Chapter Twenty-Six

H is enveloping warmth spread through her like a welcoming burst of sun after weeks of rain. Garrick buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply. A euphoric sense of happiness took hold of her. Reveling in his embrace, she trusted him, giving herself over to him fully, for the first time.

As their lips met, barriers of distrust melted. The tender way he kissed her reinforced her belief in him.

Slowly, he lifted his wife into his arms and carried her over to the bed. As gently as he could, he laid her on top of the linen bedclothes. Gazing into the cinnamon depths of her eyes, humbled by the unspoken promise of forever, he was lost.

*

Jillian moaned with pleasure. Garrick was making her feel things she hadn't known were possible. With each rub of his tongue, each deep pull of his mouth, her body arched and writhed. Her woman's core wept with pleasure as her husband built a fire that burned hot and fierce.

Her passion cooled as he slipped her chainse and bliaut over her head. When she would have pulled back, he paused, meeting her gaze, silently asking for her trust. Incapable of speech, Jillian nodded, giving it to him. In response, heavy, callused hands stroked every inch of her. Garrick unleashed the passionate side of her he must have sensed lay just beneath the surface.

Jillian pushed his tunic up and over his head and ran her hands up and down the taut muscles across his back and chest. Then it was her turn to rain hot, moist kisses on his face and neck, until he arched and writhed under her awkward, but loving, hands.

Pulling free of his braes, he settled between her legs, drew in a deep breath, and paused. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." The lie slipped off her tongue. She knew there would be pain, but she needed to mate with this man more than she needed to draw in her next breath.

He groaned and eased forward, every muscle in his upper body straining to hold back.

"Garrick, please?" she begged.

He was huge, and it started to burn, but she wanted him. Needed to be his wife in all ways.

She called his name one more time, and it was as if something broke inside of him. He surged forward, plunging deep inside Jillian's welcoming warmth. Her hips rose to meet each hard thrust, again and again, until they were at the brink of a precipice.

"Love me," he rasped.

"I do," she groaned.

They were lifted high above themselves, muscles clenching and clinging, not yet willing to let go.

Jillian's orgasm slammed into her. Garrick felt her body tense then go slack, and he followed her into the madness, emptying himself into her with a shout.

The candles had long since gone out; the torch burned low. Velvet darkness swirled around them. Held close in Garrick's arms, Jillian fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*

The knock at the door roused them from their love-induced sleep. She felt the bed move, but wasn't ready to get up. She rolled over, ignoring Garrick's soft command to wake up. She heard the musical splash of water and knew her husband must be washing.

"Jillian." Garrick nudged her gently.

"Mmmm?"

"Wake up." This time Garrick's lips brushed the edge of her ear.

She rolled over onto her belly, tangling herself in the linens. His sharp intake of breath instantly cleared her mind. Her scars! She tensed, waiting for him to acknowledge them.

He pressed his lips to her back, tenderly, as if the scars were newly healed. His tender touch spoke volumes. Holding her bliaut to her, he rasped, "Here, put this on."

"Garrick! Open up," a deep voice demanded from the other side of the door.

His eyes mirrored his sorrow at the visible proof of the beatings she'd suffered through.

"Open the door, mon," MacInness called out. "Lady Jillian is gone."

Instead of answering, he stepped closer and spun her around. His warm lips touched the worst of her scars and all of her doubt fled.

"Garrick!"

Words were superfluous. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck and turned her back around so he could kiss her mouth. He slid the garment over her head and called out, "Enter."

"Milord, 'tis yer lady wife. She's…" MacInness stopped dead in his tracks and swore. His gaze swept over her sleep-tumbled hair. She knew she must look a sight, but could not help that, or the smile bubbling up inside.

"Well, now, 'tis about time." His broad grin flashed at her.

Could he tell from her smile she and Garrick spent the night making love? She shook her head, it just wasn't possible.

He turned back to Garrick. "Yer mother is near mad with fear. She keeps tryin' to tell me somethin' about the window."

Jillian coughed to try to cover her laughter.

Garrick shot her a look that promised retribution. "Mayhap my wife would like to tell us how she came to be in this part of the castle last night?"

"I canna understand why ye dinna ask last night, mon."

Garrick's jaw tightened then relaxed as he smiled at her. "We were trying to settle other matters." His gaze locked with Jillian's. The beauty of last night's loving came back full force, distracted she didn't notice both men were now glaring at her.

"Well, Jillian?" Both men asked simultaneously.

Looking from one to the other, she finally noted the black looks each was sending her. There was no hope for it; she would have to confess. "I climbed out the window," she decided not to tell of Eyreka's part in the scheme.

"But that's twenty feet off the ground!" Garrick boomed. Agitation, evident in the deep lines of concern, bracketed his mouth.

"Ye could've been killed, lass! Have ye no concern for those who care about ye? What would Lady Eyreka have thought?"

"Who do you think held the rope?" she muttered under her breath.

"Rope?" Garrick took a menacing step closer, Winslow hard on his heels.

Chin up, eyes blazing, she closed her mouth, refusing to say anymore. Her mutinous expression must have warned both men off, for the moment.

Garrick was the first to sigh and take a step back. "Go and tell my mother that Jillian is with me."

Jillian could feel the blush heating her face, as she added, "And that the fall didn't do any serious damage."

As soon as the words were said, she could have kicked herself. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, her husband and his vassal stood hands on hips just a few inches away.

"'Twas not so far to the ground. I'd rather not discuss it right now." Turning around, she thought that would end it. She was wrong.

Two strong hands gripped her arms and whirled her around. Ice blue eyes flashed a warning effectively silencing her. "How far was it?" Garrick bit out through clenched teeth.

Swallowing the lump of fear that rose in her throat, she managed, "Only ten or so feet."

"Leave us." Garrick's voice had gone suspiciously soft. Without another word, the tall Scot retreated.

"Why?"

"I'd rather not say."

Pulling her closer he glared her into talking. "I wanted to speak to the king."

"I had just been to see the king. What possible business could you have with him?"

She could not meet his eyes. If she told him now, would he go into a rage before listening to why she wanted to meet with the king?

The inner war she waged with herself must have shown on her face. Garrick stroked first one eyebrow, then the other, then drew his fingertip down the bridge of her nose. Dear Lord, she loved him. 'Twas not such a hard decision after all. Hadn't she trusted him with her heart last night? "I know that you wish to end our marriage, but I don't."

"Jillian, I don't—"

She wouldn't let him finish. "I must now ask you to trust me. I cannot say just yet what I have planned; to do so would jeopardize everything. Please, Garrick?"

They stared at one another; finally, he broke the silence between them. "I trust you. You have never gone back on your word. You are more honorable than I have been," he rasped. "But you don't understand, I do not wish to end our marriage."

Jillian threw herself into his arms, kissing him with desperation.

"You'll tell me as soon as you are able?" he asked.

"Aye, husband."

He put his arms around her, holding her against his heart. "Who else knows of your plans?"

"Your mother," she sighed snuggling against him. "Can you arrange a meeting with the king? The sooner I see him, the better. We do not know why Owen is here, so we can only assume 'tis not to our benefit."

He traced the line of her cheek and jaw with a fingertip. "You are a rare woman. Not only brave, but wise as well. I don't know that I deserve you, but I will do all in my power to see you safe and happy."

"I'll speak to William this afternoon, when I am to meet with him again. Can you be ready by then?"

Love flowed through her. "Aye." She could still not fathom the fact that he had not shunned her for the ugly scars crisscrossing her back. He'd kissed them, cementing her decision to trust him. A wondrous thought filled her. What if their night of loving produced a babe? She placed a hand on her belly.

When she looked up, Garrick was staring at her hand, she wondered if he too wanted a babe, but was too shy to ask.

Her husband's expression changed to one of resignation. "We had best go to the hall to break our fast. I promised MacInness we'd meet early. We have to find out what Owen is up to."

Making their way back to the hall, Jillian felt the warm cocoon of Garrick's love surrounding her. She had promised to trust him, and in return, Garrick had given his word to trust her. Lord willing it would be enough.

Eyreka rushed forward to embrace her as they entered the hall. "Thank goodness you are well. How's your—"

Jillian shook her head to cut her off and whispered, "I'll tell you later."

They smiled like two conspirators, causing Garrick to raise an eyebrow over their quiet conversation, but he did not pursue it.

"Mother, would you mind if Jillian kept you company in your chamber until this afternoon?"

"But we planned on touring the castle."

Garrick shook his head. "I must meet with the king. You would be safest in the chamber."

Jillian soothed the older woman, "We shall see the gardens later. Garrick has much to discuss with our king. Besides, I've given my word to trust him. Can you not do the same?"

Eyreka smiled at her words. "Aye, daughter. I can."

"No climbing," Garrick warned out of the side of his mouth.

"Of course not," Jillian huffed, "after all, I gave you my word."

"Best you remember it." His words were sharp, but his look told her he too would be thinking about her while they were apart. The look of love passing between them was a healing balm that soothed their ravaged souls. The first step had been taken. God willing, she would be able to convince the king. Then she and Garrick would have it all.