Chapter Nine

H is kiss was different than what Sadie had dreamed. Not better, not worse, just different. The texture of his lips startled her. In her dreams, she hadn't felt that at all. Since he went slowly, she was able to feel his mouth against hers, to appreciate the touch and shape of him.

Nice. Erotic.

He rubbed his mouth against hers, then let his tongue stroke her lips. This had definitely not been in her dream. The way he teased her, then withdrew, had her clutching his arms to keep him close. Soon, she was mimicking him, touching her tongue to his lip to see how he reacted.

He slid his hands along her arms, drawing her closer. She went willingly until they were chest to chest, and she had to tilt her head to meet his mouth. A rumble rolled through his chest into hers, and when her eyes opened, she found him looking at her with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"You are better than my fantasies about you," he rasped.

He had fantasized about her? "You are better than my dream," she admitted.

"The one where I was ripped apart by a vengeant spirit? I should hope so."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. "The earlier part. The good part."

"Well," he said, "shall we see if I can keep this on the good side?"

She had no doubt that he could, especially when he pressed his mouth to hers again. His pace was faster this time, more powerful as he teased her lips then snuck inside. She opened for him. How could she not? A thousand wonderful sensations burst through her consciousness as he thrust into her mouth.

She danced with him, tongue to tongue, while her heart raced and her body ached for more.

She tightened her arms, and he let his slide down her body. His hands were large where he cupped her bottom. Hot and big as he pulled her against his groin. She knew about men's organs. She'd grown up on a farm, after all, but this was his cock pressed hard against her.

She ground against him, feeling her body tighten with need. Their mouths were still fused and her hands gripped his shoulders as if he were her anchor in a strong wind.

Then he broke the kiss. His breath was ragged, as was hers. And he looked at her with a hunger she felt echo through her whole body. Desire pulsed in her and she wanted to ask something. A question burned in her mind or body or heart, but all she could do was look at him. And he at her.

Finally, he dropped his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes as their breath mingled.

"Should I expect a banshee now?" he asked.

What? Oh. Her dream.

"I dinna think they come on command."

"But in your dream, the banshee came when we kissed." It wasn't a question, but she answered it nonetheless.

"Yes."

He took a deep breath and straightened away from her. She didn't want to let him go. She loved the feel of him pressed against her. His thighs were thick and hard. She'd known the strength of him before, but feeling him against her was thrilling.

Thankfully, he didn't go far.

"In your dream," he said, "we were kissing. And more."

She nodded. Definitely more.

"Then the banshee came screaming things."

"Traitor. Betrayer."

"And Sassenach?"

"Yes."

"Well, I am English." His head tilted to look at her more closely. "Does that bother you? Do you think you can only marry a Scotsman?"

She did her best not to let her heart trip over the word "marry." Instead, she focused on his question.

"I have searched in Scotland for a husband, and I have searched here. It matters not to me what you are so long as you will treat me honorably and…"

"And?"

Love me.

Where those words came from, she didn't know. She was not a woman who wanted flowers and sweet words. But she did want a good home where there was love and laughter.

He touched her cheek in a slow caress that ended at her lips. Her skin tingled in his wake, and she pursed her lips to kiss his fingertip.

He smiled.

"Let me guess. Do you want passion in your marriage?"

She scoffed. "I think that is more a man's desire."

"That is true."

"Women want safety. We want joy with a partner and laughter with our children."

"And what of love?" he asked.

His tone was serious, his question honest, and her heart squeezed to hear the word on his lips. How she wanted to hear him say it in a different way. Instead, she backed another inch away even as she asked an intimate question.

"Was there passion with your wife?"

"God, no. But there is with you. You've fought with me, disagreed about everything, and even laughed when Lacy was up a tree."

"I helped her get down!" she said, her tone defensive.

"You did." His lips curved in a smile. "She and Minette still ask after you. And…" he looked at her, "I think about you, too. All the time."

"I think about you," she admitted. Then she gave a dark chuckle. "I dream about you."

He nodded. "Ah yes. We were talking about that." His expression sobered. "What would your mother think about you marrying a Sassenach?"

"She'd hate it. She'd scream, she'd rail. She'd forbid it, for certain. And she'd lock me up if she could." Sadie grinned. "She couldn't. Not since I was eight. Maybe even earlier."

"Hmm," he said with a nod. "Can you think of your banshee now? What does she look like?"

"What?"

"In your dream, how did the banshee appear?"

"Like a woman in white with blood on her lips. She had sharp teeth and claws and…" Sadie swallowed. "And you are talking about her face, who she was in life?"

"They are supposed to be real women, yes? Dead now, but once alive. Once—"

"Betrayed by someone. A lover, usually."

He was silent as he looked at her. She knew he wanted her to examine her dream and know the truth of it. But it was so hard!

Fear clutched her, even in memory. In her mind's eye, she could see him being torn apart. She heard the wail and felt his lifeblood slipping away.

"Don't be afraid," he said.

"I know it was just a dream!" she snapped.

"Of course you do," he soothed. Then he gently pulled her close. She resisted for less than a moment. She loved leaning into his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her hips.

"It was my mother," she finally said. She hadn't realized it until just this moment, but now, in the circle of his arms, she had the safety to look through her memory. She saw what she hadn't seen before. "My mother—the banshee—tormenting me from the grave."

"That sounds terrifying."

It was. But with that realization, so many things became easier.

"She always tried to frighten me when she was alive. She would beat me when she could, but I became too fast for her. Then she resorted to threats and ugly names. She told me no one would ever want me."

She closed her eyes, shuddering at the memories. He held her tight and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"She was wrong. You are beautiful and smart. Strong and…" He flashed a rueful smile. "And I want you."

She quirked a brow at him. "Passionately?"

"Yes." He cupped her cheek. "But what of your banshee? Will she keep us apart?"

Sadie looked into his eyes and felt her heart melt. She saw earnestness in his eyes, not to mention desire. She remembered the countess's words. If he bedded her now, he would do the honorable thing and marry her. But she didn't want him on those terms.

"I didn't listen to Ma when she was alive. Why would I listen when she's dead?"

He grinned. "A very sensible answer."

"I'm a sensible woman," she returned, and to her shock, he barked out a laugh. "What?" she demanded. "I am!"

"I know you are," he said, his eyes dancing with humor. "But sensible is not the first word that comes to mind when I think of you."

"Then what?"

"Other than beautiful and maddening?"

"Yes."

He cupped her cheeks, stroking his thumbs across her lips. "Fierce is the first word. Bold and determined come next."

"Are those good things or bad?"

"Oh, very good," he said.

"You don't want biddable or meek?"

"That's boring. It turns out that I enjoy a lady with spark."

"You want refined. I am not." She bit her lip. "You said you wanted a lady to be a good example to your children."

"I did, didn't I? Well," he quipped, "I've been known to get it wrong now and again."

Then he kissed her.

Such wonder to have his mouth on hers, and her body on fire in his arms. He teased her nipples, pinching them while she gasped. He kissed her neck and down her bodice. Her fichu was gone, taken off before she came downstairs. So it was her flesh he stroked with his tongue. And a simple tug at her ties let her gown slip open.

It was enough for him to lift her breast free. He set his mouth on her nipple and she gave herself over to her feelings. Fire in her blood, heat in her breasts, and deep, dark need between her thighs.

He teased her breasts, then she felt his hand beneath her skirt. She allowed him. Indeed, if he opened his falls and stepped between her thighs, she would say yes to it all. She wanted him that much.

He didn't. He let his fingers slide up her thighs, and what he did there had her whimpering in need. So many sensations, nothing like her dreams. His fingers pushing inside her, his thumb stroking her.

Her legs were spread wide. His fingers opened her, penetrated her, and

And…

Her cry was muffled by his kiss.

She flew.

Bliss that shone bright then faded before he stepped away. He helped her set her clothing to rights. He kissed her and kissed her, and then he bowed himself out.

He left.

But that night in her dreams, he did not. Instead, he carried her in his arms to the couch, where he laid her down and settled between her knees. He was impressive as he unbuttoned his clothing. And when his falls fell open, his cock sprang free, thick and proud.

Then he leaned over her, kissing her as he did so well, lifted her knees, spreading her as he positioned himself.

And then he thrust.

She was pierced. She was taken. She was filled.

Even in her dream, she climaxed. Waves of ecstasy as he filled her with his seed. And because it was a dream, she soon grew large with his child. And she was filled with such blissful joy that she could not contain it.

So when she looked up and saw her mother floating above her, she was not afraid. She was not even angry. She was fierce.

"I love him, Ma. He will be my husband, and I will love his babes with all my heart."

The banshee wailed. It contorted its pale face into a hideous blood-red maw. Even in her dreams, she could not see her mother in a kindly light.

Or so she thought.

This time, the wail did not pierce her through. It was sound growing more distant by the second. And the red-tipped claws receded while the creature's hair settled from its wild torment.

No longer a banshee, the ghostly figure became her mother. It wore a sour expression, as always, and yet there was fondness in her eyes.

"A Sassenach?" she hissed.

"Aye."

"And if he leaves you as all men do?"

"He will not. But if he does…" Sadie set her hand to her belly. "I will love his children and we will grow in joy because he loved us."

"You do not know that."

Didn't she? He'd never said the words, but she'd felt it.

"It doesn't matter. I love him and his girls. We will be happy."

Her mother's form settled on the floor in front of her. Her feet touched down and she appeared almost as she had in life before her injury.

"I believe you," her mother said. "You are so much stronger than I. You see things clearer."

"Ma…" Sadie mouthed the word, shaken to hear the words she'd wanted, but never received.

"I am proud of you, Sadie. So very proud."

And then she was gone, and Sadie jolted awake.

She didn't scream. She wasn't afraid. But she was crying, and she couldn't have said why. Except, perhaps, that she had found peace with her mother. Finally, in a dream, she had laid her mother to rest.

And now, in waking daylight, she was determined to find a resolution with Lord Heath. That was what a fierce Scotswoman would do, especially with someone she loved.