Chapter 14
Fourteen
Caithren
“WHERE HAVE you been?” Jason asked Caithren half an hour later. “Surely that tale set in Newark made for a short story. I lived it, if you’ll remember, and there wasn’t much to it.”
He was already in bed.
She’d been half-hoping he’d already be asleep.
Steeling herself to tell him about the bairn, she kicked off her shoes. She’d just answer his question first. “I helped put the children to bed.”
“What? They couldn’t put themselves to bed?” He set his book on the bedside table. “Jamie is fourteen. And Griffin and Adam—”
“I meant I helped put Kendra’s children to bed.” She sat on a chair to roll down her stockings. “Since she and Trick ran off so quickly.”
“They aren’t little children, either. Elspeth is older than Adam, and Cas and Pol are twelve, aren’t they?”
“Thirteen.” She rose and began detaching her stomacher. “I just walked them over to the cottage, made sure they didn’t need anything, got them some water—”
“And that took forty-five minutes?”
“Well, then I helped pick up all the wrappings and ribbon—”
“Ford has servants to do that.”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be waiting.”
Rising from the bed—stark naked—he moved toward her.
Caithren’s breath caught.
“I told you earlier I was missing you. I want you.” He reached her in all of two strides. “Surely you don’t find that surprising?”
Nay, she didn’t find that surprising. The two of them had never tired of each other, never gone more than a handful of days without falling into each other’s arms. Nothing had changed that, not children, not familiarity, not time.
She knew the current look in his eyes as well as she knew the back of her own hand. That look made her heart race, as it always did.
She had to tell him she was carrying a bairn.
She had to.
Instead, she stepped into his embrace.
He clasped her tightly against him. His mouth brushed hers, once, twice, caressing her lips more than kissing them, wordlessly commanding her to open and let him in. When she parted her lips, he devoured her mouth with an urgent hunger.
She returned his kiss with wild abandon, stunned at its raw possessiveness. It always felt a wee bit different when they were in a place that wasn’t home. A wee bit more exciting. But this was more than that.
What had got into him? Was he still thinking about the journey he was planning for the summer? Was this what he had in mind, day after day of consuming passion? After twenty-one years together, this sounded like a dream. An impossibly beautiful dream.
She had to tell him about the bairn.
But God help her, she didn’t want to give up this dream any more than he did.
She had to tell him anyway.
Instead, she helped him rid her of all her remaining clothing.
He crushed her to him, skin against skin, fusing his lips to hers again.
His tongue plundered her mouth, his teeth nibbled her lower lip.
She wound her arms around his neck and twined her fingers in his long, thick hair, yielding herself to the pleasure.
His lips traveled her cheeks, her nose, her hairline.
A day’s growth of roughness grazed her skin, a thrilling texture even after all their time together, a texture so very, very male.
She had to tell him about the bairn.
Instead, she let him lower her to the bed, his hands roaming her body and leaving a riot of sensation in their wake. Her own hands skimmed his back, his shoulders, wherever she could reach. He smelled spicy and warm, so familiar and yet endlessly, unbearably exciting.
She had to tell him about the bairn.
Instead, she let him kiss her breasts. His dark head bent and his clever mouth moved over them, wet and warm and arousing.
In fourteen years, she’d forgotten how sensitive pregnancy made her nipples.
Though his teeth grazed her ever so lightly, the resulting sensations straddled the border between exquisite pleasure and enthralling pain.
Her bairn-swollen breasts surged in response, sending fiery tendrils throughout her.
She had to tell him about the bairn.
Instead, when his hand traced down her side and his fingers caressed between her legs, she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
She pressed her lips to where his neck met his shoulder and tasted his heated skin.
His distinctive scent was intoxicating. His low groans echoed her own sounds of bliss, but his movements remained controlled, agonizingly slow, skillfully bringing her to a fever pitch of passion.
She had to tell him about the bairn.
Instead, feeling an incredible urgency, she strained for more. More of his body, more of his mouth, more of his fingers where they teased. More everywhere. More, more, until there wasn’t a spot on her body he hadn’t kissed or touched or tantalized into awareness.
She had to tell him about the bairn.
Instead, the sensations built and built, and her pulse raced faster and faster, until she quivered and cried out. And at last he moved over her and slid home.
Welcoming him, wrapping her legs around him, she arched up, taking him deep…deeper…deeper yet, until she felt they were one and the same.
She held her breath while he held still for a beat…two…three.
Then, “Sweet Cait,” he murmured, and began rocking against her, slowly at first, then faster, kindling another hot rush of excitement.
She met each stroke in exquisite harmony, her entire body pulsing, clutching him with her hands and her legs, with her arms and her heart.
Emotions rose within her, overwhelming her body and soul, pushing her up, up…
She was shuddering, gasping for breath. “Oh, no.” It was too much. She couldn’t stand it.
“Oh, yes,” he whispered against her lips. “Fall for me, sweet Cait.”
And so she did, plunging over the edge—“Oh, Jase!”—exploding into a million wee pieces when she felt him go with her.
After what seemed an eternity, the pieces slowly came back together.
They lay still for long, satisfying moments before he rolled to his side, taking her with him.
She cuddled close as she fought to catch her breath.
Gathering her even closer, he graced her with the most tender kiss.
A kiss that melted her heart, her lips clinging to his, savoring the sweetness of his love, a love that had never faltered.
She had to tell him about the bairn.
She’d tell him after Christmas.
That was only two days from now, after all.
What harm could come from waiting?