Page 42 of Tempting the Highland Captive

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

It took some time to prepare the bodies for public viewing and burial, but once done, Father Jacob and a guard of warriors loaded them back onto a wagon for the deceased men’s final journey home. Amelia watched them pull out of the courtyard and down the village road. Her heart ached for the men and their families. “I will avenge ye, all o’ ye. I swear it,” she spoke softly, but the wind carried her words to Lucas at the gates. He turned, met her eyes, and nodded in agreement. He had sent spies to see if anything could be ascertained on Rossell lands and was awaiting word.

“The laird is awake, my lady,” a kitchen maid interrupted her thoughts. “He is askin’ for ye.”

“Thanks be tae God.” Amelia breathed in relief and immediately turned to reenter the castle. She climbed the stairs to hear a deep masculine voice speaking in discontent. When she entered the bedchamber, she found Angus standing over Ron who was scowling up at the blacksmith in frustration.

“I am perfectly capable o’ standin’ on my own,” Ron insisted. “Let me out o’ this bed so that I may protect Her Ladyship.” Ron attempted to get up, but Angus stood firm.

“Nae, My Laird. Ye need yer rest. Maggie will skin me alive if I let ye up and ye break open her sewing o’ yer skin back together,” Angus refused, shaking his head.

Ron shook his head. “I will deal with Maggie. Her Ladyship…”

“Her Ladyship is fully capable o’ protecting herself,” Amelia interrupted, stepping inside of the room, and coming to stand beside the bed. “Maggie and Angus are right. Ye need tae rest. Ye need tae allow yerself time tae heal.” Amelia sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand in hers.

“There was an attempt on yer life,” Ron reminded her, his voice rough with the anger of it. “I will nae allow anyone tae get close enough to finish the task.”

“I have many warriors at my disposal if ye will recall, husband.”

Ron gave her a doubtful look but raised her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “Well, I have ye here now.” The tone in his voice was flirtatious in spite of his wounded condition.

Angus, seeing that he was no longer needed, bowed silently, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“How are yer wounds?” Amelia asked, her hand going up to his chest near the larger of the bandages.

“They will heal,” he promised.

Amelia let her hand wander over his chest and torso, examining bruises from where he had fallen, careful not to actually touch the bandaged wounds themselves. His muscles were hard and smooth under her hand. She traced the lines of them across his body with her fingertips. Need welled up within her like a torrent and she tightened her hand into a fist against his belly. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I should ne’er have called ye a stranger tae the clan. That might have been true once, but nae more. Ye are a member o’ this clan and I should ne’er have treated ye otherwise. Ye have done so much tae help me and my people. I owe ye my life.”

“Ye owe me nothing, my bonnie,” he murmured, placing his finger under her chin, and lifting her face up to meet his eyes. “Ye have given me a place where I had none. Ye have made me a laird where once I was the bastard son o’ a farmer’s daughter, forged by violence in tae a warrior for coin. Ye gave my life purpose and meaning when I thought all such things tae be lost tae me. I ken that this life is temporary and that I must go in time, but while I am here, I am happy.”

Amelia felt as if her heart had leapt into her throat and was trapped fluttering there like a bird. Unable to speak, she found her hands lifting up to his face and entangling themselves in his hair. Her heart cried out to be heard. “I dinnae want ye tae go.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Before she could say anything else, Ron pulled her down against him, enveloping her mouth in the most passionate kiss of her entire life. Head spinning, she clung to him as if her very life depended upon them maintaining physical contact. She had no idea how long they remained locked together like that before life itself demanded that their lips separate to breathe.

“Are ye certain?” Ron asked, holding her eyes with his.

Amelia knew without asking that the question was about so much more than her wanting him to stay with the clan. It was a question about forever. “Aye, I am certain.”

The look in his eyes was pure sunshine, joy, desire… Everything that could possibly be relayed by a look of love was there shining out at her from his beautiful blue depths. “I love ye, lass,” he breathed against her lips, then reclaimed them with his own.

Ron’s hands roamed over every part of her body that they could reach, caressing, kneading, holding on as if afraid to let go. Amelia did the same, equally afraid of losing him. He loves me! Her heart thrilled at the words. Her mind, heart, and body opened up to him in ways that she had never believed possible. No matter how closely she pulled his body to hers, it was not close enough. She feared that even if she managed to claw her way inside of his chest, it still would not have been close enough. She hungered for him with a ferocity that frightened her. “My soul is yers,” she swore into his ear as his lips moved down to her neck.

A deep low possessive growl rumbled through his throat tickling Amelia’s neck. The sound coursed through her entire being, igniting an inferno along her nervous system that robbed her of breath and reason. Digging her fingers into his back, she mounted his lap, and wrapped her legs around his torso. Angry at the skirts and blankets that separated them, Amelia groaned in frustration as she ripped at the fabric, repossessing his mouth as she did so. Amelia was likely to have lost her mind entirely had the hot sticky wetness of his blood on her fingers not awakened her from her feral crazed passion blind daze. In her desire filled frenzy she had broken open his wounds.

“Ron,” she gasped, holding her bloodied hand between them for him to see.

“I care nae,” he dismissed the blood and pain. Taking a cloth from the bowl of water that had been left by the bed, he cleansed the blood from her hands.

“I have hurt ye.” Amelia bemoaned her recklessness.

“’Tis nae but a wee scratch, lass. It will heal and is nae against the pain o’ my need for ye.” Taking her back into his arms, he maneuvered her to where she was now beneath him, instead of on top of him. He lowered his head to her lips and kissed her gently, then moved down to her throat, shoulders, chest, and breasts. Here he stayed a while caressing and lathing every part of them with his fingers and tongue. Shocks akin to lightening crackled along her skin descending to glow in a fiery ember between her legs.

Amelia knew that she should push him away and make him rest. He had already lost so much blood. It was unfathomable to her that he was able to make love to her after everything that his body had been through, but the hard length of his rod pressed against her thigh told her that he was not only able but more than willing. Unable to resist his hands and mouth upon her body, Amelia melted into him without further protest on his behalf. She loved him, wanted him, with a ferocity that threatened to overtake her entire being. Ron’s lips moved lower and lower down her torso. Amelia’s heart beat faster in her chest and she grabbed his hair in her fists pulling his head back up. After their two previous encounters, Amelia was not about to let him get away with anything less than a full consummation.

“I need all o’ ye,” she demanded. “All.” She placed special emphasis by pressing against him with her hips.

Ron smiled down at her. “I was nae plannin’ tae deny ye this time, lass. Nae as long as ye are completely certain that ye wish it.”

There were no more words needed between them. Amelia pulled what remained of her clothing from her body in reply and Ron did the same, discarding his trews. Ron positioned himself over her, careful not to hurt her. The moment that she felt his hardened rod brushing against the soft wet folds of her womanhood, she experienced a brief instant of fear that he would not fit inside of her. He was even larger than she had anticipated through his trews. As he eased himself inside of her, she let out a squeak of surprise at the pressure. He stopped and held himself there, arms trembling with the strain. The look in his eyes asking if he had harmed her and if she was still certain.