Chapter 16

His head hurt too much for him to sleep properly. That was Daemon's first thought when the throbbing of his bruised skull dragged him back to the waking world. The tisane he'd been given had worn off, and the poultice had cooled, and his head was now pounding like he'd drunk two bottles of whisky. It was a miserable feeling.

"Dae ye need another dose of medicine?" Daemon blinked up at Lyla, who was sitting beside his bed. She reached out and put a cool hand on his forehead. "Ye dinnae have a fever, so ye should be fine fer another sleeping draft."

"And I'd welcome it." He grimaced as he shifted his head against his pillows. It had been a while since he'd taken such a hard crack to the skull.

"Then I'll be getting it." Lyla stood and walked over to the fireplace and took a kettle off the fire. Daemon watched her as she went through the motions of making his tisane. She looked tired, and worried, but also... upset?

Was she upset that he hadn't been able to defend her from Ranald Clan's interference? Or that she'd almost been hurt by their attack? Or was there something else bothering her?

She'd seemed like she might want to kiss him, earlier when they'd been practicing. He hadn't missed the way she would sometimes flush when he got too close, either.

Was it possible she was feeling the same confusing mix of emotions that had plagued him for the past few days? He hoped not. If she was, it would make turning away from her all the harder.

On the other hand, if she was upset because of the attack, that was something he could deal with. He waited until she returned, then tapped the bed. "Sit a moment, will ye?"

Lyla sat down on the edge of the bed and handed him the cup. He blew on it, sipped, then grimaced as it scalded his tongue. He lowered it to his lap to cool, and looked back up at her. "Are ye well? I didnae get a chance tae ask if ye were injured in the attack."

"I wasnae. I've nae injuries save the bruises and soreness from training." She smiled at him. "Ye dinnae need tae worry about me."

"But I dae. I was terrified when I thought ye might get hurt. And I'm fair sorry I couldnae keep ye safe here. I thought giving ye sanctuary would keep Ranald away from ye, but it didnae happen."

"And ‘tis nae yer fault. His was the choice tae tak' such measures. And I feel far safer with ye than I would anywhere else, even with me sister in MacLean Keep." With that, Lyla leaned over and settled down next to him, as if to prove her words.

"I dinnae want ye tae feel less than completely safe."

"I ken. But I also ken yer in pain, and ye need tae drink yer tisane and get some more rest. After all, ye cannae protect me if ye're stuck in bed with a crippling headache, now can ye?"

Daemon managed a ghost of a smile at her words. "Aye. Ye've the right of it." He lifted the drink and swallowed it down as quickly as he could, his mouth twisting a little at the taste. Willow bark tea was good for pain, but it was bitter as gall.

Lyla took the cup, and brought him back some mead to wash the taste out of his mouth. Daemon drained the tankard, then lay back. He was tempted to send Lyla away, but he knew she wouldn't go. Instead, he reached out a hand to her. "Stay with me?"

Lyla hesitated, then nodded. "Aye. Until Alyn comes tae take over."

At his urging, she settled back onto the bed, leaning against the pillows a short distance from him. Daemon smiled, his thoughts already clouded by the tisane, and let his eyes close as the pain faded and sleep dragged him under once more.

The air was cool on his fevered skin, the touch of his lady hot as a brand of fire. Heat and pleasure, so intertwined he couldn't tell one from the other. He rolled, pinning his partner beneath him, both of them naked and panting as their bodies moved. He ached for her, desperate for her embrace and the feel of her body welcoming his, but he had to ask. "Will ye give yerself tae me?"

Lyla looked up at him with bright, trusting eyes, adoration in her gaze. "Aye. I want ye. All o' ye, me laird." Her legs parted to reveal her sex, already gleaming with her arousal. ‘Please, Daemon…"

What could he do but answer that soft plea? He slid his hardened erection into her soft, welcoming warmth, pressing through the tight, hot, velvety folds of her entrance until he was fully sheathed inside her. Lyla, in his arms, gave a soft, keening cry and arched into him. "More. Please Daemon, more…"

He began to move, thrusting rocking into her, both of them moving together in a dance of pleasure and heat and wonder. So much wonder.

How had he never before considered having Lyla in his arms, in his bed, in his heart? How could he stand to live another moment of his life without this? Daemon drove himself deeper, claiming her, trying to brand himself deep inside her. The heat dragged at him, wrapped around him like a wave, pulled him onward.

He was suffocating, drowning in pleasure and pain, so great his heart and his head were both pounding. Daemon gritted his teeth…

...and woke up. His erection was straining painfully against the trousers he'd worn in deference to being watched over by two women. His head was aching, and he felt disoriented. He turned to see if there was a cup of water to quench his thirst, or splash his face with, only to reel back in shock.

Lyla lay on the pillows beside him, her hair tousled and clothing mussed as she blinked at him through sleepy eyes. "Daemon?"

What? But I thought... was it a dream or nae?

Lyla frowned. "Daemon? Are ye well? Ye look flushed." Her hand reached out to touch his forehead. "Ye dinnae have a fever, but... should I call the healer?" She started to rise.

Before he could even stop to think, Daemon grabbed her wrist. "Nae. Stay. Dinnae leave me."

His thoughts were jumbled, his mind confused by the dream. But Lyla was clothed. Even so, he could have done something untoward. But she didn't seem flustered or upset, as he'd expect if he'd somehow touched her inappropriately in his sleep. "Did we... were we…?" he couldn't seem to form the words.

Lyla frowned. "Ye're nae making any sense Daemon. Are yer wits addled? Is it yer head?"

"I dinnae ken and I dinnae care." He couldn't control himself. His erection refused to subside, his head was throbbing, and the world didn't make sense. He didn't think anything had happened between them, but the dream was still fresh and vivid in his sleep-mazed mind, as was one glaring question.

Why had he dreamed of Lyla in his bed, instead of Rowan? Rowan was who he should have dreamed about. Rowan had been his wife, not her younger sister.

And yet, he couldn't deny that it was Lyla he ached for. Lyla his body was responding to. Lyla that made his heart beat faster and his headache take second place to his desire. In a way Rowan never did.

He knew why he shouldn't desire her. And yet, the reasons seemed so flimsy, in the face of that dream. He reached out, and drew her closer.

She didn't resist. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed dark enough that they must mirror his own, but she lay down beside him. He cupped her face with his palm, and she leaned into his touch, her skin soft as silk against his palms.

Her lips called to him, and he was helpless to deny the siren song. He bent his head and kissed her. She tasted of honey and wine, probably from her evening meal. Her lips were soft, soft as rose petals, against his.

Then his mind caught up with him, and he started to pull away.

This was Lyla. His former wife's sister. Surely, she couldn't feel the same way he did. He braced himself for her recoil, perhaps for a slap or an exclamation of shock and disgust.

Instead, he felt a gentle caress to his cheek, and opened his eyes – he'd closed them in anticipation of her rejection, he realized – to find her gazing at him with warmth, and a desire very much like his own. Delicate fingers caressed his jaw, sweet and soft.

Then Lyla leaned forward, and kissed him in return.

* * *

She hadn't expected Daemon to kiss her. She'd never guessed he felt that way about her at all. She'd always thought his heart belonged to Rowan, that he saw her only as a foolish girl, barely out of childhood.

But if Daemon's kiss was unexpected, the feelings that flashed through her at the touch of his lips on hers were even more so. Desire, longing – she'd never thought about Daemon in such terms, and yet, it felt so right, she couldn't help but kiss him back, when he started to pull away.

Perhaps it was strange, for her to desire the man who had been her sister's husband. But Rowan was gone, and Daemon was here. Daemon, who tasted of mead and honey and the lingering bitterness of the willow bark tisane. Daemon, with his haunted eyes and his mercurial moods, and the strong, firm hands that clutched at her shoulders and drew her closer to him.

He kissed her back, this time with more conviction, his mouth claiming hers, tongue caressing her lips until she let him inside, to duel for dominance. He was gentle, but strong, a rock against the tide of feelings she'd never before experienced as he kissed her deeply, as if trying to memorize the taste and feel of her mouth on his.

They broke apart, gasping for breath. She tried to find words, but even she didn't know if she wanted to caution him against exerting himself, or beg him to continue. All she could say was his name. "Daemon…"

He shifted his head and kissed her again, this time at the hinge of her jaw, just below her ear. Lyla gasped as a bolt of sensation shot through her. She'd never realized that spot was so sensitive, but Daemon's kiss was like being touched with a lit match, only far more pleasurable.

Another kiss, this time to where her pulse raced at her throat, her heart pounding as she was enveloped in warmth and want. Then another, to the junction of her neck and shoulder. She shivered.

Daemon's hands caressed her arms, down her sides, then lower, smoothing the fabric over her hips and thighs. She'd changed out of her training clothing while Ryan was getting him settled, and she gasped as Daemon's hand slid under her skirt to stroke over the skin beneath it.

Daemon raised his head, his eyes dark with need. "Will ye tell me tae stop?"

She shook her head, unable to find words. She didn't want him to stop. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but it felt... right. Good. Wonderful even. As long as it wasn't hurting him, she didn't want to stop.

His hand slid higher up her thigh, to her hip, callused fingers tracing gently over her skin and leaving trails of warmth as they passed. His hand slid around to cup her buttocks, gently fondling the soft flesh with an expert touch that made her shiver against him.

His head dipped to place kissed along her collarbones, then the hollow of her throat, before he nuzzled into the valley of her breasts. Lyla gasped as he mouthed at the peaks of her breasts, teasing them through the fabric. The sensation was strange, but pleasant, and it only increased the feeling of need and desperation that she had for him.

His hand moved back across her hip, his fingers teasing the small, soft hairs that adorned her sex. Lyla blushed as his fingers carded through the damp curls, wet with her arousal.

Daemon's voice was low, husky, and seemed to rush straight to her gut like a swallow of mulled wine, or potent whisky. "Open yer legs fer me, Lyla."

She parted her thighs, shivering with delight and pleasure and surprise all at once as his hand cupped and caressed her most secret places. His fingers traced the lips of her sex, sending another shiver through her, and she found herself moving against him, his pressing into his hand as her body responded to his touch.

She knew she should pull away. He was injured. He might not be in his right mind. For that matter, this sort of thing might be too much for him in his current state. And yet...she couldn't bring herself to let him go, or to protest as he slid one finger between the folds to caress the inner walls of her sex. All she could do was grip his shirt and gasp at the sensations his touch produced.

Daemon kissed her over and over – her breasts, her shoulders, her chin, her forehead, every touch light and warm and perfect. His hand caressed her most intimate places, teasing even more heat and wetness from her before he slid a finger deeper inside her, as if trying to stroke her core. Lyla shuddered at the feeling, unable to do anything as waves of pleasure and warmth filled her. It was so much more than she'd ever experienced, and yet, it was not enough.

His thumb found a little nub of flesh and caressed it, and Lyla yelped as the feeling increased tenfold, like lightning straight to her core. Her body arched into his touch, her breath coming in short, sharp panting bursts as the sensations grew stronger and more intense. She could feel something building inside her, a wave of something she wanted – desire and heat and sensation threatening to drown her in the best of ways. She pressed herself against his hand, against him, wanting more, wanting Daemon.

A sudden knock at the door shocked her from her state of mindless desire. Both she and Daemon jerked apart in a flurry of skirts and bedclothes as the door opened and Alyn stepped inside.

Daemon's cousin stopped short. "Lyla?" Her brow creased, and Lyla felt her cheeks burn as she realized what they must have looked like. What she must look like.

She swung herself out of the bed with as much dignity as she could manage, when her nerves were still singing with desire and need. "I was sitting close tae him tae see if he had a fever, because he looked so flushed earlier, but I fell asleep – I didnae mean tae. Daemon was waking me when ye came in tae ask fer another dose o' his tisane, I think, or some water."

Alyn blinked. Lyla felt her stomach twisting in knots, wondering if the other girl believed her or not. She didn't dare look at Daemon to see his reaction. Instead, she stepped away from the bed, to gather up the book she'd put aside and never actually read. "I'll be leaving him tae ye then. The water and herbs fer the tisane are on the fireplace, if he wants them, and the flagon for the mead is on the table."

Alyn nodded and moved to look at her cousin. Lyla took her chance and fled the room, her face afire and her legs strangely weak. She barely made it to her room before she collapsed, her mind racing with everything that had happened in the last candle-mark.

She'd never expected Daemon to kiss her. She'd certainly never thought she might have such a strong reaction to his touch. It made her feel like a character in one of the books she was reading – like the woman in the book she'd borrowed from Daemon that night in the library. The feeling was as pleasant as it was unnerving.

What was she going to do now? Should she act on what had happened between them, or put it out of her mind as nothing more than an unusual response from an injured mind?

Did she even want to think of Daemon in such a light? He was handsome enough, but – he'd always been Rowan's husband to her. And even when he'd been married to her sister, she'd found him gruff and intimidating. How could she go from that to desiring him so quickly? And should she even be considering him in such a manner?

She was still wondering all those things when sleep took her.