Page 10 of Highland Warrior
Vían hid her face from him, but not in time.
“Why the tears? Are ye hurting?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
Damn him. Damn him for being a good man.“Nay,” she croaked. “I just…just…” She tensed with a hiccup, and then sobbed again. “Please don’t think I’m touched in the head, I can’t tell you why I’m like this.” In truth, she couldn’t. It had been maybe a quarter century since she’d even had the energy to cry. Her despair had dipped below such shows of emotion.
Was he making her feel? Was he making her care?
Dear God, how much of this could she take?
“How long has it been since anyone’s held ye?” he queried gently. “Since ye’ve been touched by another with affection?”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “It seems like… ages. Centuries, maybe.”
He smiled against her neck, and pressed a kiss behind her ear. “Did ye know that our bodies require human touch?”
She shook her head as he ran his fingers over their previous path, and back up again, seeking the places that caused her to arch and moan. Distracting her from her tears.
“No matter how much ye feed a bairn, it willna thrive without the tender arms of a mother or nurse and will most likely die. Every caress, every embrace, every time our hands hold, like so.” He traced her arm until he laced his fingers with hers. “It creates a substance within us that is vital to life.”
“Magick?”
“Nay. It’s just how we mortals are made. Call it what you will. Social beasts, souls in need of affectionate connection with another. Compassionate companionship.” He released her hand to cup her face, kissing the tear from her cheek. “’Tis a gentle thing you’re feeling,” he murmured. “And I’m glad to be the one to touch ye. To ease yer loneliness. To liberate these tears of need.” With utter tenderness, he pressed his lips against her temple, then her eyelid, then her cheek, and jaw.
Seized by raw emotion and instinct, Vían turned in his arms until she faced him and threw her leg over his hips. Forcing him to his back, she climbed atop him and filled herself with his hardening length.
Next time. Next time she’d say the spell, but this moment was for her.For him.
And what they could never have together.
“Give me yer name, woman,” he gasped, his hands falling to her hips to help her set a rhythm as his eyes lazily enjoyed the sway of her generous breasts. “I want to know what to name to call when I’m inside ye.”
“My name is Vían,” she told him, then leaned in for a desperate kiss.
Now he knew the name of the woman he’d one day despise.
Chapter 4
It never ceased to amaze Vían how quickly men could drop off to sleep after sex. She’d barely climbed off of his lean, talented hips before Malcolm had collapsed onto his back, pulled her to drape over his body, and given up consciousness in almost his very next breath.
She’d spent the last fifty years in a dark chasm, and thus didn’t even like to blink, let alone fall asleep and miss one moment of her freedom. Besides, the flutters of his auburn lashes entertained her, as did the twitches of his limbs as he slept.
In fact, he reposed as though he and slumber were strangers. Perhaps he was as consumed with saving the earth as the Wyrd Sisters were with ending it. It would explain why he seemed so lean, hard, and stern.
It made the fact that he’d been nothing but gentle and patient with her that much more extraordinary. Here, on the floor of this hovel, he looked nothing like a king, but every inch the Earth Druid. The forest indeed seemed to welcome him.
Vían didn’t know how long she watched him sleep. Long enough for the fire to die to glowing embers and the silver light of dawn to pierce the many cracks, holes, and weaknesses of the hovel.
She’d become accustomed to encompassing silence, so the sounds of the forest fascinated and lulled her. The rhythm of Malcolm’s breath and the beat of his heart became the percussion to the forest’s midnight melody, and the music transfixed her for splendid hours.
His body woke before he did, muscles lifting to press into her, and his manhood thickening beneath her thigh as it rested in between his legs. His breaths came deeper, and more quickly, and when she shifted atop him, he groaned and stretched.
Now was the time. The spell of the night was broken, and everyone had to face the hard truths in the light of day. If she were to work her curse on him, this would be the moment.
Vían bit her lip, hard, to cause herself physical discomfort that could match the sharp pang of guilt and sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “There’s no other way.” Splitting her legs over him, she reached down to his hard, throbbing sex, meaning to guide it inside her and awaken him with the last bit of pleasure she could give, before she took everything from him.
The gentle nicker of a horse warned her a second before the entire hovel shook with the impact of the door being kicked in.
