To her surprise, she saw Connor open the door to her hut. His large frame filled the entrance, and he held out a wooden cup of mead to her. Aileen accepted it, drinking deeply.
‘Lorcan told me of Bridget’s babe. Did it go well?’
‘It did. She has a beautiful daughter.’ Aileen’s smile widened at the memory of the tiny fingers wrapping around her thumb. It meant even more that she could assume the role of healer for her cousin, even if it was just for a moment.
‘You are up late,’ she remarked.
‘I promised to wait for you.’
A thrill of premonition enveloped her as Connor led her inside. It was like crossing through the years to the girl she had been on the night of Bealtaine. But this time, he was inviting her to join him. Her skin grew warmer, her heart beating faster. Did she want this? Did she want him, knowing that he would leave her once again?
A pot of warmed water hung over the fire, and he poured it into a shallow basin. ‘Sit down,’ he invited.
Aileen sat upon the wooden bench, unsure of Connor’s intentions. He knelt before her and took her feet into his lap. His left palm traced the outline of her foot. Though the twisted fingers of his right hand should have repelled her, sensual shivers emerged at the touch of his callused palm.
She understood the effort this cost him, the level of concentration. Steadily he lifted handfuls of water over her bare feet, washing them in an age-old custom.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she said.
‘I want to.’ He brought her hands to his shoulders while he caressed her soles. Years of fighting had moulded rigid lines of strength into his arms.
She pushed away her body’s response to him, willing herself not to look at his firm mouth only a breath away. ‘I am nothing to you but another woman, Connor. And that isn’t what I want.’ She stood, not caring that her gown grew sodden in the water.
‘You are wrong, Aileen.’ He rose, his silver eyes casting a spell upon her senses. ‘More than any other woman, I want you this night.’
Broken shards of memory cut into her. He hadn’t wanted her, not when she’d tried to gain his attentions as a girl. She didn’t fool herself into believing that he wanted her now.
Before she could stop him, Connor leaned forward and kissed her. She tasted mead upon his mouth, the heady rush of sensation. His tongue teased hers, and though her mind begged her to stop, she opened to him. Tentatively, she tasted him with her own tongue. Droplets of water dampened her gown and he pushed thebratfrom her shoulders, letting the shawl fall to the floor. Fire permeated her skin, and all the while she melted against the warmth of his mouth upon hers.
‘Aileen,’ he whispered, reaching beneath her gown. He wanted to remove her overdress, but she shied away from him.
‘Do you want me to stop?’
Her heartbeat thrummed beneath her breasts, and she hesitated. Caught between reason and desire, she fought against her body’s need for him.
‘I don’t know what I want,’ she said honestly. ‘You’re going to leave.’
He cupped her cheek. ‘It doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other until then.’
She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see her indecision. ‘What if I asked you not to leave at all? Would you give up your revenge?’
Slowly, he shook his head. ‘I cannot stay, Aileen.’ He raised his misshapen right hand. ‘I need to be the man I once was.’
His words crumbled any hope she might have held. His pride was more important than all else.
His hot mouth kissed the soft place in her neck, sending shivers into every pore of her skin. For a moment she allowed temptation to overcome reason. He lifted the overdress aside, lowering the folds of herléineuntil it hung at her waist. Bared before him, he pulled back to look at her.
‘Your skin reminds me of this water,’ he said huskily. ‘Smooth and warm.’ He lifted a handful of the wetness, letting it pour over her breasts. Her nipples puckered at the sensation of droplets spilling over.
Then he bent to take her breast into his mouth, and she could no longer remember the reasons why this was wrong. Though it was a night when men and women shared lovemaking with one another, coupling in the darkness, Connor MacEgan was a dangerous man. With his words and his touch, he lay siege to her heart.
By the sweet saints, he knew how to seduce her with his mouth. He suckled against her, pulling her deep into his mouth until her womanhood grew wet in response.
Don’t, her mind begged her, even as she tilted her mouth to his. She kissed him with the memory of their shared passion, of the magic of Bealtaine. Her body ached to feel him filling the emptiness inside.
Take him, her body urged. And God forgive her, she needed him this night.
Chapter 12
