She craved more connection.
And he didn’t disappoint her.
The first thrust was hard, her body tight. But she craved him so much, lifting her hips sent his member deep into her.
He groaned.
And she answered with a breathless sound.
They flowed together, moving faster. There was something beckoning just out of her understanding. She wanted it but didn’t know what it was. Her ignorance didn’t last. Diarmuid moved harder and it pushed her over the edge into rapture.
Pleasure burst inside of her as hot as a summer day. It seared a path through her, leaving her clinging to her lover. He let out a growl before his seed burst inside of her. A second ripple of delight came from that release.
It all washed over her, taking her down into oblivion.
Chapter Eight
The window shutterrattled loudly.
Ailsa opened her eyes, startled by the violence of the wind. It howled outside like some wild creature intent on clawing its way inside.
“Brigitta is nae pleased with the fact that ye have shown me the way back to life.”
Diarmuid was holding her. He stroked the back of her head slowly. “What is yer name, lass?”
“Ailsa.”
The wind howled again, longer this time. Ailsa shivered. Diarmuid stroked her with a warm, soothing hand.
“Do nae fret. It is done now. Brigitta will have to accept that I am bound to ye here in this life.”
“You saw her?” Ailsa asked in almost a whisper. She looked around the chamber, searching for any hint of the restless spirit.
“Aye.” Diarmuid tipped her chin up so that their gazes met. “Ye drew me back, sweet Ailsa. I vow to be a good husband but that shall not be enough to repay ye.”
Ailsa felt her cheeks heating. “A wife should always give her best to her husband.”
Diarmuid studied her for a long moment. “I should condemn me father for having ye locked in here. Yet I find myself quite pleased to be pulled back from the abyss. The best I can do is to vow to spend my life repaying ye for the service ye have done.”
The look on his face was the one she had longed to see. In his eyes, she saw admiration. Ailsa ducked her chin, too overwhelmed to continue to let him see what she was feeling.
Diarmuid lifted her face. “Do nae doubt me, lass. Forgive me for rushing the consummation of our vows.”
“I did not mind.” The words were across her lips before she thought about them.
She sounded wanton.
Shameless.
Ailsa squirmed. But Diarmuid chuckled. It was a warm sound, one she liked very much.
The wind blew again. But it was weaker. Diarmuid turned his head, sweeping the chamber.
“It seems there is a fine feast waiting for us.” Diarmuid sat up.
He still had his shirt on. Ailsa pulled the bedding up to cover herself when he left the bed. He paused near the table, inspecting what was on it.
“Me father did nae hold back. This is fine fare.” Diarmuid lifted a gleaming silver pitcher and sniffed at the contents. He smiled at her. “This is me favorite cider. A very fitting offering for my new bride.”
