Jolene cried out in delight, with a hint of shock she had yet to overcome, when he replaced his tormenting fingers with his mouth. It was a wicked delight, one she wished she had the control to enjoy for a long time, but she knew she was already lost to restraint. His flattery was an earthy sort, but it had fired her passion. A skilled courtier would probably decry such words as too rough, too blunt, too common, but they were sweet music to her ears.
When she felt her release close at hand, she cried out for him, but he ignored her, sending her tumbling into pleasure's abyss with his mouth. Jolene was still trembling from the strength of her release as he kissed his way back up her body. She felt her desire heighten yet again as he slowly joined their bodies and closed her eyes against the sweetness of it. How could he make her feel this way, how could he make love to her so tenderly, she wondered, if he did not love her? They were questions she dared not linger on for too long for fear of giving herself false hope.
She realized he was not moving, and opened her eyes. He held himself slightly above her body by resting his weight on his forearms and stared down at her. There was something in the way he was looking at her that made her tremble from the strength of the emotion that swept over her.
"Sigimor?” she whispered, sliding her hands down his side until she clasped his lean hips.
"Ye were going to steal this away from me, too,” he said as he began to move within her, his pace slow, almost lazy. “Ye gave no thought to how I would miss this silken heat.” He touched his forehead to hers, bewitched by the way her eyes turned the color of a fierce Highland storm when her passion ran hot. “Or that ye would leave this poor mon cold, alone, cursed to endlessly ache for this sweet haven. Aye, abandon him to the torment of waking in the night trembling with the need to feel this tight fire enclose him, but kenning he would ne'er enjoy such pleasure again."
The way he was rubbing against that blindly lustful part of her every time he moved was making it difficult to think clearly, but Jolene struggled to keep her mind fixed upon his words. “But, I came back—"
"Aye, so ye did.” Knowing his control was rapidly slipping away, and sensing that Jolene's passion was swiftly climbing to its peak, Sigimor increased his pace. “Tis a good thing, too. For when I woke to find ye had left me, I kenned that, along with all these other treasures ye had stolen from me, ye had taken what no mon can live without."
"What?” She wondered how he could keep talking, but also prayed that he would not falter now.
"His heart and soul, my beauty. Aye, ye had fled with the verra heart and soul of me.” He brushed his lips over hers and whispered, “Aye, for I do love ye, my Jo, my wife, my soul mate."
Jolene felt herself shatter. She wrapped her body even more tightly around his as he praised her, then groaned out her name as he found his own release. It was a long time before she roused herself from the stupor caused by the intensity of their lovemaking, an intensity caused by his words as much as his skillful touch. By the time he had briskly cleaned each of them off with a damp cloth and crawled back into bed, she felt able to talk again. When he reached for her, she swiftly moved to sprawl on top of him, squirming faintly in delight over the feel of his big, strong body. She kissed his proud nose and smiled at him.
"So, you love me, do you?” She nearly laughed at the way he sighed and rolled his eyes.
"I suspicion ye wish to talk about it now, aye?"
"Just a little. When? When did you know?"
"When did ye ken it?” he countered.
"Ah, well, I knew it not long after we were married, but I tried to ignore it."
"Because of Reynard and your vow to your brother."
Jolene nodded and idly traced the intricate pattern of the design encircling his strong arms. “It was very important to me to fulfill that vow. And, I felt Reynard's needs had to take precedence over all else, for he is but a small child. I crept away as I did because I feared you could too easily turn me from what I saw as my solemn duty. It was not until I faced Roger, was confronted with all that leaving would mean, that I knew I could not do it, not even though I was still so painfully uncertain of what you might feel for me. I could see that, by giving Reynard into Roger's excellent care, I was already fulfilling my duty and honoring my vow. Leaving would no longer be a matter of honor, but an act of cowardice, of fleeing the chance of being hurt because I could not win your heart."
"Ye won it from the moment ye stepped up to the bars of my cell at Drumwich. I just didnae see it clear. List your faults as I might,” he ignored her gasp of outrage, “I couldnae silence the voice in my head that kept sayingmine. Ye were English, dark of hair, and so wee I feared I could crush ye if I tried loving ye, but none of that stopped me from feeling that ye were, weel, right, the one I had been waiting for. My mate."
She had to kiss him for that, then tried to hug him with her whole body. “I wish you had said something. It might have saved us both a hurt."
"It sounded foolish. I didnae give ye love words because I didnae think that was what ailed me. Nay, not until I thought ye had left me. S'truth, I think the knowledge had begun to settle in when Harold grabbed ye and I nearly lost ye to him, but ye slipped away ere I had accepted it.” He slid his hands down her slim back and idly caressed her taut little backside. “But, now I have given ye the sweet words everyone says a lass needs and ye have given me some, and so all is weel, aye?"
He looked so relieved, she almost laughed. This was not a man who would constantly stroke her with flatteries and love words, but she did not care. Now that he had told her that he loved her, she knew she would be able to see it in his every action, feel it in his every kiss. It had been there from the beginning, but without the words, she had not been able to trust her own judgment. There would probably be long stretches of time between each such declaration, but she knew she would now hear the words every time he scolded her for not taking care of herself, or each time he made love to her. Of course, Jolene mused, there was no need to tell him that.
"Aye, but a lass can feel uncertain from time to time, can need some reassurance,” she murmured.
Sigimor held her face between his hands, kissed her nose, then held her gaze with his. “Heed me, my sly Sassenach wife, ye are my mate. I love ye. There. I have said it twice now. Ye are the better half of me. Ye are my comfort, my joy, my pride, my reason for facing each day and getting on with the business of life. Ne'er doubt your importance to me or I will be placing a few sharp slaps on this bonnie bum of yours."
"Oh, Sigimor, I do love you so, you sweet-tongued devil."
"Always,” he said in a soft serious voice. “Ye forgot to say always."
"Aye, my braw laddie, always. Always and forever. Until the sun forgets to rise in the morning,” she whispered and the kiss he gave her told her all she needed to hear in reply.
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Epilogue
Scottish border—3 years later
Smiling at the baby seated on her lap, Jolene then looked at her cousin Roger. “He is a beautiful child, Roger. Plump, healthy, and happy.” She glanced toward Emma who sat on the floor before the fireplace laughing at the antics of Reynard, his half-siblings, and his cousins. “Emma fair shines with joy."
