"Aye, there is the love to soften the lusting in his eyes. There is none of that in Iain's look."
Storm was not so sure of that, but decided it would probably only cause difficulty if she stated her opinion, so held her tongue. “That was not what I referred to. I know what it is,” she breathed in sudden realization. “Well, well."
"Weel, weel, what?” Islaen pressed when Storm fell silent.
"Beneath the hunger lurks a touch of anger."
"Aye, that is oft there,” Islaen said dismissively, and wondered if she had had enough wine as she had her goblet refilled.
"Do ye not wonder why ‘tis there?"
"I assumed I had done something to annoy him."
"Aye and I think I know what it is ye do. Ye make him want you."
"That doesnae make much sense."
"I think ye have drunk too much wine to think clear. We agree that Iain wishes to keep his heart locked away?"
"Aye."
"Well, he wants you. He mayhaps wants you far more than he wishes to. So, he comes to you because he is unable to stay away but with a man's twisted logic he blames ye for that. Aye, he most like accuses ye of bewitching him."
"Because he wants a lass?"
"Not just any lass but ye, his wife, the one he tries to hold at a distance."
"Weel, if ‘tis true, aye, that would annoy him. It could also just be lusting."
"An it was just lusting, he would not be so particular. Nay, nor would he find aught in it to be annoyed about."
"I ken what ye are saying, Storm, but I am thinking t'would be best an I didnae think on it. ‘Tis the sort of thinking that could bring me some pain. Ye could be wrong, ye ken. He could just be feeling in a black mood but nay black enough to still the lusts that brought him home. Nay, ‘tis best for me an I just wait, wait for more than a look in his eyes and a hearty tumble atween the sheets. Aye, that be the supplies he has come for."
"Islaen, ye sound a little bitter."
"Och, weel, I do get so now and again. ‘Tis naught and passes quickly."
"I am glad. It may not seem as if ye have much now, and how well I know the pain of holding back all the love ye ache to give the fool who does not want it, but t'will change. I am certain of it. All I felt I had from Tavis in the beginning was his lust. Many times he hurt me because he did not want to love me. I too tasted the bitterness and anger that brings, but I ne'er stopped loving him. When I was with him, I gave him all I could save the words. That is what ye must do. Tavis had his scars too, deep bitter ones, but they healed. I am certain that Iain's will too."
"Weel, I just hope that when they do heal ‘tis me he reaches for."
At the very first chance that came his way, Iain caught hold of Islaen and hurried her off to their chambers. He ached with wanting and did not really care if anyone guessed exactly why he had hurried his wife out of the hall. However, he could not fully repress a grin over the way Islaen blushed as he towed her along to their chambers.
"Iain,” Islaen gasped as they entered their chambers and he sent a dozing Meg scurrying out by just one fierce glance. “Poor Meg."
"She best get accustomed to it. God's teeth, woman,” he growled as he tumbled her onto the bed, “I have sat for what seems like a lifetime just thinking about ye under me, naked and aching as badly as I am."
"Ah, is that why ye have been sending me such black looks."
Even as her passion was stirred she was a little amazed at the speed with which he disrobed them. She was sure she would find a tear or two in her clothing in the morning. It was also a little surprising that such haste would arouse her. Islaen suspected that his powerful need invaded her body too.
"The black looks were because ye werenae trying too verra hard to creep away with me.” He sighed with near relief when the last of their clothing was tossed aside and their flesh met. “Och, lass, this is what I needed,” he murmured as he pressed his body close to hers, savoring the feel of her warm soft skin.
"Only this?” she purred as she ran her hands over his back.
"Nay, ye greedy wench,” he growled just before kissing her hungrily.
As Islaen returned his kiss with a hunger that was swiftly equalling his she mused that, if passion was all Iain was going to give her, he was certainly giving her the best. She knew she had nothing to compare it with, but she was certain that no other man could make her feel as good, make her soar as high. The way he could stir her had to be unique.
