She nodded and arched against him, wanting more, needing more. It seemed an age passed while she held her breath and her eyes slid closed again. “Is there more?”
“Aye, there’s more,” he said, beginning to move, slowly shifting in and out. Just a bit at first, and then more, and then more still. Little by little the tension built, until her entire world was centered on Trick and what he was making her feel. A glorious whirl of exquisite sensation, and still it wasn’t enough.
“Faster,” she whispered, and he plunged into her faster and deeper, again and again, more and more, until she couldn’t breathe and her body erupted and the world turned upside down.
She heard his groan and felt the hot flood of his release while the tremors still wracked her body. Finally, spent, he collapsed against her, kissing her neck and cheeks and whispering her name over and over.
“Dear heavens.” She struggled to catch her breath. “I just—”
“What?” Trick asked, his voice husky against her mouth. “What is it,leannan?”
She sighed, a sound of regret from the deepest place in her heart. “I cannot believe I deprived myself of five weeks ofthat.”
His reply was a strangled laugh, and another groan, but he clutched her close and kissed her all over again.
She felt languid and drained, and it was a long time before her heart slowed and her breathing quieted. A long time before she noticed the phantom footsteps again and flinched.
“It’s the rain,” Trick reminded her. His voice sounded low and lazy, satisfied, content. It thrilled her to know she had made him that way. “We’re alone here at the top of the tower. It cannot be anything else.”
“Annag and Duncan…”
Taking her with him, he turned over and cuddled her against his chest. “Do you honestly think they’ve climbed up on the roof to come down these stairs and commit murder? On a stormy night like this?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t put anything past those two. It’s obvious enough they don’t like you…or me.”
“They’re bitter. Odds are Niall has always been favored as the duke’s son—Lord Niall while they were plain Duncan and Annag. Then their father left them to live here—although they were grown, that had to hurt.”
“And now you’ve returned to claim that father—”
“A bit of his attention, maybe, but I’ve no claim on the man.”
Rain pounded on the roof above them, loud needles of it striking the small window. She met Trick’s eyes, remembering other eyes that had looked familiar. Beneath his shining hair, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. Suddenly she pictured Hamish, that same expression on his face.
And it all fell into place.
She reached a hand to graze his cheek, the faint whiskers scratchy against her fingers. So very male. “Do you not see, Trick, how much you’re like him?”
“Niall? Aye, I’ve said how uncanny—”
“Not Niall. Well, yes, Niall, but you must know there’s a reason for that, for why you’re so very alike.” He needed to hear this; he couldn’t deny the evidence any longer. “It’s because you share not only the same mother, but the same father as well.”
“Do you think so?” Some of the puzzlement cleared, his amber eyes filling with a hesitant hope instead. “I suppose the timing makes it possible. Father was last here when I was ten, and Niall was born the next year…I wouldn’t expect Mam would have willingly shared my father’s bed again, but I wouldn’t put rape past the man, either. Maybe Niallismy full brother.” He managed to sound bitter and elated at the same time. “Wouldn’t that be something?” he added before he suddenly frowned. “But why, then, would he say he’s Hamish’s son?”
“Because he is,” she said gently. “And so are you.”
Forty-Seven
THE BREATH LEFTTrick’s body in a rush. “That cannot be.”
“It is.” Kendra’s eyes searched his before she scooted up to sit against the headboard beside him, taking the coverlet with her. “No, I haven’t asked Hamish about it, nor did he come to me. But I’ve eyes in my head, Trick, and I’m not as close to the situation as you are. You share his features, I’m telling you, and his manner, and then there’s the way he looks at you.”
“The way he looks at me? How is that?”
“With longing and pride. Were you the duke’s son—his love’s child fathered by another—wouldn’t he view you with resentment, instead? He’s your father, I’m sure of it.”
He couldn’t find the words to disagree, mostly because he wasn’t sure whether he disagreed or not.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Kendra pressed. “I know you don’t hold him in much affection, but that will come, don’t you think? Deep down, I believe he’s a good man.”
