“Never.” As if to seal the vow, he filled her again, driving her body into madness. She wrapped her legs around his waist, closing her eyes so he would not see her frustration.
“Look at me,” he commanded. He kissed her eyelids, his fingers tracing her cheeks. “Iseult.”
At last she did, and in his face she saw the rough need. He slowed the tempo of his penetration, as if to soften his assertion. “I’ll never let you go.”
He bent her knees, pushing them back until he could go no deeper. Every inch of him filled her, and she cried out as he quickened the pace, the rigid length rubbing against her most sensitive place. When his mouth took her nipple again, he bit it gently, causing a rush of moisture between her thighs.
Her release was within reach, the pounding of his body driving her to even higher excitement. Then suddenly, the dam burst, and wave after wave of pleasure flooded her. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and he continued the driving force, bringing forth yet another tremor of wildness.
“I can’t,” she whispered, unable to stand anymore of the intensity.
“You will.” And like her master, he continued the fierce penetration until she wept with the blissful sensations sweeping over her.
Finally, he roared out his own release, clasping her to him. Her heart raced, her thighs still trembling from the aftershocks. Kieran rested upon her, their bodies damp with sweat.
One hand lingered upon her breasts, and he cupped the heavy weight. “You’re beautiful,a stór,“ he murmured, tracing his hand down the dip in her waist over the slight swelling of her womb.
“I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives. And our children.” His hand rested there in a silent promise.
Her eyes blurred with tears of joy and healing. As he took her into his arms again, she lifted her face to Kieran and saw the echo of love in his face. And nothing could dim the happiness inside her.
Epilogue
Kieranhadn’tbrokenhisfast, his stomach too churned to bother with food. He anchored their boat near the shoreline, and Shannon splashed eagerly behind him, not waiting for him to carry her. Aidan followed suit, crowing at the cold water when it wasn’t as warm as he’d expected.
When he lifted Iseult to the shore, she grimaced at her rounded stomach. “In another month, you won’t be able to carry me.”
“Then I’ll train harder,” was his response. He didn’t tell her that he marveled at the sight of her changing body, knowing that his child grew within her.
She stopped walking, even as the children raced ahead. “It doesn’t matter what happens, Kieran. I’ll love you, even if your family turns you away.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The dark fields lay fallow in preparation for winter, stripped of their golden bounty. He absorbed the familiar sights, watching Iseult’s face as she saw them for the first time. Ahead in the distance stood his father’s ringfort, a circle of nine thatched huts resting atop the hillside. His tribesmen had repaired the wooden palisade, but Kieran could still see weaknesses in the structure.
“This is Duncarrick,” he told her. But as a child he had imagined a new name. He’d called it Laochre, a variant of Laochra, for a band of warriors. He’d envisioned himself as a mighty king, ruling over a vast land.
A rueful smile touched his lips. Childish dreams, indeed. The only claim to territory he had was a small island, hardly more than a hundred acres, given to him by his great-grandsire. Nothing stood there, save grass and stones. Unfit for farming, with a rocky coastline, no one else had wanted it.
“Is that your father’s land?” Iseult asked.
He nodded. “Marcas is the chieftain.” Glancing seaward he added, “But the island is mine. Or at least, it was. Ennisleigh is its name.”
As a child, he’d swum the small channel a few times, when a boat was unavailable. A few nights, he’d even slept out of doors, watching the stars scattered like glowing grains of salt upon a dusky blanket.
The island held a wealth of memories. He stared at the land, wishing it belonged to him still. He could think of no better place for their children and foster children.
Unless his father turned him away.
And though Iseult claimed she would go with him, whether he was a slave or a king, he wanted to give their child his birthright. He wanted to rebuild, with her at his side.
When he reached the outer fosse, Kieran trudged up the hill toward the enclosure. Peat smoke hung above the dwellings, and he paused before the gate. No one guarded it, and he wondered why. Moments later, he entered.
One of his kinsmen, Steafán, stopped short as though he’d seen one of thesidhe dubh, an evil spirit. His cousin was thin, but he no longer held the look of a starving man. With long hair pulled back in a leather thong and a brown beard that touched his chest, he was starting to regain his former strength.
Kieran continued striding forward, Iseult’s hand in his, while the children hung behind. At last, his kinsman’s shoulders lowered in relief and he hastened forward to welcome him. “It is you. I wondered if you would ever return.”
Kieran accepted Steafán’s embrace, clapping his cousin on the shoulder. “It is good to see you, Steafán.”
