Once inside the captain’s small berth, William lit the candles and helped himself to the flagon of golden liquor. Seeing only the one glass, he tossed back the brandy and poured a fingerful for Meghan as the heady fumes filtered through his brain. He realized they’d had little sleep and no food for over a day.
“Be careful. “Tis potent and will no doubt go straight to yer head.”
“Once again, Black William is trying to get me foxed!” Meghan teased as she sipped the spirits. She set the cup down and leaned over to remove her shoes.
William thought the idea had merits–especially since he was going to have to tell her his addition to her story. When she finished the brandy she stretched out on the bed.
“How on earth does such a salty sea captain have such a luxurious berth?” she asked as she glanced around the small cabin.
Distracted, William looked around, surprised to see a thick rug on the floor, lush floral paintings carefully nailed to the polished wood walls, and an array of plump pillows propped atop what looked like remarkably clean sheets.
He shrugged. “Perhaps he has a wife.”
“Whether he does or not, Captain Pappy is a saint!” she decreed.
William knew it was now or never. “A saint, no, but he is a romantic at heart.”
Meghan didn’t bother to open her eyes as she said, “Mmmm? What do you mean?”
He took another swig of brandy, straight out of the bottle. “Pappy felt sorry enough for ye when I mentioned ye were to wed the Captain of the Guard.”
Meghan giggled.
“But he’d no give up his bed and his berth for a sad story.”
Meghan smoothed her hair back from her face and burrowed more comfortably into the pillow.
“I had to tell him we were renegade lovers who’d escaped the Tower guards to run off and get married.”
It took a moment, but the meaning of his words finally occurred to Meghan. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. William forced himself to meet her eyes, amazed at himself that he should care what she thought. He had procured her a bed and privacy, after all.
Suddenly Meghan fell back against the pillow in a fit of laughter. “Married? Us?”
William grinned, relieved that she did not take exception to his embellishment. Her next words wiped the smile from his face.
“After ye lied to me about your family, coerced me into loving you?” Her accusation sounded strangely out of place with the giggles still escaping her lips. “After ye treated me like a leper when we were forced to travel to London together?” Her laughter trailed off. “After ye made me abandon my father to certain torture and death? The captain believes we’re married?” There was no humor in her face or her voice. “This Pappy is no saint. He’s a fool.” She rolled onto her side, presenting William with the unforgiving expanse of her back. “As am I,” she whispered. “For listening to you.”
William’s anger flared up at her words. “A fool are ye? And what am I then for bothering to save yer thankless neck? Did ye think I wanted to walk into the lion’s den? Did ye think I choose to travel the length of England and present my neck to Edward’s whim all for the life of a Scot who would just as soon gut me as thank me for saving him?”
Meghan stumbled out of bed and shoved her hair out of her face. “But ye didn’t save his life, did ye? Ye left him there to face Edward’s executioner. Why did ye even agree to go to London when you had no intention of helping? Was it to punish me? Did ye wish to repay me for refusing your suit after ye lied to me?”
“Back to that are we?” William snapped. “I never lied to ye.”
“Did ye no?” she returned, just as sharply. “If ye didna lie, then ye didna tell me the truth either, for ye knew my family’s feelings toward your clan!”
“You mean yer father’s feelings! It seems the rest of yer clan has awoken to the fact that the Bruce is the rightful King of Scotland!”
Meghan inhaled sharply. “That’s no true!”
“It is. Only yer father’s too thick in the head to admit it.”
“You’ve already condemned my father to die, now you’ll insult him too?” Her face was as pale as a corpse’s but her eyes flashed with fire, threatening to consume him in her fury.
“I give ye no insult. Did yer uncle no counsel ye to offer yer clan’s loyalty in return for the Bruce’s help?”
Meghan said nothing, pointedly looking away.
“I assure ye he did no make a decision that the rest of his clan would not rest easy with.”
“He made no decision!” Meghan cried. “It was my decision to make, d’ye hear me? I am my father’s heir—not my uncle! ‘Tis my fault that he will be executed. I have failed him and my clan!”
William felt his anger start to slip away as he realized how devastated Meghan was by her failure to save old Oengus Innes.
“Ye’ve failed no one.”
“I have! I’m his—“
”Ye’re no but a lass who hasna the power to influence a king’s whim. ‘Tis nothing to be ashamed of and your clan will understand. Your uncle will tell them—“
”Damn you!” she screeched, pushing against his chest with all her might. Surprised, William took a step back.
“Damn you! I am the leader of my clan. My uncle will tell them nothing because I will forbid it! I take responsibility for my failure just as I take responsibility for the ungodly pact I made with that bastard Robert the Bruce!”
William’s anger flared back up. “That bastard risked his good name and the lives of two of his men to help your ungrateful father. That bastard, as yer fond of callin’ him, has done more to draw Scotland together than your father ever will! Or you for that matter.”
Angry, jewel-bright tears raced down Meghan’s cheek. William easily resisted the urge to catch them.
“My father loves Scotland! He will die in Scotland’s name if he is not already dead! How dare you slander him so? How dare you!”
She turned away and William thought she was returning to the bed. Instead, she spun back and delivered a slap to his face that made his eyes water and did nothing to quench his anger. When she made to slap him again, he grabbed her arm, forcing it down. Overpowering her only enraged her further, however. She kicked at his shins and sought to rake the nails of her free hand down his face. With a quick shove, William pushed her away from him. She reeled back and glared at him with fury and hatred. Her hair was a tangled mess and her clothes even more crumpled. But her eyes sparkled like a lightning-lit storm sky and her cheeks were flushed with brilliant color. Her frantic breathing drew his attention to her breasts, which pressed against the soft linen of her gown, nipples peaking the fabric.
Unsettled that he could be so aroused when he was still furious, he forced his gaze to her face, but got only as far as her full mouth, which she raked through her teeth with determination. Her lips reddened from the abuse and William wondered what they would look like if he kissed her—
He forced himself to look away and strove to cool both his anger and his ardor. He glanced back just in time to see her launch herself at him again, hands clawed in fury. He ducked her attack just in time and whirling around, caught her by the waist, spinning her around and pinning her arms to her side. He outweighed her by at least four stone and could easily outmuscle her. Nonetheless, she fought him with every fiber of her body. She tried to kick him again but was encumbered by her long skirts. That failing, she flung her head back, trying to catch him under the chin. William moved his own head out of the way and then looked down into her furious eyes. One tear and then another slipped unheeded down her face and as she panted, he could smell the heady brandy on her breath, warm and sweet. He could also smell the windblown freshness of her hair, the dampness of her linen gown, and that ineffable scent that was her own—like spiced strawberries or rain-drenched summer grass. He pressed her more tightly to him, ostensibly to restrict her attempts to kick him. His body responded instantly.
A faint whimper escaped
Meghan’s lips and William quickly caught it with his own, swallowing her fear and anger and returning passion in their stead.
***
Meghan thought he was going to hit her. She could see the fury in his eyes as he slammed her against his anger-hardened body. She struggled to free her arms to protect herself but it was as if she were held in bindings of iron, so strong was his grip. She tried to use her head as a battering ram, but he avoided the blow. Her anger was giving way to fear and something else, something that made her wonder if she was drunk or becoming seasick.
His green eyes were flecked with bits of gold and amber—as if lit with the fire of his own anger. The stubble of his beard bristled black shadows in the candlelight. His hard chest pressed unforgiving against her breasts and Meghan had trouble drawing a breath. When he pulled her more tightly against him, she found she could not breath at all. To her annoyance, a helpless whimper escaped her lips.
Suddenly, his warm sculpted mouth was upon hers and he fed her breath like life. His mouth moved ceaselessly over her own, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth, stroking her upper lip with his tongue. He drew back slightly and she followed him, refusing to allow their lips to part. Meghan felt that if their kiss broke, she would break with it, break into a thousand pieces of confused emotions.
“Sweet Meggie,” he murmured against her lips.
She realized that his arms no longer imprisoned hers, though he clenched her just as tightly to him as before. His hands rubbed urgent messages up and down her back and she ran her own hands over the bunched muscles of his shoulders and into the inky depths of his hair.
He groaned at her touch and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her up against him, her feet dangling above the floor. The sensation that she was floating did not dissipate as he lowered her to the bed and followed her down into its softness. The rough linen sheets smelled of lavender–an earthy, aromatic scent that reminded Meghan of their private strawberry glade. The memory was sweetly poignant, especially since those gentle embraces had promised so much more, only to be dashed by circumstances. With an incoherent moan, Meghan deepened the kiss, giving William her soul.
Their lips parted at last and Meghan’s eyes fluttered open to stare into the unfathomable depths of his own.
He lifted a hand and ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek, tracing a fingertip along the swollen fullness of her mouth.
Inspired, she touched the roughness of his emerging beard, marveling that it could be so coarse while the hair on his head was so silky. Twining her fingers into that silkiness, she drew his head down for another kiss, one that grew in intensity and heat until she was overcome with the feeling that she was intoxicated. Her skin was flushed as if she were fevered. Her head spun dizzily and she tingled as with frostbite, though she was not cold and the tingling was not in her toes.
William, too, seemed as affected by their embrace for his heart pounded against his chest with a force that she could feel against her own breast. When their kiss ended, his labored breathing and the moist sheen on his fair cheeks echoed her own exertion.
“Meghan, I—I’m sor—“
Meghan pressed her fingers to her lips, whispering, “Shh.”
She leaned up to kiss his apology away, offering her own with a light brush of her lips against his cheek, his eye, his brow.
He groaned and buried his head in the warmth of her neck, pressing kisses against the tender flesh. Meghan tilted her head back to give him better access and inhaled sharply as his tongue explored the folds of her ear. When at last he raised his head, his gaze burned with the passion Meghan felt racing through her veins. She found herself unable to look away and was scarcely aware that he was tugging at the hem of her gown. A moment of unease clutched at her heart and she grabbed his hands to stop them.
He paused, his gaze still locked with her own and after a moment, Meghan’s unease melted, replaced with the need to join herself to this man who’s love her heart had craved since that afternoon in the strawberry glade. She felt his calloused hands slid up her legs, glide across her warm thighs. She lifted her hips and he slid the wrinkled fabric past them. Their gaze broke only when he pulled the gown over her head and then when he looked at her body, glowing pale in the single candle’s light. Suddenly shy, she sought to cover her breasts with her hands, but he gently pushed them away, tracing the soft flesh lightly with his fingertips, making her nipples harden with a sensation that was almost painful in its intensity.
William ducked his head and kissed her breasts, trailing a hot tongue across the sensitive peaks. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair, though whether to pull him away or hold him tighter to her, she could not discern. When he had gently laved and suckled each breast, he moved down to her stomach and then the hollow above her hip. She squirmed back and forth, nearly overwhelmed by the shivers his kisses sent up and down her body. He brushed a kiss against her most tender spot and Meghan lurched upright. She knew if he continued, she would shatter with bliss and she wanted so much more of him. She wanted to taste him as he had tasted her. She envied him his free access to her body. She sat up, unwinding the plaid from his hips.
“Your turn,” she whispered against his ear before drawing the sensitive lobe between her teeth and nibbling gently.
After an eternity in which he abandoned himself to her love bites, he sat back on his heels and tried to pull his tunic over his head, forgetting that he’d not removed his belt first. Meghan giggled as she saw him struggle.
“Here,” she said, sitting up. “Let me help you.”
William laughed then, too. “Ye’ll be thinking I’m a green lad with his first lass, no?”
Meghan fumbled with his belt. “Why not,” she whispered, half-embarrassed. “I’m a green lass with my first lad.”
His laughter stilled and he lifted her chin with a gentle finger.
“And ‘tis my honor to be that lad, Meggie.”
The heat in his gaze intensified and caught in its inferno, Meghan all but tore William’s belt off. Seams split when he tugged his tunic over his head, but he did not pause to investigate, throwing the garment on the floor. His boots followed and in an instant, the warm length of his hardened body pressed her into the softness of the bed.
She pushed against him and he moaned in protest until she rolled him over and began exploring his body with her mouth and hands. His moans changed as she caressed the rippled planes of his chest and stomach. She lightly traced the dark line of hair that led from his navel to his stiffly jutting manhood. Biting her lower lip with uncertainty, she gently wrapped her hands around him. He moaned again and lurched against her hand. Encouraged, she trailed her hands along the long muscles of his legs before returning to the mesmerizing proof of his ardor.
He laughed hoarsely and pulled her up to sprawl atop him.
“We’ve much more to explore,” he said by way of explanation. To prove it, he claimed her mouth in a thorough kiss that was more intimate and powerful than the last.
Without quite knowing how it had happened, Meghan found herself beneath William. His legs settled against her own. With an instinct of their own, hers parted. She felt the hardness of him brush her sensitive flesh and found she could scarcely catch her breath. His mouth had begun another sensuous assault and Meghan reveled in it. His hands spread fires across her body as they caressed her breasts, her legs, the core of her pleasure. Meghan could not focus on a single sensation. It was as if her whole body was a sensation, a sensation that was building to a fulfillment she could only imagine.
The hardness which tantalized the soft flesh between her legs grew bolder, dipping in and out of the delicate folds, causing her to lift her hips in an attempt to capture him and end the tortuous teasing. William complied, gently easing the head of his shaft in. Heat flooded Meghan’s body, causing her to open languidly for his entry.
William’s breath was ragged and uneven and he murmured delicious words against her neck. “You are so beautiful,” he said. When she
tilted her hips forward to encourage him further, he shuddered and rasped, “I‘ve wanted you for so long, my love.”
As he slid slowly in the rest of the way, Meghan’s sensations quickly focused. She tore her mouth from his in an attempt to catch her breath. She felt his hands along her legs and she obligingly wrapped them around his waist, feeling him fill her more completely. She held on to his shoulders as if they were the rock that kept her afloat in a sea of emotions. Time lost all meaning and she existed only in the world that was his embrace as they rocked to an unsung rhythm.
Beneath their passionate embrace, the ship shuddered and creaked as it rode the crashing waves, but Meghan could not discern where the ships movements ended and hers and William’s began.
Tremors wracked her body in increasingly powerful waves and she opened her eyes to meet William’s intense gaze. He did not look away from her as he continued to move deep within her. His hand drew a caress down her body, delving between their joining to deftly rub the apex of her womanhood. Before Meghan knew what was happening, tremors erupted in a surge that cascaded over her, drowning her in a sea of pleasure. William captured her cries with his mouth, the intimate kiss mirroring their physical joining until Meghan felt that she was utterly one with him and he with her. William’s spilled his own groan of pleasure into her lips before clutching her tightly to him in a final thrust.
An eternity later, Meghan opened her eyes. William sprawled half-atop her, his breathing still labored, his dark hair damp with sweat.
A slow smile spread across his face and, eyes still closed, he asked, “What are you looking at?”
“You,” she replied, running her hand along his thigh and up his waist to his chest. She scratched a nail lightly over his nipple and was delighted when he shivered and gasped. “You’re a bonny lad.”
The King's Rebel Page 14
