“She will change her mind when we get there,” Artan said, tightening his grip on wife when she thrashed a little in protest to the arrogance.
“I hope so, or ye will soon have to be explaining to your wee lads how their da got a broken nose.”
Artan just laughed and strode out of the keep, leaving his sons in the loving and capable hands of their grandparents. It was marriage to Meg that had softened Angus enough for them all to make the trip to Dunburn, his son Eric’s legacy. Meg wanted to see her children and their families who lived nearby. She badly wanted them to meet Angus. Artan had the suspicion that she also wished to see their faces when she introduced little Meghan to them. Her miracle child she called Meghan, for Meg had been near the end of her rapidly fading days of her childbearing years. It had been a hard birth, and Artan knew Meg and Angus were being very cautious now, seeing no need to risk her life in the bearing of a child they did not need. Meghan was being raised like a sister to the twins, for no one could ignore the fact that there was a good chance that Angus and Meg would not live to see their daughter grow up.
Artan, on the other hand, did not have to worry. The twins were two years old, nearly completely weaned, and his Sile was more than ready for another child. He was the one who had insisted upon waiting, wanting to be sure that there was no chance she could be weakened by bearing children too close together. Neither of them held any real, deep fears, however. Even the midwife, with Crooked Cat and Meg standing close by her side, had expressed astonishment over the ease with which Cecily had birthed the twins, who were both of a sturdy size at birth.
All the women had declared Cecily one of those very fortunate women who could bear children with as much ease as that arduous miracle would allow. He had his bonnie black-haired sons. Now he wanted a sprightly little girl with sharp green eyes and dark red hair, a little girl filled with the same fire and spirit that made her mother his heart’s delight.
The moment he set Cecily on her feet her eyes widened. As Artan struggled to undo the bonds on his wife’s wrists, Cecily stood very still. She was not sure what game he played and had no inclination to do anything that might stop him.
“Here we are wife,” he announced before removing her gag.
“If ye are waiting for some curses, I fear the walk over here caused me to lose most of them.”
“Fell out your earhole, eh?”
Cecily ignored that and looked around the leafy bower by the burn where her journey had begun. She had been hinting that she wanted to come here since they had arrived at Dunburn a week ago and been heartily ignored. That had obviously been done because he had known they would be coming here, he had just wanted to change the moment. Food and wine were set out beneath the large group of trees that formed the bower she had so loved to play in.
“A tryst, my fine Highland knight?” she asked, smiling at him.
“Aye, a tryst,” he said as he took her by the hand and drew her under the trees. “There were a few things I didnae do the last time we were here.”
“Those being?”
“Take your maidenhead.”
“Long gone and good riddance, say I.”
“Your heart?”
“Secure in your grasp long before the tryst.”
He laughed and gently lowered her onto the thick plaid he had spread over the ground earlier. They made love slowly in the late-afternoon sun. Artan found the passion between them still as hot and sweet as it had been all those years ago when he had lured her to this place. After three years of marriage and two bright sons, he still could not get enough of her. The way she returned his every kiss and caress, the way she tried to make him as wild with need as he tried to make her, told him that she felt the same magic they had briefly shared in this same spot before he had spoiled it.
Still trembling from the strength of his release and the sweetness of sharing it with her, Artan rolled over onto his back and tugged her into his arms. She gave him the smile she always did after they had made love, the soft, satisfied one that still held the glint of a lingering pleasure. It was a smile that always made him feel as if he was the greatest lover in the land.
Cecily kissed the tip of his nose and murmured, “Ye are watching me as if ye expect me to leap up and dance about this leafy bower.”
“Oh, would ye?”
“Artan, is something troubling ye?”
“Nay, love, not now. Ye see, I have always felt a wee bit guilty for what happened that night. Ye were right to feel betrayed. I brought ye out here to kidnap ye, and yet I was too weak a mon to refuse to steal a wee bit of delight first. Oh, aye, I had plans to marry ye, as in my arrogance I had decided ye would suit me and it wouldnae be a hardship to be married to ye to gain Glascreag.”
It was hard not to laugh for he was not telling her anything she had not figured out a long time ago. The fact that it had troubled him for so long was, however, very touching. Cecily wondered how she had ever gotten so lucky as to have such a good man love her.
“True, that was definitely an astonishing display of arrogance. But, Artan, ye are the only one who is still troubled by what happened here. If ye had whispered a few sweet words to me, I probably wouldnae have gotten as angry as I did. But ye saved my life that night. It took me a wee while to ken it, but ’tis true. And that matters far more to me than the fact that ye trysted with me when ye had really only intended to get me away from the danger at Dunburn. In truth, if I hadnae been such a sheltered innocent, I would have been aware that a mon cannae make love to me as ye did then and nay feel something for the woman.”
He kissed her. “I wanted to banish any bad memories.”
“Weel, ye have, although there were only a few, and mostly due to the fact that I was so sure I was unworthy of anyone’s attention, the problem being mine not yours.” She slid her hand down his taut stomach. “Most of the memories are quite nice, thank ye. A sheltered lass who has been convinced that she is worthless gets to come to this beautiful spot, in the moonlight, and have the handsomest mon she has e’er seen not only make love to her but steal her away because she is in danger.”
“I sound a verra daring, gallant sort of fellow in your version of the tale,” he said, his last word ending on a soft groan as she stroked him with her small hand.
“Verra daring and verra gallant.” She replaced her hand with her mouth. “And tasty.”
Reaching down, Artan grabbed her by the legs and turned her so that he could return the pleasure she was giving him. They toyed with and tormented each other until, at the same moment, their control broke. Their cries of pleasure were still in the air when they crawled around and collapsed in each other’s arms.
