The Draig's Wife

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

  Declan rose and used his thumb to wipe the tear that slipped down her cheek. “You hold my dagger, Emma. There is no denying you are my wife.”

  Gripping the engraved pommel in her hand, she whispered, “I know. But for me to keep it for my sake, you need to recognize who I am. I’m not the woman to hide behind you. Are you willing to take me for who I am, not who you want me to be?”

  His brow furrowed at the question. “If you doubt that I love you for who you are, erase those fears. My wife is more than warm flesh in my bed. She is wise, brave, and strong, and I would settle for no less from her.”

  She shook her head and laughed to herself at the odd third-person vocabulary. He seems to have an issue with pronouns. “There are only two horses. Since I still can’t ride, tell me that I will spend the afternoon wrapped in your arms on the horse as we go back home.”

  With his teeth clenched, he spat out, “My wife is a stubborn creature without the good sense to seek refuge. You ride with me provided you swear to put your safety first. Should there be no chance of saving our daughter, you will protect the life that you carry.” Oh, my poor Declan. How much did those words just cost you? I know how much you love Mary.

  The sadness in his eyes at the horrid possibility of failure made her heart ache. Unwilling to focus on what could go wrong, she said, “I promise.” That he nodded in agreement did little to erase the concern from his face. She knew he had compromised more than she should have ever expected or more than he ever dreamed he would.

  Closing the inches that separated them, Emma flung her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, needing to banish the what-could-go-wrong with the what-they-had. His arms immediately closed around her, and she sank into his embrace. “In case you’re wondering, I’m answering to wife again.” Being fully aware the hurt hadn’t completely abated, she was determined to stand by him and with him to face the day to come.

  His arms tightened around her, and he whispered against her hair, “You jest while fear consumes my belly. You are my life, and I agreed to let you face harm.”

  His grief echoed in his words. Seeking to soothe him, Emma whispered against his neck. “I need you to be careful tomorrow. Our children need a father, and I need you so much.”

  Declan sighed. She could feel his concern for her safety in the way he clung to her. “On the morrow, we will once again sleep in our bed, safe on our lands.”

  To Emma, his optimistic statement sounded like a large chunk of heaven with their fates dangling in the unknown. His next words pierced what was left of her control.

  “Should I fail, ken that I loved you with all of my heart. You brought joy to my life, and from the moment we met, the fire that burns within your blue eyes called to my soul. That we will spend this night bound to one another fills me beyond measure.”

  “Don’t say goodbye,” Emma choked against the warmth of his neck.

  Pushing her slightly away from him and framing her face with his hands, Declan gave her a small smile. “I would speak all while I hold the chance. Should fate be kind, I will gladly vow my love to you every night we share in life.” He placed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Should fate nay favor me, you will ken my heart. You will be able to tell our wee ones that you were loved by their father and that he loved them.”

  Tears slipped from her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in one day. “You tell them,” she challenged. “I don’t want to say goodbye tonight.”

  With his fingertips wiping away the moisture from her cheeks, Declan told her, “Have nay doubt I will spend the rest of the night and the time we share on the morrow whispering my love into your ear.” One hand left her face to bury in her hair and keep her gaze locked on his. “I would spend the remainder of the night apologizing to you with exceptionally great meaning to make certain all of you kens my love.”

  She heard his joke but shook her head in response. “No more apologies.” If she needed anything from him, it was to attempt to move forward. “We need to put the past behind us. I can’t live a life where you constantly ask my forgiveness for the last few weeks. I need to leave it behind.”

  When he simply gazed at her, stunned was the only word she had for his expression. “Love me, Declan. If you need to add more, love me with exceptionally great meaning.” While the statement sounded odd as she spoke, he grinned and nodded his head.

  “Aye, wife,” Declan whispered the second before his lips met hers. The soft brushes were achingly familiar, the way those delicate touches made her lean in for more, and brought to mind every kiss they had ever shared, beginning with the first one. Like that night lost in whiskey, her body heated and wanted him with a passion beyond her imagination. When his lips finally crushed hers and his tongue flicked, demanding entry, she was completely lost in a haze of desire.

  Lips met, and their tongues twirled in a shared dance of want mixed with the agony of the past few weeks. Emma held his neck while one hand tangled in his loose hair that smelled of the clean loch water. The passion so easily kindled earlier in the day burst free, and soft kisses became ones full of harsh demand. While she held on, Declan pulled her closer with wandering hands that cupped her behind and tangled in her hair.

  A soft cry left her throat when his mouth left hers gaping and wanting more. Electric green eyes focused on her wet lips before they met up with his fingers that loosened the ties on her gown. His gaze followed the reveal of more of her skin while goosebumps rose all over her body. A wicked grin met her gaze after the gown had slipped over her head.

  Standing with only a strip of linen covering her ribs, Emma saw the passion-filled eyes become hesitant ones. Taking the moment into her hands, she ran her fingers up his chest and then back down before lifting his shirt over his head. When touching the bare skin of his chest, she heard the rumble in his throat.

  “Heaven help me, I should nay touch you,” Declan whispered with his hands gently holding her sides.

  Blood roared in her ears from the desire he so easily brought to life. “Oh, you should touch me, Declan. I want tonight.”

  His eyes narrowed despite her hands wandering the muscled plain of his chest. “Do you want me because there may be no morrow, or do you want me to claim you as mine once again?”

  Neither option worked for her heart or her jumbled thoughts. She quickly decided against spending the night worrying about tomorrow, the dawn would come whether or not they were ready for it. To ask him to claim her again gave credence to the notion they were no longer married, and she desperately wanted to believe that he meant every word of trying to keep her safe. The only answer possible required her to step out of her hurt and fear and face Declan with an unguarded and open heart.

  Her fingers tugged at the rawhide holding his trews closed. Meeting his uncertain stare, she let go of the worry and days upon days of misery with an epic leap of faith. “I miss my husband.”

  She assumed she’d answered him correctly, when her feet left the ground and Declan carried her to the bed. As soon as he laid her on the bedding, his untied leather pants hit the floor. The second his body covered hers, Emma melted into his heat, her body instinctively seeking his.

  “Wife,” Declan uttered before his mouth took hers in a kiss that set fire to her being. Gripping at his strong shoulders, Emma whimpered into his mouth that offered no respite from his onslaught. She gasped for needed breath when he abruptly broke the kiss to taste the skin of her jaw. Lips kissed, nipped, and sucked at her neck leaving her to squirm against his body poised over hers.

  Emma’s neck arched and twisted as those same lips brushed the side of her breast. Heat coiled in her belly when hot, rough palms covered the same eager flesh. The way he touched her had soft cries leaving her lips. When his tongue flicked her hardened peak, her back bowed off the bed. To build her torment, Declan repeated the same torture to the other breast, le
aving her gasping for air.

  Moving her hands over his heated skin in the way she knew he loved, she watched his eyes darken and felt the rapid puffs of his breath against her lips. That her body wanted Declan’s came as no surprise to her; he knew exactly what she craved before she ever did. The sadness that crept into her heart made it harder to breathe, and she loathed its darkness. Emma wanted to be filled only with happiness that they had made their way back each other.

  Lips and hands wreaked havoc with every nerve ending she had while her brain raced with thoughts of how it could be the last time Declan would ever touch her. The hair on his legs brushed against her limbs, and her hands couldn’t touch enough of him to satisfy her need. Her skin wanted his heat against every part of her, and her heart wanted him to erase the goodbyes he had spoken in the event they failed the next day.

  Declan’s mouth found hers again, and she captured his lips in her desperation to hold onto him for longer than the night. Dragging her fingers into hair that teased her shoulders with soft brushes, a whimper left her throat. Immediately, Declan pulled away from her, concern bright in his eyes.

  “Forgive me, I hurt you,” he whispered with panting breath as a statement rather than a question.

  Shaking her head, she felt a tear slide from the corner of her eye. Declan’s finger caught it before it fell into her hair. “No, not that,” she tried to explain.

  “I swear to you, I dinna lie with her,” he raggedly proclaimed.

  Breath left her lungs at the mention of what she had worked so hard to move past. “Not that either,” Emma managed with a weak smile. Taking his stubble-filled face in her palms, she told him, “Tell me this isn’t our last night.”

  Declan dipped his head and kissed her lips softly. “I would have a lifetime of nights with you, wife. All I do on the morrow will carry that singular wish.”

  Closing her eyes, she nodded, unable to answer with her throat choked full of emotion.

  “We have the night. I would spend it only with you. On the morrow, there is no other I would rather see than my wife by my side as we celebrate in our hall. I will nay lie and promise what I dinna ken,” he whispered against her lips.

  Instead of answering him, she pulled him closer and claimed his mouth with a kiss worthy of a rediscovery of love, one worthy of a should-this-be-all-we-ever-have moment. Declan replied in kind, his lips and tongue branding her and taking away all rational thought. Wrapping his body within her legs, Emma could have wept with unbridled need when he finally poised himself to enter her body. She cried out when he stopped.

  Burning green eyes held her pinned. “You are mine, and I am yours. Speak it, Emma. Give this to me,” Declan harshly demanded.

  Feeling his taut body shudder over hers, she smiled at him when what needed to be said became clear in her mind. “We are one,” she said full of confidence and love for the man and laird who claimed her heart and soul.

  “Aye, we are one,” he repeated with a smug grin on his lips.

  Then they were one living being as his body entered hers. Emma gasped at the fullness, at the need finally being met, and at the love that completed her. He moved gently and slowly, tormenting her body that craved completion. In her mind, it had taken far too long to arrive at their joining. He had teased her body, stoked her desire, and made her want him more than ever.

  Declan’s hands held her hip and brought her body to meet his at an insanely slow pace. To express her need, her hands held tight to his firm backside and attempted to quicken his leisurely thrusts.

  A low rumbling chuckle left his throat while his lips traveled her jaw. “You think to rush when I seek to savor,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

  Lifting her head, Emma ran her lips over his neck. “Savor next time. We have all night.” She’d do without sleep rather than miss one moment of Declan. Besides, once had never been enough for either of them on any night.

  To answer her plea, Declan’s hips moved faster, and her back bent to capture everything he offered. Pushing his hand off her hips, she tightened her legs around his waist and lost all sense of reality.

  His ragged breathing and groans filled her ear while she drew in shaky breaths and moaned out her building pleasure. Declan lifted his head and stared down at her. “I love you” came out as a growl, and she adored the way it sounded mixed with their passion.

  Emma had no means to answer when sparks danced through her belly and heat began to build in her limbs. Still, he stared at her, watching her come apart at the seams. Crying out as Declan increased his pace and ground his hips against her, his length filling her completely and reaching the magical spot that must have been created only for him to find. Her vision blurred, and tingles became fire that spread throughout her entire being.

  Declan’s roar came moments later along with his cry, “Emma.”

  His body had barely fallen to hers, when he rolled them to the side, her sore ribs away from the bedding. Nestled into his neck, she wrapped around him and savored the tender moment while they both regained their breathing.

  After scattering kisses to her forehead, he asked, “Are you in pain?”

  Taking silent stock of her body, Emma felt the twinge in her ribs and knew if she dared to mention it, he would again argue she needed to stay at the cottage the next day. So, she shook her head and brushed her lips over the salty skin of his shoulder.

  “Wife,” Declan murmured into her hair.

  “Yes, I am,” she agreed and pushed him to lie on his back.

  Smiling, brilliant eyes shone at her with the love so easy to read. “We are one as we were meant to be.”

  Chapter 33

  The cryptic comment from Cortland rang in Declan’s head as he carried a cup of steaming mint water outside. Why would it be so important to deliver this to Emma? And where is she? His gaze found no trace of her in the side or back yard of the cottage.

  A muffled groan reached his ears, and Declan pushed his way through the trees to find Emma on her knees. Panic filled him as she wretched. From several paces away, he could see the sweat on her brow.

  After a mumbled curse, he dropped to his knees and rubbed her back, waiting for the sickness to pass. “What ails you?” he asked, full of concern and fear. They were preparing to leave for battle. Yet he doubted he would ever find the fortitude to leave if Emma needed him.

  To his shock, she chuckled and shifted to sit on the ground with her skirts bunched around her knees. Instead of answering, she held her hand out for the cup. “I hope that’s for me.”

  Her trembling hand took the cup. After rinsing her mouth, she took several small sips. Her sigh let him think the worst had past. “Better?”

  “It passes quickly.”

  “What passes?” he questioned, not understanding why she would be so calm after being sick.

  Emma’s head tilted to the side, and she studied him. After a deep breath, she explained, “This is how I knew I was going to have a baby—the morning sickness. Though mine is pretty much always midday sickness. It comes and then goes quickly. The mint does a great job at settling my stomach.”

  Declan had been at the cottage for days and had never seen her ill. Pieces clicked into place at the memories of her leaving the cottage at midday always followed by Cortland or Kathryn. It seemed they had kept much from him. Where anger would have once been his first reaction, Declan forced himself to remember their bairn had been kept a secret, and he knew for good reason. Emma needed to be certain of his love despite everything he had put her through. Even crouched next to her after a night of passion and love, he couldn’t quite believe she had forgiven him and let him back into her heart.

  “You should have told me you suffered,” Declan stated, hurt that so much had been kept from him.

  Her eyes instantly showed pain. “I suffered.” The comment me
ant far more than her troubled stomach. He knew he had put her through hell and hated every foul and cursed word he had uttered to drive her away.

  “And I am to blame for that.” Her head shook away his guilt, and he chose to honor her request to move past the day that he drove her away. His hand cupped her cheek. “I should have been the one to tend you.”

  “I’m glad you are here with me now,” Emma replied with a weak grin. He could see the sickness had left her frail. “We needed to find each other first. Actually, I needed to tell you about the baby before we dealt with this.”

  Leaning over, he placed a kiss to her forehead. He wanted to say that he would be with her every day at midday to tend her and ease her suffering. It was a promise he could not make given the day they were soon to face. Fate has a way of making vows obsolete.

  When she attempted to stand, he helped her to her feet and placed the walking stick in her hand. Gone was the woman who had bedded him in the early hours of dawn with a passion full of life and love. In her place stood one on shaky legs who needed rest.

  “You stay here,” the voice of laird stated.

  “Not going to happen, so knock it off with the laird voice. I’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Emma replied. “We already had this conversation. Let it go.”

  “We had the conversation without my kenning the details. You are weak,” Declan reminded her.

  “I’m going back to the cottage,” Emma told him as she staggered back onto the beaten grass surrounding the dwelling. “You can argue with the trees.”