His hands greedily roamed her glorious body. He began at the generous curve of her hips, following the feminine lines of her up her slim waist and back out again where her breasts tested the lacing of her gown. She arched into his touch as he strayed to cup her breasts, teasing him through the thick fabric. Dallan lost all ability to reason. His fingers played at her collar, his lips tasted the sensitive skin down her neck. He wanted to devour her.
The wicked wind set her hair dancing, surrounding him in a golden veil that smelled of lavender and Niamh. She ran herhands under hisléine, a shiver of pleasure following in their wake.
With a playful squeeze to her backside, he lifted her up, keeping one hand beneath her to support her against the stone. Niamh’s giggle of surprise rang like a chime across the hilltop.
“I don’t think we’ve tried it this way before,” she said breathlessly, reaching between them to free him from his trews.
He didn’t know how he’d gone so long without her. “I’m stronger than I was then,” he managed as she took him in hand. Dallan tossed her skirts out of the way.
Her hooded eyes drank in his shoulders and arms. It had been so long since anyone had looked at him that way, since he’d let anyone see that side of him.
Since he’d let himself be so vulnerable.
He’d never admit it to any of the Fianna, but when Niamh left she’d taken a part of him with her. And even years later, he’d never been able to give that part to anyone else. Oh, he’d tried to bed other women, desperate to take his mind off the only woman he really wanted. But only Niamh coaxed out this teasing, playful, wild side of him. A side that, until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed.
His fingers played with her, eliciting a moan as she moved against him. He slipped one inside, but it wasn’t enough. Dallan didn’t know how long it had been since she’d been with someone, and he didn’t want to rush her, so he sucked in a breath and circled her with his thumb.
“Please,” she whispered. “Stop teasing.” She didn’t wait for his response, quite literally taking matters into her own hands. Lifting her hips, she seated herself on top of him with a little noise that nearly undid him.
He thrust himself inside her again, wondering how long he’d be able to endure such sweet torture. She protested when he stopped a moment later. But he had a very good reason forhalting. As quickly as he could manage, Dallan reached up to finish loosening her gown, tugging it until her full breasts sat naked before him.
“That’s better,” he growled, leaning to take one of her pert nipples into his hungry mouth. Then the world dissolved around him. It was only Dallan and Niamh. Her scent, her sounds, her hands, her warmth—they were his entire existence.
Dallan had no idea how long he made love to her on the stone-strewn hilltop beneath a dusting of stars in the midnight sky. Niamh cried out his name, tightened around him, sending a surge of desire through him. He held her against his chest as he found his release just after hers.
Dallan struggled to slow his breathing as he rested his forehead against hers. He could feel her heart racing, hammering in a rhythm to match his own. He could hardly believe that he had Niamh back. After talking with Finn, he had hoped to perhaps earn enough of her trust to learn why she’d left him. He had hardly dared to imagine she would still want him, still love him.
Once they’d corrected their clothing, she sat in his lap on the grass, his cloak about them both. They sat like that, staring at the stars together, until the moon hung high in its ocean of sky.
She had finally told him. He’d waited six years to hear that explanation, and now that he knew what went wrong, he was determined not to lose her again. The fear on her face and the pain in her voice tortured him. He could see what years of living with such a secret had done to her, and it explained why the carefree lover of his youth was now so solemn.
As he twirled a lock of her golden hair around his finger, he realized that she’d told him everything about her situation, except for one thing—arguably themostimportant thing.
“How do you feel about it?” he whispered into the still night. “About not having children, I mean. Obviously, the lovemaking was incredible.”
She snorted in laughter before looking up at him, her expression unreadable. “You know, you’re the first person to ask me that.”
Dallan’s heart lurched. He rubbed her shoulders, waiting for her to think it over. After several moments, she tilted her head thoughtfully.
“I think a part of me keeps hoping I’m wrong,” she replied at last. “Even though I know nothing can be done, I don’t feel as though my heart’s accepted it yet.”
“What do you feel when you think about it?”
“Worthless, mostly,” she admitted, her tone unflinching. “And I wonder what I did to merit such a fate.”
“Your worth is not measured by how many children you have,” Dallan replied gently. “Did you ever think that maybe you were meant to go through this terrible thing so that you could bring hope and healing to other women? Since I’ve come to Thurles, all I’ve seen is a strong, determined woman, doing her utmost to help everyone but herself.”
She leaned back against him, her hand squeezing his. “I’d never thought it about it that way. Do you want children?”
“I honestly have never thought about whether Iwantthem or not. I simply assumed it would happen on its own regardless,” he said with a chuckle. “If I had a choice, though, I’m not sure. What about you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve known for so long I wouldn’t have them, that I’ve built a future in my mind without them.”
Dallan wrapped both his arms about her, his face buried in her lavender-scented hair. “If you ever decide you want them, we could always foster. When I take the throne, it will even be expected.”
He felt her tense in his arms. “Take the throne? I thought you were one of the Fianna now?”
“I won’t be forever.” He hesitated, doing his best to ease into the topic. He knew how she felt about it, how she’d always felt. When she’d left, he always assumed it had to do with his responsibility to Laigin, for she’d never shied from voicing her disinterest in becoming a queen. “Morda will expect me to return soon.”
