“Stabbed?” Edith said slowly, her mind unable to comprehend what Rory was saying. “Someone stabbed Cawley?”
“Aye. With this,” Rory said and held up a black-handled dirk.
“That’s my father’s,” Edith gasped, moving quickly forward to stare at the ornate ruby-topped handle. She could hardly believe it.
“Are ye sure?” Niels asked, moving to her side to peer at the weapon.
“O’ course. ’Tis one o’ a kind. I’d no’ mistake it fer another,” she murmured, her gaze sliding over the weapon again. She’d always thought it beautiful, but now, with Cawley’s blood still on it, the beauty was somehow tarnished.
Turning, she walked to the bed and sat on the end of it. “Who did it?”
The men all glanced at each other silently, and then Tormod said, “No one kens.”
“What?” she asked with dismay. “But there were a ton o’ servants in the kitchen.”
“Aye, and every one o’ them was watching the food to be sure no one poisoned it,” Tormod said grimly. “No one was paying attention to Cawley. They just left him to sit in his corner eating the pastries Jaimie made fer him and . . .” He shrugged helplessly. “No one saw a thing until Cawley tumbled off the barrel he was sitting on and began to bleed on the stone floor, and they said no one was near him when that happened.”
“How could no one have been near him?” she asked with disbelief. “Someone had to have stabbed him.”
“He was stabbed in the heart, Edith,” Rory said softly. “He died almost at once. He may have sat in a stunned state for a count of three or ten before dying and tumbling from the barrel, or may have died leaning up against the wall and only tumbled from it afterward. Either way would have given whoever stabbed him a chance to slip away.”
“Aye,” Edith breathed the word out and then rubbed her forehead, before asking, “But why would anyone kill Cawley? He was harmless.”
There was silence and then Niels said, “He was yer father’s brother?”
“Half brother, aye,” Edith admitted. “Technically, he was me uncle, though me brothers and I never called him that,” she murmured and then narrowed her eyes on him. “Ye’re thinking this is connected to the poisonings?”
Niels pointed out almost apologetically, “Well, ’tis another family member dead.”
“Aye, but Cawley was no’ officially family,” she said with a frown.
“Ye said everyone at Drummond kenned he was yer father’s brother,” Rory reminded her quietly.
“Well, aye, but—”
“Could he have inherited Drummond?” Geordie asked.
Edith shook her head. “Nay. Brodie is next in line.”
“But if Brodie returned and died, and you died,” he added quietly. “Could Cawley have inherited then?”
“Well, I suppose,” she admitted, her brow furrowing. “If all of Father’s children died without heirs, I suppose it could have passed to Cawley as his half brother and closest living relative.”
“And who would inherit after that?” Rory asked.
Edith pursed her lips and thought briefly and then shrugged helplessly and said, “Tormod I think. Yer father and me grandfather were brothers, nay? Ye were me father’s cousin?”
“Aye,” he admitted reluctantly.
Edith nodded and then turned to Niels and said, “But Tormod is no’ the one who killed Cawley. He was sitting with us fer a good hour before ye came below and he came from the bailey when he joined us. I saw him go nowhere near the kitchens. There is no way Cawley sat there dead in the kitchen for an hour without anyone noticing.”
“Nay,” Rory agreed. “The blood would have run down his body and there was no sign of that. I do no’ think he was dead more than a minute or so before tumbling to the floor. If that. Tormod could no’ have killed him.”
“Thank God,” Tormod muttered with feeling.
Edith moved over to pat the man reassuringly on the arm, but said, “Mayhap it has nothing to do with inheriting Drummond. Mayhap ’tis one o’ the clans we’re feuding with getting us out o’ the way, or someone seeking revenge against the family for some unknown injury. Or mayhap Cawley’s death has nothing to do with the poisonings,” she added.
When her words were met with silence, she threw her hands up with exasperation and headed for the door.
“Where are ye going?” Niels asked with concern, following her.
“Well, ’tis clear we ken no more now than we did after the poisonings,” she said impatiently. “And I am sick to death o’ thinking about it. I am going to take Laddie fer a walk.”
“No’ by yerself, ye’re no’,” Niels said firmly, catching the door as she started to pull it closed behind her. He followed her out of the room and trailed her to the stairs before asking, “How long has it been since ye took yer mare fer a run?”
Edith stopped at the top of the stairs and admitted unhappily, “Too long.”
“Then mayhap we should go fer a ride,” he suggested gently. “It might do us both some good to feel the wind in our hair and run fast through the woods.”
Edith hesitated and then nodded. “Aye,” she breathed.
Smiling, Niels took her hand and started eagerly down the stairs.
Ronson was sitting on the floor with Laddie by the fire. Both started to rise when they saw them, but Niels waved them off and picked up speed as they stepped off the stairs and started across the great hall.
By the time they got outside and headed for the stables, Edith was almost running to keep up with him. She didn’t mind so much, she had a lot of pent-up energy she needed to spend. It was something that had seemed to trouble her ever since their trip to the loch. She’d been restless and almost dissatisfied as she’d gone about setting to rights the small things that had been neglected at Drummond while she was ill. But her mind had constantly been on Niels and what he’d made her feel, and her eyes had repeatedly sought him out with a sort of yearning.
Unfortunately, while she’d wanted to be closer to him, he’d seemed to be avoiding her just as eagerly. At least he’d been avoiding touching her, even in the most random manner. There had been no polite holding of her arm as he’d escorted her below in the morning, no brushing of arms or other body parts as he reached for something at the table. In fact, he hadn’t even sat next to her. Instead, she’d found herself between Tormod and Ronson, or Rory and Ronson, or Rory and Tormod with Niels on the other side of one of them. She had no idea why. But it appeared whatever had made him keep his distance had been resolved, because he was holding her hand as he led her into the stables.
“The stable master’s no’ here,” Niels murmured as they entered.
“What can I do to help?” Edith asked as they approached the stalls where her horse was housed next to his.
Pausing, Niels turned and caught her by the waist to set her on the rail of one of the stalls and instructed, “Sit here and look pretty. I’ll no’ be a moment.”
Edith blinked at him as he moved off to begin saddling his horse, and then slid off the rail and moved to collect her mare’s saddle. No one had ever instructed her to sit and look pretty. She didn’t even know how to do that. Edith had never even thought of herself as pretty. Smart? Yes. Hardworking? Yes. Kind? Yes. But no one had ever said she was pretty. Certainly not her brothers, and Edith didn’t have a lot of experience with men besides her father and brothers.
“Ah, lass. Ye never listen to me,” Niels said with amusement, moving to help with her horse once done with his own.
“I’ve never taken instruction well,” she admitted wryly. “Me brothers always said I was difficult and contrary.”
“I’d have said intelligent and independent,” he countered lightly, finishing with the saddle. Once done, he set her on her mare and then led the animal out of the stall as he added, “And I happen to like that about ye.”
Edith found herself beaming at the words.
“I’ll be right back,” Niels assured her once he had her out of the stables. He went back in, but returned a moment later leading his stallion and Edith found herself admiring the lines of both males as Niels mounted. Catching her looking, he grinned briefly and then nodded toward the gates. “Ye ken the area better than me. Lead the way.”
Edith hesitated briefly, and then knew exactly where she wanted to go and steered her horse out of the bailey at a trot. The moment they’d crossed the bridge, she urged the mare to a run down the hill and into the woods. Edith didn’t look back to see if Niels was following. She had no doubt he’d be able to keep up. His horse was a fine beast.
The spot Edith had decided on was a good distance away, but not so far as to be dangerous. Still her mare was winded from a combination of the distance and the speed they’d traveled at by the time she reined in.
Pausing on the edge of a field of heather, Edith peered over the small meadow and breathed out a little sigh of pleasure. This was exactly what she’d needed. Her favorite spot when the world seemed to be crowding in on her. This was where she’d come when her mother had died, when she’d learned the man contracted to be her husband had died and where she wanted to be now.
“Beautiful,” Niels murmured, reining in next to her.
Edith smiled. She’d known he’d like it. Sliding off her mount, she tied the reins around a branch on the nearest tree and then started along a trodden path through the meadow of waist-high heather as Niels tied up his own beast. Bees and other insects immediately began to buzz about, but Edith ignored them, knowing they’d settle again once they’d passed.
Niels caught up with her and followed silently until she’d reached the large flat boulder in the middle of the clearing. It was only about knee-high, and hidden from view by the tall heather until you got close to it. But it was also wide enough for three people to lie on side by side, and nearly completely flat, though it was slightly slanted.
“I did no’ even see this from the edge o’ the meadow,” Niels said with surprise as she stepped up onto the rock and moved to the center to sit down.
“Nay, but ye would have had we ridden much farther,” she assured him.
“Aye.” Niels settled beside her and peered out over the meadow of flowers, a wry smile twisting his lips. “I should have brought a picnic.”
“We just broke our fast,” Edith said with amusement and then frowned and added, “At least I did. Ye’ve no’ eaten yet, have ye?” Shaking her head, she started to get up. “We should go back so ye can eat.”
“Nay,” he caught her arm, to stop her rising and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m no’ hungry.”
“Are ye sure?” Edith asked with concern. When he nodded, she hesitated, but then relaxed and glanced around at the sea of flowers surrounding them.
Seated, they were only head and shoulders above the flowers. But she knew from experience that lying flat on the rock they would disappear from the view of anyone passing the meadow. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the sky and inhaled deeply. The air was redolent with the smell of heather and after a moment, she lay back on the sun-warmed stone surface and peered up at the clouds overhead.
“Oh, look, ’tis Laddie,” she murmured with a smile.
“Where?” Niels asked glancing around with confusion.
Edith grinned and pointed up at the cloud shaped vaguely like a running dog. “Right there, next to the ducky-looking cloud.”
“Ah,” Niels said relaxing. His gaze slid over the clouds and then back down to her and she was aware that he was watching her, but simply continued to stare up at the shifting clouds until his head suddenly blocked her view.
Blinking, Edith refocused her gaze on his face and simply waited, knowing he would kiss her now. It was why she’d brought him here, to get that kiss he’d been about to give her in her room before they’d been interrupted.
Niels didn’t disappoint her. He lowered his head until his mouth covered hers and at first that was all he did, brush his lips lightly over hers. But when Edith raised her hands to slide them up his arms, his mouth opened over hers and his tongue slid out to trace the crease between her lips. Edith instinctively opened to him on a little sigh and he caught her lower lip between his, and drew on it lightly, almost teasingly. It made her smile lazily, and then he released her lip and tilted his head as his tongue swept out to fill her mouth and the sweet tempo suddenly changed.
With her breath catching in her throat, Edith clutched at his shoulders and held on tightly as his mouth ravished hers. It was as if the passion they’d shared by the loch had been merely restrained when they’d been interrupted, and now he’d unleashed it. Edith’s own desire immediately rose up to meet it and she slid one hand into his hair, her fingers knotting in the strands and urging him on as she slid her tongue forward to meet his.
The soft hum of the insects feasting in the field around them faded, drowned out by the pounding of her heart, and the sweet honey scent of the heather was replaced with Niels’s more musky, woodsy smell as he slid one arm under her to raise her to sit next to him. Edith went willingly, clinging to him with both arms and lips. When he broke the kiss to trail his lips to her ear even as his hand shifted to find and squeeze one breast through her gown, Edith tilted her head back and to the side on a moan and arched into the caress. Her eyes opened to the sky briefly and then she lowered and turned her head to find his mouth again as she felt him tug at the neckline of her gown.
Niels kissed her at once, but continued to work at the lacings of her gown as he did. She felt the material loosen and then it was just gone and his warm hands were covering both her breasts. Edith jerked in reaction as excitement jolted through her, and then moaned into his mouth as he began to squeeze and knead the mounds of flesh. When he broke their kiss again, she muttered a protest and then cried out and tightened her fingers in his hair when he suddenly ducked to close his mouth over one eager nipple.
“Niels,” she gasped, shaking her head as he drew on the sensitive nub and then closed his teeth lightly on it. He didn’t leave the other nipple wanting, his fingers were rolling it lightly and plucking by turn and Edith was writhing in response, her back arching and legs shifting restlessly as liquid heat pooled low in her belly and began to ooze down to the spot between her legs.
When he finally let her nipple slip from his lips and raised his head to kiss her again, Edith was ready for him and she was the one who did the devouring, kissing him almost violently and pressing as close as she could manage. She felt his hand on her ankle and then sliding upward along her outer leg, pushing the cloth of her gown ahead of it. When her lower body twisted toward his as he reached her hip, his hand immediately took advantage, sliding around to cup one round cheek of her bottom and squeezing firmly. In the next moment, he was shifting to his knees and urging her to hers.
Edith followed the direction almost mindlessly, her mouth clinging to his as she moved to kneel between his spread knees. The moment she did, Niels’s hands slid down and curved under to brush across her most sensitive skin. Edith broke their kiss, her head going back on a startled cry of pleasure, and Niels turned his head and nipped at her shoulder, growling, “Christ, lass, ye’re so wet fer me.”
“I’m sorry,” Edith muttered with confusion and a startled laugh slid from his lips.
“Do no’ be sorry,” he said breathlessly. “Ne’er be sorry fer that,” he added more firmly and then kissed her again and bore her down to lay sideways with him. The moment Edith stretched her legs out from their folded position, Niels rolled her onto her back and broke their kiss to claim one nipple again. But she hardly noticed, because now his hand had pushed her skirt up to her waist and was urging her legs apart. Edith bit her lip, but let her legs fall open, and then cried out his name and bucked as his clever fingers slid between them to find the core of her again. Her legs snapped closed around his hand in an instinctive response, but he merely used both hands to press them open and then slid down her body to place his mouth where his fingers had been.
Edith froze, her eyes open and staring at the rolling clouds overhead as he began to do things her mind couldn’t even track. He licked and he suckled and did things with his tongue that had Edith crying out and grabbing his head. Tugging at his hair, she tried to close her legs, but he held them open and in the next moment she was digging her heels into the stone and raising her hips into his mouth almost violently, but again he was in control, holding her down and open for his attention.
Helpless and half-crazed with the excitement mounting in her, Edith released his head and grabbed at the rock they lay on, but the mostly flat surface offered no purchase. She ended up grabbing her own breasts instead, her nails digging into her skin as she tried to find a way to ground herself. But it was too late, there was no stopping it. Edith screamed, half-terrified and half-shocked as her pleasure exploded and rolled over her in a thundering mindless wave. When she recovered enough to regain her awareness of where and who she was, Niels was cradling her in his arms and murmuring soothing words as he rocked her gently.
With all that lovely passion fading, shame and embarrassment were quick to claim Edith as she realized her gown was a twisted mess around her waist and she was as good as naked in his arms. Closing her eyes, she turned her face into his neck and pressed closer, trying to hide as much of her body as she could.
Niels paused in his rocking and soothing murmurs at once, and pulled his head back, trying to see her. “Edith?”
“Aye?” she muttered, ducking her head self-consciously and crossing her arms over her breasts to try to hide them.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked with concern.
Edith nodded, but shifted her arms so that one crossed over her breasts, leaving her free to try to pull the top of her gown up to cover herself.
“Don’t,” Niels protested, catching her hand. “Ye do no’ have to hide yerself from me.”
“I . . .” Edith shook her head helplessly and tried to pull her hand free.
“Marry me.”
She froze at those words, her head finally coming up so that she could stare at him with amazement. “What?”
“I ken ye were hoping to marry a laird with a castle ye could run, and I do no’ have that yet, but I’ll be able to start building one fer ye at the end o’ another four years. In the meantime, we can live at Buchanan, either in the keep or a cottage in the village if ye prefer. And I’ll happily give ye as many bairns as ye wish fer,” Niels assured her and then repeated gently, “Marry me, Edith. Be me wife and share yer life with me.”
Edith simply stared at him, hardly believing he’d asked her, but then she frowned and asked, “Are ye only asking me because ye think ye have to now ye’ve ruined me?”
The question made Niels chuckle and Edith scowl.
“’Tis no’ funny m’lord,” Edith said stiffly, pulling away from him and beginning to try to untangle her twisted dress. “If ye’re only offering out of guilt over what we’ve just done, then ye’ll surely come to regret it and resent me fer it and I could no’ bear ye coming to hate me.”
“Edith, lass,” Niels said gently, catching her hands to stop her again. “I am no’ laughing because I think yer being ruined is amusing, I’m laughing because . . .” He hesitated and then simply said, “Ye’re no’ ruined, Edith. Yer maidenhead is still intact.”
She blinked and then stared at him doubtfully. Edith did know the basics and that a man generally inserted his fiddle in a woman to breach her maidenhead. However, she found it hard to believe anything had survived the explosion of pleasure she’d experienced. Besides, she’d felt something push into her at the end. That was what had set off the explosion. Of course, his head had been between her legs with his fiddle nowhere near that part of her, she realized, flushing. “But I felt something—”
“Me finger,” he interrupted gently. “Yer virginity is still intact.”
“Oh.” Blushing, Edith lowered her head.
“I do no’ want to marry ye because I’ve ruined ye. I want to marry ye because . . . well, frankly, because I want to ruin ye,” Niels admitted on a wry laugh and then shrugged apologetically. “I want ye something fierce, Edith.”
When she frowned and began to lower her head again, he added quickly, “But I like ye too.”
Pausing, she glanced back up at him uncertainly.
“I’ll no’ lie and say I love ye, lass,” he added solemnly. “’Tis too soon fer that, and I do no’ wish there to be lies between us, but I do like ye. I think ye’re a fine woman, beautiful and smart. More importantly, ye’re kind too. Ye care fer the well-being o’ yer people, and ye take in strays who need a home. Ye’ve a good heart, Edith, and I like that about ye.” Smiling again, he added, “And the fact that I want ye too jest makes it all the sweeter. I think we could be happy together.”
Edith stared at him for several minutes, replaying his words through her mind. She liked that he wouldn’t lie and claim he loved her. And she liked him too. She liked how kind and patient he was with both her and Ronson, and she liked how he managed Laddie with firm affection. And she too wanted him, desperately. No one had ever made her feel even a small percentage of the passion he’d roused in her, which perhaps wasn’t saying much since she’d never even been kissed before him, but she knew enough to understand that the passion he inspired in her was rare and she’d be lucky to have it in her marriage bed. Even more importantly though, she liked and respected Niels and she too also thought they could be happy together.
Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Edith let her gown drop and leaned up to press her lips to his, but her mouth barely brushed his when Niels pulled back and asked, “Is that an aye ye’ll marry me?”
Blushing, Edith nodded and whispered, “Aye.”
“Thank God,” Niels growled and finally kissed her.
Much to her amazement all the earlier passion she’d thought sated immediately leapt back to life inside Edith. Moaning, she twined her arms around his neck and pressed against him, her nipples tingling as they brushed across the cloth of his shirt and tartan. Wanting to please him as much as he’d pleased her, Edith didn’t simply hold him this time, but allowed her hands to move over his chest, exploring, as she sucked on his tongue and then let hers wrestle with his. But when she found the large pin holding his tartan in place and undid it, Niels stiffened and then caught her by the shoulders and urged her back, ending their kiss.
“Nay, lass, I do no’ think—”
“Please,” Edith moaned breathlessly, her hand reaching for his shirt-covered chest as the tartan dropped to pool in his lap. “I just want to see.”
When Niels hesitated, a battle taking place in his eyes, she reached for his shirt and tugged it up from under the folds of his tartan so she could slide her hands beneath. Edith then let them glide over the hard expanse of his stomach and then his chest as she pushed the cloth upward, revealing inch after inch of his perfect chest. When the cloth rose high enough to expose one of his nipples, she bent and closed her lips over it and Niels’s hands tightened on her shoulders in surprise.
“Lass,” he growled as she suckled and then flicked at the hardening tip with her tongue, not sure she was doing it right, but trying to emulate what he’d done to her. She thought she might be doing it right when he growled under his breath and let one hand slide into her hair to cup her skull as she worked. Still, he said, “Lass, we should no—”
The words died abruptly when Edith slid one hand down to find the hardness covered by the bunched-up tartan. Unsure what she should do with it now that she’d found it, Edith merely clasped it through the cloth and squeezed lightly. The next thing she knew, she was on her back on the stone and Niels was on top of her, his hips between her legs and pressing into her as he kissed her almost violently.
Groaning into his mouth, Edith spread her legs farther, raised her knees and dug her heels into the stone so that she could press back up into the hardness rubbing against her through the cloth of his tartan. She also slid her hands around his hips and grasped his . . . bare bottom, she realized with surprise. Eyes blinking open, she broke their kiss to glance down and saw that the tartan had slid off him to lie between them. It left her a lovely view of his bottom.
“What’s wrong?” Niels growled and lifted himself slightly to peer over his shoulder as if he thought she’d seen someone. He was caught completely off guard when Edith immediately stopped pressing upward, let her hips drop to the stone and reached into the space she’d made between them to wrap her fingers around his hard erection.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Niels turned back to stare at her wide-eyed and Edith used her free hand to try to pull his head down for another kiss, but he resisted. Actually, he seemed kind of frozen, she realized and worried that she’d hurt him. She didn’t think she was squeezing too tightly, but didn’t know how sensitive he was.
“Am I doing it wrong?” she asked uncertainly.
“That depends what ye’re trying to do,” he said between clenched teeth.
Edith bit her lip, and then admitted, “I want to pleasure ye like ye did me.”
Niels swallowed and closed his eyes. “Lass,” he said finally. “Ye’re playing with fire. Jest leave off and let me catch me breath and we’ll return to the keep and—” His words died abruptly again when she moved her hand. Edith’s eyes widened as he jerked in response.
“Tell me what to do,” she begged, moving her hand again.
It was apparently too much for Niels. Cursing under his breath, he caught her wrist and squeezed until she released him, and then was immediately off her, taking his tartan with him.
Biting her lip, Edith sat up and watched as he laid his tartan out on the path and began to fold pleats into it in the narrow space.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked uncertainly, easing to the edge of the rock and standing up.
“Nay, I just think we should—” Niels paused as he glanced her way and saw that while her skirt had dropped back into place, the top of her gown still lay around her waist leaving her breasts bare. Glancing down, she saw that her nipples were puckered as if cold, and blushed. She also immediately started to grab the material, intending to cover herself, but he caught her arm to stop her and then drew her closer.
“God, I want ye,” he whispered, his breath a warm rush across her sensitive nipple. “I’ve no’ stopped aching since the day at the loch,” he admitted.
“Then why were ye avoiding me?” Edith asked and flushed as she heard the hurt in her own voice. She hadn’t meant to let him hear it, but she had been hurt by how distant and cold he’d been toward her after kissing her. She was also starting to worry he might act like that again now despite asking her to marry him.
Niels studied her expression with a frown and then said, “I’m sorry, lass. I did no’ mean to hurt ye.”
“Ye’re no’ going to act like that again once we’re back at the keep, are ye?” she asked.
“I probably will,” he said apologetically. “But only til we’re married. ’Tis only because when I’m near ye, I want ye so bad I . . .” He shook his head.
“I want ye too,” she confessed. “So bad ’tis an ache.”
“Aye.” Niels smiled wryly. “I ken the feeling well.”
“Mayhap if ye bed me, it would no’ be so bad and we could—” Her voice died on a gasp as his mouth suddenly closed over her nipple.
“Niels,” she said uncertainly, staggering against him, and grabbing for his shoulder as he suddenly slid a hand under her skirt to run up her leg.
“I’ll no’ bed ye til we’re wed, lass,” he muttered, releasing her breast and lifting his face to watch her expression as his fingers found her center again. “But I’ll take away yer ache, fer now.”
“What about you?” Edith groaned.
“Aye, I’ll take away mine too,” he assured her, and she glanced down to see that he had his free hand wrapped around his erection. “Lift yer skirt, Edith. I want to see while I pleasure ye.”
Edith reached down shakily to pull her skirt up hand over hand until she had it gathered at her waist.
“Beautiful,” Niels muttered, sliding a finger inside her. “Come closer, love. I want to taste ye.” He urged her closer with the finger inside her, and Edith staggered forward.
“Spread yer legs more,” he instructed and she widened her stance, although she wasn’t at all sure her legs would hold her much longer as his fingers slid in and out and he tilted his head up and leaned in to lap at her. Bracing herself with both hands, Edith closed her eyes briefly and then opened them and peered down at what he was doing to himself, noting the way he was holding himself and the rhythmic motion he used. She wanted to touch him too and be more involved, but didn’t have much choice in the matter until her legs began to shake.
Apparently noticing, Niels straightened and growled, “Kneel.”
Edith sank to her knees beside him and he kissed her, his thumb now caressing the sensitive nub that was the center of her excitement as he slid his finger in and out of her in the same rhythmic motion as he was using on himself. She kissed him back at first, but soon didn’t seem to have the presence of mind to even manage that and simply kept her open mouth pressed to his as her body began to quake.
When she cried out and bore down on him, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she found her pleasure, Niels responded by thrusting into her one last time and then shouting into her mouth as he found his own release. When it ended, they were both panting and sagging against each other. Niels retrieved his hand and held her close as they regained themselves.
After several moments, he kissed her forehead and murmured, “We need to dress and head back.”
Edith sighed and nodded with regret. She didn’t really want to dress and return to the troubles at Drummond. She wanted to run away with Niels, find a big soft bed somewhere and have him teach her all there was to know about the bedding. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option, she acknowledged, and began to move.