A part of her urged her to speak to Sigimor about it, to tell him of Roger and the meeting, but she ignored it. She was afraid he could convince her to stay with him, to turn her back on her vow, her duty, and little Reynard. Even worse, she was afraid he might not even try.
Stepping out of her bath, she rubbed herself dry. When she picked up the delicate night shift Fiona had given her, she had to swallow another welling up of tears. She would never see Fiona again, either. Never see Fergus's freckled face. Never hear Old Nancy tell one of the huge Cameron men that he was acting like a child. Never see any of the Camerons or the MacFingals.
And never feel the joy of Sigimor's kiss, she thought, and had to sit down on the bed. Jolene took several minutes to beat down her sense of overwhelming grief. Sigimor would see it, would sense it, if she did not conquer it. It could be dealt with later. She could weep later. In truth, she would have year upon empty year to indulge herself with weeping for all she had lost.
When she felt a little more in control, she donned the night shift. Tonight she was going to soak herself in memories. She was going to exhaust herself and Sigimor, make love until they could not move. Jolene had a few thoughts on what she wanted to do. It made her blush even to think of them, but she would not allow modesty to halt her tonight. That wild, sensuous woman inside her, the one who would burst free when Sigimor made love to her, was going to be in full control tonight.
Standing before the fire, she brushed her hair dry and waited. This was the sight she wanted Sigimor to keep in his mind after she was gone. Jolene knew he would be angry, his pride lacerated, but at some time in the future, he might be able to think of her with some kindness. When he did, she wanted him to remember her standing here, waiting to make love to him.
Sigimor stepped into the room and slowly closed the door behind him. The way Jolene looked made him catch his breath. He had sensed something troubling her since their return from the church, but she had said nothing. He decided she had been shocked by the killing of Barbara and Clyde, that such cold cruelty had left its mark, but he was not entirely satisfied with that answer. It was almost as if she was keeping something from him, but he could not think of anything she would have to keep secret.
Moving toward her as she smiled at him, he decided he could puzzle over it tomorrow. The way his blood was heating up and his body hardening, he would not have the wit to remember his own name soon. He took the brush from her hands, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. There was the hint of desperation in her kiss, but he decided that was because she had faced death today. Such a thing always gave a person a greed for the joys of living.
When he stepped back and began to remove his clothes, she put her hands on his and took over the chore. Sigimor gritted his teeth as her soft hands brushed against his skin. She took every chance she could to caress him as she removed his clothes and he was not sure how much of that game he could endure.
Jolene knelt by his feet to unlace his boots. Once he was completely naked, she eluded his attempt to pull her into his arms as she stood up. She pressed her lips to the hollow at his throat as she stroked his big, strong body, trying to memorize every ridge and hollow. Ever so slowly she began to kiss her way down his body, occasionally using her tongue to soothe whatever small sting she may have inflicted with a small love bite here and there. The way he was beginning to breathe hard told her he was enjoying her attention as much as she was enjoying the giving of it.
A soft grunt escaped him as she ignored what jutted out from between his legs and began to kiss her way down one leg and slowly up the other. As she nipped and kissed his inner thighs, she curled her fingers around his erection and gently stroked him. He cursed softly and she smiled against his thigh. It had been one of her little dreams to pleasure him in the way he had pleasured her several times, and now she knew he wanted that as well.
"Lass, ye are about to make me crazed,” Sigimor said.
"Mayhap that is my intention,” she murmured against his taut stomach as she drew a circle around his navel with her tongue.
"Then ye are succeeding beyond your wildest dreams."
"Ah, husband, you have no idea what my wildest dreams are like."
He was about to respond to that, when she licked the tip of his staff and the first word of his comment came out as a squeak. Sigimor threaded his fingers through her hair, and groaned softly as she began to make love to him with her mouth. The feel of her warm, soft lips and the heated strokes of her tongue were making him blind with need. He struggled to rein in his passion, determined to enjoy this pleasure for as long as he could. Then she took him into her mouth, and he felt that control begin to shatter.
Although he desperately wanted to savor the way she was making him feel, Sigimor finally had to put a stop to it. He was too close to release and he needed to be inside her. Pushing her down on the rug, he stripped off her night shift. He kissed her with all the hunger he felt and slipped his hand between her legs. To his surprise, and relief, she was already hot and wet. The flattery he tried to whisper in her ear came out as a soft growl as he joined their bodies. As her tight heat surrounded him and her lithe body rose up to meet his, he decided there was no need to talk, or think, just let passion rule them.
"Wife,” he managed to say after he had finally roused himself from a sated stupor and carried her to their bed, collapsing at her side, “do ye mean to kill me?"
"Only with pleasure,” she said, curling up next to him and stroking his stomach.
"Hah! I could make your eyes roll back in your head if I wanted to."
"A challenge, is it?"
Feeling newly invigorated, Sigimor pushed her onto her back and crouched over her. “A challenge indeed. I bet I can make ye get too weak to lift a finger ere ye could put me in such a state."
"Oh, nay, I think not."
"Are ye sure ye want to accept this challenge, wife?"
"Are you sure you can handle defeat?"
"I have no intention of losing."
"Neither do I."
Sigimor opened one eye and noticed the fire was burning low, then groaned and closed his eye when Jolene wagged a finger in his face. “I concede,” he said.
"Tis about time,” said Jolene from where she was sprawled on her back at his side and let her hand fall to her side.
It was an effort to do so, but he curled an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. “I think we best limit these challenges, wife,” he said, then yawned.
"It might be wise."
