Chapter Twenty-Three #3
He kissed her lips before she could speak.
It hurt that he did not immediately respond in kind, but there was such emotion in his kiss, she cast that disappointment aside and clung to him.
Her hurt faded even more beneath the strong passion his ardent lovemaking aroused within her.
He smoothed it away with each kiss, each caress.
As he slowly removed her clothes, he honored each newly exposed patch of skin.
Although she did not dare to put a name to it, the deep feeling he put behind his every touch flowed through her, intensifying her passion.
He shed his clothes so swiftly she had no chance to regain her senses, his tender onslaught seemingly unbroken.
She cried out in hungry welcome as he eased into her body.
It took a moment for her passion-clouded mind to clear enough for her to realize he was not moving.
She opened her eyes, blushing beneath his intent stare, yet stirred beyond words by the depth of emotion shining in his black eyes.
Moira wrapped her body more tightly around him, trying to tempt him to begin the dance she so craved, but he would not be moved.
“Tavig,” she said, a little embarrassed by the plea that tinted her voice.
“Say it again, my Moira. Say it whilst we are as close as any mon and woman can be.”
“Bribery. Or mayhap, blackmail.”
“Aye, a desperate mon can act less than honorably at times. Say it.”
“I love you, Tavig.”
“Sweet Mary, dearling. Ye cannae begin to understand how I have ached to hear ye say that. As we age, I wager we will engage in many an argument over whose love is the strongest—yours for me, or mine for you.”
Before she had a chance to consider what he had just said, he kissed her and began to move.
Moira groaned softly with relief and hearty enjoyment.
She clung to him as his movements grew fiercer, their hunger more demanding.
Even as Tavig drove deeply, holding himself there and groaning her name as he spilled his seed, Moira’s passion crested.
It was not until they were fully recovered, lying closely entwined and catching their breath, that Moira was able to think over the things he had said while passion had clouded her mind.
Reviewing his words over and over, she was sure he had said that he loved her.
Her heart pounding with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, she looked at him. He had to cease being so obtuse.
“So, do ye love me or not?” she demanded, a little surprised at her own boldness.
Tavig’s eyes widened. “Are ye still uncertain?”
“’Tis hard to be certain when a mon doesnae say it clearly.
Plain and simple though the words may be, I think I would prefer ye to say them in the same unadorned way I did.
Ye can pretty them up and twist them about all ye like—later.
Now, right now, I need ye to tell me what ye feel for me in clear, direct language. ”
He moved so that he could look directly into her eyes. “I love you, Moira Robertson MacAlpin, now and forever.” Tavig frowned when her lips trembled, her eyes brightening with the hint of tears. “Ye arenae going to cry, are ye?”
“Nay.” She reached out to brush the hair from his forehead, not surprised to see that her hand shook slightly.
The emotions running through her were so intense she was surprised her whole body was not shaking hard enough to move the bed.
“’Tis just that I have needed to hear the words so badly for so long it has rather offset me. ”
“I truly thought ye kenned how I felt, dearling. I was that sure it was there to read in my every touch, my every act.”
“Tavig, ye are the first mon I have had aught to do with. In truth, ye are the first mon in many a year I havenae hidden from, cringed from, or feared. Now, I may have become braver, but I havenae become vain, and ’twould have been verra vain of me to just assume ye loved me. ” She smiled when he laughed.
Moving so that he was comfortably sprawled on top of her, Tavig gave her a slow, tender kiss. “I love you.” He murmured his appreciation when she hugged him tightly with her whole body. “That is what ye needed to make ye stay with me, to make ye willing to face all the days to come?”
“Aye,” she said. “We may be blessed, and our lives could be mostly trouble-free. Howbeit, because of who and what we are, we could face many a time of strife. To face such strife we needed to be united by more than passion and your belief in fate and destiny.” She shifted with pleasure beneath the idle but arousing touch of his hands.
“Aye, I feared superstition and the dangers it could present for us. Even more, I feared watching that strife push ye away from me, turn ye against me. Without the tie of love, without the strength it can give us, that could have happened. That is what I was trying to escape.”
“Then I need not fear that ye will ever try to leave me again. This is why fate chose us to be lovers and to love each other. No one could understand what we may face better than we can. We have the strength to face such fears and superstitions alone, but together we shall be unbeatable.”
“I do hope so. I look forward to spending many a long year with you, husband.” She rubbed her feet over his calves. “Do ye think ye have the strength to face that, my fine laird?”
“A bold challenge. Ye have thrown down a heavy gauntlet.”
“And are ye going to pick it up?”
“Oh, aye, my heart. Pick it up, hold it tightly, and never let it fall.”