, her body overruling her concerns. “Soon you will have all you seek from me. I will give you pleasure beyond your imagination. I swear it, Emma. But first we need to move the bedding aside. I need you on the sheet.”
The reply from Emma never came when someone knocked loudly on the door. Turning his head at the cursed interruption, he shouted, “Go away!” His hands were intent on pulling down the bedding as his mind filled with thoughts of being inside Emma and the certainty it would bind them. The idea that the strong drink made all a fine idea made no difference to him.
The voice called through the door. “Forgive me, Laird. ‘Tis Byron. I have been charged with guarding the corridor. I need to find Meggie or Emma.”
“So why bother me?” he asked as his lips again found Emma’s neck. He couldn’t taste enough of her to satisfy his need and had no intention of allowing the interruption to cool her passion.
“‘Tis wee Mary. I was sitting outside her door when I heard her crying. I thought mayhap she was having a dream, so I entered to check on her. The child has a fever and a strong cough. She needs one of the women, but I swore to Cortland to stay within the corridor.”
Emma still squirmed against him, but it had become to get away. Declan called out, “Go to the hall to seek the women. I will see to Mary.”
The man offered his thanks and left. Looking down at Emma, he knew the moment had passed with the passion gone from her eyes. “Will you tend my daughter?”
Soft hands held the skin of his back and loosened to rest on his hips. She nodded and attempted to regain control of her breathing. Emma accepted his final kiss before he rose. Helping her to her feet, he could easily read the change in her expression. Passion had been replaced by shame, which he would never allow.
Emma wobbled on her feet, so he steadied her and stole one last touch of her skin as he closed the robe. Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, “‘Tis unfinished between us. I still want you, Emma.”
Her fingers trailed from his chest down to the top of his trews, sending shivers down his spine. “This is probably better. We won’t have to deal with any regrets. Emma leaned away from him, and Declan refused to allow the distance she attempted to create while she denied what could have been between them. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her with all the passion still burning within him, and she quickly met his hunger despite her spoken concerns. He only stopped when she gasped for breath. “There are regrets, only now they are different. For a brief time, I saw a future with a fine wife by my side who could be trusted and cherished. That she would love my child only made it more complete. I would erase these regrets as soon as Mary is healed.” Declan chuckled as her mouth dropped open in shock. “Aye, Emma. We are nay finished. We have only begun.”
“You can’t be serious,” she challenged.
“Dinna argue with me now, lass. Save it for another time when we can argue and then fall into the bed together. These thoughts have plagued me for weeks for I would see your eyes burn for me,” Declan said, holding her face. “Go now, tend my lass. I will follow in just a moment.”
Surprisingly, Emma limped out of the chamber with no argument on her lips. He loved catching her off guard. He stared at his rumpled bed and pictured Emma upon it with heated eyes. His manhood ached with want, and he sucked in air to force his body to wait. A smile crossed his lips, and he realized for the first time in ages he had hope.
Chapter 10
Emma ground more mint with the mortar and pestle and dropped it into the small pot of water that boiled in Mary’s chamber. The scent reminded her of the time her grandmother had covered her chest with mint and eucalyptus oils when she had been ill. Frowning at the child sleeping on the bed, she believed it would ease some of the congestion, but feared not enough. She would sell her soul for an emergency room loaded with IV fluids and a physician.
Night had turned to morning and a nasty headache. For a whole day, she had been lost reliving haunting images of what had almost happened with Declan. With the sun setting, her thoughts weren’t more concrete, only more tumultuous. What in the world was my whiskey-soaked mind thinking? Besides the obvious. Declan was insanely handsome and kissed like no one else she had ever known. That he could also be sweet and funny had most likely been the ultimate temptation. She had been with the version of Declan that Cortland adored. Her brow furrowed as she realized she had enjoyed being with the open and honest side of him, even before the evening had become carried away with what should have never begun.
Settling on the bed by Mary’s side, with her swollen foot propped on a pillow, she once again wiped the child’s brow with cool water and pictured the local drugstore with shelves of fever-reducing medications. Even if she’d had them, Mary would not have been awake long enough to drink any. The poor girl had hardly woken at all, and she only barely tolerated the drops of water Emma wrung from the cloth into her mouth.
“How is she?”
Emma turned to see Declan at her side. Completely lost in thought, she had missed the sound of the door opening and closing and his steps toward her. “She’s the same. Still too warm, and when she coughs . . .” Emma paused to blink back tears. “When she coughs, I can feel how much it has to hurt.”
Declan leaned over and brushed a strand of hair from his daughter’s cheek then pulled back, his gaze locking with Emma’s. “I came to check on her again and to ask you to change my bandage, though you lo
ok too tired for even such a simple task.”
With a roll of her eyes, Emma replied, “I think I can manage.” Though Declan teased her, she was afraid he could drop at any moment. Dark circles showed under his green gaze, and weariness covered his stubble-filled face. He had spent the night with her at Mary’s bedside—the man sat vigil during the night, not the laird. His love and concern for his daughter showed on his face, and he had spoken of the moments he still wanted to have with Mary.
But Declan had also held Emma’s hand and whispered his regrets over their interrupted moment. She had begun to fear he actually meant he would have gone through with calling it marriage, as odd as the idea seemed to her. What in the hell would I have done this morning if we hadn’t been stopped?
When the dawn broke, a different man had left his daughter’s bedside; the laird had taken over. But even that persona hinted that matters between them needed to be finished, which made her wonder if he were truly serious. The laird’s harsh green eyes had twinkled at her before he placed a quick kiss to her lips and left for the duties he needed to oversee. It had bothered her more that Declan wouldn’t stop saying he wanted to take her to bed as the laird more than as the simple man.
She knew there were too many wounded men who needed care, and whatever the fever was, it was spreading like wildfire throughout the keep and the village below. The responsibility for all of it fell at Declan’s feet. Despite the events of the previous night, she had worried for his ability to take care of it all while worrying about Mary.
Declan perched beside her on the bed and removed his shirt to give her access to his injured arm. Her eyes lingered over the chest her hands had explored in a hazy drunken stupor before she forced them to his injury. So much safer to blame it all on the alcohol than face the fact that I wanted him. She took the linen strips from his hand and the small pot of salve, the supply of which was rapidly dwindling. Meggie swore the stuff would keep wounds from festering. Emma only knew, while nursing a hangover, it stank and made her precarious stomach roll as she lifted the lid.
“Ughh,” she said as she dipped a clean cloth into the gooey substance. Her brow wrinkled, and she inhaled despite the nausea it brought back to the surface. Stupid whiskey hangover. Discomfort was better than her greedy eyes wandering the bare expanse of rippled chest before her. Even in her worry for Mary, others wounded and ill, Declan managed to steal her breath.
She removed the bandage, applied the salve, and carefully rewrapped his arm. She kept her gaze locked on the cut rather than wandering the dragon wrapped around his arm. When she had tied the knot, he leaned closer and held the ends of her hair in his fingertips. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat when she flinched with his mouth directly in front of hers. Warm breath whispered against her lips. “My thanks. Now let us see to your leg.”
“I can manage.” She squeaked when his hands began to slowly push her skirts up her calves. His gaze remained on her legs as the gown reached her knees, and her heart began to race when those same hands brushed over the tops of her thigh. If she believed she would be immune to his touch sober, she realized how wrong she was. His touch electrified her skin and made her breath hitch in her throat. That she did nothing to push his hands away was something she decided to ignore.
His warm chuckle washed over her while eager hands traced the edge of the bandage on her upper thigh. She smacked his uninjured arm when he abruptly lifted her skirt to reveal most of her legs. “Such modesty for one who almost began the day as my wife,” he teased.
Emma felt her cheeks flush with heat while her hands pushed the pooled fabric between her legs. She had lost more than a favorite gown yesterday. Her only and, therefore, most cherished pair of underwear had been covered in blood from the battle. No amount of scrubbing was going to make it go away, and she had thrown them into the fire in the bathing chamber, a move she now regretted. Maybe I could have lived with the stains.
Skilled hands unwrapped the linen and applied the salve before covering the several stiches on her outer thigh, after declaring them free from signs of festering. “Maybe you should be grateful we were interrupted. It would have been one heck of a mistake and made today’s hangover even worse.”
Declan looked up from his ministrations with a grin that lit his eyes. “Aye, Emma. Let us speak of regrets.” His hand slid down to cover the skin just above her knee, and she gasped at the light contact to her body. My stupid traitorous body. “Such regrets will be erased when Mary runs again at your side. The laird and I are in complete agreement for once. We both want you in our bed.”
“Both of you were as drunk as I was,” Emma said with a shaky voice. “How about we forget that ever happened and move on?” The real problem was she had no idea if he was serious or just teasing her in an attempt to make light of the craziness. She was too afraid of the answer to ask.
Laughter met her request. “We can argue after Mary heals. I long to see the fire in your eyes when you are beneath me.”
Emma pushed his hand, but it didn’t budge. “Not going to happen. Just because you are desperate for a wife, and we were stupid enough to . . . to do what we did last night . . .”
“We did nay do quite enough last night. As for desperation, I still have over two weeks to marry. How fine it would be to have the one I choose by my side.” Declan leaned closer, his breath tickling her lips. “Tell me, Emma. Have you no regrets we were halted last eve? Does your flesh remember my touch? I recall how your body felt like heaven against mine.”
If there were ever a perfect time for Mary to cough, the child managed to help her. She turned away from the lips that threatened to remind her of exactly what he taunted her with, and she helped Mary sit up enough to cough. As the child’s barking sound filled the chamber, she motioned for Declan to hand her the cup from the nightstand, an herbal tea Meggie had made.
“I need you to drink, sunshine.” Emma raised the cup to the child’s lips. “A tiny bit more,” she pleaded after only a meager amount had been swallowed.
“‘Tis foul,” Mary mumbled, falling back against the pile of pillows designed to keep her somewhat upright.
“Heed, Emma,” Declan said softly as he wiped the damp tendrils from Mary’s forehead. “I need you hale and hearty.”
Mary’s gaze focused on Declan’s for just a moment before her eyes closed. “At least she had a bit,” Emma offered for the father who sat with worry etched on his face.
“Open the door, Declan,” Cortland’s voice called from behind the wood door.
Declan rose and unbolted the latch then returned to the bed before Cortland had completely entered the chamber. “How is wee Mary?” he asked, the concern obvious in his voice.
“The same,” Emma said, attempting to push her hiked skirts back down.
Cortland strode to the edge of the bed with his eyes locked on Declan. “I came to check on her and my own daughter only to find Emma’s skirts raised and your shirt missing.”
Emma winced at the accusatory tone and decided to never share with the man she called father what had almost happened the previous night. “Our bandages needed to be changed,” she said as an excuse and turned her face back to Mary to hide the signs of her partial lie.
“Forgive my harsh tone, but the day has been long with no end in sight.” Cortland rubbed his hand over his cropped hair. “No father wishes to see such, though I should have kenned the reason.”
“Give me a wee bit of credit, old man. We are in my daughter’s chambers with her present,” Declan said after he pulled his shirt overhead.
“Again, my apologies,” Cortland offered. “However, next time, ask one of the lasses to change your linens, Emma.” She didn’t miss the command in his voice and his disapproval. With heat again flushing her face, she agreed.
“Do you think I would risk the anger of your sword?” Declan asked with humor back in his eyes.
His wink in her direction betrayed the lack of sincerity in the question. The man had joked earlier about being prepared to do exactly that if they had not been interrupted. Declan’s pledge echoed in her mind. I will kneel at Cortland’s feet and declare my desire for you to be my wife. Cortland will ken that I took you to my bed with full intention of binding you to me.
Cortland scowled. “I think none have had enough sleep post-battle. While I am loath to remove you from your daughter’s side, we have many a task to discuss. The men have come from the village, and I have the list of materials needed for repairs to the cottages and the crafter’s buildings.”
Emma saw it; the shift in Declan was instantaneous. Gone was the worried father and the man who whispered inappropriate innuendos in her ear; in his place stood the laird ready to handle business. Glancing down at the sleeping child, she instantly understood the dichotomy he claimed kept him sane. How else could he leave his sick daughter to handle the needs of those who depended on him for everything? Her heart hurt for his choice even as she wondered how many more he needed to make before the day ended.
“Then let us leave Mary in peace and in Emma’s care,” Declan said, walking to the door without a glance back.
“The men await you in the hall,” Cortland said. “I will join you after I have hugged my daughter and made certain she has all she needs.”
Declan turned from the now-opened door. “I would see an armed man within the chamber.”
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