Chapter Sixteen

When Keiran and Rosalyn were alone in his chamber, his mouth relaxed into a grin, and he shut the door. The slight widening of her eyes as the latch clicked into place bespoke her nervousness. He allowed himself to visually explore the woman before him. So much of her was still a mystery to him, but now they had time to discover more about each other.

Today he had been surprised by her courage when facing both Lieutenant Long and Oberon. She’d had a newfound confidence that had been lacking in her when they first met. The men in her life would not find her so easy to predict any longer. Perhaps it was the Englishwoman in her that had been her more timid side, and the Scottish woman who was strong and brave had simply been waiting for the right time to emerge.

Two small steps closed the gap between them, bringing her into direct contact with his body. He could not hold back his quick intake of breath that filled the silence of the room. The feeling of her softness against his hardness had him hardening almost to the point of pain. He clenched his jaw, trying to slow down his desire so as not to frighten her as he brought his hands up to her shoulders. His fingers coiled in the silken knot at her crown, removing the pins to allow her hair to fall freely about her shoulders.

He inhaled the scents of heather and moonlight as she lifted her face to his. Staring into her beautiful hazel eyes, he saw not fear but the echo of his own desire. The thought made his heart pound. He slid his hands down her back until he reached the curve of her hips. She held her breath as he bent his face to hers, their bodies touching intimately as he waited motionless for her to bridge the distance between them.

She raised her hands to cup his jaw, then closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his. His emotions warred inside him as he tasted her sweet innocence, wrapped himself in her touch. It had been far too long since he had last been with a woman. Far too long since he had been unsettled by anything.

And Rosalyn unsettled him in every way. She had captivated him from the moment they had met. He had been assailed by unfamiliar emotions and feelings, half of which he could neither name nor identify. She filled him with more than simple desire or lust. She did something to him he could not comprehend. Part of him wanted to hold her, to kiss her, and the other part wanted to do everything in his power to keep her safe, from Lieutenant Long, from Oberon, from her brother, from even himself. Her physical injuries he could heal, but there were other wounds he sensed in her that ran deep, and he was not certain he could mend them. He broke the kiss and studied her once more. Her gaze reflected trust, making his throat tighten.

“I know you will not hurt me, Keiran, so I willingly give myself to you.”

She fitted herself to him, and a shudder racked his body. He took her lips, parting them, and his tongue delved inside. He brought his hands up to pluck at the laces of her dress. When he worked the stubborn laces free, he lifted the gown over her head, then tossed it to the floor.

In return, she unfastened the silver brooch at his shoulder, allowing the tail of his tartan to fall, then deftly unfastened his belt, allowing his sword and tartan to join her dress. He stood before her in only his shirt and boots. While he kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor, she set aside her slippers and hose.

Heady with desire, he pulled her close once more, placing light kisses along her jaw as he slowly lifted the hem of her chemise. The fabric whispered across her abdomen, against her breasts, only to join the rest of their clothing.

She stood naked before him, bathed in only the golden firelight and the warmth of his gaze. His fingers trailed over her abdomen, where the enemy’s sword had pierced her flesh. Not a single mark remained. Feeling the need to atone for what had happened to her, he bent and kissed the unmarred skin.

At his touch, she gasped, then closed her eyes. “You made me whole again.”

“I healed your wound, Rosalyn, nothing more.” He pressed the lightest of kisses from her abdomen to the valley between her breasts. “We are both making ourselves whole again after the misfortune in our lives.”

“Making ourselves whole,” she whispered into the dimness as she brought her hands to rest on his shoulders.

Warmth pooled in his belly as her caress moved down his back, then to his hips. He nuzzled her breast with his mouth before his lips closed over her taut nipples, first one, then the other. She moaned softly and tipped her head back as he increased the pressure of his languid caress. “If you let me, I will heal you in a different way tonight.”

At her questioning gaze, he continued, “Physical touch, even without magic, can give life and express emotion, helping people communicate what they cannot say.”

“Is there something you cannot say?”

His fingers trailed down her abdomen. “What does this touch say?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Compassion.”

He nodded and smiled. “And this touch?” He tapped his fingers over the same sensitive flesh.

“Playfulness?”

“And this?” This time he used long, delicate strokes, then slowly built the pressure as he moved his fingers from her abdomen over her hips and down her thighs.

She inhaled sharply. “Desire?”

He gained his feet and pulled her tight against his body. “Aye, desire. I want you to feel my desire for you, let it sink inside you, let it warm you, and let my touch soothe whatever wounds you still contain.”

“And will my touch heal you?” she asked, running her fingers across the rigid muscles of his chest, and lower. Towards the most male part of himself. “Aye, lass. You make me feel things I have never felt before. The old wounds fade away beneath your touch to become something new.”

“I am a new creation and if I can take you along on this journey of rebirth, then consider me your willing partner.”

He drew in a ragged breath and allowed his hands to span her back, her waist, her hips, and outer thighs. Warmth flared from his hands everywhere he touched. As had happened when he healed her, a spark passed between them, moving from him to her and back again. Did she feel it too? The strange sensation?

Rosalyn opened her eyes, and for a heartbeat he tensed, worried that she would pull away. Instead, she simply looked deeply into his eyes with innocence, tenderness, and passion. The combination fired his blood, racing through him as if a powerful storm had suddenly unburdened itself, swelling a stream into a raging river.

An incoherent sound of anticipation escaped him as he pulled her firmly against him, and another sound followed the first at the sensation of her skin against his own, and the rigidness of his arousal as it nestled into the juncture of her thighs.

In response, Rosalyn slid her fingers over the firm muscles of his chest, his arms, his neck, and shoulders, following each touch with her lips, as he had done. Heat pulsed through him, pulling him into a place without thought, without time, where all he cared about were the waves of sensation and fire cresting through his body, and his desperate need for more. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them, and the shadows of the night.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed and set her gently in the centre before he settled on his knees beside her. The firelight played across her skin, and copper highlights shimmered in her long brown hair splayed across one of his pillows. He leaned down and breathed deeply in the tumbled mass of her hair, savouring the sweet scent. “You are an enchantress, a goddess, and for tonight, you are all mine.”

*

For tonight, youare all mine. The words tumbled through her mind, and a momentary pang of tightness came to her chest. Again, a reminder that theirs was not a permanent connection. She forced the pain aside as he swooped down to capture her lips again. Tonight, she did not want to think of anything except the pleasure he had promised to bring her.

Her fingers slid again over the contours of his well-muscled chest, sprinkled with hair that was so different from her own. She slid her hands down across the ridges of his stomach and down to where his hair surrounded his manhood.

Keiran sat back on his knees, sliding his hands up her calves to the insides of her thighs while her hands sought his long hard shaft that jutted from between his rock-hard thighs. Her hands encircled him. His skin felt like satin and heat radiated from him, spreading through her.

“You are sending me over the edge of madness,” he groaned. She could feel his erection pulse and flex instinctively in response to her touch.

She chuckled. “Then join me as I am already there.”

He responded with a single savage groan as he eased his hard thighs between her legs, entered her, and filled her body with promise and heat.

She gave a low cry and clutched him with her thighs and hands as his palms held her, sealed her to him. She felt stretched at first, then the tension eased, to be replaced with only a desperate need and a slow-burning fire.

Only when the pain shifted to a flowering sensation did he begin to move, slowly at first, then deeper, filling her more fully with each thrust. And the fire that had smouldered like embers in her belly burst into flames. The heat of it consumed her as she sought whatever it was he tried to give her. Rosalyn felt as though she teetered on the edge of oblivion. The sensations too intense to bear in silence, she cried out as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her with each measured thrust. Instinctively, she arched up again and again, meeting each plunge of his, bringing even more fiery heat.

Heat spiralled inside her, growing stronger and stronger. Instead of experiencing that rapture alone with her eyes closed, she opened them to see raw and unfettered pleasure on the planes of Keiran’s face. There was more, as every inch of her body, every fibre of her being filled with warmth and pleasure, she also saw that where they were joined, his maleness to her femininity, their bodies glowed with the same healing light he had used in the forest.

Instead of fear, joy flooded her and with his next thrust all sensation shattered around her, propelling her into the awaiting abyss. A groan escaped Keiran. She held on to him, falling with him over the edge of forever.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her as he shifted to his side, taking her with him, careful not to separate their bodies. The light that they had shared during their bonding faded like the last flickering flames of a candle at the end of the wick.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and she brought her hand up, pressing it over his rapidly beating heart. With him in this moment she felt not only safe and protected, but also cherished and consumed.

Her world had shattered, and yet instead of spent, she felt renewed. As their heartbeats and their breathing steadied and slowed, Rosalyn rose up on her elbow to gaze down into Keiran’s face. In the firelight, she saw an ease in his features, a newfound joy that had not been there before. It was as if something that had been taken from him long ago was somehow now returned. The thought pulled at her heart.

Had the light between them done that? Had his own magic healed him in a way he was not yet aware of? Had it done the same to her?

Her breath caught. When he had healed her before, she had felt not only the healing warmth, but something much deeper that had pulled at her heart, even more than the joining of their bodies, even more than the pleasure still rolling through her. When he had healed her, he had given her a part of himself, and in that moment, when the breath had returned to her body, she had felt his loneliness, his pain, his confusion as to his purpose in this realm, and his fear of not belonging anywhere.

Did a shared touch reveal that much of herself to him? Her breath caught. She had told him only a small portion of her misfortune after her parents died. He had already sensed her loneliness, and she had not hidden her fear of her Scottish half, but did he know about her fears about her father’s mental stability? As a young child, she had overhead conversations between her grandmother and her father about his “imbalance of fluids” that caused him to be sad and irritable at times.

When their father and mother were away from the house, their grandmother would arrive with a doctor in tow who would treat them in their beds, bloodletting them to rid the children of their demons. And when that was through, they would plunge her and Hugh into cold baths, and even strategically beat them so the bruises would heal before their parents returned.

Passing his own frustration and abuse on, her brother Hugh had taken his anger out on her. Every day he belittled her, reminding her that she was just like her father, that she would slowly go mad as she aged, and that he would send her to an asylum if she did not cooperate fully with his plans. It was why she had allowed him to send her off to Scotland to marry a total stranger. She had not thought she deserved anything more.

Yet, since coming to Scotland and having to rely on her own wits and the charity of the MacLeods, she was starting to wonder if it was not Hugh who took after their father, and she who took after their mother. Still, she did not want her past to colour Keiran or the rest of his clan’s treatment of her. Here, she was free of that part of her life. A part she never wanted to return to. But if the man before her discovered all that, would he break his promise to her to find her a post with another Scottish family?

Because of their handfasting, for the next year, she would stay with the MacLeods and help Gwendolyn and eventually Fiona with their children. But what would happen after that? Keiran had made it perfectly clear that his offer of protection would expire after the designated length of time.

Snapping her out of her new worries, he reached for her hand, lifted it, and twined his fingers with hers in a tender caress. His gaze met hers, curiosity reflected there. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

Rosalyn’s breath eased. He acted no differently towards her. Did that mean he had not sensed her past misfortune? Her self-doubt? Her fears? “About the future.” It was the truth. He had asked for that between them.

His smile held a seductive edge as he pulled her to him and rolled her onto her back, releasing her hand. “The future is that I will do my best to distract you from all your thinking.” He leaned down and ran his tongue over her nipple.

Heat stung her cheeks as her body immediately responded. She felt herself readying, warming once more at the very thought of him hard and hot within her.

His smile grew. “I see you like the idea. Then let me show you something else that will bring you as much pleasure as before.”

He turned onto his back and lifted her on top of him, sliding inside her. His hips moved upwards, and she gasped at the fullness and the pleasure.

His face flushed, his eyes glazing with an expression of primitive desire.

All her thoughts stilled as he thrust deep, quickening the rhythm. This joining was basic, elemental. In only moments, pleasure flared and spilled through her with such intensity that she cried out.

A heartbeat later, he joined her. His raw cry filled the chamber as he spasmed within her, shuddering helplessly as he poured his seed into her body.

She collapsed on top of him. His hips still moved yearningly, as though he did not want to stop though he had reached his satisfaction. A moment later, he lay still, breathing heavily, his hot flesh nestled against her own.

Sweet heavens, the passion between them was more than she ever imagined. And this time, she had been so caught in the vortex of sensations he drew out in her that she forgot to look for his healing light. A quick glance at his face assured her there was no new awareness, and she nestled back against him, allowing her breathing to gradually become steady and slow.

“Rest while you can, my sweet,” he said, running his hands along her back. “For I fear I have still not had my fill of you.”

She breathed a contented sigh. Tonight, they could pretend the rest of the world did not exist. Tomorrow’s realities would rise with the sun and set them on a different, more dangerous path.