Epilogue

EPILOGUE

T he following evening, after much protesting and complaining on Freya’s part, Sorcha finally gave her permission to leave the healing quarters.

“But ye cannae do anythin’ foolish,” Sorcha had warned while Freya had dressed in a hurry, eager to be out of the uncomfortable bed and the stuffy room. “Dinnae exert yerself, dinnae do anythin’ more than some gentle walkin’, and get all the rest ye can.”

Freya had promised she would obey the healer’s wishes, rushing out into the hallway in search of her husband. Doughall had gone to deal with the aftermath of Flynn’s demise, and she had a feeling he would need cheering up when she found him.

As it turned out, Doughall found her first, walking back from wherever he had been, whistling a jaunty tune to himself. At first, Freya had wondered if it was not her husband at all, but there was no mistaking him.

“What are ye doin’ out of bed?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Ye’ve nae absconded, have ye? Sorcha might look old, but she can run faster than a fox.”

Freya approached her handsome husband and weaved her arm through his. “I’ve been given me freedom back. Nothin’ wrong with me anymore. In fact, if I had to stay in that bed another hour, I reckon it would’ve made me worse.”

“Do I need to ask Sorcha meself?”

Freya tugged on his arm. “Nay, ye dinnae. She said I could go, and I find meself in need of an evening wander to clear away the… unpleasantness of the last few days.”

“Very well, but ye’d better nae be fibbin’.” Doughall cast her a look of subtle suspicion but walked with her in the opposite direction regardless, his hand resting over hers.

Freya had not had any particular destination in mind when she had set off from the healer’s quarters, but as she wandered with her husband through the field that would be rich with wildflowers come summer, she felt a sudden need to bathe in the restorative waters of the loch. There was nothing like icy water to awaken the senses, though she thought it best not to mention her plans until they were actually at the loch. He would only protest.

The forest was alive with wildlife as the golden sunset spilled its hazy light through the increasingly sparse canopy, some creatures taking to their beds, others rising for the night to come. Freya’s breath plumed, every inhale of the crisp air making her feel as if she had never been poisoned at all.

“This is exactly what I needed,” she said with a sigh, her boots crunching the fallen leaves.

“Ye’ve some color back in yer cheeks,” Doughall conceded, putting his arm around her.

He pulled her close to his side as if he meant to share all his warmth with her. It was like having her personal warming pan, his body radiating heat.

They continued on in peaceful silence, content to be together in quietude, following the trail to the loch’s edge. In the glow of the molten sunset, mist swirled over the glassy waters, fooling the eye into thinking that the loch might be warm instead of bitingly cold.

“Do ye want to turn back?” Doughall asked, gazing out across the pretty water.

Freya shook her head. “Nae yet.” She pulled away from him, shedding her cloak. “I want to swim first.”

“What?” Doughall rasped. “Ye must be out of yer mind! I should take ye back to Sorcha—clearly, ye’re sufferin’ from delirium.”

Freya turned to face him, grateful she had put on a simple woolen dress, tied at the waist with a ribbon. She unfastened it swiftly and pulled the dress up over her head, tossing it onto a nearby rock. She had not bothered with stays or drawers, just a petticoat, which she quickly shimmied out of until she was standing naked before him.

His eyes widened, roving over her bare form, his tongue darting across his lower lip as he took her in.

Carefully, she began to walk backward to the water’s edge. “Ye can either join me and keep me warm, or ye can stay there and watch.”

“Freya, if ye dinnae come to me this instant…” he said, a warning in his voice.

“Ye’ll what? Scold me?” She gasped as her feet sank into the shallows, the water a cold shock to her entire body. “Ye keep threatenin’ me with punishment, husband of mine, but I’m yet to feel chastised.”

She continued to walk backward into the water until she was in up to her thighs. A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched Doughall take off his clothes, teasing her with glimpses of his muscular figure and that hard length between his legs. It stood hard and proud, swollen by his desire for her, her own body warmed by the memory of feeling him between her folds for just a moment.

He strode toward her without hesitation, scooping her up into his arms and lifting her above the surface of the freezing cold water as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Ye’re a menace,” he growled, his hand sliding up her back and into her hair, cradling the nape of her neck. “I ought to smack yer arse ‘til it’s red.”

“Or ye could deny me this,” she whispered, slipping her hand between them and grasping that thick length.

His eyes closed for a moment, his teeth dragging across his lower lip. “Aye, but then I’d be punishin’ meself. And I’m nae the one defyin’ orders.”

“I willnae break, love,” she whispered in his ear, drawing him between her thighs.

Letting instinct guide her, she slowly moved her hips forward and back, gliding herself along the heat of his manhood. Just the sight of him naked on the shoreline had made desire pool in her core, her sex slick and eager to feel him.

A rumbling sound caught in the back of his throat. “I ought to throw ye in to let ye cool off.”

“Ye could,” she replied softly. “Or ye could keep yer promise.”

He took her lips in a fierce kiss, hungry and unrestrained. His hand smoothed over her curves, skimming over her ripe breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he kissed her harder. Meeting his ardor, she kissed him back with all the want and longing that had been building up since their encounter at the firefly meadow, rocking her hips back and forth with every ebb and flow of her mouth.

Their tongues danced and battled, her hands clawing at him, her need for him spiraling up to dizzying heights. Despite the cold water all around them, she did not feel it, her entire being ablaze with the heat of her passion for her husband.

Indeed, she was so swept up in the moment that she did not protest as he carried her out of the loch and over to the rock where she had thrown her garments. Swimming no longer mattered. All that mattered was his mouth on her skin, his lips on hers, his hands exploring her body, his harsh breaths mingling with her desperate moans, and the thundering of her heart.

Carefully, he set her down on the rock and scooped his hands underneath her legs, pulling them over his broad shoulders. She had barely taken a full breath when he dipped his head and dragged his tongue through her folds, tasting her with slow intent.

“Lie back,” he commanded.

She did as he asked, her back arching off the rock as his tongue rolled over that sensitive bundle of nerves. But when she tried to reach down to run her fingers through his hair, he caught her wrist and pinned it to the rock.

“If ye touch me, I’ll stop,” he said, trailing kisses up the inside of her thigh. “ That is yer punishment.”

She smiled to herself and lay back, waiting impatiently to feel the brush of his tongue again. But he did not give her what she wanted immediately, blowing a cool breath on her wet heat, making her shiver with delicious frustration.

He tasted her with his skillful tongue everywhere but where she longed to be tasted. Teasing her, tormenting her in the best possible way. He pressed his tongue into her core, trailed it along the inside of her thighs, and even circled that swollen bud close enough to make her tremble but far enough to delay the full force of that singular pleasure.

She was just about to beg him to show mercy when he slid his tongue across those crackling nerves, her entire body bucking as sparks erupted inside her.

He lavished her with that delicious mercy, pouring fuel onto the blaze of her bliss, and as it rose higher and higher toward the peak of her conclusion, he slid his fingers inside her. As they pulsed against another secret center of pleasure, his tongue never faltering, she leaped toward the euphoric crest and soared.

“Oh, love… Oh God… Oh!” she cried out, not caring who heard or how many creatures she startled as her ecstasy struck her like a lightning bolt. It crackled and pummeled through every vein and nerve until she was a trembling mess of utter contentment on the smooth, clothes-covered rock.

He slowed his ministrations as her pleasure ebbed, withdrawing his fingers and kissing his way up to her mouth, lowering her legs from his shoulders. As he moved over her, his lips finding hers, a gasp escaped her throat as she felt him press against the entrance to her sex.

She kissed him hard, pulling him to her, but he held his hips back, not letting her feel his girth easing inside her. Just that tantalizing pressure, promising what was to come.

“Stand up,” he said, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet.

On shaky legs, she fell into him, stealing one more ravenous kiss. He smiled as he kissed her back, his hand smoothing over the swell of her buttocks. But when he pulled back, his smile was gone, replaced with an intense hunger that made her heart pound.

“Turn around,” he told her.

Biting her lip, she did as he asked.

“Now, brace yer hands on the rock.”

Her breaths were ragged as she did so. “But… I want to see ye.”

“Aye, but ye still havenae learned yer lesson about obedience,” he replied, a note of dark amusement in his voice. “Nor have ye learned yer lesson about patience.”

He grabbed her hips, her breath hitching as she felt him press against her. Like the water lapping against the shore, he moved slowly back and forth, coating himself in her essence, teasing her to the point of madness.

“Please, love,” she gasped, needing him.

“Patience,” he purred, halting at her entrance.

There, he applied just enough pressure, notching the head of his length against that gateway to untold pleasures. Tormenting her and preparing her at the same time, until her sex ached for him, the sensitive nerves pulsing along with him as shuddering gasps escaped her throat.

“Please… God, please…” she whimpered, trying to push back against him, to take matters into her own hands.

He pulled away, and, for an awful moment, she thought he was going to continue to deny her. Instead, he grasped her around the waist and pulled her up, skimming his calloused palm over her stomach and breasts, before bending down to pick up his cloak. He draped it over her shoulders and stepped in front of her, scooping her up into his arms.

Kissing her fiercely, he carried her to the grassy bank above the shore and then kneeled down, laying her on the softer surface, the cloak already serving as a blanket.

“If it hurts, tell me to stop,” he said, resting between her thighs.

“I willnae,” she replied defiantly.

He smiled at that, and before she could say another word, he was easing inside her. Her breath caught in her throat as a faint sting mingled with the crackle of her eager nerves, swallowed up by the rush of pleasure until that was all that remained. But still, he did not move quickly, pushing into her inch by thick inch, letting her grow accustomed to the sensation of being totally and completely joined with the man she loved.

As he pushed the last of himself into her, he stilled and gazed down into her eyes, searching her face for any sign of pain. His eyes were alight with passion, his breaths shallow and intoxicating, every rasping inhale stoking the flames of her desire. She had never anticipated how stirring the sound could be, but then, she still had a lot to discover. And she could not wait.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nay… I just… need ye.”

Slowly, his eyes briefly closing, he withdrew to the point where she feared he was about to pull out altogether. But at that thrilling precipice, he sank back into the depths of her, eliciting a shivering friction that pulsed through her in waves, awakening parts of her that she had not known existed.

“Ye dinnae ken what ye’ve done,” he growled as he moved inside her, inching forward and bringing a brush of pleasure across her swollen bud.

She panted and clung to his arms, gasping. “What… do ye mean?”

“What ye’ve done to me,” he moaned close to her ear, pulling back and thrusting into her once more. “Now that I’ve had ye, I willnae be able to stop. I’ll want ye from this moment till our last. I’ll want this every hour, every day. Our clan could crumble and I wouldnae notice.”

She bit her lip and smiled, lifting her hips to meet his as he thrust into her again, harder than before. “And ye ken I’m nae patient,” she murmured. “I fear ye might… get nothin’ done from now on.”

“I’ll have to tie ye up and make ye wait, or else ye might be right,” he said, his words making her want him all the more.

They moved together in the dying light of sunset, beneath the guardianship of an ancient oak, their sighs and moans rippling across the loch until they joined with the calls and cries of the nocturnal beasts emerging from their slumber.

Freya clung to Doughall as ecstasy took hold, her body awakened to instincts she had never known she possessed, while he plunged into her without restraint, every rock of his hips sending her into a fiery frenzy of bliss.

Soon enough, she was racing toward her conclusion, spurring him on with her. She grasped his muscular backside, driving him deeper into her, crying out his name, eager to feel him reach that glorious end with her. This time, he obeyed, his length and his fingertips working in tandem, propelling her to that blissful peak.

When her bliss came, it was unlike any she had experienced before. The power of it was otherworldly, her entire body exploding with the force of pure euphoria, like wildfire coursing through her veins, like wading into the loch for the first time, like the stars just peeking out in the evening sky had aligned to show her paradise.

Doughall’s growl accompanied her cries, the two of them meeting their ecstasy at the same moment. He plunged into her with furious abandon, pulsing deep within her as she wrapped her legs around him, holding him close.

He thrust twice more and stilled, trembling as if the cold had finally caught up to him. A moment later, he moved his hips slowly, subtly, back and forth, ensuring she flowed with the current of her conclusion, right to the fading, sparking end.

Only when her breathing began to slow and her muscles relaxed did he collapse on top of her, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his face in her neck.

“I love ye,” he murmured against her skin. “Mercy, how I love ye.”

She blinked in surprise, wriggling to get him to raise his head and look at her. “What did ye say?”

He smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I said, I love ye.” He paused. “Surely, that cannae be a surprise to ye?”

“A pleasant one,” she replied shyly, cupping his face in her hands. “Well then, I suppose now is as good a time as any to say that I love ye too. Truly, I love ye.”

He dipped his head to kiss her, slow and sweet. “I’ll make ye happy, love. I promise.”

She gazed deeply into his eyes. “Of that, me love, I have nay doubt.”

“Even though I dinnae keep me promises?” he replied with a smile.

She smiled. “Och, love, that’s just it—ye do.”

The End?