“Nae, you gave it,” he corrected and brought her hand to rest over his heart. He brought his other hand to the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his, gently but deliberately. His kiss was brief, sweet and warm, and he looked into her eyes after he released her lips. “You wanted to make love with me, each time.”
“It matters naught,” Evelyn said, not caring that her tone had turned petulant and juvenile. “I didn’t think that—”
“Neither of us did,” he interrupted quietly. “And that is the miracle of it—we have made the impossible possible.” He rested his forehead against hers and smiled. “You willna die from our child, Eve—I’ll nae allow it.”
“You can’t—”
“I’ll nae allow it,” he said solemnly. “Come the thaw, I will take you to the MacKerrick town and you will be well tended by my people. They will care for you as they would a queen, and see you healthy and fat and happy.”
She shot him what she hoped was a deadly glare and he chuckled good-naturedly before continuing.
“When your time comes, you will have no better attendants at your side.” He wiped a rogue tear from her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “And I will love this bairn with all my heart. In truth, I already do.” He leaned forward and kissed her again, placing a hand low on her abdomen as he did so.
“I’m so frightened, Conall,” she whispered against his mouth when he pulled away.
The highlander held her close. “I know you are, lass. I’ve got you, though. I’m here, and I will protect you—protect our family.”
Evelyn let her eyes slide closed as Conall kissed her gently once more, and she felt now-familiar warmth in her middle at his sensual touch sliding over her hip. He turned her so that he leaned over her prone body, his hand smoothing up her flat stomach to her breast.
She hissed in pain when he kneaded one, and Conall immediately gentled his touch, whispering apologies and kissing the aching fullness.
He’d said “our family.”
Evelyn’s stomach tumbled at the very idea, as well as at Conall’s lips traveling ever lower down her body.
God help her.
Conall wanted Eve’s body more than he had on the night they’d wed, more than he ever had. He could hardly wait to take her, now as the mother of his child, and a passion for her burned in him like a spilled oil fire, crawling and consuming and out of control.
He turned his body so that his head was at her feet and removed each decrepit slipper, kissing her small, cold toes, one by one. Next he moved to her delicate ankle bones, pressing his lips there before sliding up to her calf. He felt the gooseflesh his touch raised. He looked up her body, the shadows painting her with a seductive veil full of sighs and heat.
She was carrying his child.The Buchanan bairn that would rule the MacKerrick clan. His town, his people, was saved. The curse would be lifted.
The scent of her skin, warmed slightly by the thin linen gown, made Conall dizzy. He pushed the skirt up high, bunching it around her hips. His erection throbbed painfully as he nuzzled the junction of her legs, flicked out his tongue. His wife moaned.
Oh, Eve…
A bairn. A wee life to mayhap help heal the broken pieces of his heart that Conall thought had scattered to the very ends of the earth for the stillborn dark-haired little girl. His own flesh and blood who would love him as he had loved his own father. A seed that would grow in his place. A beautiful child from this beautiful, beautiful woman.
Conall at last drew his body atop Eve’s, shoving down his breeches and pulling his léine aside. He poised at her opening, wanting to take a moment to look into her eyes, darkened by passion and the gloomy light.
He would tell her of the curse soon. When she had become used to the idea of the bairn. Mayhap then she would see what a miracle this child really was.
Or mayhap she will realize how badly you misled her.
Conall blocked the thought before it could grow longer arms of reason and strangle him. It had all worked out in the end. He cared for Eve, so much already. And his feelings grew each day. By the time he told her of the curse, it would not matter one whit. He was sure of it. He entered his wife.
Conall was just setting a steady rhythm, rocking the bed in a gentle motion, when a hellish, winged demon fell upon his head.
Conall roared and threw up an arm to shield his head while stretching out his full length to protect Eve. His erection shriveled like an icicle in a fire as he felt the evil minion tumble onto the mattress in a blur of black and dusky rose. But then it was upon him again, its demonic caws sending a chilling fear into Conall’s core.
“Cover your face, Eve!” he yelled as Alinor began barking frantically and Conall made to seize the clawing beast. Bonnie’s frantic bleats added to the chaos. “I’ll have it!”
“Conall, nay!” Eve squirmed and twisted under him and managed to take hold of his wrist with one hand. “Stop!” Her other arm shot out to still the whirling, screeching mass of feathers. “You’re frightening him!”
Conall oofed as Eve’s knee found his groin and he rolled away, his hands covering his bashed manhood. He felt sick to his stomach from the pain.
Eve struggled to a seat, without inquiry of the injury she’d caused, and pulled the screaming, stinking thing onto her lap.
