Page 47 of The Falcon Laird
“Never,” she whispered. Her heart pounded fiercely. “He did not love me,” she said, not certain why she said so.
Without reply, he kissed her then, firmly, possessively, so that her head tipped back and her mouth softened under his. The heel of his hand grazed over the pendant that lay against her skin, beneath two layers of wool, and moved over her upper chest. Then he lifted his hand away and pulled her into his arms, kissing her with depth and warmth as if he would never let her go. She did not want to be let go.
She exhaled as a swirling force of need and craving rushed through her, breaking a dam of resistance that she was not even sure existed until that moment. Her knees went weak, her hands clenched the front of his tunic, pulling him closer as the kisses renewed.
“If you decided to be my wife in more than name, Christian MacGillan,” he murmured against her lips, “you would be bedded as much as you pleased, so that you knew you were mine and I was yours in body”—another kiss, hot and deep and moist, his mouth over hers, his tongue melting over her lips until she felt herself melting inside—“and heart, and soul.”
She swayed against him at that, wordless, and felt his strong hands catch her waist, hold her, felt his hard thighs press against hers through layers of wool. The wind whipped past as the heat in her body grew. Her limbs trembled, and the urge to melt entirely into him was strong, so strong. When he kissed heragain, his tongue tracing hers, then his lips moving along her jaw to her ear, she thought she might collapse here in his arms.
Part of her wanted to pull away, be that stubborn lady who had to constantly protect herself, yet she leaned her head back and kissed him, setting her hands to either side of his bristled jaw. And then she sighed and looped her arms around his neck. His touch, wherever his hands were, his lips, his breath, his sheer radiating presence, was so compelling that she could not get enough, like water for a soul-deep thirst.
Yet her fear of his English loyalties created a chasm she could not quite breach. Her mind spun even as her senses began to surrender. She wanted him to kiss her, touch her, love her. Her body yearned for it, lonely and pulsing and needing him. But at the same time, she wanted to step away, let her mind and feelings clear. Crying out, she stilled against him, breaths heaving, and turned her head to the side.
After a moment, he lifted his hands away. Cold air replaced his touch on her skin. She drew in a shaking breath, another, as she looked up at him.
He sighed then and touched a fingertip to her chin. “You harbor so much inside,” he said. “Anger and fear. Passion and joy. Someday you will release it. And I will be there then. Aye?” He stepped back. “Meet me at first light by the great hall. We will go through the castle. I still want to do that. The rest of it—” He paused.
“The rest?”
“The rest I will leave up to you.” He turned and strode away.
When the trembling in her knees and in her very soul calmed, she went back into the tower.
Gavin tossed andturned on the flat, uncomfortable pallet, having slept little since he had awoken John to take a turn on the parapet. Echoes of those moments with Christian still stirredthrough him. He glanced across the darkened chamber. The others would wake soon, he was sure, for dawn was near. Lady Christian slept on the other side of the stone chamber, her form slight beneath the blankets. His wife, he thought, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Her fervent response to his kisses told him she wanted him. Her body spoke him with clarity: she did not hate him. But he would wait. She would need time to come to accept him.
He would stay at Kilglassie despite its ruined state. He wanted more than a castle; he wanted a wife and family. He had never had that full chance, even with Jehanne, who had taken ill so early in their marriage. Edward may have tricked him into this grant of land, but he was determined to make something of the future that might be open to him.
As for the wife granted to him, he did not care if she was Scottish or English. He simply, deeply now, cared about her. But she needed time. She had been hurt too much, and he would not thank his cousin for any of that. He would wait, but he would not be the besotted, needy fool. He would simply wait and see if she could bring herself to realize he was more than his birth, his name, or his pledge.
He sighed and turned on his hard flat bed, and saw a small figure pushing through the curtained doorway. Michaelmas was wandering about in the gray before dawn. That might not be safe, but he would not disturb Christian to have her check on the girl. He sat up, yanked on his boots, grabbed up his cloak, and followed to make sure she meant to stay in the castle enclosure.
In the courtyard, a few wild doves erupted from a ruined tower and slipped overhead. Gavin saw Michaelmas standing quietly watching them, her hair pale in the silvery light. He stopped, startled.
She held out her hand and one of the doves fluttered down to rest on her shoulder. Another perched on her head. The childlaughed, a sweet trill. She turned then and saw him. The birds lifted away.
“I did not sleep much,” she said. “Did you? It is time to be up now.”
He watched the doves vanish into the misted dawn sky. “Are the birds trained?”
“Not trained like hawks or something. They just always come to me. They know I will not eat them,” she said, wrinkling her nose with distaste. “Perhaps it is that.”
“Perhaps they sense your kindness,” he said.
“I had a dream about you.”
“Me?” He raised his brows in surprise. “What was it?”
“I dreamed my mother was dying, and you saved her. A woman was with you who told you what to do. And then my mother sat up and was better again.”
He stared at her. Was it just the early hour, or was this child enchanted, some magical faery being with eyes like a summer sky? “Who was the other woman in your dream?”
She shrugged. “I did not know her. She was older. Fair. Perhaps an angel? She was very kind.”
He frowned, deeply puzzled. “How did I save your mother?”
“You gave her a set of harp strings, and she said thank you.” She laughed, and he did too.
“Ah. She would like that.”
