“Imusthalt, Keirah,” he ground out. “Otherwise, I will not be able if we continue.”I cannot continue, but he may. His heavy arousal pressed beneath his linen braies, then her bare thigh.
A craving for her filled his eyes. She let her hand stray down his smooth back, the muscles shifting from her touch, the same as powerful currents under a vast ocean. Farther she journeyed over his ribs toward the trench upon his hip which led to what she sought…
His hand on her wrist halted her as his gaze searched her face. “Keirah, ’tis not right” – his voice was hoarse from need – “for pleasure to be mine alone. Are you certain?”Aye.
Leaning up, she captured his lips in reply before he released her wrist. She hitched her bare calf up on his taut backside. Once beneath his braies, her fingers found him –he is massive as a Highlands bull.His braies’ linen began moving in a strong rhythm at her touch as he growled, deepening their kiss.
Chapter 22
What was he doing to her after declaring their feelings last night? Tempting her? Aye. Teasing? Aye, aye. Naughty with charm – above all else!
How could her heart race with both her and her knight fully clothed while only his hands tugged on hers? Simple. The blindfold.MacCade has done brilliantly at placement – black as pitch. It was already dimmer outside even without the cloth strip tied over her closed gaze; the time had become almost twilight after supper, so why bother?
A surprise! Once her surprise was revealed, he promised he’d take her to the waterfall from her night-glance upon the royal hunting grounds. So here they were, striding across the cobblestones with her blindfold in place at his insistence.Hhhhmmm– MacCade smelled yummy.Good gracious, calm down, he is a Scotsman, not a honey cake.
And she was a fate-seer who was unable to see.How ironic. A smile tilted her lips. “Oh!” she gasped when her foot hit an uneven stone on the pathway and her gracelessness popped up.
The hands grasping hers tightened, holding her steady. “I have you, Keirah,” the deep brogue promised. He had all of her.Would she ever forget the moment he told her last night he loved her? Never-ever.
Holding steady, she stepped once more. “Aye, this you most certainly do, my knight.”Always.
His voice broke into her thoughts. “Almost there,” he promised, his breath pressing her cheek at the closeness he held to her. “Tell me what you hear, my Cluaran.”
Shuffling carefully, she lifted her chin. “Umm, the sounds from the great hall grow dim as the sun overhead. I believe we are headed toward the east, given the clank from swords and scuffle of allies entering the portcullis are directly behind us,” she offered. “Scotsmen coughing or jesting, feeling the aftereffects of wine with supper, linger over my left shoulder. This is mixed with the sound of Lady Maise’s twinkle in laughter from being by Sir Brayden’s side, who I am fiercely proud of for taking lead after we introduced them formally at supper. They are all perhaps residing near the kitchen’s outer building? Aye, we head east.”
“Verygood, my lady.”
She smiled. “MacCade, you are grinning.”
“What betrayed the expression?” His voice sounded curious.
“The tone you speak; it holds a wee bit of upper edge to it.” Her smile widened. “’Tis very charming.”
“Yours as well,” he whispered; she paused at how close he was to her. “Any other noises garner your attention now, my lady?”
She pursed her lips. “Huh, an owl in the distance readying for the eve to come. My voice echoes differently now, as if we have entered an enclosure,” she relayed, softly. “Crunching.”
“Crunching?”
“Aye,” she confirmed at the odd grinding, “same as giants eating a field of barley for supper.”
He gave a chuckle. “What do you feel?” The words sounded of sin on his lips.
She held nothing back. “Everything. My heart beats with the pace same as a fleeting bird at your touch, strong and sure and caring, with my hands in yours. The cobblestones beneath my soles feel hard; however there is perhaps a soft brush from hay? I guess it to be what is touching my ankles when I step just right. The wind has died against my cheeks, leading to the belief we are within walls with a roof overhead.”
“Aye.” She felt his fingers quiver a bit; was it from excitement?
“Scent, Lady Keirah MacCade?”
She sighed affectionately. “You, my knight – a unique heady mixture belonging to sweat, pine, and the honey mead from supper.”My honey cake of a Scotsman.Her brows furrowed seriously to add, “Definitely the hay has grown stronger. Dust, wee bit of dung, and a lingering from elements belonging to animals. We are in the stables?”
“Aye,” he confirmed and asked, “Do not carry fright at the next feel.”
“With you by my side, Sir Aonghus MacCade,never,” she vowed. Wait, did he just sigh too at her sentiment?
“Hold steady, my lady,” he said gently. She did as requested, but her fingers jerked back slightly when a faint prickling feel touched her palm like she had run her hand over a wheat stalk field.
“A beastie?” she wondered, enamored.
