Laird of Flint: A Forbidden Love Scottish Medieval Romance Adventure (The Warrior Lairds of Rivenloc

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Hew’s jaw fell open. He groaned as his long-neglected staff responded to her touch, pressing back against her groping fingers. Her warmth, her eagerness, her determination catapulted him to new levels of desire.

But long abstinence was making his response too sharp. Too swift. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed the attentions of a woman. And Carenza wouldn’t know what to expect. He was likely to explode all at once, frightening her with his passion and leaving her unsatisfied.

That was the last thing he wanted. Better he should sacrifice his own satisfaction than leave her unrequited. Safer anyway.

So, though it took all his willpower to resist, he gently pushed her hands away. Swiftly, before he could change his mind, he lifted her up, turning to seat her on the chair. Then he dropped to his knees before her.

Her eyes were languid. Her mouth was rosy and wet. He caught the back of her neck and tugged her forward for a long, slow, passionate kiss.

Then, releasing her, he reached down to catch the hem of her leine. He lifted it, exposing her slender, wool-stockinged ankles, pausing to see if she would stop him.

She didn’t.

He slid the linen slowly up her shins to where her stockings were tied.

Still she didn’t stop him.

When he rounded her knees, she gasped. But it wasn’t a protest. It was a gasp of anticipation.

Higher he slipped her leine, draping it above her knees, where the stockings ended and her flesh began. Then he moved his hands atop her knees to gently pry them apart.

She squeezed her eyes shut and instinctively resisted at first.

“May I?” he breathed.

After a moment, she nodded. Turning her blushing face shyly aside, she allowed him to spread her legs.

He bunched her leine around her hips then, completely exposing her to his view. Reaching his unbandaged hand behind her, he shifted her forward to the edge of the chair.

She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. Her legs were long and lissome, and the nest of curls at their apex was dark and delicate. He lowered his head, stroking one silken thigh while he kissed the inside of the other.

The higher he moved, closer to the core of her need, the faster and harder her breath came and the more she opened to him. Her yearning fed his own. It pulsed between his legs.

Finally he reached the damp warmth of her womanhood, steeped with mystery, fragrant with longing. Drunk on her desire, he nuzzled her curls, tenderly parted her supple petals, and took a tiny sip of her feminine nectar.

Carenza gasped. His touch felt like lightning. A current shocking her to life. Sizzling through her body. Making her writhe in a torment of pleasure.

Just as quickly, his tongue came to soothe the burn, bathing her flesh with a healing balm.

And yet, it wasn’t sweet relief she felt, but more exquisite torture. Like a punishing lash, he stroked her with his tongue again and again. And with each blow, she moaned in agony, sure she could endure no more.

She let her head fall back.

His breath was hot on her thighs.

Her face was hot with shame.

Nay, not shame. Something else.

Awe.

A great power was glowing inside her. A power he’d sparked the way flint sparked a fire. And now that he’d kindled the flames, there was nothing to stop her from bursting into a raging inferno.

She clutched the arms of the chair, fearful of what was to come.

But he clasped her fingers in his own, lending her reassurance. He would keep her anchored. He would keep her safe. He would be there for her.

She thought she could endure no more. But her body acted of its own accord. The power inside took control. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. She stilled as the flames roared higher and higher.

And then, with a taut squeal like a sleeping coal jabbed to life, she exploded into a thousand sparks. She gasped as waves of joy rocked her body and tossed her to and fro, shaking every last vestige of modesty from her.

How he managed to hold her, to keep her from flying in a thousand different directions, she didn’t know. The throes of her desire were powerful and demanding. She could no more control them than she could stop the rain from falling.

But she didn’t need to. Nobody but Hew was witness to her shattering. No one but he saw how she shuddered out of control, becoming a wild and wanton beast, and then gradually collapsed back into herself.

And he would safeguard her. He would keep her sins concealed. That the laird’s daughter, who always comported herself with dignity, grace, and calm, had allowed herself to become passion’s plaything would be their secret. No one else need ever know.

A sudden sharp knock at the door was all it took to destroy her sense of safety.

Panic leaped into her throat. She thrashed on the chair, freeing her hands and trying to tug her leine down.

“M’lady?” came a feminine voice.

Carenza opened her mouth to reply, not sure whether she should.

Hew scowled and put a finger to his lips. Then he whispered, “Who is it?”

“My maidservant,” she whispered back.

He nodded. This was clearly not the first time he’d had to cover an indiscretion.

He called out, “This is Sir Hew. Lady Carenza allowed me the privacy of the solar to bathe. I hope ’tis all right.”

There was a brief pause. Then she asked, “Do ye need help, m’lord?”

Carenza frowned. Did the saucy maid think while her mistress was away she could feast her eyes on the naked Rivenloch warrior? The man Carenza loved?

But Hew seemed amused by her expression. “Nay, thank you,” he replied. “I’m nigh finished.”

“What about linens for dryin’?” the maid asked.

Carenza’s frown deepened.

Hew’s grin widened.

“Nay,” he called back. Then he turned a smoky, adoring gaze on Carenza. “I have everything I require.”

At his words, Carenza’s jealousy dissolved.

When they were wed, she supposed she’d have to get used to lasses staring at her handsome figure of a husband. Just as he would have to get used to the men who ogled her.

But their love had nothing to do with what others saw. The mask she wore as the well-behaved laird’s daughter was not her true self. And it was the freedom and vulnerability to be exactly who she was without judgment—with all her naked flaws and faults, her shortcomings and her sins, her insecurities and her waywardness—that made their bond precious.

He pressed a fond kiss to her knuckles and smoothed her skirts back down over her legs before he stood to adjust his own clothing.

She stole a glance before he began to lace up his braies. Though his anatomy was as intriguing as ever, his proud lance had diminished now.

She felt a pang of regret. Hew had ignited in her the most beautiful bonfire. She still felt the ashes of passion drifting down around her. But she hadn’t been able to grant him the same gift. Time had run out, and now the moment was past.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He paused mid-lace. “Sorry? For what?” He looked wary, as if he thought she might be sorry for engaging in such behavior.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

“I’m sorry I could not repay ye in kind.”

He resumed lacing, and a wee smile played around his lips. “I assure you, ’twas nigh as pleasurable for me as for you.”

She knew that couldn’t be true. But it was kind of him to say so.

“Still, I would like to—”

“We dare not,” he interjected, firmly but gently. “I should not even have done…” He paused to let his eyes graze longingly over her body. “What I did.” He shook his head. “I leave for Kildunan on the morrow. And now I’ve made my time away from you even more painful.”

“Then don’t go,” she blurted out, even though she knew that was a ridiculous request.

“I have to go.” He slipped his leine on over his head. “You know that.”

She lowered her eyes and nodded.

He reached out to cup her chin. “But not a moment will pass when I’m not thinking about you. About your bright eyes. Your sweet lips. Your tender touch. The way you feel in my arms.” He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip and murmured, “I’ll miss your kiss and the warmth of your heart next to mine. The softness of your breasts and the silkiness of your thighs.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “The taste of your womanhood upon my tongue.”

She gulped. Already she craved him again. How would she survive two fortnights without him? How would she survive a day?

“We have to find a way,” she croaked.

“A way?”

“A way to meet. I shall come to Kildunan.”

He gave her a chuckle as he pulled his plaid over his shoulder. “We’re absolutely not trysting in a monastery.”

She didn’t share his humor. The thought of waiting so long to be intimate with him again was unimaginable.

“It wouldn’t have to be a tryst,” she decided. “Surely we can at least meet somewhere for…conversation. Perhaps in the village.”

“’Tis too great a risk,” he said ruefully. “Father James has his eye on me. And you, my lady, can’t go anywhere without an escort. The laird’s daughter meeting the stranger from the monastery in the village?” He shook his head. “The gossip will spread like wildfire.”

He was right. She knew it. But that didn’t change the way she felt.

“Och, Hew,” she said as tears welled in her eyes, “I can’t bear the thought o’ bein’ away from ye for so long.” She retrieved his brooch and came forward to pin his plaid. “How can fate be so cruel as to tear ye from my side when I’ve only just begun to love ye?”

Like a magical incantation, her words broke the last link of chain mail surrounding Hew’s heart, leaving it completely unprotected. Now she could hurt him. Now she could pierce it with Cupid’s arrow and leave him bleeding.

But as he always did, he couldn’t stop himself from wagering everything on his heart. His love for Carenza felt so unique, so pure, so true, he convinced himself this time things would be different.

And as always, when he felt this way—over his head in the deep ocean of romance—his judgment was faulty.

He should have told Carenza to be strong. To have patience. To remember that absence made the heart grow fonder.

Instead he hauled her into his arms one last time, kissed the top of her head, and made a rash promise. “I’ll find a way.”

As it turned out, finding a way was more challenging than Hew expected. For more than a sennight after he returned to Kildunan, Father James was breathing down his neck. Inquiring into what aspects of a monk’s life Hew was interested in. Asking for details about Hew’s clan and his childhood. Even suggesting Hew might wish to show his serious intent by adopting the shaved tonsure of a monk.

Hew did not.

Finally Father James ran out of questions and left Kildunan for his next monastery inspection. After he was gone, the abbot privately assured Hew that he’d done well under the interrogation. He thanked Hew for keeping his secret. He even slipped Hew a congratulatory bottle of wine to enjoy in his cell.

Drinking three-quarters of the bottle in his bed late at night had probably been a bad idea. With only the pale plaster ceiling to look at, he quickly filled it with mental images of Lady Carenza. Of her smooth and lovely skin. Her shining violet eyes. Her cherry red lips. Her dark silken tresses. Her creamy breasts. Her sleek thighs. The soft mystery of her woman’s flower, opening for him.

If he hadn’t been in a monastery, he might have taken matters into his own hands then. Just the thought of Carenza had made him hard as steel.

He reached for the bottle again. Maybe he could drink himself into a stupor.

By the time he finished off the wine, he’d made a decision.

Now that Father James was gone, Hew would journey to Dunlop on the morrow. It had been a fortnight since he’d seen Carenza. The real Carenza. Not some sketches of his imagination drawn on the cell ceiling.

He’d give the abbot some excuse to go. He’d say the physician wished to check on the progress of his burned hand. Aye, that could work.

With that happy thought, he drifted off to dream about the woman he loved.

Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, he was awakened by the arrival of a guildsman in the infirmary. By morn, the physician was already at Kildunan.

Peris stayed the whole morn, tending to the guildsman, whom the other monks confided was close to death. Hew wondered how a physician willing to steal from the church and kill a man with poison had the moral fortitude to sit by a dying man’s bedside.

Then a ghastly thought sent a prickling up his spine.

What if the physician was poisoning men in the infirmary? What if it was more than just the church treasures that went missing? Could Peris and his accomplice be murdering the nobles and robbing their corpses as well?

Suddenly Hew had a real reason he could give the abbot to travel to Dunlop—following up on a clue. While the physician was busy with the dying man at Kildunan, Hew could search Peris’s quarters.

Even better, the lady of the castle no doubt had keys to all the chambers. Carenza could give him access to the physician’s things. Looking for valuables among them wouldn’t take long. And then…

Then he and Carenza could take their time reuniting.

At least that was what he planned.

But the instant he strode into the crowded hall of Dunlop and spotted Carenza across the room, his heart leaped, and he forgot all about the first part of his mission.

His ceiling portraits hadn’t done her justice. Though her smile seemed strained as she spoke with two clanswomen near the stairwell, she looked more ravishing than he remembered.

A moment later, her meandering gaze halted on him. He saw her take a deep breath, and her tight smile broadened into a grin of pure pleasure.

He wanted to run to her. To sweep her up in his arms and kiss every inch of her face. To carry her up the stairs to her bedchamber and lock the door. To cast off his clothes and his inhibitions and make sweet love to her.

But they had to be cautious.

So he sauntered toward her, greeting clanfolk as he went, until he was close enough to see the shimmering delight in her eyes.

“Lady Carenza,” he said with a polite nod of his head.

“Sir Hew,” she replied in kind. “How nice to see ye. How long has it been? Thirty days? Three hundred?” She was teasing him.

He gave her a chiding smile. “Only a fortnight, my lady.”

She sighed. “Is that all?”

“Is that Sir Hew o’ Rivenloch?” her father suddenly bellowed, coming up to join them. “How’s your hand, lad?”

Hew held up his injured hand. The blisters were gone and the skin had healed with little scarring. “Well enough to grip an axe.”

“Good to hear.” He clapped a hand atop Hew’s shoulder. “’Tis time ye returned to us.” He leaned close to whisper loudly, “My daughter missed ye somethin’ fierce.”

“Da!” she scolded.

“’Tis true, lass,” he said. “Your smile’s grown a bit dim.”

Hew told him, “Alas, I fear I’m not returning just yet.”

“What?”

“I’ve only come to fetch a few of the physician’s things. He needs them at the monastery.”

“I see,” he said, disappointed. “Well, Carenza has the key to his quarters.” He gave her a wink. “Ye can let him in, aye?”

“O’ course.”

He gave Hew’s shoulder a squeeze. “Are ye sure ye won’t stay? It can’t be too excitin’, mopin’ about with monks.”

“I’m sure.”

That was a lie. He’d never been less sure. All he had to do was glance at Carenza’s face to cast a thousand doubts on his decision to return to Kildunan.

When they were out of hearing of her father, Carenza murmured, “Is that true? Did ye come to fetch Peris’s things?”

“Not exactly.”

She smiled. She hadn’t been so happy in a fortnight. Had it truly only been a fortnight? It felt like forever.

Then he added, “But I do need to see his quarters before we…”

“Before we…?”

The smoldering glance he gave her said everything. Her heart flipped like a fresh-caught trout. The blood sang in her veins. And her body awakened as if his gaze had physically touched her.

“I missed ye so,” she whispered.

“It turns out you were right,” he whispered back. “I’d make a terrible monk.”

They reached the physician’s quarters, and she opened the door with her key.

He stepped in and closed the door behind them.

She whirled about and immediately collided with him in an outpouring of affection. A fortnight’s worth of yearning spilled from her like ale from an uncorked barrel. In his arms, she felt like she’d come home.

Hew responded in equal measure. Attacking her like a starving man at a feast. As if he could never get enough of her to fill the cavern of his heart.

Arms squeezed. Hands grasped. Mouths sought out flesh. Breath mingled in a whirlwind of desire. Their passion was frenzied and fearless, a ferocious storm they braved together.

As they kissed, he turned and backed her against the door. Then he used the deft fingers of one hand to gather her skirts, hiking them higher and higher. His other hand he crooked around the back of her neck, pulling her close. His body molded to hers, and she could feel the hard evidence of his desire against her hip.

He deepened the kiss. His tongue swept the interior of her mouth, and she answered him, snaking her tongue around his in a dizzying dance.

Then his fingers reached the hem of her skirts, and he rooted beneath them.

She stiffened as he threaded his fingers into the curls guarding her womanhood. But then, driven by instinct, she pushed against his hand. The pressure was divine. His fingers glided farther, urging her thighs apart and moving toward the center of her need.

Her mouth fell open. She let her head fall aside.

He swooped down on her exposed neck then, where his lips found a sensitive spot just below her ear. A place that stirred her senses. Made her head hum. And drove her to madness.

When he slipped his fingers between her wet nether lips, she pressed hard against his hand, stretching, yearning, aching for more.

He whispered in her ear, “Do you like this?”

She shivered, moaned softly, and nodded.

He moved his fingers over her then, stroking and circling her swollen flesh.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered. “So wet. So beautiful.”

She should thank him. The laird’s daughter was always gracious with compliments. But she couldn’t center her thoughts. She could barely stand.

Instead, she clung more tightly to him. Squeezed her eyes shut as the lovely sensation betwixt her thighs grew more pronounced. More focused. More inevitable.

“Shall I go on?” he murmured, slowing his pace as her tension increased.

“Aye,” she breathed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, stopping his movement.

“Aye,” she insisted, on the edge of frustration. “Damn ye.” The ache was unbearable. She tried to grind against his palm.

With a throaty chuckle, he resumed his motions.

Already primed, she burst rapidly into flame. She burned high and hot as she arched toward him, shuddering with sweet deliverance.

Afterwards, her knees turned to custard, and she collapsed against him to catch her breath.

“Och God, Carenza,” he murmured. “You’re magnificent.”

She smiled weakly. But if he thought she was magnificent now…

She could still feel his iron-hard staff against her belly. She wondered… Could she give him the same kind of pleasure he’d given her?

While she rested her head on his chest, she perused the physician’s shelves beside them. There was a row of oils—rosemary, lavender, hyssop, mint—with various medicinal uses. She’d once overheard two maids talk of pleasuring men with their hands and what kind of oil was best for the purpose.

Turning her attention back to him, she unfastened the leather belt at his hips and let it drop to the floor. Then she turned to force him back against the door and began gathering up his leine.

He paused her arm once to warn her, “This may be dangerous.”

She gave him a one-sided smile. “Only if I do it right.”

She pushed his leine up as far as she could and took a moment to worship his formidable chest with her lips.

“Hold this?” she asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest, holding the leine in place while she untied his trews and braies. His eyes closed, and his brow creased as she carefully slipped the garments down, allowing his rigid member to spring free.

She sighed in awe. Then she plucked the almond oil from the physician’s shelves. Uncorking the vial, she poured a small amount into her palm. She wrapped her fingers around him as tenderly as she could. But he still quivered and sucked in a sharp breath when she spread the oil over his velvet-soft skin.

“Does that hurt?”

The last thing she expected was a weak chuckle of amusement.

“Och nay, lass. It doesn’t hurt. Not e’en a wee bit.”

Her confidence restored, she began moving her hand experimentally over his warm, firm flesh. He pulsed within her hand as she slowly drew up and down his length.

“Do ye like that?” she ventured.

“Mmm.”

He opened his eyes a crack then, looking at her with such seductive adoration that all at once she wanted to be perfect for him.

But she had no experience with such things. “Will ye show me how?”

He nodded. Wrapping his free hand around hers, he guided her movements. The rhythm, slow at first, gradually increased along with the pace of his breathing.

Watching the changes in his expression, she grew enraptured by his sweet torment. Desire made a deep crease in his brow. Flared his nostrils. Tightened his jaw. The yearning in his face was beautiful. It mirrored what she’d felt. If coupling brought such sensations, how heavenly would it be to enjoy them together?

His breath suddenly hastened and deepened. The motion of his hand over hers became more rigid. He bent his head forward as if in anguish.

But it wasn’t pain. In the next moment, his back banged against the door. His hips rocked forward as he erupted in spasms of release, groaning and spilling his seed over their joined hands.

“Oh,” he panted, his chest heaving with exhaustion, “I’m sorry.”

But Carenza didn’t care about that. She was left speechless with awe.

He found a clean linen rag on the shelf and mopped up the mess. Then he let his leine fall between them and drew her into the circle of his arms.

She was still reeling with wonder.

She felt dwarfed by the magnificence of his passion.

Intoxicated by the heady power she wielded in her hands.

Honored by the trust he’d extended to her.

And reassured about his love.

She was reluctant to admit it. But being away from Hew for a fortnight had left her troubled by doubt. They’d known each other for less than a fortnight. Did he truly care for her? Or would time apart diminish his affection? What if absence made him forget her altogether?

Now, as he cradled her against his shoulder, she felt secure again, as if he’d never left.