“I have much to see to this night,” he said. “If I can come to ye, I will.”
“If ye are able.”
He cupped her cheek. “I look forward to the time when I can take ye in my arms every night.”
“As do I.”
A final kiss and she entered the dark room. Marcán could not very well leave her there unprotected. Light spilled out from the roundhouse behind him when the door was opened and someone came out. Farther behind the roundhouse was the hideaway where the hostages slept, a guard watching over them in case they continued their troublesome ways. He took the few steps to the hideaway, keeping Astrid’s refuge in his sight, and approached Peter, who had been left on watch.
“Marcán. Is aught amiss?”
“I wish the storage shed to be guarded as well. From a distance.”
Peter glanced toward the building. It had only the one door and it stood in plain sight. The man nodded. “I’ve a man coming to relieve me shortly. I can add someone here if that would make ye rest easy.”
“It would.” Marcán had trusted the man would not question his orders. He was a warrior and did as he was told. “The guards alone need to know of this. Understood?”
Peter nodded. Marcán glanced toward the roundhouse and could imagine Pádraig making himself at ease beside Beibhinn. The man needed to be seen to by Diarmuid, and soon. Marcán headed back down the path to see that done.
* * *
Word of Aednat’s sudden awakening was cause for days of celebration and revelry, not to mention free-flowing mead and ale. The clan had been in a state of concern and distress for too long. Knowing the wife of theriwould soon be joining them—and be properly introduced—made everyone sigh in relief.
There was dancing among all, even the servants, and much storytelling. Thefilitold his new tale of Diarmuid’s prowess in battle, which brought great pride to the clan, for the story would soon be repeated wherever the storyteller went. Fintan’s sweet song of love between Diarmuid and Aednat would be shared with the couple once she had recovered enough to partake of festivities with the clan.
As the days passed, the sight of Aednat resting in the roundhouse brought a smile to Astrid’s face. The woman was still very weak and though Astrid worried for her recovery, she hoped for the best.
Word of a visit from Aednat’s cousin and the clan’sri túath,Sean, caused even more chaos. It was probably the reason both Pádraig and Daimhin finally returned home. The Meic Murchadha, their father, would no doubt be wanting to see Sean, who was also their overking. An overking had no direct power over the kings under him, but earning the title was a great accomplishment and tribute to a warrior’s prowess. It was a distinction mostri túaithesought to attain.
The hostages, a constant source of upset, had kept Marcán busy and away from Astrid. And the ongoing festivities had drained her both physically and mentally. Exhausted again this night, and with no sign of Marcán, she slipped off to her place of solitude with no one the wiser. She had begun to fear their one night of passion was all she would ever have. Though she tried to take comfort from those sweet memories, they blurred in the recesses of her mind as she dropped off to sleep.
“A ghráidh?” Marcán’s quiet voice drifted into her dreams. The press of his warm body brought her fully awake. “I had hoped to find ye here.”
Marcán embraced her and she sighed against his chest. “I have missed ye.”
“Not as I have missed ye.”
Tipping her head up, she kissed him, and he set her heart to racing with his passionate response.
“And who has been seeing to yer bath?” Her breath unsteady, she tamped down the need he ignited in her.
“I saw to my own bath, and the memory of yer hands on me made it near impossible to finish.” Marcán’s whispered words sent waves of excitement across her skin. His hand slipping along her length, tracing every curve, made it hard to take a deep breath. “And now that I have ye in my arms, I find I am quite overwhelmed.”
“Do ye not fear discovery?” She licked her lips, desiring his kisses more than that elusive breath. The thought that Faolán had indeed discovered them was shoved to the side. This was stillherplace,herrefuge.
But Marcán halted and propped himself on an elbow to peer down at her. “Did I not tell ye my love for ye should be no secret?”
His gaze followed along her length and she knew his need. Her chest tight, she could not respond.
“I told no one how I desired ye for my wife, because ye showed me no interest, not because it was a secret.” His hot gaze met her eyes. “I have wanted nothing more than to shout to the world of my love for ye.” He kissed her without restraint, his hands making free over her body. “Make me wait no longer. Let us go to Diarmuid this night. Aednat has awakened. Certainly we can have his blessing now?”
Marcán did not wait for her answer but lowered his head to her breast, tonguing her nipple through the cloth of her shift until it tightened into a sensitive nub. He stilled upon hearing her moan, dipping his head to his chest, his labored breathing the only other sound.
“I have never experienced such little control over my own body, I fear I am unable to hold back when I am with ye.” His voice was strained, the tension on his face apparent. “I never want to take ye for my own pleasure alone. Not ever.”
“I will have pleasure—”
He made a strangled sound before answering. “Ye will have little pleasure, as I will not last long.”
