Chapter Fourteen
Several more days passed in the serene setting of Lagrith. The elders had requested more time to make a decision about Kai’s offer for an alliance. It dinna trouble Miran, for every afternoon she took a long walk along the beach, collecting unusual rocks and shells or simply exploring the base of the cliffs—where several caves existed. One she was sure the children used as a place to play away from the watchful eyes of their parents and the village elders.
As she walked, she was aware that a pair of guards, or sometimes even Kai, were not far behind. Today, she found a piece of driftwood that captured her imagination. It was weathered and smooth, and would allow her to paint a memory from her time in Lagrith. Maybe she’d draw a scene from the weaving hut or even from the steam hut, a tradition left over from the days when Vikings had inhabited the area.
In fact, she wanted to visit the hut again, but this time not as a mere observer. She wanted to experience the full benefits the women had told her about. Several fires were always kept lit within the wood structure, and rocks were heated and then water poured over them to create the steam. And at this time of day, she was likely to find the hut empty.
Going back to her tent with the piece of driftwood, she placed it safely with her things, grabbed a piece of linen used to dry herself after she bathed, and then headed for the hut, which was on the northern edge of the village.
Though it was made for at least a dozen people to fit in at the same time, since no one was about, she had a choice of which fire she wanted to use. She chose the central one and placed the linen on the wood bench, then unlaced her boots. The packed earthen floor was warm on her toes as she stripped the rest of her clothes off.
She followed the directions of the women who had showed her what to do, spreading the linen out on the bench so she’d have a nice place to sit, picking up a carved, wooden dipper, plunging it into a bucket of water, then slowly spreading the water over the dozens of rocks already in the firepit.
As the rocks sizzled, she smiled as thick steam rose around her. There was a narrow opening in the center of the roof where all the smoke from the fires escaped. She reclined on the long bench, squeezing her eyes shut, imagining how it would feel to live in the village. She liked the simple life, envied the women who were happier than any she had ever met.
Their homes were clean and comfortable, some better furnished than others, but overall, no one lacked for anything. Not food, or warm clothing, or a purpose in life. Aye, she would gladly pay to live in such a place. And now, with the newly discovered luxury of a steam hut, she would ask that one be built at Sans Airgid as soon as she got back.
Opening her eyes and taking a quick look at the entrance to the hut, upon which there was a hanging board on the outside—if someone was inside, ye simply turned the board with the painted side out, letting everyone know the hut was in use. She dinna fear anyone would come inside while she rested, so she turned onto her back, stretching out completely, and ran her fingers down her naked body.
Aye, she wasna without passion, without the need to be touched. Kai had inspired her many a night to seek refuge in her bedchamber where she sought relief by touching herself.
It had been weeks since she had done so, and for some reason, her body ached with want—for only one man—Kai. Prince Kuresh. Though he rejected his old name and royal title, she dinna. In fact, it enhanced her satisfaction whenever she imagined him in his desert home, a palace, dressed in white robes, sandals on his feet, the light from the sun reflected in his obsidian eyes.
She moaned as her hand found her core, her fingers seeking the pearl of pleasure she knew would give her the release she so desperately sought. “Kuresh,” she whispered at first, then when she found a pleasing rhythm with her hand, she said his name louder. “Kuresh…”
*
Kai looked at the board on the door to the steam hut, wanting to make sure he was not disturbing anyone. Sure enough, the painted side faced forward, indicating no one was within. His muscles ached from swordplay with the five recruits he was training, one showing extraordinary instincts as a fighter. Kai had the bruises on his left shoulder and chest to prove it. He grinned as he opened the door to the hut and stepped inside. Welcome heat and steam greeted him as he slipped off his boots.
Such a hut would benefit Laird Jamie, and he intended to build it himself as soon as he returned home.
“Kuresh…”
The soft, feminine voice stunned him. For who knew his old name in this village? And if they did, what woman would dare say it?
“Kuresh.”
As soon as he recognized Miran’s voice, his member went rock-hard, excited by her tiny moans, by the sound of his name, the wrong one or not, on her lips. He ripped his tunic off, followed by his leather braes, standing naked in the swirling steam. He’d left his weapon belt and cloak inside his tent, not needing them in the steam hut.
As he edged deeper within the structure, he found Miran stretched out upon a bench, her slim thighs spread open, her fingers gently caressing the folds of her womanhood. He growled, taking in every graceful curve her body offered, her round breasts and dusky nipples, her long legs, flat stomach, her delicate fingers, and the cat-like smile on her lips as she touched herself…something he had never thought she would do.
He licked his lips, honor and violent need battling it out within him. He should go, leave as silently as possible before she found out he was there. Intrusion in such a moment would only deepen the chasm between them. Yet…
The beast within him, the one urging him to palm his manhood and join her, to pleasure himself while she did the same, the devil in his heart that begged him to spread her legs wider, to plunge balls-deep inside her… He ached for her. Wanted her. Needed her. Would die to taste her essence, to lick the wetness from between her thighs.
“Kai,” she whispered his name again, only this time, she opened her eyes, staring at him. “Am I dreaming?”
He shook his head, silenced by her beauty, stunned by her nakedness, for she was more than he had ever hoped for—flawless and soft, her golden hair so long, it cascaded over the sides of the bench and onto the ground. He gritted his teeth. What should he do? If he claimed her now, she would be his forever.
“Kuresh,” she said urgently, her eyes round and pleading. “Whether ye are a dream or no’, I need ye.”
He went to her, his hungry hands claiming her hips, caressing the soft flesh of her stomach, then her breasts, up her neck, and to her mouth, where she sucked on his fingers one by one, their gazes locked.
“Iyi ki doğdun,” he said. It’s good that you were born. And he was truly grateful, forever in debt to his god and hers.
“What did ye say to me?”
“I thanked all who would listen for you, Miran.”
He positioned himself at the end of the bench, lifting her leg, bringing one of her ankles to rest on his shoulder. The soft light from the fire complimented her fair coloring, highlighting the light and darker golden streaks in her hair. He refused to look away, afraid this was a dream, fearing she’d disappear as easily as the wisps of smoke rising to the opening in the roof. “What would you have me do, sweet one?” He’d do anything, she need only ask.
“Pleasure me…”
Had he heard her correctly? “Do you know what you are saying?”
She raised her head. “All I ask is that ye doona take my maidenhead. If that is too much of a burden for ye, I understand. I want to wait until after I marry.”
He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, committing her golden perfection to memory. He’d never let her go now. “Know this, Miran MacKay. Once I have ye, once I taste the forbidden pleasures of your body, you are mine. There is no going back. If another man touches you, I will kill him. Honor demands it, and so does my heart.”
Her green eyes narrowed, and he knew she was listening this time. Her life would never be the same, she’d have to yield to his claim, respect that she would become his wife upon their return to Sands Airgid. And once they were married, he would claim all of her, including the maidenhead she kept locked away like an untouchable treasure.
“Do ye mean…”
“You will marry me, Miran. No more games.”
Her gaze raked up and down his naked body, stopping on his manhood. She sighed. “Ye are beautiful, carved from stone, I think. Not of this world, Prince Kuresh.”
For some unknown reason, hearing that name come from her enticing mouth did not offend him. In fact, it made his manhood throb. “What is your decision?”
“I will marry ye,” she said.
All he needed to hear, for before she finished her thought, he lowered his face between her legs, burying his tongue deep inside her, watching her writhe and lift her hips, begging for release. Aye, he’d give it to her.
As she peaked, he covered her slight body with his, seeking the warmth and sweetness of her mouth and the wicked tongue that had torn him down and built him back up on many occasions. Aye, his Miran—his sweet Highland lass.