Even in his anger he was aware of the press of her body against his. All those soft curves that he loved fit perfectly against him, and he reacted like a starved beast, hardening, as blood rushed to all parts of his body in contact with her.
As soon as he released his hold, she turned and threw her arms around him. “Eoin!” she sobbed. “You came.”
He held her away from him. “Aye, and just in time, from what I just saw.”
Something in his voice must have alerted her. She eyed him anxiously, although it might have had something to do with his appearance. All those months on the run had taken their toll; he not only fit but looked the part of the outlaw. Remembering that he was wearing the blackened nasal helm favored by the Highland Guard, he let her go to remove it. Tossing it on the ground, he waited.
She bit her lip, clearly embarrassed. “It was nothing, Eoin.”
“Nothing?” he exploded, his mind racing back to that day at Stirling Castle, and how easily she’d dismissed young John Comyn’s kiss. “He had his mouth on you, Margaret, and that is sure as hellsomethingas long as you are my wife—a fact you seem to have forgotten.”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten.”
“Haven’t you?” He hauled her up against him. His senses exploded, but anger held him back from crushing his mouth to hers. “Then what the hell are you doing out here alone with him? Or maybe I don’t need to ask? You and I went riding once alone.”
She gasped with outrage, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. “Just what are you insinuating?”
“I’m not insinuating anything, I’m asking. Just what in the hell is your relationship with Tristan MacCan?”
“I don’t have a relationship with him. You should know that.” She must have seen something in his expression. “What?”
“You didn’t bleed.”
It took her a moment to realize what he meant. She gave him a look that made him want to crawl under a rock.
“And so I must not have been a virgin?” She gave a harsh laugh. “Jealousy has made you a fool as well as an arse. Not all women bleed their first time, Eoin. Even I know that. I was a virgin when I met you, and I’ve been faithful to you every day since, though right now I’m asking myself why.” She paused, as if fighting to calm her temper. “Tristan was wrong to kiss me, and I’m sorry you had to see that, but I am not a whore. And just because I fell into bed with you doesn’t mean I will with any other man.”
Bloody hell, she was makinghimfeel in the wrong. But it wasn’t he who was kissing another woman in the forest. It wasn’t he who was discussing how to end their marriage. “Why the hell do I find you here at all? Mywifeshould be at Gylen. Is MacCan the reason you left me? Did you grow tired of waiting for one husband and decide to take another?”
“Maybe I should have! I’m not the one who left you alone and unprotected. I’m not the one who disappeared for months without telling you anything. I’m not the one keeping you in the dark. I’m not the one who leapt out of the darkness, scaring me half to death, hurling accusations like a wild man, when I haven’t seen you for months. Months when I didn’t know if you lived or died. That is not a marriage, Eoin—or at least not one I will be a part of.”
Unprotected? What did she mean? He would have asked, but she tried to draw away and he knew he couldn’t let her go. Part of him feared he’d already lost her.
He leaned his face toward hers, so that only a few inches separated their eyes. “As long as there is breath left in my body you belong to me. If MacCan or your father thinks they are going to change that with some false claim of precontract, they can go to Hades. I’ll put them there myself.”
Her eyes flashed. “I don’t belong to anyone. I’m not a possession to be fought over, I’m supposed to be your wife. But if this is your idea of how to treat someone you are supposed to love, then I’ve had enough, and it is you who can go to Hades—or back to the war that is so important to you.”
But God, he did love her. That was the problem. He couldn’t let her go, even though she deserved more than he could give her right now. He had to hold on to her. Had to find some way to put the broken connection back together.
So he did the only thing he could think of. The only thing that she couldn’t deny. The only thing that he knew could quiet the storm raging inside them both.
He covered her mouth with his and kissed her with all the pent-up passion, all the unfettered anger, all the fear lashing around inside him. His need for her was raw and powerful, fierce in its intensity. Like a lightning storm it clattered and thundered, whipping the elements around them both in a violent frenzy of lust and desire.
Her mouth was open, her tongue was thrusting against his with the same hunger, the same need, the same frantic desperation. She was grasping his shoulders, squeezing his arms, moving her hands over his body with the same fervor. He loved when she touched him, loved the feel of her greedy hands all over him.
His mouth was on her throat, his hands on her breasts, on her bottom, lifting.
She reached for him, molding her hand around his cock. It felt so damned good, he thought he was going to explode.
They were pulling at each other’s clothes. His chausses were unlaced, his braies untied, and his erection bobbed free.
The cold night air didn’t give any relief against the heat hammering through his veins. He was on fire. They were on fire.
He pressed her back against a tree, lifted her skirts, and slid his hand between her legs.
Jesus. She was already ready for him, and he couldn’t wait another second to be inside her. It had been so long...
He slammed into her with a thrust that surprised them both. A thrust of possession. A thrust of exclamation. And a thrust that couldn’t be denied.
