“Daggers?” Her voice sounded confused at the sight of two blades encased by matching leather scabbards.
He closed the distance between them to place the pair into her grasp. The first blade’s length was as large as his hand, and the other was slightly shorter.
She asked, “Is this a hint of amethyst at the top of the hilt?” Her gaze narrowed while she seemed to admire the sparkle at each handle’s top.
At hearing her warm tone and seeing the eagerness with which her fingers worked at discovering the weaponry cast by the gifted blacksmith, his heart quickened. “Aye, in honor of you, my Scottish Cluaran, the amethyst reflects the thistle’s color. I had them forged custom.”
A smile bright as the moonbeam met his eyes. “They are remarkable; only you, Sir Aonghus MacCade, would gift a lady a weapon for a wedding gift,” she declared, awestruck.
He brushed his thumb over hers resting on the hilts. Fire. Her touch was fire, and how he loved the burn. “I wished for you to feel safe in moments I cannot be by your side; the weight is similar to my blade you have been practicing with.”
Her fingers began to try to strap the stray ties hanging down about her waist. “MacCade, um, we may need to consider a longer tie, ’tis too short.”My feisty lass, they don’t go there.
“Keirah.” He broke into her efforts and took the longer blade from her grasp. “They do not secure about your waist.” His dark inward grin grew.
A confused look met him before he took a knee onto the hay-strewn floor within the hidden nook where the saddle pegs held. She gave a tiny gasp when his fingers strayed under her embroidered surcoat, then skirts, then chemise, to the warm flesh belonging to her left calf. Nowthiswas truly remarkable.
“Would you care to hike the skirt a wee bit, my lady?” he asked, daringly.
“MacCade” – his name was a pant of breath – “what…what if someone happens upon us?”
“The stable marshal has retired to the kitchens; his wife resides there, and nae other shall bother us.”
A quick rustle of cloth caused his grin to appear outward when the layers shot up as if she had come upon a gushing brook to cross.
“They are to be concealed…” Her voice turned lower; it was the same tone she used when they were in the bedchamber. Aye, she was feeling desire take hold between them from hispalm skimming across her calf to tie the first dagger there. His eyes looked around the corner, straight down the barn aisle toward the entrance. All clear! Excellent – definitely their moment.
Staring back up at her wide-eyed expression, he paused a second; the moon’s beams glimmered through her hair, over her features, and for a moment she…she appeared almost more apparition than his lady. His palm lingered on her calf. Would she vanish into the night on him if he let her go? A frozen draft etched his soul.
Her soft voice broke into his thoughts. “The other, my knight?” she asked and held the second blade near his reach.
Taking the leather hilt from her grasp, his thumb caressed her delicate knuckles before he sought her right leg. His hand without the ties caressed its way up the inner parts belonging to her calf, then more, till he reached the middle of her thigh. Her fingers hiked the skirts higher; at the unspoken invitation, his nimble fingers tied the blade neatly on the outside of her limb.
His lips leaned forward to kiss over the tender flesh he had just grazed; at the action he heard her groan. Her fingers dove into his hair. Butter. Her flesh was soft as butter. How was he going to turn away without fully claiming her? It was going to take an iron will.
“Aonghus,” she sighed.
The warm dewy juncture at the top of her thighs caressed his lips and tongue as her groan turned into gasps of pleasure.Try now, see if she can feel a full crest even with the veil remaining completely untouched.
Hemusthave a better angle. Standing, one hand held her skirts raised. The other, in a single long, sloping caress, pulledher hair toward the side while he kissed her neck before he eased his palm from her tender breast –exquisite– then down across her quivering tummy. His finger found the tiny bud his lips had just tasted at the base of her curls, right above her forbidden maidenhead.There.
She turned stiff as the boards surrounding them at his heavier touch while her breasts pressed against his torso. “MacCade?” The name was a question weighed by alarm.
He looked down at her wide-eyed expression. “Do not fear, Cluaran, the veil shall remain,” he promised; he inwardly grit his teeth. “However, I must have a better feel upon you to unleash your full pleasure this way…” He began caressing her tiny bud; she gasped. Was…was it as good as he had hoped?
“Aye, MacCade.” She leaned into him stronger; her hands raised up, fisting the mantle hanging on his shoulders while he strummed her sensitive spot. “Oh, fiery hell, do not halt. I havehungeredfor your touch.”
“You shall hunger nae more, my lady. Feast on itall.”
Catch her!His other arm wove about her waist, supporting her when her legs gave way after he increased the rhythm. He captured her sounds of passion with his lips as it built between them. Somewhere on the edge of his mind he heard the horses snort and paw as if they sensed the primitive mating within their dominion.
Her body shuddered against his as she cried his name against his lips; he caught her full weight as she collapsed against him after her release. Completely. Divine.
Chapter 23
Lover.She now had a lover whose very touch made her knees give way. Had she ever thought this possible? No. How had she survived all those years without him? One dark-filled day at a time. A taste in the sun she now knew, andohhhhh, would she burn!
Smoothing her fingers over her skirts, her body still quivered at all he had unleashed. The daggers strapped onto her intimate places called to heighten the fresh feeling she had never considered possible at his touch. Each step, he set her freer from the fears belonging to her past, and with this her emotions for him grew thicker. She adjusted the strap on the left blade through her skirt. He…he said they were for times he could not be at her side. Why?
