His brow furrowed. Had he made her a promise he’d forgotten about?
Seeing his expression, she grinned. “Maybe this will refresh your memory.” She pulled something out of the purse tied to her girdle and placed it in his hand. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t carry the full set. But the way this one was scowling reminded me of you.”
He was too shocked to object to the scowling comment. He stared at the finely carved ivory knight incredulously. “You stole one of the chess pieces from the set at Stirling?”
Christ, it had probably belonged to King William the Lion!
She grinned up at him unrepentantly. “Stole is rather a harsh word for a child’s game piece, isn’t it? I simply wanted a remembrance of the first time we met. There was another one in this color, so I assumed it would be all right.”
He didn’t have the heart to correct her; she would find out soon enough. But Eoin had to smile thinking of the way his kinsman would be swearing the next time he sat down to play.
Eoin was still smiling when he rejoined his men and rode out in search of an alternate path through the forested hills of Callander. He was also—surprisingly, given the discomfort it was bound to cause him—looking forward to the coming night.
For the first time since the announcement of their marriage, he felt some of the hope for the future that he’d had in the cottage. It would be all right. What he and Margaret had was worth all the challenges they would face.
If only that first challenge wasn’t coming so soon.
“Check...”
In disbelief, Margaret stared down at the makeshift board and finished for him, “Mate”—to which she then added a very crude oath.
Tempted to flip the entire table, she managed to exercise some restraint and glared at the handsome blighter instead.
Eoin just grinned. “Oh come on, Maggie, it’s just a ‘child’s game.’ You aren’t upset are you?”
Her eyes narrowed. If he wasn’t so infuriatingly big, she’d flip him instead. “It’s the devil’s game, that’s what it is!” She shook her head, looking at him accusingly. “You let me think I had you this time.”
He was wise not to say anything and merely shrugged—proving that even if they hadn’t been able to make love, six nights of sleeping beside him by the campfire wasn’t completely without effect in making him a proper husband.
But she would make him pay for that shrug. Tonight.
It hadn’t taken her long to realize that her closeness at night was causing her husband a bit ofdistress. He wanted her. And if the size of the erection pressed against her bottom was any indication, he wanted her quite a lot. She couldn’t resist teasing him. Lud, remembering how he’d blush with embarrassment at the word “privacy” still made her laugh. As had the muffled curse the first time she’d pressed back against that hardness.
But Eoin lived up to his brilliant tactician reputation. If the past week of chess lessons hadn’t shown her that he had a devious mind, the torture he’d exacted on her body certainly had.
When she wiggled her hips against him teasingly the next night, he moved the hand that had been circled loosely around her waist up to her breast, where his finger circled her nipple ever so lightly—frustratingly lightly. The moment she made a sound, he stopped.
“Privacy,” he whispered.
It had taken them both a long time to get to sleep that night. But waking up the next morning tucked in his embrace, feeling warm and safe and unbelievably happy, had made the frustration worth it.
The next night, however, when he didn’t pull her into his arms as he had the night before, but turned the other way, she decided a little requital was in order. She’d slid her arm around his waist from behind and slipped her hand under the edge of his tunic, where she’d skimmed light swirls over the rigid bands of his stomach. Bands that she couldn’t help noticing grew tighter and tighter the lower her hand dropped. When her thumb accidentally brushed the thick hood of his manhood and he made a sharp hissing sound, she stopped.
“Privacy,” she’d reminded him smugly.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on how the rigid, aroused feel of his body against hers would affect her. Her heart had been beating just as fast as his. It had taken her even longer to get to sleep that night. But again, waking in his arms made it all worth it.
She wasn’t as sure later that night, however, when the moment he slipped under the plaid behind her, his fingers slid between her legs. He stroked her until she’d been half-crazed with desire, stopping when she’d been unable to prevent herself from making a sound. She’d almost cried out anyway—in frustration.
It had been a long, restless night.
The following night he’d come to bed late—the coward—but she was ready. The moment he drew the plaid down on top of him, she found him with her hand, circling the rigid column of velvety steel with her hand the way she’d seen him holding himself that day in the cottage. He’d fisted his hand around hers and silently shown her how to stroke him.
She’d held his gaze in the darkness as she’d brought him to the very peak of pleasure. He was holding himself so taut she thought he might win the sensual battle that had sprung up between them. But he sucked in his breath—making a sound—and she’d stopped.
After nearly a week of stroking and touching, she was in as much torment as he. She couldn’t wait until they could make love again. Tomorrow night, thank goodness! Eoin said they would reach the ferry at Oban late afternoon the following day. As less than a half mile separated Gylen Castle from the mainland just south of Oban, the quick boat ride would bring her to her new home well before nightfall.
Despite the promise of pleasure awaiting her, the tormenting nights, the plodding pace of travel, and spate of rainy weather that had hit them the past few days, part of her was sad to see the journey come to an end.
