“Ye never have,” she murmured, and grimaced. “I didnae even fight ye at the start though all I have always learned and believe in told me I should, bargain made or nay. I tumble back for ye with the ease of any whore espying the glint of gold.”
“And that troubles ye, does it? Do ye think ’tis different for me? Ye can have me any time ye even think ye might want me.”
“’Tis not the same for a man. A man is always ready to tussle with a lass.”
“Aye, in most ways but ’tis only lusting that brings that about.” He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. “Ye but crook one of these wee fingers and I am like a stag in rut. That isnae the usual way. It never has been with me at least.”
It was not such a really big thing but his admission of sharing her weakness for making love sent her heart soaring. She thought wryly that she was easily pleased. There was so much more she hungered for yet she found delight in crumbs.
“Should I crook my finger now?” she whispered.
“Nay, still it for the moment. We arenae done talking, lass, and weel ye ken it. All we have talked upon is our passion for each other and that has always been acknowledged between us. I wish to speak on things we have held within us, kept silent about.”
“Who goes first?”
“Now, there is a puzzle, eh? ’Tis often what stills one’s tongue. No one wishes to be the first to bare one’s soul.”
“Because then the other need not do the same but then holds all the power, especially the power to hurt,” she added softly.
“Aimil, my wife, I would never hurt ye on purpose. I swear that. I cannae swear I never would for a man can be an unthinking creature at times but I never want to cause ye pain. What hurts ye, hurts me.” He lightly touched her mouth with his finger. “Tell me what ye want from me, Aimil. Ye have never asked a thing of me. I dinnae truly ken what ye want or need.”
“Faithfulness. I fear I am a verra jealous sort.”
“I noticed,” he murmured, and grinned.
“’Tisnae verra funny, Parlan.” She sighed. “It isnae a verra nice feeling.”
“I ken it. I suffer the same ailment myself.”
“Aye?”
“Aye. It gnaws at my innards whenever ye smile at any man. What troubles me about it is that I sometimes fear what I might do to ye if I thought ye had turned to another.”
Recalling that coldness that had been in his voice whenever he responded to her occasional threats to find another man, she realized that he spoke the truth. He did get jealous, fiercely jealous. She knew it was not the best of emotions but was pleased that he suffered from it.
“Why do ye think I grew so angry with Artair that day he assaulted ye? Aye, I dinnae hold with such things but it wasnae his breaking of my rules that spurred that rage. It was because he had struck ye. I saw it even then, kenned it as the source of my fury. It became the reason I sought Rory’s death as weel. I forgot most all the evil he had done, only remembered what he had done to ye.
“As to being faithful, I have been and I mean to do my best to stay faithful. I have no true interest in the wenches who smile so welcomingly. They cannae give me what I can find in your arms, and none of them are worth spoiling what we have. A man can be a weak creature though, dearling. The right touch, a weak moment…” He shrugged. “I can but swear that I never intend to break your trust in me.”
She caressed his cheek, deeply moved by his words. Each thing he said seemed to indicate that he did care for her. So too did she know that his promise of faithfulness was no small thing. Few men gave it or felt it necessary, did, in truth, feel it their right to bed a woman, any woman, as the need took them. His promise, though qualified with an admission of a man’s weakness, eased the fears she had never successfully fought.
“And I have no want or need for another. I had such fears,” she whispered.
“Of what, Aimil?” He knew he was close to pulling some confession of the heart from her, and felt himself tense.
“That I couldnae hold a man such as ye, that I would wake one morn to find that I couldnae give ye all ye needed and ye had gone elsewhere. I feared to find that I no longer even held your passion.” She bit her tongue to stop her confessions.
Seeing her reluctance, he decided he could be excused for using underhanded methods. It was past time for them to be honest with each other. He knew that, if he got her passion running hot, she would not be able to guard her words so well, so he proceeded to do his best, albeit subtly, to get her into a fever. With a touch of self-derision, he admitted that he wanted at least a strong sign of deep feelings on her part before he bared his soul. He wanted her to go first, fair or not.
“Aimil, ye worry over naught.” He eased open the bodice of her gown and brushed soft kisses over the swells of her breasts. “I have had no wish for another since I first set eyes upon ye. The first time I held ye, I lost all interest in holding others, an interest that had already begun to wane. There was a need in me that they werenae feeding, lass, and ye touched it. When I left your arms that first night, I thought on keeping ye, but I am a cautious man and wished to wait to be certain. As Lagan said, being the first man with a lass can stir something in him. I needed to be sure I wasnae seeing what wasnae truly there. It can make a lass be fooled as weel,” he murmured.
“Not this lass.” She sighed with pleasure as his tongue stroked the hardened tips of her breasts. “My first clear thought was that, since my maidenhead was gone, it didnae matter if ye did it again, and then I hoped ye would.”
“’Tis glad I am that I didnae disappoint ye.”
Her soft laugh turned to a purr of delight as he drew the tip of one breast into his mouth, drawing upon it slowly as if he relished the taste of her. “Ye have never disappointed me, Parlan. I thought ye wished to talk.”
“We are talking. Did ye ever have hopes that I would come to wish ye to stay at my side?”
