Chapter Fourteen
“When the light of a Highland moon touches the window of your soul, there is nothing you can do but follow.”
Slamming the trencher of food on the table, Fiona rubbed at her eyes. “One of these days, I’m going to throttle my brother. Stubborn, brooding, controlling, and rude.”
“Much like my brothers,” stated Alastair dryly, wrapping his arms around her waist, and nuzzling her neck.
She shivered within her husband’s arms. Snuggling against him, Fiona let out a frustrated sigh. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but have you and Desmond come to a truce? An understanding?”
Alastair released his hold and grabbed her hand. Bringing her to the window, he sat on the ledge and brought her onto his lap. “In time, I ken it will happen.”
Fiona wrapped her arms around his neck. “So your answer is no.”
He glanced out the window. “I ken ye want us to be friends, but the man is bitter. Until he seeks the reasons we cannae move forward.”
“You don’t have to be best buddies,” she argued. Seeing his confused expression at her choice of words, Fiona added, “On good terms—close friends. I don’t know why he can’t be—”
Alastair silenced her words by capturing her mouth within his. Breaking free, he brushed his hands down her back. “Your brother’s restless spirit is one all men strive to understand. He longs for something he has yet to fathom. He desires the verra thing I have and this makes him angry. Aye, he continues to resent me for leaving ye, but there is another ache lodged like a pebble in his boot, chafing his heart. Furthermore, he is ignorant and blindly lashes out at me.”
Brushing a lock of hair out his face, she gazed deeply into his eyes. “And what is he seeking?”
Capturing her hand, Alastair placed it over his chest. “Love. And truth be told, I believe your foolish brother has feelings for Ailsa MacDuff.”
“Are you sure it’s not lustful thoughts he harbors?” Fiona tugged at the strings of her husband’s tunic.
“Humph! From the moment he set eyes on the lass, he retreated farther, trying to deny it to himself. However, any fool can see the man is smitten. He watches her every movement like a hawk.”
“And he did spend the entire night by her door. As if he became her protector,” added Fiona softly, recalling the past few weeks as well.
“I have witnessed your brother defend his actions time and time again, not only to Muir, but Ailsa’s father, too.” He cupped her chin tenderly.
“Oh, Alastair, what can we do? And what about Ailsa?”
“Naught. ’Tis his own journey. We cannae push him toward something he is not ready for.”
“But I have noticed the way she stares at him. Yet, I shrugged it off.”
He bent and nibbled on the side of Fiona’s neck. “Have ye seen the way the lass blushes when he is near her? ’Tis similar to the way your skin turns a rosy glow.” He traced a tongue along the vein. “It begins along your neck and inches up to your face.”
Fiona dug her fingers into his thick locks. “From the moment you strode down that hill in Ireland and rescued me, I believe I blushed for the first time.”
Drawing back, he studied her face. “Ye did not fear me?”
Tracing a finger along the crescent scar on his face, she replied, “My first thought was you were a giant. My second, a powerful, sinfully handsome man. Fear? Never. I only feared the feelings I felt.”
Sighing, Alastair glanced upward. “I am nae worthy of your love, leannan.”
Fiona cupped his face and forced him to meet her hard stare. “Why? Because you walked out on me when you thought I was dying? You were a broken man, Alastair. You needed to heal. I will be forever grateful that in the end, you came after me.” She swallowed and lowered her hands. “This is the last time we’re re-visiting this conversation. I sense you’ve been struggling with it again because of my brother, and whatever words he spoke to you.”
“Ye are a wonder, Fiona. Remember, I am the land beneath your feet and will never leave ye. My love is yours…always.”
“And I am the roots you can call your home. I will forever love you both—man and dragon.”
Reclaiming her lips, Alastair crushed her to him.
****
As the days bled into the next, Ailsa continued to train with Duncan. At first, he urged her to bring the storm clouds over the ridge of the mountains across from the loch. Recalling how she closed her eyes, concentrated on pulling them toward her, Ailsa burst out laughing when one white wispy cloud floated over the ridge. Scowling at her, Duncan continued to encourage, stating she had to open herself to the power of the sky. After the fourth day, Ailsa made the sky rumble with thunder, though she paid dearly with a searing headache come evening.
Her mornings were spent learning and absorbing the knowledge from the Dragon Knight. In the afternoons, she helped in the kitchens. Everyone was preparing for the feast of Midwinter, and she loved being around the other women. Furthermore, when the evening meal came, Desmond sat at the far end of the table. His conversations were clipped or in hushed tones with the other men.
Not once, did he glance her way. He behaved differently from the man she left behind on the ridge over a week ago. Confused and wary, Ailsa did not know how to approach Desmond. How she longed to go back to their simple conversations. She missed him. Perchance he no longer found her interesting. Judging it was for the best, she pushed aside all thoughts of the man.
Nevertheless, the nights left her in torment. Waking from dreams of his lips on her body—in intimate places she craved and where no man had touched her before. Her face heated when she recalled last night's pleasurable dream. She had envisioned Desmond entering her chamber and stealing more than kisses. His fingers trailed a path from one breast to the other, until his mouth captured them within his teeth. She awoke moaning and tingling everywhere, as if the dream had been real.
“Are you all right?” whispered Fiona, leaning near.
Blinking several times, she closed the door on her thoughts. “Aye, why do ye ask?”
Fiona pointed to Ailsa’s hands. “Because you’ve been tearing bits of bread off for quite some time.”
Ailsa glanced down to discover her trencher indeed was covered with shredded pieces of bread. Reaching for her mug, she drank deeply. “Please pass me the wine.”
Fiona quirked a brow and handed her the jug. “Thirsty? Or deep in thoughts you cannot share?”
Giving the woman a sharp glance, her face heated more. “Simply thinking of what Duncan has been teaching me.”
“Oh, so your thoughts were of Duncan’s training. Not another?” Fiona chided and looked in the direction of her brother.
Ailsa sputtered on her wine. “I dinnae ken what ye mean,” she lied.
Fiona clucked her tongue. “Desmond seems to state the same to me, too. He never understands what I mean.”
Giving her a sidelong glance, Ailsa was tempted to ask what Fiona meant about her misgivings with her brother. Was there something wrong with Desmond? Finishing her drink, she placed her mug onto the table. Be brave and ask your question. “Is there something amiss with him?”
Fiona popped a roasted chestnut into her mouth and closed her eyes as she ate the morsel. Opening them, she stared across the table to where Desmond sat. “Yes, but I believe there is a remedy. He hasn’t grasped the notion yet. He will need encouragement.”
Ailsa followed her gaze. “I dinnae ken your words.”
“No, but I’m sure you understand the meaning.” Rising, Fiona bent near her. “Do not tarry, Ailsa. Time is a precious jewel. Don’t let it vanish.”
Bewildered, Ailsa watched as the woman strolled over to her husband, whispered in his ear, and then left the hall.
Slowly, she let her gaze float across the table. This moment in time was all they had. There were no promises of tomorrow. No declarations. When she left Urquhart, her life would change forever. She would rule with her father, until a husband was chosen for her. The thought made her recoil. Why can I not choose my fate? My own husband?
She shuddered. “Time is a precious jewel.” Echoing Fiona’s words softly, Ailsa stood. Angus, Stephen, and Desmond were talking about a certain path to take down to the Great Glen with her father.
Giving her father a hug, she strolled purposefully toward Desmond. Clasping her hands together, she waited for the man to acknowledge her. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, she smiled. “We have yet to finish our game of fidchell. Would ye be too tired to continue?”
Shock registered on his face. “I believe the children have changed our original moves.”
She angled her head to the side. “Then we begin anew.”
“Dinnae let her cheat, O’Quinlan,” interjected her father, standing.
Ailsa shook her finger at her father. “I have never done so.”
Bran chuckled softly. “Nae, not since ye were a wee lass of ten summers.” Kissing her cheek, he strode out of the chamber.
She looked back at Desmond. “I will await ye at the table, so ye may finish your conversation.”
Not giving him time to disagree, Ailsa quickly made her way to the other end of the hall and took her seat at the table. Noticing the mess on the game board, she arranged the pieces to their original start. Folding her hands in her lap, she sat back in her chair and waited for Desmond.
Fortunately, she did not have to endure a long wait. His presence suddenly loomed over her.
“What do ye want, Ailsa?” His tone was almost a growl.
Lifting her gaze to meet his, she replied, “’Tis no more than a game, Desmond.” Though her voice betrayed her emotions.
“A dangerous one.”
“Why?” she countered, quickly glancing around to find they were both alone in the massive hall.
He braced his hands on the table. “Because this is not what ye want.”
“How do ye ken what I want, Desmond O’Quinlan?” Fury infused her words as she dug her fingers into her palms.
“Ye tempt me beyond words. As I do ye.” His breath blew hot against her cheek.
Pushing away from the table, Desmond walked quickly out of the hall.
Ailsa stood abruptly. “How dare ye?” She shook, but not from rage.
Dashing out of the hall, she followed Desmond up the stairs and toward his chamber. The door had been left open, and Ailsa’s steps slowed, pausing at the entrance. He stood at the hearth, hands braced against the stone above.
She eyed the line that divided the two—corridor and chamber. If she crossed over, her life would change forever.
No longer letting fear guide her, Ailsa lifted her chin and walked inside Desmond’s chamber. Her fingers trembled as she silently closed the door behind her and leaned against the wood. Her fate was sealed.
His fists clenched, but he kept his gaze on the flames snapping within. “If ye do not leave, I will take ye to my bed this night, Ailsa. I will take what is not mine to claim.”
Moving away from the support of the door, her legs shook. “I have nae wish to leave, Desmond. And ye need not worry. Ye are correct. My body is not yours to claim. ’Tis what I want to give to ye. I do so freely. To ye and only ye.”
“Ye do not ken what ye are saying. Do ye not wish to give your body to another when ye wed? ’Tis your gift to the marriage bed.”
“For the first time in my life, the choices I make are my own. I grow weary of trying to please so many. This night I am here of my own free will. If the burden of taking me to your bed is too much, then I will leave. There shall be no regrets come morning, Desmond O’Quinlan. I have nae wish to leave ye plagued with guilt.”
He smacked the stone with his hand. “Then there will be none.” His eyes roamed over her body as he strode toward Ailsa. Grasping her firmly around the waist, he cupped her chin with his other hand—rough, strong, and warm. “I have never yearned for another as I do ye.”
“Nor I, Desmond.”
With a growl, he took possession of her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep and igniting a firestorm within her body. She willingly surrendered to him, opening fully to the kiss. Clinging to his shoulders, she dueled the dance of desire with him, slanting her mouth to capture more of the man. His wild fury sparked hers, and she slipped her hands under his tunic, exploring his hard, hot, muscular body.
Breaking free, he yanked his tunic over his head and tossed it to the ground. Walking to the door, he slid the bolt into place and turned to face her. “Is this what ye seek?”
Her breathing slowed as he strode back toward her. Ailsa marveled at the man. Several scars covered his arms and chest, and she traced a path along the puckered skin. He shuddered from her touch, and she smiled, engulfed with a sense of power. Black hair dusted his chest, tapering down inside his trews. His desire was evident, and her breathing became labored. Ailsa knew what a man looked like—had heard the stories often from the other women, but never did she envision one so endowed. He was her own Angus Og, God of Love and Strength. When she lifter her gaze to meet his own, his eyes glittered like dark emeralds.
“More,” she demanded.
His smile became predatory, inviting. “Your turn.”
Turning around, she bit her lip. “Undo my laces?”
The brush of his fingers trembled over the back of her neck. He took his time stripping her free from her gown, stopping to place kisses along her skin. She swayed from the pleasurable sensations. When his hands pushed the material down over her shoulders, he turned her back to face him. Pulling it down over her breasts, he took his fill of her.
Cupping one breast, he blew across it. “A rare beauty.”
Desmond’s mouth descended, hot, and fierce, while he fondled the other breast. A low moan escaped from her lips, and she reeled from his touch. Ailsa watched in a haze of bliss as he continued to lavish her body. He trailed a path up the middle and to her neck, raking his teeth on the side.
“Take down your hair.” His demand sounded hoarse to her ears.
After she removed the combs that held her tresses secure, the mass came tumbling free, and she heard his indrawn hiss. She tossed the combs onto a nearby chair and swallowed. Ailsa watched as his eyes darkened more. His desire only increased her own, and she stepped nearer.
His hand reached out and captured a lock of her hair. He twisted it around his fingers. “I have longed to see ye like thus. Ye have the most beautiful hair.” He arched a sensuous brow. “I long to see the same color down below.”
Ailsa splayed her fingers in his chest hairs. “Ye would?”
He placed his hands on her waist, and pushed her gown over her hips, and the material tumbled to the ground.
Slowly lowering his gaze, he smiled. “Aye.” Sweeping her into his arms, he strode toward the bed and gently placed her on the furs.
Turning on her side, she watched as he removed his trews. His swollen cock jutted free, and her eyes went wide.
“Are ye afraid?” He crawled over the furs, stalking her like an animal.
Desire made her bold, not fearful. And she trusted this man. He did not seek to control, but to set her free. When she was with Desmond, the woman emerged. “Nae.” She laced her fingers within his. “Kiss me again,” she urged, bringing his lips to hers. His mouth tasted delicious—a mix of wine, and his scent. The kiss sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl.
Desmond broke free from her mouth, only to place feather-like kisses on her eyelids, cheeks, and neck. Then he slowly nibbled down to tease her breasts with his tongue. When he lifted his head, one dark lock fell forward over his eye. “But there are so many places to kiss ye.”
She gasped when his fingers trailed a path down to her most private area. Ailsa squirmed under his ministrations, but he held her hips firm. He teased, nibbled, and stroked with his mouth. An unrelenting yearning ached between her thighs, begging for something she could not fathom. Desire hummed everywhere, making her dizzy.
When he slipped one finger inside her, Ailsa arched against his hand.
“Is this where ye wished to be kissed, mo ghrá?”
“Down…there?” Desire made her unbridled, willing to have him do anything to her. She had never heard of this type of lovemaking, and it intrigued Ailsa.
“Aye,” he growled and then plundered her with his mouth. She clung to the furs as he continued to stroke her with his tongue, igniting a fire within her blood that could not be cooled. Her breath came in short gasps, and her heart beat faster. Her body screamed for more, and she whimpered.
“Let yourself go, Ailsa. Feel my hands, my mouth all giving ye pleasure. All for ye.” He nuzzled the words against her thigh, slipping two fingers inside her.
Lights danced before her eyes as a wave of immeasurable pleasure lifted her into an unknown abyss. Her heart stopped, and her body shattered into a million tingling pieces. Ailsa floated free, her body reeling from his touch. Desmond captured her scream with his mouth, stealing her breath, and giving it back to her mingled with his own. The castle could have burned to the ground, but she gave no care. Opening her eyes, she noticed a frown marring his handsome face. “We are not done,” she uttered softly.
“I want ye more than ye ken, Ailsa. Are ye sure?”
She was lost in those green eyes—in the man who roused a passion within her body and mind. Words she wanted to say to him froze on her tongue, so she cupped his head and brought it toward her lips, savoring his taste and her own.
Words of endearment poured forth from him as he nudged her legs apart. Feeling his hard length pushing against her, she clung tightly to him. “Relax, ghrá,” he urged. “It will only hurt ye slightly.”
Desmond cherished her body and lips with tormenting kisses. His need so fierce, he almost spilled his seed when she touched his cheek. The moment the door to his chamber had closed, he knew their fates were sealed.
Time no longer existed. Ailsa would now be his.
Ever so slowly, Desmond guided himself into her hot sweetness, inch by inch—the torture killing him. Her scent surrounded him, and he ached to bury himself deep.
“Desmond, please,” her plea came out on a sob. “I need all of ye.”
He took her mouth savagely and thrust all the way inside of her. Her cry echoed inside him, and placing his hand under her bottom, he continued to move within her hot body in a steady rhythm. She fisted her hands in his hair, urging him onward. Powerful, hungry, desire spiraled through him. He was lost in a passion he had never experienced. With each thrust, each kiss, each stroke, Desmond was unable to hold back. His guttural cry of release echoed off the stones within the chamber, and he emptied all he had into the one woman he’d lost his heart to.
It was some time before either could move or speak. Gently, he rolled over onto his back and brought her against his chest. He tried to calm his racing heart as he cradled her close. Opening his eyes, he gazed upward. Troubled and confused, Desmond considered where their paths would now lead.
For the first time in his life, Desmond understood the words Alastair had spoken to him at Aonach. He loved—aye loved the woman he held in his arms. One night, one day, would not enough. Ailsa MacDuff had slipped under his skin, invading every pore, and he craved a lifetime with her.
How was it possible to let her leave when the time came?
Nevertheless, Desmond had no choice. He loved her enough to set her free. And his heart and soul splintered into a thousand pieces at the revelation.