Chapter Fourteen
“Thank you, Maegan, but don’t look so alarmed!” Iain chided, his laughter filling the great hall.
Maegan was shocked that he, Laurel, and Conor did not move. All three just remained sitting by the hearth, prepared to continue talking and smiling without any concerns.
“My daughter knows how to stay warm and dry in an ice storm. We’ve lived through many. She knows what to do.”
Maegan stared at him incredulously. “You knew?” she asked. “You knew Mhàiri has been living out there on her own for days?”
“Well, how else is she supposed to know if she is going to like it? And after the past few hellacious days, I suppose she does, otherwise she would have been back by now.”
Laurel grinned. “I think we will be preparing for a wedding when those two return.”
“You better hope so,” Conor snorted. “After listening to you two applaud your devious ways, I would not let you forget it if you are wrong.”
Laurel patted his hand. “Oh, we’re right. You know it, too.”
Conor looked at Maegan. “You would have thought they had known each other for months, planning this whole thing between Conan and Mhàiri.” He pointed at Iain. “You need to go, my friend. You and my wife enjoy each other’s company too much. It’s dangerous. Better run, Maegan, while you can.”
* * *
Conan had been out for a few hours, searching each of the places they had been to during their outings, when he realized where Mhàiri had gone. The day Bonny had told him she wanted to learn about maps, but he had taught Mhàiri instead, she had identified a half dozen spots she thought would be ideal places to draw in detail, for they included all aspects of this area of Scotland.
When she was not at the fourth area, he began to get worried. The final two were the farthest from McTiernay Castle, and if she were not at either of those, he would have to stop and find shelter. He had come prepared to deal with the brutal cold and ice, but based on what Bonny had said, Mhàiri had very little and nothing to keep her safe and protected.
He hoped his brother had waited to send out a search party. It was almost impossible to see, and if he had not known every knot and hole in these parts, he would have injured himself or his horse as soon as he had left the main path. As it was, the fifth place was set atop a rocky cliff that would have been the coldest and least protected from the wind and the elements. Conan feared he might lame his horse and slid off the saddle to guide the animal along the rocky path to a small canyon-like stretch. There were no caves in the area, but at least the rock wall would shield his horse from the worst of the storm.
He rounded one massive boulder that had at one time jutted out from the cliff above. Without warning, a knife flew by his face and clinked on the rock face behind him. He jumped back out of sight.
“Know that I missed on purpose and have more knives, two of which are in my hands. So speak your name, stranger, and pray I recognize it.”
Conan could hear the stark alarm in Mhàiri’s voice. She was scared. Genuinely, thoroughly, deep-down scared. “Then your aim better be damn good,” he said, stepping back into view once more. “Mhàiri, I’ve come to—”
Before he could finish his sentence and say that he was there to rescue her, Mhàiri had launched herself into his arms. “Oh, Conan! What are you doing out here! You have to be freezing!”
“I was looking for you. I didn’t know—not until tonight—that you were out here all alone. God, if anything had happened to you,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezing her close. “Why did you go? Why did you not return when the weather got bad? Why did you leave me?”
Mhàiri pulled back to answer, but before she could say a word, his mouth crushed hers with animal-like fury. His tongue thrust into her mouth, then withdrew, then thrust again, engulfing her with unleashed need, fear, and lust.
Mhàiri clung to him in confusion and desire. Conan held her close and showered her face with hungry kisses, groaning with intense yearning as he frantically sought out new places for his lips.
For hours, he had told himself that he would find her. And when he did, he would scold her for hours on the dangers of adventuring out alone without anyone knowing where she was. Then he would make love to her until she was limp followed by another lecture on the dangers of scaring him to death. But with his lips upon hers, all he could think was that she was safe. She was alive and he never wanted to let her go.
Slowly, he released her. He cupped her face and asked again, “Why, Mhàiri? Why?”
She put her warm hand around his freezing one and said, “Come. Come back where it’s warm and dry, and then you can tell me why you are here.”
Conan followed. Just past the fallen boulder, she had made a makeshift camp. She had leaned the cart over on its side, and between the cliff wall, the boulder, and the cart, she was completely protected from the wind. She must have known the weather had been turning foul, for she had collected branches and stacked them to make a thick, temporary roof. A fire crackled next to blankets that were laid out. A large stack of sticks, which included some sizeable logs, were in one corner to keep the fire going, and a plate was on the ground with what looked to be a half-eaten rabbit.
“Do you live here now?” he choked in surprise.
Mhàiri laughed and went to sit down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her. “It does look like it, but I’ve been here only a couple of days. I would have returned to the castle today, but I feared it might turn worse and it did. I knew that at least here I would be safe and dry.”
Conan unhooked his sword and laid it down before sitting next to her on the blankets she was using as a bed. “And warm. How did you get dry wood?”
“Some of it isn’t so I have to be careful not to add too many of the wet ones on at a time, but those old broken logs were here already. I think someone else must have used this area for shelter as well.”
Conan pointed to the roof. “Since when did you know to do that?”
Mhàiri grinned. “Since I was a child. We had to build protected places for us to sleep when traveling. It was Shinae’s and my job to build the shelter, which included a roof most of the time. It did not take very many wet nights for us to figure out not only how to build them quickly but how to lay the branches so that the wind won’t blow it away and keep everything warm and dry underneath, no matter how harsh the weather. Though I must say, I am glad to be surrounded by these big rocks in this wind.”
“You truly were not exaggerating when you said that you could take care of yourself.”
Mhàiri shook her head. “Everything I said that night was true, except for one thing.”
Conan leaned in and put his hands near the fire to get warm. “And what was that?”
“I promised you that I would be happy living out here, day after day, drawing with only the quiet of my thoughts. That was unfair, for I had no right to make such a promise when I did not know if that was true.”
Tension ran through every one of Conan’s limbs. Fate was cruel. Just as he had realized he could not live without her, she had realized she could not live with him.
“But now I can,” she said, looking up into his eyes. Fear lingered there and she longed to remove it. She reached up and caressed his chapped cheek. “I’ve been out here for days now. Did you know that I have never done anything like this? Just out drawing, traveling, alone with only my thoughts to keep me company?” Conan shook his head. “I mean, at times, it was lonely and I wished you were here so we could talk, but most of the time, I reveled in the peace. It was colder than I’d thought, more uncomfortable than I had anticipated, and one night food was hard to find, but despite all of those things, I discovered something.”
“And what’s that?” he asked, watching her every emotion as it flittered across her face.
“That I love it. I love the feeling of freedom. I love living by my rules and schedules and yet still serving a greater purpose through my drawings. I know who I am now, Conan. I am my mother’s child, born to roam and never be tied down. That’s what makes me happy. And even if you can never understand that and still believe this life would make me miserable, it doesn’t matter anymore, because I know what I want now.”
“It does matter, Mhàiri.” Lowering his head, he pressed her back onto the tartan-padded ground and covered her with his massive body, pushing himself between her legs.
He was a love-maddened dolt and he did not care. His mouth came down on hers in a searing kiss. A hungry sound escaped him as he demanded entry. She willingly gave in, opening for him. Hot and wet, his tongue found hers. He held her in place by the back of her neck as his lips devoured hers in a desperate need to claim her body and soul.
Needing to kiss and taste her everywhere, his lips trailed down her throat and suckled the warm pulse, uncaring that it would leave a mark on her. His hands were gliding along her hips and sides, taking everything in.
Mhàiri’s body screamed for more of him. To give him anything he wanted. To give him all of her. Conan was her every dream. A strong, confident, yet tender lover. Someone who believed in her. Who would let her be herself. A man who could show her things she had never seen before and, at night, unleash her passion, matching it with his own.
Mhàiri loved him so much, but did he love her?
Conan felt the change in her and cupped her cheeks gently in his large hands. “Mhàiri.” Her name on his tongue was thick with lust. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her against him, creating a wild need for him to plunge his hardness into her. “I want you, àluinn.”
“But do you love me?”
“Aye, but you already knew that. I want you to be mine. Every day. Forever.” He threaded his fingers through her hair as if it were precious silk. “You are mine, a chuisle,” he whispered, sounding hoarse. “I claimed you before, but this time I’m never letting you go.”
With a carnal sound, he pulled her lips to his and scorched her with his kiss.
Mhàiri groaned and leaned her weight against him. This was not like any kiss before. This was a branding, primal, and possessive kiss.
When she brushed her hard nipples against his chest, she was rewarded with a callused hand coming up to press her breast with one hand. Her eyes rolled and her head fell back, body arching to his touch. He smiled. Mhàiri wanted him as well.
As quickly as possible, he eased off her and removed all her clothing. She lay there before him, the firelight flickering over her body. He marveled at her beauty.
Her body throbbed under his stare. Her skin grew hot and sensitive. Mhàiri loved his touch, but longed for more. She reached up and pulled his mouth to her waiting lips. She let out a soft needy moan, and he went wild.
He covered her with his massive body, pushing himself between her legs. His hands flowed over her skin, cupping the tightest, most luscious breast that was ever captured by five fingers. She moaned again, and he took her mouth with his as she pressed her core against his painfully hard shaft.
She rubbed herself against him, driving him mad with lust. If she continued, he would lose the bare tendrils of control he still had, and he refused to let their coming together be that quick.
Pulling away, he grabbed another log and tossed it on the fire, preventing any touch of the cold winter’s storm. Then he unhooked his belt, dropping his tartan, and tore his leine over his head, removing the last bit of hindrance between them.
He basked in the feel of her soft naked skin against his own as he climbed over her. Immersing himself in the feel of her soft, warm body beneath him, he leaned down and seared her mouth to his. Her arms came around his neck to lock him in place, as if he had anywhere to go when he had her right where he wanted her.
He almost thought it was more than he could bear, and then Mhàiri began to stroke his back and buttocks with roaming fingertips. His shaft strained for her body. He needed to be inside her, but as bad as he needed her tight core clutching his shaft, he had to know she was absolutely ready for him.
Mhàiri made an aggravated sound when he removed his mouth from hers and raised an eyebrow at him. But she caught the gleam in his eye, a wicked look burning with promises of things to come.
In the next instant, her hard, little nipple was in his mouth. Conan twirled his tongue over the first peak, then the next, suckling, deeper and deeper. Arching into his touch, Mhàiri cried out from pleasure. The sensation was better than she remembered. It stole her breath.
But Conan had only just begun.
He continued flicking and teasing her breast with his tongue, letting his hand trail down her stomach and through the soft curls until he met with her core.
She gasped once more, mindless with an overload of sensation.
“Is this where you need me?” His voice sounded rough and on the verge of losing control.
“Please!” Mhàiri cried out and began rocking her hips in search of relief.
Conan’s lips returned to her breast as his finger made slow, maddening circles along her opening. Then he delved one finger inside her.
Mhàiri’s breath hitched and she opened wider for him. A second finger entered, increasing her pleasure. “A chiall beannaich mise! Conan!” she cried out. The sensations he was creating overwhelmed her, making her heart pound against the wall of her chest as pressure began to build.
Her nipple was in his mouth, his tongue swirling over the peak, teasing and stroking her. Mhàiri did not know what to do with the double onslaught of sensations.
Conan could feel coiled tension condense about her. Mhàiri opened her knees wider to take him even deeper. She was on the brink.
Conan watched her intently, waiting, as the world started to coalesce into a potent point of pleasure. He smiled possessively as the first jolting spasms echoed deep within her, the sound of her panting scream muffled by the storm raging around them.
Shifting, he gripped her thighs and opened her legs to him. Her eyes went wide, and her heart began to hammer. He groaned.
Mhàiri was just coming back to earth when she realized what Conan had planned. She shuddered in anticipation. When his hot tongue met her liquid core, she could not prevent the scream of pleasure that came from somewhere deep inside her. She writhed, thrashing her head on the blanket, and then another scream tore out of her as she climaxed once more. The waves of pleasure seemed never-ending, and all the while, he continued his relentless licking and sucking.
When Mhàiri finally went limp, Conan rose above her and eased himself between her legs. Slowly he pushed himself against her, rubbing their slickness together.
In a rough voice, he asked, “Do you love me?”
Heart drumming, she gazed back at him and challenged him with a question of her own. “Do you want me?”
His answer came quick. “Forever,” he replied and then they came together with the strength of a McTiernay Highlander who had found his sonuachar at last.
He relished the exquisite feel of her soft flesh around him and dipped his head to take one of her beckoning nipples into his mouth.
Forcing himself into a slow rhythm, he eased in and out of her, trying to keep himself from bucking too hard. He watched her breasts rise and fall with her heavy breathing. Her nails dug into his back, and soon she was writhing beneath him. Her legs widened for him, and her back arched, causing her breasts to press against him.
“More . . .” she begged, her voice a strained whisper.
Mhàiri was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.
Lifting her hips off the ground, Conan obliged. He thrust into her again and again, filling her full of more pleasure than she thought her body could contain.
Ecstasy was a word she had only thought she understood. Her body quaked at the unbelievable feel of him inside her. It was almost too much to bear. She had never felt so connected to anyone, and she wanted the sensation to last forever.
Mhàiri heard someone screaming and realized it was her. Bowing her back, her body convulsed around his shaft so that Conan soon followed her. On and on it went for both of them, until they were both drained and fatigued from the onslaught of pleasure.
Conan slumped on top of her, holding himself up by his elbows so as not to crush her. Mhàiri nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. Her legs were still wrapped around him, her hands rubbing his arms, his chest, his back, as if she could not get enough of touching him.
Conan rolled to lie beside her and pulled her against him as they slowly were able to catch their breaths. Mhàiri sighed with satisfaction, burrowing deeper into his chest, and Conan knew there was no better feeling than having her in his arms. If he had realized every one of his prior dreams, none of them could compare to being with Mhàiri.
They lay there like that, basking in each other for a long while. Not speaking, just touching, kissing, loving each other.
* * *
Mhàiri awoke to a heavy need. Wetness was pooling between her legs and she soon began to move. Conan’s fingers were touching her, building desire. Her nipples were already hard. Her body wanted him again. She could not get enough.
She cracked open her eyes and smiled. The flickering firelight heightened the shadows on Conan’s face and illuminated his rich, blue eyes.
Conan gave her a wicked grin. “I cannot get my fill of you.” His voice was husky. “Imagine a lifetime . . . a lifetime of this . . .”
Mhàiri responded by grinding her hips against his turgid arousal. Never had she thought she would be so insatiable.
Wearing a luxurious half smile, she demanded, “I want more.”
“I’m at your service,” he said and then kissed a path down her breastbone to her navel to lave her with his warm tongue.
A hard, masculine groan vibrated through her core, and Mhàiri shook with sheer pleasure. What Conan was doing to her was nothing short of amazing. He continued to stroke and caress her until he had her panting, chest heaving, body aching. Fisting the blankets, her head thrashed back and forth until there was an explosion of ecstasy. Riding her through it, he dipped a finger inside, heightening her pleasure.
“I think I’m addicted to you,” he said as he kissed his way up her body, stopping to pay close attention to each breast. Then, Conan was inside her. Not hard as the night before, but gentle. It flooded her mind with bliss.
Cupping her backside as he thrust into her, Conan watched her with sapphire eyes. She wanted him harder, deeper. He quickened his movements.
Taking her mouth with his, he swallowed her cries of satisfaction and followed her with his own release.
* * *
Mhàiri snuggled against him as their legs intertwined. “I guess we should dress and get ready to return.”
“Aye, since there is a search party looking for you.” Conan kissed the top of her head but did not move otherwise.
Mhàiri tried to move to look at him, but Conan held her in place. “Why? My father knew I was capable of building a shelter to outlast the storm.”
“Maybe, but I did not know that.”
Mhàiri giggled. “We should probably return soon then to let them know they don’t have to send a search party out for you.”
Conan tickled her side. Mhàiri screamed and began to thrash. By the time she begged for mercy, he was atop her and she was breathing heavily. He had to fight the urge to take her once more.
“Maybe we should return because you need to plan a wedding.”
Mhàiri’s soft green eyes sparkled with love and excitement. “A wedding?”
“Aye, a wedding.”
“By chance whose wedding would I be planning?”
Conan leaned down and kissed the top of her nose. “It just so happens, you will be the bride and I will be the groom.”
Mhàiri bit her bottom lip, her grin large and full of joy. “And when is this wedding to take place?”
“Tomorrow. Right at sunset.”