When we walked upstairs for bed, the stairwell was dark, though it was still pretty bright outside, maybe nine at night.

Magnus seemed thoughtful. We passed that spot where he fumbled with my skirt so long ago without any mention of it. I was worried about that fact. Maybe we had passed the point of no return.

We stopped along the way to pee in the garderobe at the end of our floor. He waited outside for me and then I waited outside for him.

And then we went to our bedroom.

He sat on the bed. “Turn around so I may undo your laces.”

I stood in front of him, pulled my hair to the side, and he worked at them for a few minutes. “Take off your belt,” he said and I unclasped the buckle. I pulled it free and the big skirt dropped in a puff around the bottom hem of my shift. A moment later he had the end of the laces loosened. He helped push the bodice down to the floor and gave me a hand so I could step from it.

“I can’t believe it’s not freezing. This is new.” I climbed across the bed and under the covers on my side. I waited for him to join me expecting a lot of the same of what we had been doing.

Magnus watched me, his brow drawing down. His eyes squinted in thought. “What dost ye take me for Kaitlyn?”

“Oh, um, my husband?”

“There isna a question about it. I am your husband.”

“True.”

“I am weary of watchin’ ye pull away. You daena ken what ye are about. You are keeping’ the battle in your heart and in your mind and ye have brought it into the walls of our home with ye. I daena blame ye for it, but ye canna keep it here. The battle is over Kaitlyn, it has been won. Ye can let it go.”

He grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up his body and with a grimace pulled it above his head — muscle-bound arms, shoulders, his abs — holy shit, Kaitlyn — He dropped his shirt to the side.

“I don’t want you to take it off because of the—”

“I daena care what ye think of my shoulder, Kaitlyn. I have a battle scar. Are ye goin’ tae hate the sight of me for it?”

He stared at me long. “You said ye have forgiven me for it. Isna that what ye said?”

“Yes…”

He stood in front of me big and powerful and really incredibly hot. “You have a battle scar and I daena blame ye for it.”

“It’s different.”

“Tis nae different. Twas death or fight. Twas the same for ye?”

I nodded.

“Come stand before me.”

“No.”

“Aye, ye will Kaitlyn. You ought tae listen tae me and do as I say.”

“I don’t ‘ought’ to do anything. I’ll leave. I’ll run out of here.”

“You winna. Because ye are tied tae me and ye daena have anywhere tae go.”

I huffed, threw the covers off, and crawled across the bed. With as much drama as I could emote I swung my legs down in front of him but continued to sit.

“Are ye afraid of me, Kaitlyn?” He towered over me. His voice was stern. I had every reason to be afraid of him, but —

“No, I’m not.”

His chest rose and fell with his breath. “Why nae? Since I have seen ye last I have killed three men. I did it with decision and satisfaction. The first man I killed with a cut. The last man I bludgeoned. And ye arna afraid of me, Kaitlyn?”

I shook my head.

“Why nae?”

“Because I know you love me, and you would never hurt me.”

“And why would I kill those men?”

“Because you had to. Or you would die. And I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Aye. But still ye are pullin’ away from me.”

“I don’t really understand why. I just need some more time.”

“You daena.” He unbuckled his belt. “By my accounts it has been a long year for ye without me. You daena need more time.” He dropped the belt to the side. “Did ye choose tae bed another man, Kaitlyn?”

“No.”

His kilt dropped to the ground. “So I think it has been time long enough. Ye are probably parched.”

I took a deep breath to steady myself. “I had toys.”

“I ken these toys ye speak of, I believe ye still missed me.”

“I did, I really did, I just need—”

“I winna have ye argue with me on this Kaitlyn. We have wasted too much of our time already. Stand before me.”

I looked down at my hands. “It’s just that I — I’m dealing with a lot, my hands, I killed him — and —”

“Stand before me Kaitlyn. I winna ask again.”

“Jesus Christ, Magnus, you’re being kind of a dick.” I stood up in front of him.

He was naked. I was clothed, a shift that went from my shoulders to my ankles, a big giant muumuu. His cock stretched between us and I was trying to ignore the fact though also quite amazed by it, actually. By him. And kind of overwhelmed by his power and also super hot for his power. Really. Totally.

He stared down at me. I stared up. “Should I be afraid of ye, Kaitlyn?”

“I don’t know.” I didn’t meet his eyes.

“By my accounts ye could kill me in two ways. Ye could do it in the traditional way. Ye could draw a blade on me and send me tae God. Or ye could look me in the eye and tell me ye daena love me anymore, ye could keep pullin’ away. Are ye plannin’ tae kill me, Kaitlyn?”

“I’m not planning it, no, I just—”

Very slowly he lowered himself to the ground. He groaned, and with what looked like a lot of pain knelt on one knee.

“What are you doing, Magnus?”

He bowed his head forward and rested it on my hip bone. “You could kill me. You have it within your power tae. Should I be afraid of ye, Kaitlyn?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

His forehead was against the fabric of my shift, reminding me of the hospital bed, a year ago. Ye ken I have tae go?

Tears welled up in my eyes. Without knowing what I was saying I begged, “Don’t go, please don’t go. I need you.”

His voice came from the fabric of my shift. “I ken ye need me. I need ye too. And I winna go anywhere not anymore. Stop pulling away from me.”

“I’m scared.”

“Ye daena have tae be afraid of me, we already established this.” He put his hands on my hips and began bunching the linen up in his fists. I tried to keep it down, but not really trying, just kind of overwhelmed by the fact that it was coming up. He pulled it slowly and methodically until the front of it was bunched to my waist. He pressed his forehead to the pleats of the fabric holding it high, looking down at the naked bottom half of me.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

I did.

I looked down through my tears at the wide strong back bowed before me. I rubbed my palms along the curve and wrapped them around edge of his shoulders and down the front where they curved to the ground.

I faltered at the spot, now fading, but once a bruise — teeth had touched here.

“I wish it was dark, it would be easier.”

He adjusted so he was on both knees, his hands wrapped around me and he spoke into the skin of my stomach. His lips wet, his breath warm. “We arna used tae easy. Tis impossible tae expect it.” His hands ran along my hips and cupped my buttocks and pulled me closer. His lips pressed to me. He ran his hands down the back of my thighs and back up and around my ass again and I was beginning to lose my will to resist.

A hand trailed around my hip and found its way between my legs and fingers searched and stroked up and then in. “You are verra wet, mo reul-iuil, ye want me—” I was unable to keep track of what he was actually saying. My hands clasped the back of his head and pulled him closer, oh closer, while his fingers dove and played.

“Take off your shift, Kaitlyn.”

“I don’t—”

He looked up at me with a sweaty brow, glazed eyes, that out-of-your-head look of desire. “I winna argue with ye about this, take it off. I canna raise my arms high enough tae struggle with ye over it.”

I pulled the shift up and over and off.

“Lie down and spread your legs.”

“What—?“

He stood with a grimace and planted himself in front of me. So close, his face looking down on mine, breathing, wanting, chest heaving. “Daena argue with me. I am your husband and I am returned from battle and ye should spread your legs and welcome me home.”

“Are you serious with—”

“I am verra serious.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I am nae, ye arna scared of me. Ye should trust me in this.”

The look on his face was primal, dark, and wanting, and god I wanted him so bad that all of everything else disappeared.

I lay back on the bed with my thighs clamped together. “But what if I’ve been in battle too?”

“Aye, mo reul-iuil, ye have, and ye are still fightin’. Ye have lost your way because of it.” He put a hand on each of my thighs. “Ye need tae guide us, but ye arna capable of it. I see it in your eyes. Your battle has been too brutal, but ye love me, and ye forgive me, deana ye?”

“Yes.” I allowed my thighs to relax.

“So ye should spread your legs for me.” He pushed my knees apart, slowly.

“And from this day forward when ye come home ye should say, ‘Master Magnus, I am fresh from battle, get ye ontae your back and rise with vigor tae welcome me home.” He lowered between my legs.

“Oh, that’s what I should say?”

“Aye. I would rise for ye if ye would only ask, but ye haena asked,” he kissed up my thigh and licked and nibbled between my legs. “I canna wait anymore.”

“God, Magnus.”

He licked while his fingers were inside me and then he began to trail his lips up my stomach.

“Wait — don’t…”

He paused, his chin pressing on my hipbone. “Daena pull away.”

“That’s not—” I panted, while trying to speak. “That felt good. I want more.”

“Och,” his brow raised. “She wants more — what does Madame Campbell need tae say?”

“Master Magnus…” I arched up. “Something about rise — spread my legs—” His fingers shifted inside me.

Ogodogodogod...

“—welcome home... yes.”

Through my foggy, out-of-my-mind-ed-ness, I saw him grin up at me. “Och, tis good enough.”

He returned to me, arms wrapped around my thighs, hands on my ass, his mouth nestled between my legs. He licked and played there, my moans rising and rising and rising and after long minutes — ogodogodogodogod — I burst apart into a million tiny far-flung pieces —

I pulled on his shoulders — up — and managed to somehow say — come — and he climbed me. He scooped me up and spread me wide and entered me slowly.

And held me and filled me and settled me.

And with his mouth up against my neck, the vibration of his breath against my pulse — I love ye, mo reul-iuil — a deep breath and another breath — I know it, I do. I love you too — he pulled against me and pushed with me, the beat of us cautious, steady, and slow. Our skin pressed, our bodies clasped. Magnus glistened and I rubbed my forehead on his shoulder and then I kissed the skin there and tasted the salt of him. Magnus. Our movements were small and concentrated. My legs around his back pulling him closer holding him deep within.

The beat of us quickened. I arched back and moaned it to his ear — ogodogod — desperate, intense, driven and I was bursting still, again, and more, until with a groan he finished too and his body grew soft and relaxed within me.

Filling me, wrapping around me. His weight collapsed down. His gravity held me securely to the lumpy mattress on the hard planks of the bed.

He groaned.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m—” He adjusted his body to the length of me and rested his head on my breast. He swallowed a deep breath and a moment later said, “I needed a better position is all.” One of his arms was across me, holding behind my back, arching me toward him.

My arms wrapped around his head, cradling him, his forehead close to my lips. I kissed his hairline. I cradled his jaw in my palm and raised his chin and kissed the bridge of his nose. And then I kissed his eyelid and shimmied down a bit to reach his lips and I kissed him. Our kiss — tender and gentle, welcoming — and as the light was fading from the room, my hands — light, loose, and relaxed floated down to settle softly on him.

“That was…” I didn’t know how to finish it — awesome, perfect, necessary all came to mind. I trailed my fingertips down his neck across his shoulder along his bicep to entwine with his waiting hand.