Page 45 of Love Beyond Time
Just as I was on the brink of shattering beneath him, he would slow his rhythm, easing the torturous longing in between my thighs by nipping me gently at the base of my neck or drawing his tongue up from my navel and chest.
He continued his playful torture, bringing me to the cusp of release and then stopping until I could take no more. Finally I reached down to stop his hand from trailing upward and pleaded breathlessly in his ear, “Please. Please, don’t stop.”
He kissed me roughly and moved his fingers once more. “As ye wish, lass.” And I went flying over the edge, moaning and squirming underneath his hands as I trembled from the sensation.
Just as the shockwaves of pleasure subsided, he pulled back and positioned himself for entry, plunging into me at my nod of approval.
I screamed as he filled me, my insides shifting and stretching to make room for him as he began another devastating assault on my senses. With each thrust, I struggled to pull him closer, feeling empty each time he slid himself partially out of me. He was a selfless lover, and as each rock of his hips brought him closer to his own release, he worked hard to ensure that I climbed the peak with him.
It was instantaneous, the thrust that sent us both spiraling back down to earth together, and as we shuddered in each other’s arms, our lips met once more, silently worshiping one another.
Chapter 28
He needed to find the ring. It was his only chance at getting Blaire back, and he wasn’t going to let the time window close before they tried the spell.
Arran knew Bri had been searching for the ring since they’d learned it was needed for the spell. And while Eoin claimed to be helping in the search, Arran knew a part of his brother hoped they would never find it.
If the spell did work and Blaire returned to him, he wasn’t going to give her up again. She wasn’t actually married to Eoin. It was Bri who’d said the vows, and he’d be damned before he let her go again.
If he located the ring before Eoin and Bri returned from their trip, perhaps she would have no reason to stay any longer.
He’d searched everywhere: each bedchamber, each study, even Morna’s spell room he’d turned upside down in his desperate search for the ring.
The ring was buried with his father. He’d known it all along but had wished ardently that he was wrong, that perhaps his father had removed the ring from his finger before death.
He couldn’t do this himself. He knew he wasn’t that strong. Even going to the gravesite seemed impossible to him, but the ring had to be found.
His stomach rolling uncomfortably, he made his way down to the stables to enlist help from the runaway, now under Kip’s command. He hadn’t bothered to learn the lad’s name. He didn’t trust something about the fellow and didn’t expect him to stay long enough for it to be worth learning.
When Arran entered the stables, Kip was leaning back against the doorway, looking pleased as he watched his new worker shovel out manure.
“Kip, may I speak with ye a moment?” Arran didn’t approach the stable. He wasn’t ready to enter after the gruesome mess he’d been forced to clean.
“Aye, o’course ye can.” The old man pushed himself off of the doorway and made his way to Arran.
“Kip, do ye mind if I borrow the stable lad for the rest of the day? I have an unpleasant task that I’d rather no do meself if I can have someone do it for me.”
“Aye, there’s no much for the lad to do here anyway. We’ve fewer horses now, and I managed just fine on me own. Ye are welcome to use him as long as ye wish.”
“Thank ye, Kip. Send him to the graveyard.”
Arran turned before he could see the questioning look on Kip’s face as he solemnly marched toward his father’s grave.
They dug for hours, each shovel of dirt opening the poorly sealed wound of grief that crossed right through the center of Arran’s heart. When they finally hit the wooden box set low beneath the ground, Arran dropped his shovel and faced the man beside him.
“Ye are to get inside the box and get the ring on his right hand. Doona disturb anything else that ye find inside the coffin. Once ye have it, make sure that the box is closed before ye ask me to come help ye fill in the hole. I doona want to see anything inside it.”
“What makes ye think I do? I doona want to upset a man’s resting place.”
Arran grabbed the man roughly, shoving him against the side of the deep hole. “I doona care what ye want to be doing. Ye can either do as I’ve asked ye, or we can send ye back where ye came from.”
Arran didn’t wait for the man’s response as he crawled out of the hole and sat on the grassy patch next to his mother’s grave, covering his eyes to push away the memories each thrust of his shovel had dug up.
* * *
Even Laird Kinnaird wouldn’t have asked him to dig up a man once he’d been buried. It was mighty bad luck.
But as he pushed away the heavy lid on top of the box, he saw an opportunity that pushed all of his guilt away. For upon the decaying remnants of Alasdair Conall’s right hand were two rings.
