And ride him she did. Slowly and tentatively at first, and then when she found the rhythm, hard and hell-bent for leather.
It felt too good. He could feel the pressure coiling and couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her taut backside, as his body seized. “Oh God, sweetheart, I’m going to—”
She cut him off with her cry, sinking down on him hard. He held her there tight, grounding her against him, letting the hard spasms of her release pull him right over the edge.
He came harder than he’d ever come in his life, shooting his seed deep inside her in a hot rush of blinding pleasure.
When she collapsed on top of him, he had only enough energy left to roll her to the side and tuck her in against him. He wanted to say something, but all he could think of was a dazed and unimaginative “wow.”
She’d brought him to his knees, all right. And it was a damned good place to be.
Cate thought she probably should be embarrassed by her wantonness, but she was too warm and contented—and too wonderfully exhausted—to muster any enthusiasm for the effort. Besides, if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t embarrassed at all. She didn’t need experience to know that Gregor liked her brazenness and her passion for him.
Ride me. Heat spread over her skin when she thought of how she’d done exactly that. She’d never imagined that kind of freedom—that kind of wildness. It had been incredible. With him inside her, she’d felt powerful enough to storm castles or conquer kingdoms.
She smiled against his chest as her finger absently traced the markings on his arm. It was so different being with him like this. She’d never imagined he could be so light-hearted and playful. He didn’t seem remote and untouchable at all, but rather quite wonderfully touchable. She’d never felt closer to anyone in her life.
“What’s so amusing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, a little embarrassed by how happy she was. “I’ve never seen a tattoo before. What does it signify? I understand the two crossed arrows behind the shield, but I thought the badge of the MacGregors was a lion’s head? The Lion Rampant is the standard of the king.” He might have tensed, but she was too busy staring at it. “And what is this design that goes around your arm? It looks like a spiderweb.”
He enfolded her hand in his and moved it from his arm to his chest. “So many questions, little one. Aren’t you sleepy?”
She propped her chin up on his chest and frowned. “Why do I have the feeling you are trying to avoid my question?”
He held her gaze for a moment in the soft candlelight. He seemed to be debating with himself about something. “You are right; it doesn’t have to do with the MacGregors. It’s just something I did a while back with some friends of mine.”
He tried to dismiss it, but for some reason she sensed it was important to him. “Does it have to do with your role in the king’s army?” He looked surprised. “I know you don’t like to say anything, but I gather what you do is important.”
“I’m a bowman, Cate.”
“Aye, but I’d warrant an important one. What exactlydoyou do?”
He paused for so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer her. When he spoke, it was carefully. “Sometimes the king needs important targets eliminated. A good marksman can come in handy for that.”
She frowned, and then suddenly her eyes widened. “Targets? You mean people?”
He held her gaze, as if steeling himself for her reaction. “Aye. I’m trained to kill, Cate. It’s what I do.”
He stated it as a fact and without apology, but somehow she knew it wasn’t easy for him to admit. “And I’m sure every one of them has been necessary, although I’m sure it doesn’t make it any easier.”
He looked surprised, as if he’d expected condemnation. He shrugged. “You get used to it.”
She suspected he never got used to it at all. But he undoubtedly saw his compassion as a weakness for a warrior, when in fact it only emphasized his humanity. Caring was nothing to be ashamed of.
She’d guessed how much the deaths affected him when she’d realized what the rocks were for. They were his atonement, his acknowledgment of every life that had been taken in the pursuit of Robert the Bruce’s ambition.
She thought for a minute. “But what does the tattoo have to do with all of this?”
He sighed and shook his head, smiling. “You are as unrelenting as some warriors I know. I will explain everything to you when we are married.”
She liked hearing him say that. “And when will that be?”
“I hope by Twelfth Night. I wrote the king and asked him to help me procure a dispensation.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I wish I could be there to see his reaction. I think Bruce was convinced I’d never find my way willingly to the altar. He’ll be disappointed not to be here for the wedding, but I’m sure once Perth is taken he will arrange a great feast at Dunstaffnage.”
Cate stiffened. “Awhat?”
He tipped her chin to look at him. “I know you blame the king for what happened, Cate, but that blame is misplaced. He was as devastated by the massacre of your village as he was when news that his wife, daughter, sister, and the Countess of Buchan had been taken reached him. He disappeared into the forest and didn’t talk to anyone for days.”
