Page 62 of When a Highlander Loses His Heart
“Aye,” she panted. “Perchance it’s a sin.”
“Good Christ, woman, if it be sinful I gladly partake and willingly face the fires of eternal damnation.” He rose between her legs, lifted her hips, and plunged inside her.
This time there was no sharp pinch of pain. There was only a soreness from the night before, but it quickly disappeared as Graham set a fast, frenzied, pleasurable pace. Her body seemed to know just how to move with his, and before long, they were both crying out their release. When they were done, Graham lay beside her and pulled her into his arms.
She said a silent prayer that this moment would last as long as the previous night had, or longer. In their joining, she saw clearly now that Graham released the bonds of restraint he kept wound tightly around him. Holding her breath, she lay her hand on his heart and counted each precious beat. His hand came to cover hers, and they remained thusly until his heart slowed and her skin had cooled from the heat of passion.
A shiver ran through her at the slight chill in the air. Graham sat up, took off his plaid and wrapped her in it. He stared down at her for a moment, then said, “I need to go back to training. Remember yer vow to ask before leaving the castle, aye?”
She nodded and tightened his plaid around her as her stomach growled loudly. She slapped a palm on her stomach, mortified, but the boyish grin Graham gave her made her forget her embarrassment as her heart flipped in awe of her husband’s beautiful smile. That smile stayed on his face as he reached out and brushed a lock of her hair back from her face, but then the same remoteness from earlier came to his eyes, and he pulled back his hand as if only just remembering he had vowed only to care and protect and no more. She forced herself not to sigh with frustration.
“I dunnae believe ye had enough to eat when ye broke yer fast,” he said.
She quickly told him of her food being spilled as she was talking to Father Murdock, though she did not tell him of Rhona calling her a witch. “I believe Father Murdock dunnae feel wanted here.”
Graham frowned. “Why do ye say that?”
“He told me as much,” she replied. “Ye hurt him greatly yesterday when he asked ye to confess yer sins before our wedding and ye told him yer confessions went straight to God.”
“They do,” Graham said in the matter-of-fact way only men could think was seemly.
“Aye, of course, but perchance ye could confess to him, as well. He dunnae feel needed.”
“Father Murdock caused this himself,” Graham snapped.
Isobel frowned. “How?”
Graham rose from the bed and stretched his hands high above his head, causing the muscles of his arms, chest, and stomach to flex. Isobel’s core tightened with renewed desire, and Graham gave her a wolfish grin. “If ye continue to look at me that way, Isobel, I’ll nae ever get back to training.”
She could not stop her grin, nor order her thoughts beyond her desire for her husband. “I’m nae certain that would be such an awful notion.”
He leaned down and cupped her face gently in his hands. “Ye’re a lusty wench.”
Isobel’s eyes widened. “Possibly,” she teased, “but even lusty wenches need rest,” she said as delicately as she could. She had enjoyed every one of Graham’s touches, but she had no doubt that this morning, combined with last night, was going to leave her a bit achy.
The smile on his face disappeared as he stared at her. “Isobel, I did nae hurt ye, did I?”
His wretchedness made her even happier, which was surely a sin. Inside her husband, she was certain dwelled a deep caring for her that surely could blossom into love if she could get it out of him. Taking a bold chance, she placed her hand over his. “Nay. But I am a wee bit sore.”
“A Dia, Isobel. I’m sorry I’m such a beast. I did nae stop to consider—That is, ye make me forget myself.” She saw it the moment the wall went up around him. His eyes hardened, and his jaw clenched. He slid his hand away from her face and put physical distance between them, too. “Dunnae look for me until supper. I’ll be training the rest of the day.”
She slipped off his plaid, but he shook his head. “Keep it. ’Tis yers now. I’ve another.” Reaching into his trunk, he withdrew another plaid, quickly donned it, and started to leave. It was then that Isobel remembered Graham had not finished telling her about Father Murdock.
“Graham, why did ye say Father Murdock brought nae feeling needed on himself?”
Graham paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. “His habit of drinking too much mead has made him muck up many a thing people have asked him to do, and he has repeatedly confused requests made to him and caused arguments.”
Her mouth dropped open at the news as she thought of her request for him to speak to Rhona. Dear God! She was so consumed with worry over how Father Murdock might accidentally make matters worse that she didn’t even realize Graham had walked back toward her until he was kneeling in front of her.
“Isobel, ye did nae ask the priest to do anything for ye, did ye?”
If she told Graham, he might become angry at Father Murdock, and she could not stand the thought that the priest might lose his position at Dunvegan because of his unthinking words. Graham’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze locked on her mouth. “Nay,” she rushed out. “We simply talked of his position here.” The lie filled her with guilt, but she had no other choice, not one she could tolerate.
Graham stared at her for a long moment, his disbelief clear by the setting of his jaw. She braced herself for his demand that she speak the truth, but he stood slowly, keeping his probing gaze on her. “That’s good to hear, Wife. Because any task ye ask of Father Murdock, he is sure to make a mess of.”
Swallowing, she nodded. “I’ll be sure to remember that,” she added, her voice shaky even to her own ears.
Graham did not reply, merely turned and left without a word. Isobel feared that protecting Father Murdock had just cost her greatly. She had to speak to the priest and learn what he had said to Rhona, if he had talked to her yet at all. And if he had not, mayhap she would talk to Rhona herself. Isobel frowned. That would likely not help her case at all. She would have to tell Father Murdock exactly what to say and make him repeat it to her, and convince him not to drink any ale before he talked to Rhona.
