Chapter Nineteen
“Your clan is watching,” Lillianna hissed as Angus tugged her out of the great hall and into the passage. The powers within her stirred, but she recognized it immediately and focused all her attention on Angus in the here and the now. She was shocked and pleased when the feelings the powers brought lessened without her even having to conjure up every detail of that kiss in the woods.
“Good,” he replied, pulling her along the passage at a clipped pace. “Then they will see a man who desires his wife.”
He stopped then and turned to her. The wonder she saw on his face made her heart flutter with true hope. “Ye’re my wife,” he whispered, his voice reverent.
“I’m your wife,” she murmured back, rather stunned herself. “I never imagined…”
“Aye,” he said, nodding his head. “I did nae, either.” He surprised her then by whisking her off her feet and holding her close to his chest.
“Angus! Whatever are you doing?”
“Hastening things,” he said with a wink. “I want ye, Lillianna. I’ve nae hid that fact. I feel as if, well…”
She thought perhaps he did not want to scare her by showing her the depths of his desire for her, but she felt emboldened and pressed a finger to his lips. “I feel as if I will burst if you don’t touch me again the way you did that day in the woods.”
“Lass,” he said, crushing his mouth to hers, swooping his tongue inside, and then giving her a long, drugging kiss. “I have thought of little else myself since that day.”
“Then what,” she said, boldly brushing her lips against his neck, “are you waiting for?”
With a grin, he strode to the stairs and took them two at a time, as if carrying her were like carrying a feather. His strength and size made her feel safe, but she also had a stirring of concern about the joining.
When he opened the bedchamber door, she gasped. Candles lit the room, flower petals littered the bed, and in the corner of the room, steam rose from a bathing tub. She stared in wonder at the space and then slowly sought him. “Did you do this?”
He looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Aye,” he said, setting her on her feet and releasing his hold on her. She caught his fingers. Angus MacLorh was brave enough to face anything except apparently his heart. He cared for her. She was certain of it. He may not love her yet, but to do this for her, he had to care.
“How did you know I liked these things? I’ve never told a soul.”
He gave her a devilish look that made her heart dance with excitement. “When ye were taken by the fever, ye revealed it.”
“And you remembered what I said?” she asked, astonished.
“Mo bhean mhaiseach, I remember everything about ye—from the mistrustful look in yer jade eyes when I first met ye, to the purple bruise on yer right cheek that ye tried to hide with yer hair, to the way yer hot, eager mouth tastes of honey, and the little moans of pleasure ye make when my tongue swirls along your sensitive—”
She launched herself into his arms with an almost violent need. No one had ever made her feel as wanted, as full of worth as this man in this moment. His mouth came down hard upon hers, demanding, searching, and searing. She loved it. The friction of his chest rubbing against hers caused her breasts to become heavy and tingly, but when his hand grazed her stomach, she jerked in pain. He stilled instantly, breaking the kiss, and gazing down at her with eyes so filled with passion that her legs trembled.
“Why did ye nae tell me ye were in pain?” he asked.
She twined her arms around his neck and tried to press their bodies together again, but he held her at a distance. She frowned. “This is why. I did not want you to be too worried to touch me.”
“Of course I’m worried to touch ye if I’m going to cause ye pain. Ye ought to ken that by now. Let us cleanse yer wounds, and then I’ll put a salve on them and—”
“No!” she said. “You’ll see how horrid it looks, and then you’ll not want me.”
He pulled her to him and slanted his mouth over hers, their tongues tangling, and her pulse racing. His mouth left hers to trail kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, and to the space between her breasts where the brooch was nestled. He took the brooch in his hands. “There is nae a thing in this world that could make me nae want ye, Lillianna.”
Her heart thudded in her ears. “Even,” she said, “if I threw away the brooch and had no powers?”
“Even then,” he assured her, releasing the brooch. He slipped his fingers inside her gown, and pulled it down just enough to expose the top of her chest. Then he traced his tongue over each breast, pulled her gown down farther, and then slid his tongue lower, very close to her nipples but not touching them. It was torture, but it was exquisite. The desire he aroused in her was painful in its intensity.
As he caressed her chest, neck, and mouth, her body flamed, and she roamed her hands over the hard swell of his arms and the broad stretch of his back. But she wanted and needed more. And as he very ably stripped her of her gown, she knew he did, too. She tugged on his plaid as he kicked off his boots, and then they were both pulling down his braies and slipping off her léine. Suddenly, cold air hit her body, and she shivered both from the draft and the realization that she was standing naked in front of Angus. And then, she looked down at his long staff and all thoughts but those of joining with him fled her mind. There was no more fear, only wonder and anticipation.
“Angus?” she fairly moaned, her core tightening and heat pooling there.
“Aye,” he said, circling his fingers around one of her straining buds and then the other.
She foggily recalled that he’d said he wanted them to bathe. “Shall we get in the tub?”
“Oh aye, we shall, but nae yet.” A wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes. “First,” he said, cupping her breasts, “I’m going to worship ye.”
When his mouth came over her left breast with a long, hard pull, she lost all coherent thought. The sensation made her back arch, her nails dig into his skin, and her insides spasm with a need to be released from the exquisite anguish.
He suckled on her left breast until she was certain she could stand no more, and then he moved to the right. Her legs gave, but he caught her, a hand gripping her bottom, and then he scooped her off her feet and took her to the bed where he laid her. She was uncertain of his intention when he pulled her bottom to the very edge of the bed, and his hands came between her legs to spread them. She gasped and set a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Angus, no,” she murmured, though her body said yes.
He kneeled between her thighs but paused, his hands braced on on her. “I want to pleasure ye, to give to ye before I take from ye. But if ye dunnae wish it…”
She leaned up on her elbows, the bandages around her stomach tightening. “Surely this is a sin?”
“Well, if it is,” he said, his voice rough with desire, “then I’m an eager sinner, and I’m happy to die unrepentant.”
She giggled and flopped onto her back, more carefree than she had ever been in her life, than she had ever dreamed possible. “Make me a sinner, then, too, Husband. For I vow that wheresoever you lead me, I shall follow.”
“I’ll hold ye to that,” he said, and then she gasped, her back arching of its own volition, as Angus’s fingers came to the innermost intimate folds of her body. He parted her gently, and then to her delighted astonishment, he slid his tongue down her center, over a spot that seemed to contain every nerve she possessed. Her insides clenched, and she screamed out his name as his tongue began to move in slow circles, and then faster and faster until she was thrashing and begging him to give her what she needed, though she hadn’t a clue what that was.
He slid his hands under her bottom as her heartbeat resounded in her ears and she panted for breath. Then in a long, suckling stroke of her sensitive center, he sent her spiraling over an edge she had not known existed. Every muscle inside her tightened and then released, and blood pulsed through her core in delicious beats that melded with her heart. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, and when she felt too languid to ever possibly move again, he rose, gathered her into his arms, and carried her to the bathing tub.
There, he set her on her feet and slowly unwound her bandages, a long hiss coming from between his teeth. She shook off the remnants of the daze he’d left her in and tried to raise her arms to hide her stomach from his view.
“Dunnae,” he said, the word a harsh command. She frowned at him, and his face gentled. He kissed her above and below the wounds. “Dunnae ever hide yerself from me. When I wed ye, I took all of ye. Every scar makes ye who ye are, and ye are the most beautiful lass I have ever kenned, inside and out.”
Tears of happiness sprang to her eyes, and his brow furrowed as he wiped away one of the tears rolling down her cheek. “Why are ye crying?”
She laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I never thought to feel this way. I have to wonder if it’s real.”
He kissed her head, and then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. “It’s real. Dunnae fash yerself, mo bhean mhaiseach.”
“What does that mean?” she asked him. She’d been too overwhelmed by his omission earlier to ask him. He smiled as he took her hand and helped her into the bathing tub. The warm water enveloped her as she lowered herself into it, and when he stepped in and sat behind her, bringing her between his thighs and into the protective cradle of his arms, the water lapped over the sides to splash on the hardwood.
“It means my beautiful wife,” he said, kissing her neck from behind and then taking a cloth and soaping it up before running it over one of her arms and then the other.
She turned in his arms, ignoring the sting of pain her wounds caused, and put her hands on his chest. Slowly, she smiled, hoping she had mastered looking wicked as he so easily could do. When he cocked his eyebrows and an intrigued grin turned up the corner of his lips, she thought she just might have captured the look she wanted. “I want to pleasure you in the way you pleasured me.”
“Ah, lass, I have never heard a sweeter wish in my life, and I will gladly let ye, but first, I will join with ye proper as a husband does a wife, and hopefully, we will make a bairn that looks just like ye.” She shuddered, and his grin disappeared. “Ye dunnae wish for bairns?”
“No, it’s not that. I just hope we have boys. I want the curse to end with me. I don’t want a daughter who has to worry that she has been married not for who she is but for her power.”
A determined look settled on his face, and he slid his hands into her hair. “I’m going to prove to ye that I married ye for ye and only ye, and I’ll do it first by seduction.” He gave her that wicked grin that she was fast becoming accustomed to. “And if we should have a daughter, she shall see by yer happiness that it is possible to give her heart to a man without fear.”
He gave her an expectant look, as if she should declare that he had her heart, yet she could not quite let go. She wanted his and he was not willing to even think of the possibility of giving it, so she kissed him with all the passion inside her, and soon they were once again out of the bathing tub and on the bed. But now she was between his thighs, touching him with wonder, and then tasting him as he had tasted her. When she took the length of him in her mouth and began to slide up and down him, the muscles of his neck and chest bulged. She knew he was trying to hold off his release, but finally, he relinquished all control and seemed to slip over the same edge he’d sent her spiraling from earlier.
When he appeared spent and she thought they would lie there in each other’s arms, he gripped her by the waist, careful not to touch her wounds, and rolled her on her back to loom over her. “Now,” he said, his voice a ragged growl, “I will make ye mine truly and completely.”
“As I will make you mine,” she promised him, determined.