Chapter 23 #2
Her body arched beneath him, every nerve on fire as his hands claimed her, stroking, kneading, guiding.
She felt him tense above her, the heat of him pressing into her, and the subtle movements she could sense told her everything—he was also undone, touching himself in time with his fingers inside her, his groans vibrating against her skin.
Still, he did not push his hardness inside her, only letting his fingers bring her pleasure.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as he drove them closer to the edge. She could feel the taut lines of his chest, the hard press of him, the way his hips rolled against hers, and it made her ache even more, wanting, needing, trembling.
Every kiss, every brush of his lips, every whisper against her skin stoked the fire inside her. She shivered as she gave herself fully to the skill of his fingers, her body on fire with sensation, while the knowledge of him lost in his own desire, undone by her, only amplified it.
When the wave finally broke, it left her gasping and trembling, every nerve raw with pleasure.
She could feel him, quivering and spent, still pressed against her.
She had never imagined anything could feel so consuming, so utterly all-encompassing.
It was more than desire, more than thought, more than air itself.
“You are mine now, Elspeth,” he growled, his voice low and commanding as he spilled his seed on her stomach, marking her as his own. “You. Are. Mine.”
“I am yers,” she whispered, shivering as the force of her climax rippled through her, every nerve ending alive.
He collapsed beside her, burying his face in a pillow and letting out a ragged breath. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met hers, a mischievous glint appearing in them.
A devilish glint.
He rose, moving to the table where the water basin, pitcher, soap, and cloths were arranged.
Methodically, he washed his hands, then grabbed a fresh cloth, dipped it in the water, and returned to her side.
He knelt beside her, his touch careful and reverent as he cleaned her—first his seed from her stomach, then tenderly between her thighs.
Each movement was deliberate, protective, intimate, and entirely for her. He patted her dry with another cloth, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Then, he crossed to her armoire and returned with a sheer chemise. Helping her sit up, he guided her gently into it.
“Much as I would love to see you naked again,” he murmured, his eyes devouring her despite the fabric, “I want you to be comfortable. Are you comfortable?”
Elspeth should have felt embarrassed, but she didn’t. Not with him. Not like this. It felt utterly natural, and she leaned into the care he lavished on her, letting herself feel cherished in a way she had never known.
“I feel perfect,” she mumbled, sinking back into the bed and pulling the duvet up to her chin.
“You are the most precious creature in the world,” he purred, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “You are my treasure, Elspeth.”
The moonlight, a sliver of silver, sliced through the high window in Elspeth’s bedchamber. The beams painted the floorboards in stark, unblinking lines. The great four-poster bed, with its heavy drawn-back velvet curtains, was a pool of gentle light.
Beneath the covers, Elspeth and Hugo lay entwined, their breathing a soft, steady rhythm in the quiet room.
Hours had somehow passed like minutes since the desperate, tender rush of emotion that had carried them from the drawing room to this place.
There was no need for words now. Just the quiet bliss of skin against skin, the weight of his arm draped over her waist, her head tucked neatly beneath his chin. She felt the steady beat of his heart against her ear, a metronome counting out the slow, deliberate return to peace.
This is home. At least, it feels that way. I hope this isnae a dream.
Elspeth shifted then, her hand finding his on her hip. She traced his knuckles, the calloused pads of his fingers, the small scar on his ring finger. That was a story she did not know yet.
There were so many things they had yet to share with each other. A soft sigh escaped her lips at the thought of so many new beginnings. She felt hopeful. She felt happy.
Better yet, she felt.
“Are you awake?” Hugo asked softly in her ear.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice husky from exertion.
He did not move, but his arm tightened around her. “I am sorry.”
The apology was a surprise, simple, and without condition. Elspeth pulled back a little, craning her neck to look up at him. His eyes were open, glinting in the pale moonlight.
“For what? Surely ye daenae need to apologize to me after what we did.”
“For all of it,” he said, his gaze searching hers. “For the things I said. The way I acted. I was a fool, Elspeth. A stubborn, proud fool. You have been here, under my roof, this whole time. I curse the waste.”
A tiny, bitter smile touched her lips. “I thought we were long past that. In fact, I feel ye ken me quite intimately now.”
“There is so much left for us, darling,” he whispered. “I do not know what.”
“I mean it! Ye daenae need to apologize to me.”
“It is in the air between us, though. And well, I wanted to… clear it. Really clear it, so that we can start anew.” He paused, and she felt him take a deep, shaky breath. “I have been so angry for so long. Angry at myself, mostly, for letting things get so out of hand. For not seeing you.”
His honesty was a balm, a soothing ointment to old wounds. She no longer thought of balls or societal expectations. She thought only of him and this moment. She felt the sting of tears, but this time they were not tears of sadness.
“I was angry, too,” she admitted, her voice barely a breath. “Angry that ye hated me for somethin’ I’d never asked for. And angry that I dinnae hate ye back. Ye have this habit of infuriatin’ me.”
He let out a low, humorless laugh. “How could you? You are far too good for that. I do not think you have a hateful bone in your perfect body.”
“Ye are a most vexin’ man, Yer Grace. A perfect, impossible puzzle.”
He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. “You solved me, then?”
“I am nae sure,” she confessed. “Perhaps I have started to. Maybe we are just two broken pieces that fit together somehow. Like a cracked teacup mended with paste.”
“A teacup?” he echoed. “I am intrigued.”
“Me nursemaid, Morag, had one. Her favorite teacup, ye see. It was dropped, shattered into a dozen pieces when I was runnin’ about our home.
Me maither spent hours, days, piecin’ it back together with a special paste.
She said it was even more beautiful for havin’ been broken, a testament to her determination.
” Her fingers traced the curve of his chin.
“Our cracks, all the jagged little pieces. we will mend them together.”
Hugo was quiet for a long moment.
“I like that,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “Our cracks, all the jagged little pieces… we will mend them together.”
“Anythin’ can be fixed with the right attitude and approach.”
“Even me?”
“Even ye, Hugo. Besides, ye arenae as bad as ye think. I promise ye that.”
He shifted, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. His lips found her forehead, a feather-light touch, then her temple, and finally, her lips. He took a deep breath, savoring her scent.
It was not just her heather scent, but it was her. He could not get enough of her. Yet, something niggled at his chest.
I have not slept in another woman’s bed since…
“Stay,” she whispered against his mouth, a promise more than a plea. “Stay with me.”
Let the ghosts of the past lie.
He closed his eyes and pulled her closer, letting the rhythm of her breathing lull him into the most peaceful sleep he had ever had.