“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Oh God,a leanbh.” Little one. “I’m sorry. It will be better in a moment.”
She hoped that wasn’t a note of uncertainty she heard in his voice. As it couldn’t get much worse, she wasn’t inclined to argue. Her body was pulled as tight as a bow. She couldn’t breathe, let alone talk. But seeing the concern in his eyes, and the gentle pleading, she did all she could do and nodded.
He kissed her then. A slow, tender kiss like he’d never given her before. It was as if he was trying to soothe the sting—the hurt—with his mouth and tongue.
Nay, she realized. It was more than that. He was wooing her. Showing her with his kiss how much he cared for her.
She could feel her heart soften. Feel the love she now knew she felt for this man blossom inside her. It was the only explanation for what was happening.I love him.
She loved this serious, handsome young warrior with all his quiet intensity who was as learned as a monk but kissed with the raw, aggressive passion of a man who knew how to be wicked. She loved the dry sense of humor that seemed reserved just for her. She loved to tease him, loved to make him smile until the crease between his brows disappeared, and loved the unexpected gentleness and tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her.
Her body responded to that emotion. Relaxing. Releasing the tight hold she had on her pain.
It was then that she became aware of what the pain had prevented: the feeling ofhiminside her. Big, thick, and hard, filling her with his heat. Possessing her. They were connected, joined in a way she’d never imagined.
Not that she didn’t know the particulars of fornicating, which she did. And she knew enough from her brothers (and those people in the Hall) to know that it could be enjoyable. But she’d thought it would be embarrassing and awkward. What she hadn’t expected was the incredible closeness and bond that would be forged between them.
He lifted his head from her mouth. “Are you all right?”
Seeing the self-recrimination and silent apology in his eyes, her heart tugged. She would remember this moment for the rest of her life and cherish it.
She put her hand up to cup his stubbled jaw. “I’m perfect.”
And she was. Margaret knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be. Joined with this man in the way God had intended. She didn’t care what the priests said, this couldn’t be a sin. It was heaven.
Eoin’s teeth clenched against the urge to thrust. The urge that was as primitive and powerful as anything he’d ever experienced.
He’d done this before. Maybe not as many times as Fin—he was focused on other things than chasing women—but enough to know that this was different.
And it wasn’t just because Margaret was a maid (even if he’d had to keep reminding himself of that fact with the passionate way she responded to him). Christ, he hadn’t expected that much pain. It had scared the lust right out of him. Though unfortunately only for a minute. It had come roaring back full force as he became aware of the tightness of her body squeezing around him.
What made this different wasn’t just the sensations gripping his body, but the emotions gripping his heart. Eoin didn’t believe in bards’ shite like fate and destiny, but looking into those incredible golden eyes while seated deep inside her, the words came to mind. He felt something in his chest shift with the intensity of the emotion that rose inside him. He wanted to protect her, cherish her, and most of all love her with everything he had.
Unfortunately, the base instincts clamoring inside him like the drum had other ideas. The pressure pounding at the base of his spine warned him that he didn’t have long. He’d just come up against the limits of his control.
As soon as he felt her relax, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He had to move. Slowly at first, and then as her breath quickened, and soft cries filled the cottage, faster.
Her response drove him wild. Her back arched... the leg around his waist tightened, and he was lost. His hips thrust, circled, and plunged. Deeper, harder, faster, until the pleasure unwound inside him.
“Oh God, Maggie, you feel so good. I’m going to...”
He couldn’t finish. He stiffened, shuddered, and cried out as the force of his release exploded from him in wave after wave of powerful bursts.
When it was over, it was all that he could do to stand. He collapsed against her and slowly let her slide from his body as he fought to regain some of his strength—and breath.
He was utterly drained. Spent. Wrung out of all his energy. When he was seven—just before he left to be fostered—he’d been swimming in the sea around Gylen Castle and become caught in the current. He’d nearly drowned, struggling for over an hour, before finally dragging himself to shore and collapsing in a dead heap in the sand. That was about how much energy he had right now.
Until her muffled voice penetrated the euphoric haze. “Eoin, uh, are you all right?”
Ah hell. He pulled back with a curse, realizing he’d probably been crushing her. He realized other things as well, like the fact that he’d just taken her maidenhead with little more finesse than an eighteen-year-old lad.
She was probably confused—worried—wondering what the hell happened now. In other words feeling the same way he was. Divesting young ladies of their virginity wasn’t exactly something he had a lot of—any— experience with.
He didn’t bother asking himself what the hell he’d just done, he knew exactly what he’d just done. Rather quickly. Against a wall, for Christ’s sake.
“God, I’m sorry,” he said, raking his fingers back through his hair. “I didn’t mean it to happen that way. You deserved better.”
She looked stricken. “You regret what—”
