Fergus growled out something incoherent against her ear, something in Gaelic which she did not always understand.
“Does it feel good? I want ye to feel as good as ye make me feel,” she said, feeling embarrassed.
“Stop,” he said in a strangled voice as she kept going. “Stop, or I will?—”
But he did not seem to want her to stop; in fact, he was rolling his hips up, thrusting into her hand. But then he grabbed her arm at the wrist, pulling her off him, breathing hard.
He placed her on her feet, an arm’s length away from him, and he held up a hand when she frowned.
“Just… give me a minute.”
“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” she asked in a small voice, terrified that she had, and Fergus breathed out a small laugh.
“Nay, little mouse. Ye did it so right.”
He drew in breaths through his nostrils, and almost like magic, after a few moments, the tent in his kilt went down. Jeane was awed, looking down at his crotch.
“Daenae look at me like that, or he will grow all over again,” Fergus teased, and Jeane could not help but smile.
“I thought ye were angry with me.”
He frowned, taking her hand and pulling her closer. She stepped forward between his legs, and he trailed his hands up her hips, her sides. She drew in a sharp breath.
“Angry? I was never angry, mouse. Nae at ye, anyway. Maybe at the suitors I kept imaginin’ comin’ to woo ye.”
She laughed. “Imaginary suitors?”
“Aye. When ye rejected me, I thought for sure ye would make me find ye a husband, or ye would run away just like ye promised.”
“And ye didnae want to find me a husband?” There was a teasing lilt to her voice, but Fergus frowned at her.
“I told ye once that I’d kill any other man who dared to touch ye,” he said darkly. “I meant it, Jeane.”
The way he said her name made her shiver all over.
She smiled down at him, knowing she wanted to marry him.
She would have said so, but Aiden stepped into the forge.
“Me Laird?” he called, and Fergus stood, adjusting his kilt slightly.
Jeane adjusted her skirts belatedly, and Aiden gave her a look and a bit of a smirk.
“What do ye want?” Fergus barked, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but Aiden just grinned.
“Supper’s ready in the great hall. Aileen bid me to come and get ye, said she didnae want ye eatin’ cold stew for the third night in a row.”
“Aye, I’m on me way,” Fergus said.
He knew the cook could not tell him what to do, but she had practically raised him, so he respected her.
“And Liliana, too?” Aiden asked, raising an eyebrow.
Fergus glared at Aiden. “And Liliana too, aye.”
Aiden smirked and left, and Jeane let out a long breath.
“He kens what we were doin’,” she babbled, feeling embarrassed.
