Until the Knight Comes (17 page)

“On my soul, I did not fetch the thing up here to vex you,” Donald gave back, clutching the ax without even a hint of relinquishing it. “Truth tell, I thought you might wish to test its grip again? Perhaps even its swing.”

“And why would I be a-wishing to do that?” Archibald glowered at him. “Me, with all my frailness? My coughs and wheezing.”

But his son only arched a brow, ran his hand down the long shaft of the ax, his fingers trailing over the countless indentations cut into the age-worn wood.

“One notch for each of your battle victories,” Donald minded him, holding out the ax. “Will you not reconsider adding a new one? A notch for rescuing your daughter?”

But Archibald clamped his jaw and turned away, his fixed stare on the horizon again, his hands fisted tighter than ever.

He would not add to his misery by letting his son see him cry.

Chapter Ten

T
he years had not been kind to Cuidrach, perched on its cliff above Scotland’s western coast. And not few were those who whispered that sheer will alone kept the half-ruinous keep from disappearing stone by stone onto the rocks below.

Sheer will, and mayhap an indomitable spirit.

One that dwelt within the living rock of the castle walls and waited, aching to be whole again, to exchange the loneliness of its shores for laughter and warmth. Nights filled with revel, storytelling, and cheer.

Perhaps, too, the soft moans and cries of lovers, intimately entwined.

But sorrow leaves a memory like no other, and decades spent silent and deserted always take their toll.

A burden only lifted by the bright-burning joy of exultation, a truth that now swept Mariota with such blinding brilliance she feared her heart would burst.

Her own tragedies forgotten, she clung to Kenneth’s hand as they hastened up the turnpike stair, taking the curving stone steps two at a time. And even that wasn’t fast enough, for ne’er had she burned so deliciously, craving until the whole of her body quivered, her
want
so deep and desperate.

A madness consuming her.

Even the night around her pulsed with sensual promise, as if Cuidrach echoed her need, her happiness.

Joyed with her, and shared her anticipation.

An impression that intensified the closer they came to her bedchamber, for the door stood ajar and the soft glow of the hearth fire spilled from within, welcoming them.

As did the deer- and sheepskin rugs spread before the fire, gentle, fragrant flames filling the room with the smoky-sweet scent of peat and strewn aromatic herbs.

The addition of the latter made Mariota’s nape prickle and her stomach flutter with suspicion. Ne’er before had anyone bothered to toss dried herbs onto the fire.

Every wall sconce blazed as well, thick wax candles flickering on iron prickets throughout the chamber, the soft golden light illuminating the drawn bed curtains and a simple repast of cold meats and ale laid out on a table near one of the window embrasures.

An ewer of ale accompanied by not one, but
two
drinking cups!

Preparations to seduction.

And she knew exactly whose hand had readied such a cozy nest.

A well-meaning meddler who’d also unlatched the shutters to allow the night breeze to flow in through the high arched windows. Fresh, brisk air holding only the faintest trace of rain, but perfect for cooling hot, sweat-drenched bodies.

Refreshing and restorative—so deepest need could be slaked anew.

Her need
escaped her in a soft sigh, ripples of desire sliding through her as Kenneth shut and bolted the door. And when he turned around to face her, his own need simmered in his midnight eyes.

“Oh, lass, tell me I am not dreaming,” he said, dragging her against him, his hands sweeping down her back to splay across her buttocks, his fingers cupping and kneading her plump, rounded flesh. “Saints, but I have longed for you. So long, so many nights . . .”

“And I for you,” Mariota owned, dizzy with need, an unquenchable burning. “I did not think we—”

“Sweet lass, do not speak of what we
cannot
do—but what we shall,” he pledged, tightening his arms around her, then drawing back to look into her eyes.

A look that stopped her heart with its intensity.

She shivered again, feeling drawn inside him, as if she were falling into his soul. An endless tumble, a spiraling glide into inevitability, thrumming and powerful.

Impossible to deny.

“Sweet precious lass,” he said again, the wonder in his voice hinting that he felt it, too.

The pull toward each other . . . the deep belonging and rightness.

His eyes darkened then, his gaze heating, turning so intimate that long, liquid pulls of astonishing pleasure swirled through the lowest part of her belly. Staggering whirls of sensation that left her breathless and made her heart pound harder with each pulsing moment.

“Do you know you make my breasts swell?” she whispered, the admission shocking her so soon as it slipped from her lips, but her breasts
were
swelling, and so acutely they hurt.

An aching, piercing need winding so tight inside her she’d swear she was about to splinter.

“Do I now?” he purred, a teasing light in his eye. “And do you know you make
me
swell?” He leaned close, dragging his mouth over hers in a quick, searing kiss. “So you see—we are well suited!”

Mariota flushed, reveling in the pleasure of him.

The way he was looking at her.

His gaze smoldering, he inhaled deeply, exhaling only after a long moment. “Mayhap you would also like to know that your scent makes me burn to devour you,” he purred, his dark eyes narrowing with lust.

A need that echoed her own exquisite aching.

He kissed her again, an open-mouthed kiss with just enough sweep of tongue to melt her. “Be warned, sweetness—you do not know what you do to me.”

“I know I want you. Do not think my urges are any less powerful.” She flushed at the words, but she couldn’t have held them back had someone thrust a blade against her throat—too overwhelming was her need for him.

Her ache.

And seeing it, his eyes blazed even hotter.

He gave a husky growl, peered so deeply into her eyes that he brushed her soul, almost penetrating her darkest secrets.

Secrets well-cloaked by the urgency of their need—a burning, living desperation twisting between and all around them. A mutual blaze manifested in the pleasure crashing through her, the hot wetness pulsing across her womanhood, and the thick bulge at his groin. A breath-stealingly intimate pressure against the softness of her belly, the throbbing heat of him scorching her through their clothes.

Tingly
heat that shimmered across her most tender flesh as warm, slick moisture damped her thighs, the musky scent of her arousal drifting up between them like a sex-drenched fog.

Leaning closer, he traced the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck, nipped at her earlobe. “There can be no going back, Mariota-lass. Lest you naysay me now,” he warned, some still coherent glimmer of honor forcing the words.

He slanted his mouth over hers, kissed her yet again. Hard and swift this time, almost desperate. “One chance, lady. Speak now, or we slake our needs. Thoroughly, and without regrets.”

“Regrets?”
She reached between them, caressed down his length, pressing her palm against him, squeezing, before she withdrew her hand. “For truth, I have none and shall not—unless you can look me in the eye and tell me you would still wish me wed . . . after this?”

Kenneth stood rigid, unable to breathe. Her touch, though brief, had near caused him to explode.

Her words shook him. “I
would
see you wed,” he compromised, “but only to a man you love and desire. Can you accept that?”

“Oh, aye.” She nodded, and her smile warmed him so much he almost feared he’d waken any moment.

Find himself sprawled across his pallet in the hall, surrounded by sleeping men and the nightly chorus of snores and other unmentionable deep-slumbering-male noises that accompanied him into his dreams each night.

But
she
looked a dream to him, her kiss-swollen lips, begging eyes, and quickened breath undoing him.

In especial, her begging eyes.

Hot, needy eyes, full of hunger and longing.

He swallowed, his throat tightening with emotion. Ne’er had a woman gazed at him with such wide-open yearning.

She glowed with her pleasure in him, in
them,
and seeing her desire ripped away more barriers he’d ne’er thought to lose.

He closed his eyes, braced himself for his capitulation. “’Tis too late now, sweetness,” he said, his heart racing, his senses saturated with wanting her. “I couldna cease if—”

“Cease?” She clutched at him, her startled tone flooding him with such triumph he imagined the room spun.

“O-o-oh, nay, I told you—no stopping,” she protested, the full softness of her breasts crushing against him, the rubbing of her firm, shapely thighs on his, near causing him to spill. “I need, want, and hunger for this closeness with you . . . every intimacy a man and woman can share.”

Kenneth stilled on the words, not quite sure he’d heard them, so loudly did his ears buzz with the hot rush of his blood, the whirring of his senses.

Every intimacy a man and woman can share.

He groaned, the very thought making him even harder.

“O-o-oh, we will share intimacies,” he promised her, caressing her cheek. “Soon you shall be sprawled naked across yon bed, your breasts straining for my attention and your legs spread wide, fully opened for me, lass, and hiding nothing but the damp slickness of your arousal.”

He touched his fingers to her lips when she tried to speak, hushed her. “Nay, do not say anything . . . yet, my lady. Just listen and hear how much I desire you. Truth tell, I can even taste you.”

“Taste me?”

“Aye, taste you—and for the longest time,” he vowed, holding her gaze. “And after I’ve sated myself on you, I will slide deep inside you, glide smoothly in and out of your silken heat, reveling in the tight, sleek wetness of you until I can take no more and throw back my head to call out your name.”

Raptures they would both soon enjoy—a bliss he knew would change his life forever.

“See you, Mariota, I want you as I have ne’er wanted another,” he told her, lighting soft, slow kisses across her brow, down the smooth curve of her cheek, her neck, and lower.

“And those are the
intimacies
I would give you,” he vowed, claiming her mouth in a voracious kiss that probed and plundered.

An intimate melding made even more tantalizing by the sweep of her tongue against his. Again and again, until, gasping, they broke apart, the wild pounding of their hearts a loud drumming in the silent room.

“I want those intimacies,” she said, her voice soft, yet powerful enough to bring him to his knees. “And I would return them . . . gladly.”

That did it.

Forgetting every caution he’d practiced since a certain long ago day, Kenneth reached for the lacings of her gown, undoing them with surprising ease.

His entire body clenched when the bodice fell away without resistance, leaving her lovely, full-rounded breasts to spill free.

The surprising absence of an undergown fully exposed her, and the chill night air did its part to bedevil him by making her nipples pucker right before his eyes.

Kenneth groaned, lust squeezing him beyond endurance. “You are glorious, my lady. So beautiful in your nakedness. Come, move into the candlelight so I can see you better, look on your sweetness.”

“O-o-oh, aye,” she sighed, the sultry, low pitch of her voice so soft he scarce heard her.

But she did as he asked and stepped up to a brace of candles, turning so the light spilled across her naked breasts. “This is good . . . so good,” she breathed, her nipples tightening even more.

And this time he was sure he heard her.

The surge of heat pouring into his groin confirmed it—as did the way she arched her body for him, the movement lifting her breasts, offering their ripeness, the roused flush spreading across their swells, stealing his breath.

He stared at her ruched nipples. The beautifully swollen teats and the tiny tightened folds of her aureoles fascinated him. “Nay, lass, ’tis more than good,” he breathed, licking his fingers, then lighting them on her nipples, caressing and
feeling
them.

“Such intensity as this is rare, and we shall spend each other much satisfaction and . . . comfort,” he heard himself saying, some still-wary part of himself grateful he hadn’t blurted how much he loved her.

Needed her.

And for more than the intoxication of playing with her nipples or sinking into her sleek female heat!

“Total contentment,” she agreed, giving a quick, downward tug to her gown, a swift jerk that sent the garment sliding down her legs to pool in a rumpled mass at her feet.