Her body resisted, and then accepted with pulsing, painful, shattering waves and Evelyn cried out with the hugeness of it all. MacKerrick pumped his hips into her fiercely as she throbbed, and in a moment he was stone still, his length jerking deep inside her.
Evelyn cried out again at the full sensation and felt tears on her own cheeks.
’Twas glorious. And holy.
And Evelyn Godewin was now Evelyn MacKerrick.
Chapter Ten
Conall felt as though he’d been tumbled over rapids as he collapsed at Eve’s side, his skin clammy and damp, his muscles quaking, a full breath seeming to retreat ever beyond his next shudder, leaving him gasping still. He could hear his own heartbeat in the closeness of the box bed and he turned his head to look at Eve, now his wife.
She stared at the canopy above their heads, her lips parted slightly, her breasts bare and pointed and heaving with her own breaths. She turned her face to his, her cheeks flushed crimson. Perhaps ’twas only an aftereffect of their lovemaking, but Conall would have in that moment sworn on his life that never had he evenimagineda woman could be of such beauty.
He gave her a smile and had to clear his throat before he could speak. “How fare thee, lass?” he asked quietly. “I didna hurt you?”
She shook her head against the ticking and her eyes searched his face, full of surprise and shyness. Conall wondered if she was satisfied with their lovemaking. He had tried to give her as much pleasure as he could before he’d taken her, but it had been so long since Conall had eased himself, and he was ashamed of his swiftness.
Eve continued to stare at him, but now her brows were furrowed slightly. Conall remembered their first meeting, when her face had appeared over Alinor’s head with much the same expression. He’d thought she looked like an angel then, and he did now, as well.
An angel who would save your town.
The thought came as a leaden surprise in the light headiness he felt and smashed into Conall’s conscience. He pushed the thought away—there would be time later to think upon his actions and their repercussions. For now, he simply wanted to enjoy the company of the woman in his bed.
Ronan’s bed, the black voice whispered.
“Do you hunger?” he asked, searching for any task that would not remind him of the past, of his selfish motives—or that bloody curse.
Eve opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again with a grimace.
He trailed a finger along her cheek. “What? What troubles you, lass?”
Her flush deepened. “Are you certain…?”
Conall smiled at her sweetness. Of course she would inquire of his pleasure, not knowing with her limited experience that Conall had indeed enjoyed himself of her body as much as any man was capable of enjoying a woman. She wished for reassurance, of course.
“Are you certain we…have not made a child?”
Conall felt as if Eve had slapped him. So much for tender confessions between lovers.
“Nae entirely, Eve,” he said evenly, trying to curb his stung pride. “None can fortell that, save God.”
In a blink she had scrambled from the bed and snatched the old black cloak from the floor, flashing Conall the small curves of her backside before gaining her feet and swirling the cloak about her. She stalked to the shelf where her clothes were still drying.
Conall raised up on an elbow in the changed atmosphere of the hut, wondering at her worry.
“Eve, why—?”
“Speak not to me, MacKerrick,” she snapped, testing her clothes’ dampness.
“Are youangrywith me?”
Forsaking her gowns as too wet, she turned toward the fire pit, clutching the cloak together. Her eyes flicked to him and Conall could clearly see her fury.
“You took advantage of me—telling me what I wanted to hear so that you could gain what you desired.”
“Now, just one bleedin’ moment,” Conall said, also climbing from the box bed and collecting his léine and belt from the floor. “I did nae such thing.” He jerked his léine over his head. “You make as if I lied to you.”
She sniffed and crouched awkwardly to the urn, mug in hand.
