Chapter Twelve
“Are ye no’ hungry yet?” Skye rolled her eyes. How did Brodie have all this energy after his illness? All she wanted to do was eat and snuggle in his arms to fall asleep.
“Only for ye, love.” He rose up above her and nibbled at her neck. She gasped and then sighed as the tingle spread through her veins. They had lain together twice, and he showed no signs of slowing.
“I’m famished,” she pleaded, but craned to give him better access.
“Me, too. I’ve been starving for ye for far too long.”
He climbed on top of her and, taking her hands, pinned them above her head. Her chest started to flutter, and she could feel the familiar longing for him, but her stomach growled in protest. This time it was loud enough to catch his attention. He frowned as he let go of her wrists, but stayed braced on top of her.
“We will have to continue later. It’s getting dark, and we havenae left the bed all day,” she said.
“I never want to leave this bed again, love.” Grinding his pelvis into her hips, he smiled wickedly.
“I promise we can come back. I just need food. Ye do, too, if ye’ll admit it. Ye were just sick last night. Besides, I need to make ye Maggie’s tea.”
He groaned. “I dinnae like it. It’s tastes like dirty water.”
“If ye get sick again, ye willnae have the strength to make love to me,” she countered with a wry smile.
“Ye win this one, but we will no’ leave this house.”
She laughed. “The snow wouldnae let us if we tried.”
He rolled off her and kept his gaze fixed on her as she stood. She pulled her shift on quickly, not because of his scrutiny, but because she had not realized how cold it was. They had been warm all day in each other’s arms under the blankets, and she was now second guessing her request to leave it.
“Will ye get the fire going while I figure out what to make?”
“Aye, anything for ye, lass.” He rose, wrapping his plaid around his broad shoulders and walking over. Glancing out the window, he studied the scenery as if it was the first time he had seen it. Following her from the room, he stopped, moved into the spare bedroom, and glanced out that window, too.
She shivered—he was looking for threats. She was glad he was being vigilant, because she’d been so wrapped up in the pleasure of being with him, she’d forgotten about the men after her. Trusting him completely, she went to work in the kitchen.
Making a basic stew had been simple with potatoes she found in the cupboards and venison the Lochiel had left just outside in the cold. She added spices Maggie had sent and pulled out the bread that had been brought from the Kentillie kitchens. It was a perfect meal for two. Contentment washed over her as she realized cooking for just Brodie and herself had been calm and pleasant.
In the kitchen back on Skye, she had helped cook for a horde of MacDonalds, and it was always bustling and hectic with no time to put care into the dishes she made. She had loved being lost in the flurry of faces and friends, but there was something magical about being in this place, just Brodie and her.
Here, she had time and could put all the care she wanted into the dish. Here, she didn’t feel like just a cog in the wheel, which was what she’d wanted. Here, she felt important and needed.
Would she miss this?
Would she feel this way when she went to her new home? Would the MacPhersons even allow her to help in the kitchens?
Pushing the thoughts away, she decided to relish the sight of Brodie as he sat near the fire carving a piece of wood and peeking up at her from time to time.
After setting the stew, bread, and some ale down on the table, she slid into the chair next to his. She was amazed at how natural it felt and how relaxed she was in his presence. The comfortable ease they had shared as youths had come back so easily.
“How is yer family?” she asked.
“Mother and father are well. Tormod’s family lives near them now. They have two babes and one more on the way. Kerk is always off somewhere. We dinnae see him much.”
“Will they be pleased to see me?” Her eyes strayed out the window in the direction of his parents’ home.
“I am certain they will be happy.” He placed a comforting hand on hers and smiled. “I am surprised ye didnae come across them at Stirling.
“’Tis a large place. We arrived late, and then I was gone the same night. I do think I caught a glimpse of yer mother.”
“Aye. They should return after the snow melts. Mayhap ye will see them before the MacDonald arrives.” Concern flashed behind his eyes as his gaze turned and narrowed on the door. “’Twill also mean Ross and Neil could be here soon, and I havenae had the chance to find out what Argyll wants with ye.”
“Oh.” She still couldn’t wrap her mind around what they wanted from her.
“Dinnae go out there without me until we ken where all the threats are coming from and why.”
She nodded. She didn’t want to find herself in the back of their wagon again, or worse yet, with Argyll, the man who was responsible for all those MacDonald women being pushed from the cliffs on Rathlin Island. A bone deep chill sped through her.
“We need to keep the door locked, too.”
…
The steady drip of the melting snow set a rhythmic pace as Brodie lazily traced his fingers up and down Skye’s arm. He did not mind that she still slept as he took the time to just enjoy her being there. The sun rose higher in the sky and was now shining in the window. A ray caressed her arm and hit a strand of her blond tresses that lay across the pillow, and he wished he could stop time.
But he couldn’t, and it was time to get to Kentillie and make sure Lachlan knew of the threat to him and the clan chiefs at the meeting in Edinburgh, and also of Ross and Neil and the trouble between the MacLeans and MacDonalds. But the threat that concerned him the most was that Argyll was after Skye.
Stirring, she sighed, and he uttered a quick prayer of thanks he’d had this time with her. Her sleepy eyes fluttered open and came to rest on his. She’d had no practice seducing men, but the lazy, sultry look in those hooded green gems and the sinful smile she shot him hardened his cock instantly. Although his plan had been to get her to trust him, he was the one who had fallen, sucked in beyond hope like a boot in a muddy peat bog, no chance of ever coming out the same.
He had not taken her again last night. He had wanted to, but she was so tired and after yesterday, she might be sore. This morning, he wanted her. Leaning in, he claimed her lips, devouring their sweetness and sating his need to touch her.
Her hand grasped his side, and she arched into him, enticing him to take more as her breasts rubbed against him through her shift. The provocative move sent waves of need pulsing through him, which culminated in his hardening staff. It jerked in response.
His lips left hers, and between his labored breathing he was able to manage, “Love, I want to be inside ye. I am afraid I cannae wait.”
Her mouth curved up as her eyes heated with approval. “Then take me.” The words wrapped around him and pulled him further under her spell.
Half sitting, leaning on his elbow, he slid his arm around her waist and whisked her on top of him. She gasped, and her eyes widened. He couldn’t help but grin at her response. They had been together a handful of times, but she had never been on top. It would be a new experience for her, and he was glad to be the one to teach her.
Her confession of the previous day had thrilled him—to know she’d never given herself to another, that he had been the only one to touch her and enjoy her wanton response. It galled him that once she went back to the Isle of Skye, her uncle would give her to the husband she wouldn’t name, but he pushed the thought away to focus on this stolen moment.
“I want to watch ye above me as I enter ye. ’Twill give ye more control.” She swallowed, and her cheeks reddened. “Do ye trust me, love?” She nodded. “Then, straddle me.” She did. “Now, take off yer shift,” he ordered. “Nice and slow.”
His heavy gaze studied her as she exposed her body to him. The taut skin of her abdomen, the soft curve up to her ribs, and the sway of her beautiful breasts enticed him as she shimmied the fabric over her head. She beckoned to him like a siren, just as she had always been able to pull him into the treacherous surf to be by her side.
She was up on her knees above him. He snaked his arm around her back as he moved to a seated position, his chest brushing hers. Leaning down, his mouth found one of her sensitive globes. He kissed her gently there and held her pinned with one hand at the base of her bare back.
He peeked up to see her mouth open, watching him, and he took her breast into his mouth and sucked at her nipple. She threw her head back and gasped. As she did, her slick center brushed against the base of his hardness and he fought the urge to grab her hips, lift her, then impale her as he sank into her tight sheath. His blood heated at her response, and he did it again.
This time when he pulled back, he laved the engorged peak, swirling his tongue in circles around the nipple. She whimpered, and her hips ground against his cock, and he knew he would not last long.
Her eyes returned to his; the desire in their dilated depths ignited a fire deep within him, a need he had never felt for another, only her. Her response to him seared him deep and branded him. He belonged to her completely.
“Ye keep looking at me and moving like that, love, and I’ll spill my seed before I am even inside ye.” He meant it. He had always been in control of his own body, but she did things to him no other woman could. With Skye, he felt like a rope pulled so tight he would snap.
Leaning back on one elbow, he trailed his other hand down her side, following her curves to the rounded globe of her rear. His hand slid forward and she shivered. He stroked down her thigh, up, then back down again. His fingers slid across her slick folds. Her breathing became heavy, and her lids fluttered shut as a small mewling noise escaped. She was so wet and ready to take him in.
One of his hands reached for the top of her hip while the other held his cock to guide her as he drew her down on top of him. He groaned as her slick folds engulfed him, sheathing him in her warmth. She was so tight, so right. He continued to guide her down until he was buried so deep inside her that they became one.
Her eyes were wide but excited. If he starting pumping into her, he would spill before she reached her peak. Being inside her was like being wrapped in a warm plaid on a cold night.
As he rotated his hips gently, she struggled to keep her focus on him. Stilling, he enjoyed the beauty of her above him. Her pale skin was rosy in the early morning rays, and her hair glowed with the beams that lit it like liquid silver. He reached up to touch the silken strands. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
She started moving. It was a slow exploration, and as the revolution of her hips rocked through him, he involuntarily arched into her. A pulsating need to drive into her almost made him lose control. She began a rhythm somewhere between tentative and urgent that threatened to keep him on the edge for eternity, just where he wanted to be.
After a moment of the sweet torture, she changed her pace, lifting and lowering her hips in a slow exploration. It was such delicious torment to watch her move above him as her swollen passage slid up and down on his cock. He gripped her thighs as she moved in and out, engulfing him with each return. He would not last long, and the desire to see her pleasure peak drove him to take charge, because her satisfaction had to come before his.
One of his hands reached toward her center, and his thumb came to rest on the nub at the apex of where they were joined. With each thrust down, he swiped it over her clit. She started making soft whimpering noises and lost her rhythm.
Feeling the first shudder as her womb clenched around him, he maintained his assault on her sweet spot as his hips rose and drove into her, faster and harder. She cried out as her climax came, and leaned down to brace her arms on either side of him as he continued to pound. Some guttural sound escaped from his own throat as his release came, his seed filling her as the contractions deep within her continued to constrict around him.
She collapsed on top of him. Her limp arms pulled in to hold his sides, and she was still, other than the rise and fall of her chest with her labored breathing. He savored the feel of her warm, sated body on top of his. Pushing back her hair, he kissed her temple. She sighed, satisfied and replete.
Later, as they lay there, sated, neither wanting to move, he trailed his fingers gently across her collarbone. Remembering he was the Raven, he came up on an elbow and met her gaze. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but at the same time, she deserved to know at least part of the truth. “I cannae promise ye a future.”
He held his breath, waiting for a protest or angry response, but she surprised him with resignation, as if she already knew they would have to part. Her acknowledgment and easy acquiescence to his declaration saddened him more than uttering the words had.
“Aye, Brodie Cameron. I ken we are different people now.”
Blocking all thought of what was to come, he spent the rest of the day pretending to be a normal man enjoying every moment with the love of his life.