Faolan caressed Ciara’s body as her moans subsided into satisfied purrs, then smiled as he parted her thighs. He raised her hips to settle himself into the heated depths of her core. He pulled her against him, again and again, as he knelt between her legs. Finally, he stretched himself over her body, and pounded with a possessive fury that had grown since the first moment he’d seen her. As his body spilled itself into her womb, his roars mingled with Ciara’s moans. They shuddered against, in, and around each other until they collapsed into a breathless heap.
He cradled Ciara against his chest. Her heart hammered against his. Faolan buried his face into her hair, his lips pressed against her ear. “I surrender, Ciara. I can hold out no longer. Teach me how to love.”
Ciara nuzzled the side of Faolan’s neck and nipped at the base of his ear. As she snuggled her body closer, she exhaled with a whispered sigh, “I believe you already know.”
ChapterEight
“If you don’t hold still, I will never get it out!”
Ciara perched atop one of the trestle tables near the hearth of the main hall.
Faolan squirmed on the bench in front of her, his outstretched hand pinned between her knees.Damn.The woman had the grip of a warrior locked in life-or-death battle.
“Faolan! I thought you were supposed to be a battle-hardened Highlander? You’ve shown me the scars from dozens of wounds. This is just a bit of wood festering in your hand. Why can’t you hold still while I dig it out?” Ciara yanked his hand higher into her lap and held it tighter between her knees.
Snorting, Faolan pulled against her grip. He jerked away for a second time just as she reached for the bit of wood. He’d seen she almost had a good grip on the embedded splinter and wrenched his hand out of her grasp just as she had leaned close to slide the offensive bit of wood free of the tender swollen wound.
“Faolan. A child doesn’t squirm this much.” Yanking his hand closer to her chest, Ciara hissed out a frustrated breath through gritted teeth.
“A child doesna realize the pain ye’re about to cause. And I ne’er said the enemies tortured me. The wounds they inflicted were clean quick thrusts with their blades. The bastards didna dig around in my flesh to see what they could find.” Faolan pulled his throbbing hand away and stood with it clutched against his chest. He glanced at the reddened flesh of his palm and inched a step away. If the woman would just leave him alone, the festering puss would expel the sliver in due time. Without any additional pain. Just as nature intended.
Ciara rolled her eyes and glanced around the hall. Stepping forward, she locked her gaze with his and widened her golden eyes.
Faolan stood paralyzed. He couldn’t retreat, nor could he call for help. Frustration surged through his veins until his heartbeat hammered in his throat.
Ciara reached out, covered Faolan’s hand with her own, and imprisoned him within her trance. With a gentle breath, she blew three times into his face then withdrew her hand with a satisfied nod. “Feel better?” she asked with a condescending smile as she turned to clear away her tools.
While keeping a watchful eye on Ciara to ensure she didn’t lunge for his hand, Faolan risked a quick glance into his palm to assess his once painful wound. Pleasant surprise relaxed his tensed body when flawless skin met his gaze instead of the festering sore. His hand appeared as though the spike of wood had never marred the skin.
He glared at her as he rubbed the once tender spot and observed it with an irritated hiss. “Why did ye no’ do that in the first place instead of tryin’ to split m’hand in two?”
With an innocent batting of her lashes, Ciara shrugged. “You told me you had issued an edict against all magic. I was just trying to abide by your wishes.”
“Abide by my wishes? That’s verra amusing, especially coming from you. In the future, if it comes to a choice between invoking magic and causing me unnecessary pain, I give ye permission to choose magic.” Faolan snorted over one shoulder as he turned to stomp from the hall.
Ciara caught him, spun herself into his arms, and snuggled up against his chest. Voice sultry, she pressed her curves against his body in the most ancient of unspoken messages. “I’m sorry, husband. When I finished, I intended to kiss it and make it better. I swear you would’ve forgotten every little pain.”
“Humph,” Faolan grudgingly grunted as his body responded with immediate interest. It had only been this morning since they’d enjoyed each other by the light of the breaking dawn. His wife’s appetite for lovemaking proved to be almost more insatiable then his own. “I fear I’m going to wear ye out, my delightfully wanton bride.”
After leading him to a secluded alcove near the stairs, Ciara slid her hands up his thighs to the throbbing part of him straining beneath his kilt. “Just keep trying, my fine Highland lover. I promise to let you know when to stop.”
* * *
“What doye mean ye canna find the priest? The man should be snug in his croft we built behind the kirk.” Faolan sat behind his desk; the scratching of his quill echoed in time with his words.
Maxwell stood in front of his laird; his hands clasped behind his back. A pained expression spread across his face as he shifted from foot to foot.
“Father Danaan’s croft is empty and no one has seen him at the kirk since Sunday past. Ye know ’tis not really necessary the man perform the wedding ceremony. The betrothal has become a legally binding marriage since all can see ye’ve been quite successful in getting your lovely wife with child.”
Faolan relaxed back in the depths of his chair and tossed his quill upon the table. Drumming his fingers beside the drying parchment, he studied Maxwell’s worried face, which spoke much louder than Maxwell’s words. “What are ye not telling me, Maxwell? What has happened to the priest?”
“Nothing has happened to the priest! He’s just left this part of the Highlands. That is all I have to say.”
“Just left this part of the Highlands,” Faolan repeated, rising from his chair. “And why exactly would a newly ordained priest leave such a promising parish as the MacKay lands? And in the middle of winter, no less.”
Maxwell clamped his mouth shut, his lips thinning into a determined line of silence.
“Maxwell! I asked ye a question, man. And it was not a difficult one at that.” Faolan circled Maxwell, drawing ever closer as his friend closed his eyes and tucked his chin to his chest. Dammit, he’d keep the man in this room until he told what he knew about the priest.
