“I told Parlan that that was Rory.”
“Ye said he doubted.”
“He did then but he felt it foolish, meant to cease doubting.”
“Then we best hie to Dubhglenn. He may believe it by now and act as if there is naught to fear. That is just what Rory wants.”
As she reined to a halt beside Parlan, Aimil looked around and then shook her head. “Here again?”
“’Tis a fine place.” He dismounted then helped her to do the same. “I have always favored it, finding peace here. I mean to do so again.” As he spread a blanket upon the ground, he glanced her way. “Mayhaps after a peaceful day here, ye will lose a few of your doubts.”
Cautiously, she approached the blanket and sat down. She told herself it was foolish to still fret and fear but she could not stop herself. The last time she had come to this place with Parlan their time together had ended with Rory attacking them, badly wounding Parlan, and taking her away to suffer a time she wished never to suffer again. Despite the beauty of the day and the place, the memories of that time remained clear.
Glancing at the food Parlan set out, she then surreptitiously studied him. He looked very cheerful, and there was an eager, hungry look in his eyes. Old Meg had neatly evaded her, but Aimil felt increasingly sure that the woman had declared her healed from the birth. She did wonder why he played the game of secrecy then decided not to complain. There could be a great deal of enjoyment in relaxing and letting him play his game for she was sure that it would lead to something they both wanted. She also knew she would enjoy every step as he led her along.
When she took a quick look at herself, she sighed. She was not dressed as fine as she would have liked for such an occasion. The plain outfit, given to her for she had had no gowns, was clean and comfortable but not beautiful so as to enchant Parlan, something which she would really like to do just once. He did not seem to mind but she did wish that she could show him that she could be as elegant and as finely bedecked as any lady he had ever known. Biting into a chunk of bread with more force than necessary, she thought crossly that that would be easier if he had not known quite so many ladies.
Parlan finally noticed that his wife was looking less than pleased with the arrangements he had made. “Something troubling ye, dearling?”
“Is this the celebration ye spoke of?”
“Aye, meager as it is.”
“Weel, I wish ye had warned me. I would have done myself up a lot finer.”
“Ye look as beautiful as any man needs.” He gently let her hair down. “Why do ye put it up? ’Tis a crime to chain it, hide it.”
“I am a wedded lass now, a mother. T’would be unseemly to leave it loose like a maiden.”
“Even if your husband commands it?” He enjoyed the feel of her thick, silken hair in his hands, combing his fingers through it.
“Are ye going to command it then?” She nearly laughed at how such a simple action as he was performing had her breathless and eager.
“I think I might. Unbound and glorious when I am near but bound and kept from tempting others when I am away.”
He brushed his lips over her cheeks and lightly teased her mouth with his but found that he lacked the patience for such play. Having her near and knowing that he could make love to her had his blood running so hot it made him feel feverish. He kissed her hungrily, and the hunger he sensed in her return kiss severed what little control he had. It had been too long since he had loved her.
Pushing her down onto the blanket, he quickly began to loosen her clothing. Need controlled him, a need only she could fulfill. When he finally freed her breasts, he pressed his face against their fullness and vainly tried to slow himself down. Over the sound of his own harsh breathing, he could hear hers and realized that she suffered as he did, making all his efforts at control useless.
“I thought ye were going to chase me.” Aimil finished baring his chest and smoothed her hands over its strong expanse.
“Havenae I yet? I feel as if I have run miles.”
He cupped her breast in his hand and gently suckled the hard tip, relishing the flavor his child so often demanded. When she cried out softly and arched against him, he shuddered. He felt dangerously close to release already.
“Old Meg said I was healed from the birthing, did she?” Since he was already pushing up her skirts and somewhat roughly tugging off her braies, she decided that that was probably a foolish question.
Placing his hand between her thighs and feeling her warmth, he needed a moment before he could speak. “Aye. What do ye say?”
Starting to unlace his hose, she whispered, “I say hurry. If ye wish it, I could also say please.” She smoothed her hands over his taut backside, pushing the loosened hose down as she did so.
“Just say aye.”
“Aye, Parlan. Aye.”
She cried out in surprise and relief as he plunged into her. Wrapping her limbs around him, she held him tightly. His heated breath came fast against her neck as he blindly carried them to the heights of passion. It was fast, fierce, and a little rough but, as her release seized her in its blinding grip, she decided that it was also glorious. Even as she cried out, arching to draw him deeper within her, she heard him say her name, felt him clutch her hips, and hold her closer as he sought to bury himself as deeply as possible within her eager body.
Holding her close and making no move to break the intimacy of their embrace, Parlan savored the lingering effects of the pleasure only she could give him. She could have been as ugly as sin, he mused, and he still would have kept her close for the pleasure she gave him, to revel in the passion they shared.I simply would have kept the candle snuffed more often, he thought, and laughed softly.
