“Where?”
“My chamber? I have a fire, a bed, silken sheets and furs piled high.”
“Ye still want me after the awful thing I did?”
“Did ye no’ hear me, lass? What ye did, I did a thousand times worse, for the same reason. To survive. If ye’ll have me after the horrible things I’ve done, let me give ye some peace, as ye do for me. We can spend tonight caring for each other.”
“And tomorrow?”
“And the day after that. Through all the tides to come.”
****
Logen led Coira to his chamber, her trembling hand warmed in his. He had gone past caring who saw them. They were meant to be together. To get here, they’d both fought horror-filled battles with others and worse ones within themselves. They both needed the surcease the other could provide. In the morning, he would see the priest and post the banns. A formality only. No matter who might object, he would marry this woman. Together they would keep each other and their clan safe from the pain of the past. The uncertainties of the future.
But tonight was for loving and finding peace…after passion.
He paused at the threshold of his inner chamber, dominated by the massive bed made by his great grandfather. “Are ye certain, Coira, that this is what ye want?”
The glimmer of firelight—or was it tears?—in her eyes gave him the answer before she spoke. She let go of his hand and slid soft fingers up his arm. “I am.”
Logen kissed her, then scooped her up and placed her gently on the side of the bed. He continued his assault on her senses, dropping kisses from her lips to her throat, then kneeling before her to remove her boots. Coira leaned back on her elbows and moaned as he slipped his hands up one leg, then the other, to roll down her stockings. He held the arches of her feet in his hands and kissed each toe, each instep, and each ankle. Then he pushed her skirts up and kissed his way to the inside of her knees. There he paused, savoring the heat of her flesh, the womanly scent of her body.
The need in him spiked like a fever. He stood and stripped out of his clothes before tugging Coira to her feet and removing hers. She watched him, heavy-lidded, while his hands roamed over her ties, loosening and slipping aside the fabric that hid her from his view. When the last garment fell into a puddle at their feet, she lifted her arms around his neck and stepped into him fully, body to body. Her soft breasts pressed against the hard planes of his chest, and the juncture of her thighs against his straining flesh.
He took her mouth then, with the same fervor he would use to take her body when he’d made her ready. He grasped her under her full buttocks and lifted her. As if by instinct, she wrapped her legs around him, nestling his shaft along her bottom. He couldn’t help it. He groaned against her mouth. “I need ye, Coira. Ye ken that.”
“I do. I need ye, too.”
In a flash, he laid her on the bed and joined her there, kneeling over her to suckle first one peaked nipple, then the other. Coira writhed beneath him as he trailed his hand from the fullness of her breast down her belly to the apex of her thighs. As his fingers touched all her sensitive places, she danced beneath him, her body straining for more of his touch—for release. When it came, she gasped and arched into his hand, moaning his name again and again. “Logen...”
“Dinna fash, lass, I willna stop now.” He lowered himself carefully onto her, kissing her, plundering her mouth with his tongue as his manhood found her slick entrance. He thrust slowly, carefully, to find her barrier intact and waiting for him to breech it. “This will hurt but for a moment,” he warned her, then pushed through.
“Ach!” Her cry punctuated her sudden tension. He waited for her to relax as the pain of his possession subsided, then began rocking them in the ancient rhythm. She enfolded him like no other lover ever had. As if he’d ever harbored any doubt, her body proved to him she was where he belonged. His heart expanded in his chest with such joy, he lost control and exploded into her, pulsing with release and relief and love.
Chapter 9
Coira didn’t mind the pain. The brief, sharp break of Logen’s possession was nothing to other pains she’d borne and survived. Any pain was worth the pleasure of having this man with her, inside her, body and soul. His possession marked the true end of the old Coira and the beginning of the new woman she would become—confident in herself and in this man whom she had chosen, and who had chosen her.
She welcomed the weight of Logen’s body on hers. His hands, caressing her face as he kissed her and gripping her shoulders as his need demanded, made her feel safe, cared for, needed. The feelings consuming him were as new and confusing to him as they were to her, and as delightful.
Her blood sang in her veins. The sensations along her nerves ebbed and flowed like the waves of a full-moon tide, mounting higher and higher until they crashed over themselves, and dissolved into bright spray before receding, as she was about to do—again.
Coira felt the tension in Logen’s back muscles as his passion mounted and he neared his release. She gave herself over to it, allowing his emotions to combine and swell with hers until they exploded together. As he collapsed over her, she wrapped him in her arms and held him until their hearts stopped racing and their breathing slowed.
“I love ye, Coira.” Logen’s words brought Coira out of her daze. “I will marry ye, if ye’ll have me.” He raised up on his arms, his body still connected with hers, and captured her gaze. “I’ll speak to the priest in the morning about posting the banns, if ye are willing.”
Was she? The wife of the laird held an important place in the clan. She had responsibilities for its people to equal his own. Could she bear them with honor? Would she be accepted?
“Ach, lass, I see the doubt in yer eyes. Ye’ll be a fine lady for the clan. The best. Trust me on this. I can feel it. And I’ll have nay other but ye.”
“Then aye. I’ll be yer lady, and the clan’s. I love ye, too, Logen. I have since I first set eyes on ye. It matters naught to me whether ye be laird or fisherman. Ye are the man I need.”
She rejoiced to feel his joy as strongly as her own.
“For all the tides to come,” he murmured into her ear as he began to move within her, again.
****
