“Oh, my God.” Her eyes slid shut, and she struggled against the restraints, not hurting or frightened—he hadn’t locked them, after all—but just frantic with the need to touch him. In her few lessons on love, she’d enjoyed the giving as much as the taking.
Although she wanted to gift herself over to him, it was so hard to only succumb.
But as his hips initiated the rhythm her body craved, succumb she did. She clenched her fists against that urge to touch, her fingernails digging into her palms. Helpless to participate, she could only feel. Her skin prickled, her heart raced, and her whole world centered where her body met his.
It was agony, but sweet, so sweet.
As his tempo quickened, she felt a throbbing, and she couldn’t tell if it was hers or his. Then it grew, until she knew it belonged to them both. Until she felt him pulsing within her and responded in a burst of exquisite glory.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Are you all right,leannan?” Panting, he moved to release her wrists. Her legs straightened, reaching for the floor, and she slid down his body, her gown still wrenched up between them.
As she stood there on trembling limbs, he brought her wrists to his mouth and kissed them, one and then the other, so cherishingly that she thought her heart might crack at the tender look in his eyes.
“I think maybe I got carried away there,” he confessed in a husky whisper, circling her wrists with his hands. Rubbing. Warm, and so gentle. “Are you all right?”
She gave him a shaky smile. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been better.”
His hands stilled, and the beginning of a grin tipped a corner of his mouth. “Are you sure,leannan?”
“Dear heavens, I’ve never been more sure in my life.”
Fifty-Five
THE RIDE WAShardly short, but Kendra was still glowing with aftereffects when they walked through the tunnel and into the great hall. Their hands were joined, and she looked down to her wrist. A bracelet of amber and the faintest pink line, not enough to hurt or even feel, just enough to remind her of the glorious afternoon.
Seated at a trestle table with a hearty meal before him, Hamish’s gaze went to their joined hands as well. He smiled, a sigh escaping his lips. “You two put me in mind of my Elspeth, you do. Happy newlyweds you are, and glad I am of it.”
It was true they were happy. True for Kendra, and as she met Trick’s gaze, she knew it was true for him, too. Perhaps the matter of his parentage was disturbing, and perhaps she wasn’t finished climbing the wall he’d built between them. But they’d turned a corner in that dungeon—they had laid the foundation for trust. A foundation they could build on in the days and weeks to come.
“The first time Da’s been downstairs in weeks,” Niall told them with a grin. “Join us, will you? Da has been trying to puzzle out what happened. Did you find any clues?”
Trick handed him the key. “Not much,” he admitted, emptying his pockets. “Just this scrap of cloth”—he gave it to Hamish—“and this piece of glass.” He set the shard on the table with an audibleclink, then seated himself.
Kendra sat beside him, and plates were set before them. Seeing nothing sweet on the table, she took a wedge of spinach tart while Trick eyed a platter of meat slices swimming in onions and a savory-smelling sauce.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Mutton,” Niall told him. “Scotch collops.”
“Sounds good.” He transferred a piece to his plate.
“Homespun.” Hamish fingered the dark fabric. “It could have belonged to anyone, but most likely a common worker. Certainly not Elspeth or myself. As for this”—he picked up the glass—“it looks to be part of an old bottle. Wine, I’m guessing. We broke our share of them down there over the years.”
Feeling her face heat, Kendra exchanged a look with Trick. And a secret smile. Maybe hehadbeen conceived there.
And they could have conceived there themselves, she realized with a start.
He turned back to his father. “We also found many footprints—they looked to be of four different people, clustered around the chests as they lifted. Three larger sets of prints and one smaller.” He polished off the mutton and reached for another serving. “So more folk than Niall supposed must have known about the treasure.”
“More folk know about it now,” Hamish corrected. His mouth straightened into a grim line. “After the original folk enlisted their help in this crime.”
“The original folk?”
With a sigh, the older man ran a hand back through his thinning hair, a gesture that reminded Kendra of Trick. “Gregor and Rhona,” he practically spat. “Myfriends. Or so I thought.”
“Da!” Niall’s eyes went wide. “You cannot really mean to accuse them?”
