Talia was out foraging for herbs when she came to an unsettling realization: there was something she enjoyed thoroughly more than her work.
In the past few days, she and Darragh had spent their every waking moment together. Enjoying his hardness and thickness, on her part; her tightness and softness, on his part. Her pleasure was a new territory she could not get enough of exploring.
Sometimes—most times—she found herself finishing work early and seeking him out in the middle of the day. She would find him in his study or in some other room, not too far from her. In his study, he would rise before she crossed the threshold and take her into his arms. Then he would lower onto his lacquered mahogany desk and strip her bare. Sometimes, she would find herself straddling him in his armchair. On rare occasions, when her legs didn’t fail her, they would make it back to his bedroom.
There was nothing she loved more than the warmth of his chambers. And the golden glow of the hearth that highlightedthe muscles in his back and the globes of his arse when he was lying on top of her. And the shadows that danced across his face as he moved down to her pulsing center. And the feel of his tartan blanket as he gripped her hair and slammed into her from behind.
She stood from the lily of the valley bush she discovered in the woods, blushing as she remembered her legs being disgracefully parted for a penetrative exploration.
For so long, she had believed flowers to have the most pleasant of smells. She was proved wrong when she had first smelled the mix of their perspiration and arousal. When all she could do was smell, her hands tied to the bronze panel behind her and eyes covered with his plaid, that scent became an insidious drug, pulsing through her veins, bending her to its perverse will.
Just then, she heard a crack and whipped around.
Darragh stood at a distance, dripping wet and undressed.
“What are ye doing here?” She felt a flutter in her chest that turned into something depraved in her core.
Anticipation, that was what the feeling was. Hot, throbbing, and hungry.
“I missed ye.” His hard muscles strained against the thin linen of his shirt.
She watched his arms and chest flex and relax as he shrugged off the plaid dangling from his shoulder. He had already disposed of his boots and socks.
“Did ye swim through the loch?”
He quirked an eyebrow. He never looked more handsome when he was being naughty. “I did.”
She appreciated the stretch of flesh when he peeled off his wet shirt. His body glistened, like an oiled bronze statue of a Greek god.
She had never seen him so naked in broad daylight before. Her visions of him were usually under a gentle light, or he was always so close to her that lust suffused her, and she didn’t feel so… aware, embarrassed.
It was ridiculous, considering she had touched him so intimately and so often that she could picture the contours of his body clearly. She then understood that imagination and reality were two different things.
The fact that he was also eyeing her hungrily had an opposite effect. She felt exhilarated.
“Why did ye nae go around?”
She had discovered at some point that she could not access the woods by boat. The village had a perfect traversable path, whichhe must have been aware of. It was just outside the keep and more sensible. She had only used the boat again because she enjoyed paddling; it made her feel like a one-woman pirate crew.
“Because then I would have nay reason to strip.” Her breath caught when he reached for the belt holding up his kilt. His eyes raked over her. “Why arenae ye undressing?”
“Because I am nae wet.”
“That is for me to find out.”
Then the kilt dropped around his feet.
The problem Talia had with lovemaking in a forest was the stubby blades of grass poking her back.
“Ye shouldnae come out here when it’s so dark,” Darragh said.
They both lay naked on their backs, watching as stars dotted the darkening sky. They had drifted closer to the keep, where the grounds were more grass than soil.
The edge of the forest wasn’t so far that their nakedness was completely concealed from the crenellated turrets of the castle. Even with Darragh assuring her that they were hidden from view, she had some apprehensions, but not enough to throw on her clothes.
Her chest heaved softly. “It was four o’clock when I came out here.”
“That’s impossible, it’s nearing seven o’clock.”
