Chapter 22
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, wide-eyed.
Aiden still had his back turned to her. Shoulders squared, spine straight. The scars rippled across his skin.
I cannae even imagine the pain he went through.
“It wasnae just the physical pain,” he spoke, as if reading her thoughts.
“It was the realization that me braither could do that to me. That if he could have done it and gotten away with it, he’d have had me killed, too.
” He let out a long sigh, tipping back his head.
“When I heard he was dead, I couldnae quite believe it. I expected to feel relieved, but all I felt was emptiness.”
“He got what he deserved.”
Aiden shrugged limply. “All of that death. So much bloodshed, just to hold the lairdship for a few years. What a waste.”
He lifted a hand, rubbing the nape of his neck. She watched his fingers inch lower, one fingertip circling the jagged edge of one brand. His hand jerked back when he touched it, and he let his arm fall to the side.
“The rumors about ye never mentioned the brands,” Hannah murmured.
“Aye. Nobody kent except me braither and I, and a handful of men loyal to him. Only they kent how he’d ruined me.”
She flinched. “Ruined?”
Aiden snorted. “Aye. Look at me! What else would ye call it?”
Silence stretched out between them. Hannah said nothing, and Aiden didn’t seem to expect a reply.
Swallowing, she stepped forward, closing the space between them.
She reached out her hand. When her fingertips brushed his skin, he flinched.
She paused, holding her breath, sure that he was going to pull away.
Instead, he stood still, his head turned ever so slightly to the side, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
Her fingertips danced over the small of his back. The scars there had healed jaggedly, distorted by movement. The patchwork of brands curved over his hips in one place, ducking beneath the waistband of his kilt. She felt rather than heard him suck in a breath, his ribs expanding.
Heat darted here and there inside her, tightening her chest and pulling at her gut. Keeping one hand curled in the folds of her skirt, she let the other trail upwards.
Closing her eyes, she focused on what her fingertips felt. His skin, deliciously warm. Ridges and knotted scars. The way his breath caught in his throat now and then. She followed the curve of his spine, right up to the nape of his neck.
All the while, he hadn’t made a move. Hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t said or done anything to break the moment. When her fingers reached the nape of his neck, he seemed to go even more still, if that was possible. She let her hand drop.
Trying to calm her pounding heart, she took a step closer. This time, she pressed her cheek against his back, closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
He sucked in a surprised breath, shifting under her hands.
Turning her head, she pressed a tentative kiss against one particularly vivid brand.
This one was circular, with a twisted end inside the circle, like a knot.
She could imagine the simple pattern gracing the flank of a bull or a cow, or some other animal.
The fact that Magnus Calder had seen fit to use animal brands on his own brother made rage flare hot inside her.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” she breathed. “Yer braither, I mean. If I got me hands on him, I’d have killed him meself.”
Aiden snorted a laugh. “He was almost as tall and strong as I. I daenae think ye could’ve achieved that.”
She sniffed. “I’d have managed.”
He shifted in her arms, turning to face her. Neither of them stepped away, leaving her chin only inches from his chest, head tilted back to look up at him.
“Ye ken what?” he murmured thoughtfully, lifting a hand to trail his knuckles across her cheekbone. “I believe that ye would have found a way.”
Before Hannah could respond with a sharp retort, he leaned down and kissed her gently.
At the beginning, the kiss was nothing more than a brush of their lips. His palm cradled her cheek, warm and comforting. Then his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the kiss deepened.
She gasped into his mouth, lips parting. His tongue slid against hers, careful and languid. Tilting his head, he deepened the angle, fitting them together as if they’d been made that way.
Hannah pressed herself against him, reaching up to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders.
The hand around her waist flattened out, his hot palm trailing briefly down her spine before moving to her hip.
She let her fingertips rake through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, then trailed them down to trace the edges of his scars.
I could trace these shapes forever.
“Beautiful,” Aiden breathed against her, pulling back just enough to give her a glimpse of his eyes, dark and intent.
Before she could respond, he leaned in again, pressing his lips against her neck.
Sensation shivered through her. His teeth raked against her skin, blunt and hard, applying only a delicious hint of pressure.
She shivered, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back, and he applied a little more pressure, just enough to make a thrill bloom at the spot.
Then his teeth disappeared, and he laved the flat of his tongue against the very same spot.
Pulling back, he grinned wolfishly down at her.
“Ye will have a bruise there in the morning,” he purred. “A wee red mark, right here on yer neck where everybody can see it. And what do ye think they’ll realize when they see it?”
She shivered breathlessly. “What?”
“They’ll realize that ye belong to me.”
Her breath caught in her throat, audibly so.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
He leaned in to kiss her again, but this time there was more heat. She clutched at him, pulling him against her. Their teeth knocked together clumsily, but neither of them cared. His hands slid up her sides, palms stroking over the swell of her breasts. The warmth of it made her breath hitch again.
He pulled back, watching her thoughtfully. Then his fingers danced over the seam in the front of her bodice, tugging questioningly on the laces that bound it together.
She gave a slow, breathless nod.
“I thought most dresses laced up at the back,” he murmured, gently unraveling the knot.
Hannah felt the bodice loosen at once and closed her eyes. “If they have a maid, aye,” she responded wryly. “How am I meant to get a dress laced up at the back all on me lonesome?”
“Ahh, that makes more sense.”
Carefully, he dropped his clever hands to the laces, tugging each one studiously through its hoop.
Bit by bit, the bodice sagged open until the neckline was loose enough to slip off her shoulders.
She wore a shift under it, of course, a thin, translucent linen garment that had certainly seen better days.
He pulled aside the bodice, letting it bunch around her waist. The air chilled her skin through the shift, her nipples peaking.
Aiden placed a hand on her breastbone and slid it downwards, cupping the weight of her breast through her shift.
He ran the pad of his thumb over one pink nipple, and she clenched her teeth to hold in a startled moan.
He was on her at once, his hand cupping her jaw, his thumb sliding across her lips. “Ah-Ah-Ah,” he chastised.
She unclenched her teeth, and he slipped his thumb into her mouth, pressing just once, just briefly on the flat of her tongue. Then the digit was gone, leaving her with a slack jaw, wide eyes, and a pulsing heat between her legs.
“Nay holding back yer voice,” he whispered.
Next, he undid the laces of her shift, more briskly now. It only laced up for a few inches, just enough to hold the neckline closed and keep the garment from slipping off her shoulders. Tugging down the shift and letting it bunch up with the bodice around her waist, he exhaled tautly.
Hannah forced herself not to shiver or cover herself. Instead, she watched him.
“More beautiful than I could have imagined,” he breathed, leaning in once more.
His warm fingers skimmed the swell of her breasts, teasing. Unsteady, she staggered backwards and bumped against the footboard of the bed. She gripped it to steady herself, looking up at him.
Waiting.
“I suppose it’s too late to ask if I can touch ye?” he murmured, amused.
She gave a tiny smile. “I suppose it isnae too late to ask ye to touch me.”
For a split second, hot desire flared in his eyes.
Then he lunged forward, pulling her against him.
The kiss lasted only for a minute, ravenous and heated.
Abruptly, Hannah found herself turned around, facing the footboard.
His arms tightened around her, one cupping her breast, running a thumb over her nipple, and the other tugging at her skirt.
“Ye drive me mad,” he breathed against her neck.
He kissed the side of her throat, just briefly, and the scratch of his stubble made her shudder. Closing her eyes, she twisted back a hand to cup his cheek, then moved further, gripping his shoulder to steady herself.
His questing hand grazed her bare knee. The slow, teasing caresses had ceased now. He flattened a palm against her thigh and squeezed briefly. Firmly, but not painfully.
Growling low in his throat, he pulled her against him.
She felt something hard and warm press against her, but when she tried to push back experimentally against it, he gripped her hip almost painfully, holding her in place.
Taking the hint, she stilled her movements, forced to wait in pulsing anticipation.
His knuckles brushed against her core first, making her hips buck. She gasped loudly, and he chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated through her. Almost experimentally, he cupped his entire hand over her sex.
“Ye want it, daenae ye, lassie?” he whispered, almost smugly. She could hear the smirk in his voice. “Ye want me.”
She swallowed. “Aye. Aye, I… I do.”
“Good lass.”
His forefinger traced a line through her wet heat to that nub that made her buck and gasp, pleasure flooding through her. Again and again, he traced that line, speeding up until slick sounds echoed through the quiet room, punctuated by their ragged breathing and her stifled moans.
Slowly, leisurely, as if Hannah was not shaking with anticipation, he pushed one finger inside her.
The sensation was different from what had come before, strange but not unpleasant.
He withdrew his finger almost completely, then pushed it back in.
Hannah shifted her hips, a sign for him to continue.
His free hand slid up from her breast and cupped her chin, tilting up her head. “Remember what I said about holding back yer voice?” he whispered.
She nodded tightly. “I remember.”
“Good girl.”
He resumed his ministrations, speeding up increment by increment. His thumb pressed against her nub while his fingers moved inside her. After a moment, he curled his finger, and sparks of pleasure exploded behind her eyes. She cried out, tensing, and he chuckled in her ear.
Pulling her tighter against him—if that was even possible—his fingers sped up, pressing and rubbing and stroking. It was too much and yet not enough, and Hannah felt as though she were about to topple off the end of some high cliff. But of course, she did not care.
Her peak hit her with a rush, a shivering climax that would have made her double over if Aiden were not holding her tightly against him. She felt his lips press against her throat once more, the pinprick of teeth.
Slowly, carefully, he stopped his ministrations, then withdrew his hand. They stood together for a moment, both breathing heavily.
“I need to sit down after that,” Hannah gasped.
He chuckled and released her. She stumbled forward, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. The room seemed to shift around her. Everything just seemed surreal.
Aiden took a step back, raking a hand through his hair. Hannah flopped back onto the layers of fur and wool. With slow, deep breaths, she floated down from her high.
She closed her eyes. “Ye are leaving for Calder Castle soon, arenae ye?” she asked. “That’s yer home, nae MacBain Castle.”
There was a long moment of silence.
She was just starting to wonder whether he’d actually slipped out of the room when the mattress dipped under his weight. She opened her eyes, and there he was, propped up on his elbows beside her.
“Aye,” he murmured. “I am.”
She swallowed. “I cannae persuade ye to stay?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Nay. This place, it… I cannae stay here. I have told ye why.”
She closed her eyes again.
If I go into the Great Hall, will I find that little iron hoop set into the floor? Will I find flecks of blood between the flagstones?
The thought made her shudder.
“I should leave,” she muttered.
Silence greeted her.
What did I expect? That he’d beg me to stay? Stupid, stupid.
She opened her eyes again, and this time she was determined to keep them open.
Rising unsteadily into a sitting position, she tugged her arms into her sleeves, hastily lacing up the front and covering herself.
Next, she lifted her hands to her hair. It had come undone entirely, hanging heavily around her shoulders.
She had no comb, so she hastily brushed her fingers through it, tidying it as much as possible.
Once it was relatively untangled, she wound it into a braid.
There was nothing to secure the end, of course, so she was forced to let go, watching the braid slowly unravel.
Her hands, she noticed, were shaking.
Aiden watched her, eyes unreadable. Clearing her throat—she’d give herself a sore throat at this rate—she scrambled off the bed, smoothing down her bodice and shaking out her skirt.
Slowly, Aiden rose. There was nothing unsteady about his hands, and no nervous coughing or clearing of the throat from him.
Did he ever care about me?
That was too painful a thought. It couldn’t be ignored forever, but thinking it now was certainly a bad idea.
“Lucas will see ye home safely,” he said bluntly, meeting her eyes.
Hannah nodded and forced herself to smile. “Thank ye. Goodbye, Aiden. Maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”
She didn’t give him a chance to respond, choosing instead to turn on her heel and stride hastily out of the room, never once looking back.
You couldn’t look back in life. It was never a good idea.