Twenty-two
Kenneth would have been content to hold her here forever, but the crowd was too unruly. He cupped her chin, tipping her face to his. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, and the emotion swimming in her big greenish-blue eyes made his chest squeeze.
It seemed to take an interminable amount of time to fetch his belongings, change his clothes, and locate his horse, which he’d given a coin to a lad to watch. But eventually, he and Mary rode in silence back to the castle, her safely seated before him. When he thought about how close she’d come to falling …
What the hell was she doing there? And why was she with Felton? The questions kept pounding through his head on the ride back to the castle.
Not surprisingly, there wasn’t a guard to greet them as they rode through the gate. Felton prized his place as champion too much to risk losing it when he couldn’t be certain of the outcome. But Kenneth knew like a cornered dog that Felton would be looking and waiting for his chance to strike back.
Despite his victory, Kenneth did not delude himself; by losing his temper, he’d given Felton an axe to hang over his head.
But it was the questions about Mary’s role that ate at him. By the time they reached the solitude of their chamber, he was fighting an ugly bout of jealousy and suspicion.
The door had barely closed behind them when he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. His heart clenched to see her tear-ravaged face, but he steeled himself. “Why, Mary? Why were you in town with him?”
She drew back in shock. “You can’t be accusing me of something?”
His mouth fell in a hard line, the muscle below his jaw ticking. “Do I not have a right to be suspicious when I find my wife with another man in the middle of a damned melee, where she could have fallen to her death? Were you following me, or is there another reason you and Felton traveled to town together?”
The spark returned to her eye. “Your suspicions? What of mine? You knew what I thought you were doing every night in town. But you let me believe you were with other women, when instead you were fighting in an illegal tourney that could get you killed or imprisoned.”
His eyes burned into hers. “I thought you didn’t care.”
She pursed her mouth. “Well, I do. I care very much, and I’m afraid you are going to have to accept that.”
He was so surprised by her admission that it took him a moment to reply. What did she mean? He was slightly dumfounded. “You do?”
She nodded. “I wasn’t following you, and it is your fault I was with Sir John in the first place.”
“My fault? I believe my instructions were for you never to leave the castle without my permission.”
She gave him a look that told him just how seriously she’d taken that particular order. “I assumed you didn’t mean that, of course. You spoke in anger.”
He’d meant every bloody word of it. If he had his way, he’d lock her in a high tower on some remote western isle until this war was over.
But he listened as she explained how she’d received a note from the monk about the nun who had looked like her. She’d come to him to accompany her, but when he turned her down, she’d accepted Sir John’s offer instead.
Ah hell. He hadn’t realized. Guilt pricked him. For the first time, she’d come to him for help, and he’d turned her away.
“On the way back,” she continued, “we heard the commotion, and Sir John decided to investigate.”
“He should never have taken you with him.” When he thought of what could have happened to her—what had almost happened—that sick, helpless feeling knifed through him again. “My God, you could have been killed!”
She studied his face as if trying to discern the sentiment behind the words. “It was an accident. In my effort to leave before Sir John recognized you, I stumbled. I know you might not like to hear it, but Sir John did me a service.”
She was right on both counts. He gritted his teeth. “I may have overreacted—”
“May have?”
Kenneth continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “But don’t tell me he didn’t take advantage of the situation. He was holding you too damned long. He looked like he was going to kiss you.”
The fact that she looked like she was fighting a smile didn’t help his rationality any. “I think he was shocked more than anything.” She put her hand on her stomach, smoothing the fabric over the swell. His chest swelled, seeing how much she’d changed in the past month. “He realized I was with child.”
Kenneth felt the urge to smile himself. “Good. Maybe that will make him see that you aren’t going to change your mind.”
Their eyes held. “There was never a danger of that.” Before he could ponder what she meant, she added, “Why were you there, Kenneth? Why are you fighting like a common ruffian in an illegal combat tourney and not in the yard with the other knights?”
“It’s as I told Felton, I’ve been trying to build my strength back up in preparation for giving him the challenge that he’s been clamoring for.”
It was a poor excuse, and he could see that she didn’t fully believe him, but what else could he say? His mission wasn’t over. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not until she was safely in Scotland. He couldn’t risk it. Not when he’d begun to realize just how much of a betrayal this was going to seem to her.
But this was nothing like what Atholl had done to her. At least that was what he kept telling himself. Aye, he was making decisions for her—decisions that would put her in danger—but he’d had no choice. His course was already set when he’d discovered that she was carrying his child. And unlike Atholl, he would protect her. Though he was no longer confident she would see the difference.
“I’m sorry I didn’t take you to the church. Did you discover anything about your sister?”
She shook her head, her eyes filling with sadness. She repeated what the abbess had told her. “It doesn’t make sense. How could Brother Thomas have made such a mistake? I only hope he will return soon so that I may ask him. He went somewhere with the Bishop of St. Andrews.”
Lamberton? Kenneth hid his reaction to the mention of Bruce’s former ally, but his senses pricked. Agreeing that it was odd, he said, “If you’d like, I can make some inquiries.”
Her expression stopped his breath. For the first time, he knew what it would feel like to have her admiration. It was as if he’d just plucked a star from the sky and handed it to her. He’d been the recipient of such looks countless times before, but all of them together had never meant as much as this one did. It felt earned.
“You would do that for me?”
He suspected there was very little he wouldn’t do for her. “I still have some contacts in Scotland that may prove helpful.” Contacts was an understatement.
He watched her reaction, but saw only concern, not suspicion.
“You won’t do anything that would put you in danger?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. Every day he stayed here he was in danger. “I will be careful.”
“Then thank you, I would be very grateful if you would try.”
Her eyes shone, and something tightened in his chest. He felt a nearly overwhelming urge to take her in his arms. But he doubted his ability to touch her and not give in to the urges that had been plaguing him for thirty-seven blasted days. Though who was counting?
He nodded, breaking the connection. “You must be tired and wish to ready for bed.”
Her face fell. “You are leaving? But I thought …”
The disappointment in her voice tugged at him. Damn it, didn’t she know how hard this was? His fists clenched at his sides, fighting the primitive instincts that seemed to take over every inch of his body when he was in the same room with her. After a fight, it was even worse. His blood was pumping even hotter. “You thought what, damn it? The last thirty-seven days to the contrary, I am not a bloody monk, Mary. I want you so badly, I can’t see straight.”
Her eyes widened. She gasped. “You do?”
“What did you think? That I would lie beside you every night and not want to make love to you?”
“You know exactly what I thought. I thought you were exhausted from being with another woman.”
“I don’t want another woman.”
It was the truth. And tonight after seeing her almost fall, he would finally admit what had been staring him in the face but his pride wouldn’t let him acknowledge: he loved her. She was going to hate him when she learned the truth, but he loved her in a way that he’d never thought possible. Apparently, he was just as susceptible to emotion as everyone else. It had only taken the right woman.
She’d been different from the start. It wasn’t just because she hadn’t fallen at his feet—although he could admit that might have been part of it initially—but she challenged him, intrigued him, didn’t seem to be interested in his accomplishments but in him.
He didn’t even mind when they argued. Actually, he kind of liked it. He could lose his temper around her and not feel like a bully—she just gave it right back to him. It was strangely freeing—invigorating even.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the need to impress, the need to be the best. But he wanted her to believe in him. He wanted her trust, even if he didn’t deserve it.
If he weren’t so tormented, he might have enjoyed the look of disbelief on her face. “You don’t?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t been with another woman since I met you.”
It was clear she didn’t believe him. “What about the woman in the stables?”
He wanted to tell her it was his sister, but how could he explain? He couldn’t. “It wasn’t how it looked.” Unable to resist, he reached down and smoothed the back of his finger along her cheek. Her skin was so soft it made his chest squeeze. Hell, everything about her made his chest squeeze. One look at those big blue-green eyes, those delicate features, the lush pink lips and baby-soft skin, and he was so filled with emotion there wasn’t enough air left in his lungs to breathe. “I only want you, Mary.”
Mary’s heart was pounding so hard and loud she could barely hear. Had she really heard him correctly? Part of her said to leave it, that “I only want you” was enough for now. To take the morsel that he’d given her and be happy. The other part—the cautious part—knew it wasn’t. “For how long?”
He was holding himself so still, only the burning intensity in his eyes as he looked at her betrayed the fierceness of the emotions battling inside him. He knew what she was asking him. She wanted commitment. Fidelity. A promise.
He didn’t hesitate. “For as long as you want me.”
She stilled, everything inside her coming to a sudden stop. Her heart seemed to be hanging on the edge of a precipice, ready to tumble over at the barest nudge. “What if that is forever?”
He gave her a wry smile that tugged at every string in her heart. “Then you’ll make me a very happy man.” He tipped her chin so she would meet his gaze. “If you haven’t guessed, I’m in love with you.”
Mary’s breath caught high in her throat, hearing the words she thought would never be meant for her. She was stunned, awed, and full of disbelief at the same time. It seemed impossible that this could be happening. She’d thought her chance for happiness was behind her. That any hope of the love she’d once dreamed of as a girl was gone. But here was this incredible man telling her he loved her.
If she listened to the voice of experience, she had every reason not to believe him. He was every bit as handsome, every bit as magnificent, every bit as popular with the women as Atholl had been. But he wasn’t Atholl. And this wasn’t the past. If she listened to her heart, and judged him on himself, she knew it was true. From the first, he’d always treated her differently. She’d recognized it, but hadn’t wanted to believe it.
She slid her hands around his neck and raised up on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss on his mouth. Their eyes met, and what she saw there gave her courage. She spoke the words that fear had kept at bay. “I love you, too.”
It was as if a dam had burst and all the emotion, all the feelings, that had been held back between them came rushing out in a torrential wave.
He groaned, wrapped his arms around her, and covered her mouth with his.
He kissed her. God, did he kiss her! He kissed her until her knees were weak and her heart wanted to weep with joy. The warm slide of his tongue sent ripples of emotion fluttering through her heart.
But perhaps “kiss” was far too ordinary a way to describe the perfection of his mouth moving over hers, of the gentle stroke of his tongue, of the aching tenderness of emotion he elicited with each deft caress. He didn’t just kiss, he devastated.
It was incredible. The warm, soft heat of his mouth on hers. The dark, spicy taste of him. The smooth stroke of his tongue, delving … coaxing … entreating.
There had never been any doubt of her husband’s expertise in matters of lovemaking. He knew just what to do to make a woman weak with pleasure. The skilled movements of his lips and tongue could rouse her passion in an instant.
But this was different. This wasn’t just about passion. The soft caress of his mouth over hers, the heart-tugging strokes of his tongue, were gentle and sweet, tender and inquisitive. Not a plunder but a promise. A bond. A vow.
This wasn’t just a kiss intended to make her body hot and needy; he seduced her heart and soul as well. It was everything she’d fought against. Everything she’d struggled to deny but had been between them from the first. Not just passion but emotion. A deeper connection. A joining not just of bodies but of souls. Finally, she let herself accept all the tenderness he’d been trying to give her that she’d tried for so long not to want.
It was hard to believe the same man who’d fought so brutally hours before, who’d seemed hard, unyielding, and merciless, whose big, muscled body could be used as such a deadly weapon could be touching her so gently. Nor could she have imagined that the cocky, arrogant warrior she’d first seen in the barn, who’d exuded passion and virility, would be capable of such tender emotions.
Cradled against the big shield of his chest, Mary felt as if she were the most precious woman in the world. She felt cherished and protected. And most of all, she felt loved.
It was so heartwrenchingly perfect, so achingly poignant, it almost hurt—which it did, when he stopped. He lifted his head, and she cried out in protest at the loss.
He smiled, gazing down at her as he held her tightly in his arms. The warmth of his body around her was something she would never get used to. It made her feel as if nothing in the world could hurt her.
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
Seeing the challenging glint in his eye, she hesitated to ask. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“No more chemises, Mary. No more hiding. I intend to see every gorgeous, naked inch of you.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, but she didn’t argue. He was right. She didn’t want anything between them, even embarrassment.
He grinned at her silent acquiescence, and in a smooth motion, swept her up into his arms. Looping her hands around his neck, she buried her face in the fuzzy warmth of the plaid he wore around his shoulders as he carried her to the bed. Depositing her atop the covers, he proceeded to remove his clothing.
It was clear the man didn’t have a lick of shame. Nor should he, she was forced to admit. His body was incredible—as he very well knew. And after nearly two months of sharing a room, he also knew exactly how much she admired it.
He removed the arsenal of weapons he wore strapped to various parts of his body. Then, piece by piece, he tossed his clothing on one of the chairs before the fire. Plaid. Cotun. Chausses. Boots. Shirt. And then finally, his braies.
He stood proudly before her in all his masculine glory. And sweet heaven, his body was glorious. She drew in her breath as a warm, melting heat spread over her skin. Not even the cocky grin on his face could make her turn away. The man was arrogant beyond belief. She should knock him down a few pegs, but she feared it was impossible. When it came to his body there was nothing to fault. Unless you didn’t like lots—and lots—of perfectly defined, granite-hard muscle. Shallow female that she was, she, unfortunately, did.
His body was a sharply honed weapon of war, every bit as hard and impenetrable as the armor he wore. From the breadth of his shoulders, to the thick, powerfully built arms, to the narrow, lean planes of his waist, to the bands of muscle crossing his stomach, it was hard to know where to look. Of course, there was also that other part of him that drew the eye, demanding attention. The long, thick column of flesh that bobbed against his stomach, hard proof of just how much he wanted her.
“See something you might be interested in?”
She shot him a glare. “Would you believe me, if I told you no?”
He laughed. “With the way you are looking at me, I don’t think so.” He dropped down on the bed beside her and lay back, crossing his arms behind his head. “Your turn.”
She balked. “I hope you don’t expect a performance like the one you just gave.”
“Not tonight.”
A big, strapping warrior shouldn’t look so mischievous.
She slid her hand over the hard ridges of his stomach, letting her wrist brush over the heavy head of his erection. “Are you sure you can wait? You appear to be ready right now.”
He groaned into her hand as she circled him, letting her draw it up and down a few times before catching her wrist to stop her. “I won’t let you distract me, Mary. I’ve been waiting too long for this. Take it off—all of it.”
She bit her lip, her heart fluttering nervously. “Perhaps we could blow out a few of the candles?”
“Not a chance.”
She frowned. “I can see you are going to be difficult about this.”
“I’m waiting, love. Make me wait much longer and we’ll save this for morning. With the clear skies tonight, I suspect it will be a bright and sunny day.”
She gave him a sharp scowl that promised retribution, sat up, and began to remove her robes. He had to help her, and it didn’t surprise her to discover that her husband was far more efficient than any lady’s maid. “Had practice at this, have you?”
“Some,” he said blandly, not rising to the bait.
When she was down to the last layer of linen, she clung to her chemise like a lifeline. Perhaps she should prepare him? “I’m much bigger—”
“You are carrying my child, Mary. I doubt there is a way you could look any more beautiful to me.”
What could she say to that? He killed her objections with sweetness.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted the last veil between them over her head and tossed the fine linen chemise atop the other items of clothing. Instinctively she crossed her hands in front of her, but there was no hiding the big bump of her stomach or the heaviness of her breasts.
She couldn’t look at him, feeling far too vulnerable. She’d never been naked before a man. Heat rose to her cheeks. Why was he being so quiet? Was she so horribly unattractive to him? Eventually, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer and ventured a peek from under her lashes.
The expression on his face made all of her insecurities slip away. He looked moved. Humbled. Overcome by an emotion she didn’t recognize.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. He reached out and skimmed the back of his finger over the curve of her breast. “Your breasts are incredible.” He cupped her in his warm, callused hand, circling his thumb over her nipple until it hardened to a taut peak.
“You don’t think they are too large?”
That made him laugh. “Sweetheart, I don’t think there is a man alive who would think that. They’re perfect.”
He bent down and took the nipple he’d hardened into his mouth.
She gasped as heat and dampness enfolded her sensitive flesh, as his tongue circled, as his teeth nibbled, as he sucked. She buried her fingers in his thick, dark hair, holding him tightly to her. Sharp needles of pleasure shot from her breasts to between her legs. She was gasping with pleasure, her already heavy breasts growing fuller, her nipples throbbing.
But he had only just begun. He took his time exploring every inch of the naked flesh that she’d hidden from him. He caressed her with his hands, tasted her with his mouth, and devoured her with his eyes, until there was no part of her left untouched and she was weak with wanting.
Finally, when he’d brought her to a fever pitch, when every inch of her skin was burning from his kiss, when her body was damp and writhing with restless desire, his mouth found hers again.
She moaned, reaching for him. She held him tight, her hands gripping the hard slabs of his back and shoulders.
He was stretched out beside her, leaning over her, and the heat of his naked skin against hers felt so good, she wanted more. She tried to pull his chest toward hers, seeking the solid heaviness of him on top of her, but he held himself away.
He put his hand over her stomach. “The babe.”
She didn’t think there was a reason to worry, but decided not to argue. Instead, she succumbed to the power of his kiss, letting the warmth spread through her limbs like molten lava, dissolving everything in its wake.
But eventually, it wasn’t enough—for either of them.
The slow, lazy seduction and the gentle exploration had reached its limit.
His kiss turned harder, more determined. Each powerful thrust of his tongue, each possessive stroke, taking her deeper and deeper. His groans echoed hers as their passion built together. She could feel the beat of his heart against hers, pounding faster and faster.
The hot column of his manhood pressed against her hip and instinctively she turned toward him, needing to feel the hardness. The thickness. The sweet pressure. Her heart dropped at the sensation. Right there.
She rubbed up against him like a cat. A warm, sensual cat. She’d never felt so free, so open. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t holding anything back. With every touch, every kiss, every long, slow slide of her body against his, she showed him exactly how much she loved him.
Kenneth had never felt anything like this. The primitive attraction that had sprung between them, the raw unbridled lust that he’d thought couldn’t get any better, paled beneath the force of the sensations surging through him right now. Everything felt deeper. Stronger. More meaningful. The heat didn’t just surge through his blood, it burned in his heart. Hell, it went deeper than that—it burned in his soul.
Her beauty humbled him. From the top of her golden, silky head to the tips of her tiny pink toes, she was beautiful. A dainty package of lush femininity. The long, softly curved limbs, the ripe swell of her stomach, the bouncy pink-tipped plumpness of her breasts, the velvety smoothness of her skin …
His throat had gone dry just looking at her. But then when he’d touched her, when he’d slid his mouth over every inch of her skin and marked her with the scrape of his beard, he thought he’d died and glimpsed the peaks of Olympus. She was a goddess who brought him to his knees.
He smiled. Who would have guessed his too-skinny gray nun would turn out to be the source of such divine inspiration?
He never wanted this to end. But unfortunately, when she started to rub against him, his body rather powerfully disagreed.
Breaking the kiss, he lifted his head. When he started to roll off the bed, she blinked as if suddenly coming back to earth—he knew the feeling.
“Where are you going?”
He moved to the edge of the bed. “Right here.” Taking her legs, he guided her around and positioned her at the edge of the mattress—which happened to be the perfect height for what he had in mind. He looped his arms under her knees and held her legs apart, probing her gently with the tip of his cock.
“I don’t want to lie on top of you, so we’re going to need to be a little creative until the babe comes.”
She made a sharp sound, her back arching as he probed her a little harder. He rocked his hips, readying her with little nudges.
He liked to make her moan. Liked to make her head fall back and her lips part as she begged him to ease her agony. But that wasn’t what he wanted right now. He didn’t want to tease her, her wanted to love her. He wanted to hold her gaze as he entered her, as she took him into her body. As she took him into her heart.
Their eyes locked. Then slowly—agonizingly slowly—he pushed inside her. Inch by inch, he buried himself in the wet, velvety heat of her body.
It felt so damned good, sensation roared through him like a lightning rod. He could have groaned. But he didn’t. He was too focused on the woman before him. He would remember this moment forever. He would never forget how it felt to look into her eyes as he entered her and see the overwhelming emotion squeezing his chest mirrored in deep aquamarine. They were bound together, and just for right now he could believe nothing could ever break them apart.
When he’d gone as far as he could go, when he was buried to the hilt in the tight grip of her body, he stilled, held her gaze, and nudged a little deeper, bringing a startled gasp to her lips.
“Kenneth …!”
“I love you,” he said. “Let me show you.”
And then he began to move. Slowly and gently, in long, languid strokes. For the first time in his life, Kenneth made love to a woman. He told her with his body how much she meant to him.
Mary was in heaven. Her husband had roused her passion, taken her to higher peaks of pleasure than she’d every imagined, but she had never expected anything like this.
The raging firestorm of lust had given way to a slow, deep burn that proved just as hot and even more devastating. There was not a part of her that he left untouched, or unclaimed. He possessed her body, her soul, with each long stroke.
He gave no quarter, holding her gaze to his. It was impossible to look away from the emotion she saw burning there. She devoured it like a greedy child, burying it deep in her heart where it would always be safe. Where no one could ever take it away.
She didn’t want it to end. But the feel of him, so big and full inside her, was too good. And it had been too long. Her body responded.
She lifted her hips to meet the gentle rhythm of his thrusts, increasing the speed as the sensations built inside her.
She gasped, moaned, cried as his thrusts grew longer, deeper, harder. He circled his hips, stirring her into a passionate frenzy.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him closer, wanting to increase the friction and the pressure. He moved his free hands to her bottom, gripping her harder, steadying her as the force of his thrusting intensified.
Everything moved, jarred by the fierce pounding of his body into hers.
It felt so good she couldn’t stand it. She arched her back, feeling her body clenching, gripping him harder and harder.
His face was a mask of strain, every muscle bunched and coiled. His arms flexed and the muscles lining his stomach stood out in stark relief.
“God, I’m going to come,” he grit out from between clenched teeth.
The knot of tightly wound muscles unwound as she spiraled into an abyss of pleasure so intense it stole her breath.
He stilled and cried out. She felt the flood of heat fill her as his release mixed with the spasming wave of her own.
Her legs fell from his waist. He bent over her, drained, as if he’d just run a long race. Collapsing on the bed, he dragged her up alongside him and held her in the circle of his arm. In a tangle of damp naked limbs, with her cheek pressed to his chest, their baby nestled between them, and her palm resting on his heart, she knew she’d finally found it. It had taken six and twenty years, but Mary had the love she’d been searching for her whole life.