When at last he entered her, his steely defenses began to slip away, and nothing could have kept him from opening his heart to her. He made love to her with agonizing, soul-drenching passion, and welcomed the flood of emotion that came when he climaxed. And when Gwendolen clutched his shoulders and cried out with a rush of orgasmic rapture, he couldn’t fight it any longer, nor did he wish to. There was nothing to be gained from resisting what he felt. He had not truly lived until now. Finally, he knew what love was, and now that he’d found it, he was never going to let it go.
***
Onora backed out of the Great Hall and crooked her finger at Lachlan. “Come hither,” she purred, as she watched him set down his tankard of ale and follow with tantalizing amusement. “I don’t feel like dancing,” she said. “I want to go for a walk, and I’m craving one of those raspberry tarts from the kitchen.”
“How remarkable,” he said with a smile. “I am craving the same thing. You do realize it is a MacDonald who is in charge of the kitchen, and not a MacEwen?”
“And what is your point, sir?”
“My point is that you must bow to our superiority in all things connected to pastry.”
Onora chuckled and scampered down the dimly lit passageway. “Fine. I will get down on my knees if it will please you, and I will be forever indebted to you for accompanying me.”
“Why?”
She twirled around to face him. “Because I hate the castle corridors at night. Everyone knows it. I am afraid of the dark.”
“You could always take a candle.”
She playfully poked him in the ribs. “I’ll have none of that insolence from you, sir. Not when I want something delicious in my mouth. Listen…” She halted and put a hand to her ear. “Those tarts are calling my name, and I think they are calling yours, too.”
Lachlan laughed, and her cheeks flushed with excitement. He was the most beautiful man she had ever known, and a flash of wild grief ripped through her.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll come with you, but then you must promise to release me. I’m weary from all this dancing and singing, and I have many responsibilities. I need my rest.”
She ran ahead, scampering down the corridor like a child. “Aye, I understand. I promise I will let you sleep when we are done. Now hurry up. My belly is aching with desire.”
“I’m right behind you.” His words were cut short, however, as he was struck in the back of the head by a wooden club. He crumpled to the floor, and Onora stopped short. All joy left her.
She whirled around to witness the second blow, then rushed closer and held up a hand. “No! You promised to let him live!”
Slevyn MacEwen lowered the club to his side and wiped a thick forearm over his shaved head. He was a large man—as big as an ox—and just as dim-witted. His two front teeth had been missing all his life, which was the result of a childhood scuffle, and a jagged scar stretched from his left ear to the corner of his mouth.Thathe had done to himself while shaving his head; he had used the blade to point up at a cloud that looked like a boat. He had pointed the blade too quickly.
“I don’t know what difference it makes now, Mrs. MacEwen,” he said densely. “He won’t like you much after this.”
“I just don’t want him to die.”
Slevyn shrugged, then gazed down at Lachlan, unconscious in the flickering torchlight. He tilted his big heavy head to the side.
“He is quite fetchin’, ain’t he?”
Onora grimaced up at him. “You are not fit to evenlookat him.” Then she covered her nose with a hand. “And you stink! Where have you been, Slevyn?”
“I crawled up the sewer to get past the sentries.” He chortled, then bent down and lifted Lachlan up off the floor. He tossed him over his shoulder like a pliable sack of wheat. “Let’s go, Mrs. MacEwen, before someone else comes along and I have to club them, too.”
Onora followed him to the staircase. “You are a revolting beast.”
“Aye, but it’s served me well. It’s why your son keeps me so close. Come along now. Slevyn is hungry. I heard you talking about raspberry tarts. Were you lying about that?”
“Nay,” she replied. “I was being quite truthful. About that, at least.”
She followed him down the stairs and laid a hand over the sickening knot of regret in her belly.
***
Gwendolen woke to a light knock at her door, sat up and laid a hand on her stomach. So much for the benefits of ginger tea. The morning sickness had already begun, and the sun was not even visible on the horizon.
She glanced at Angus asleep on his side. She didn’t want to be sick, but wasn’t sure how much choice she would have in the matter. She leaned over the side of the bed to see if the chamber pot was handy…
