Chapter 14 #4
He kissed her cheeks, her brow, his hips agonizingly still, letting her grow accustomed to the feel of his shaft embedded deep inside her.
It was the most exquisite of tortures, the most wondrous of miracles, when at last he felt her rigid muscles ease under the tender stroking of his hands.
He whispered against her bare skin, praises he had never thought to utter.
And she answered him with her body, moving against him, sighing with building pleasure. When she moaned softly, eagerly, Niall knew it was time.
Unable to hold himself back another moment, he drew his hips back then thrust ever so gently into the sweet sheath of her body.
Caitlin gasped, her arms twining around him, her long legs shifting restlessly against his.
He guided her legs about his lean hips, taught her how to draw him deeper, ever deeper.
He pressed hot kisses against her cheeks, her breasts, suckling her as he drove himself again and again into her body.
She was sobbing now, pleading for the release they both craved, and Niall reached for it, strove for it, with every sinew in his body.
When he felt himself careening toward release, he slipped his hand between their bodies, and finding her tender nub one more time, he stroked it once, twice, as he moved hard within her.
Caitlin buried a cry against his shoulder just as his own climax crashed over him, spilling his seed at the mouth of her womb.
An animal groan tore from Niall as he collapsed atop her, struggling to right himself as the world spun away.
He clung to her, his chest heaving, his heart pounding.
After a moment, he shifted his body until she lay alongside him.
Silent, shaken, he cradled her in his arms, half afraid he had broken her somehow, this woman of dreams and light and fierce generosity.
She lay so quiet against him he could not bear it. He raised his head, looked into her face. Tears streaked her cheeks, her lips quivering.
"Did I hurt you?" he rasped, wiping away the moisture with the tips of his fingers.
"Nay."
"Then why do you weep?"
"I cannot bear to think what I almost lost. I might never have known what it felt like to be loved by you. But now—now I will always remember how tight your arms held me, how you kissed me and suckled me and—" She stopped, her voice unsteady. "Now, even when I am alone, I will always remember."
Niall peered down at the quiet resolve in her face, his own chest aching. When I am alone. Her words echoed through him, impossible, unthinkable.
How could he let her go after what they had shared? How could he walk away? He wondered, stroking the silky curve of her shoulder in silence.
But he had managed to walk away before, had he not? From Daire, from Fiona and his mother and the memory of his father. Could it be so much harder to leave Caitlin behind?
Desolation swept through him. He had been blinded by his own pain when he had abandoned his family years ago. But now he had seen what his selfishness had cost them. Was he coward enough to cast Caitlin to the winds of fate as well?
But what choice did he have? Conn would be satisfied by the letter Niall had sent for only a brief while. Soon the chieftain would expect his champion to present himself at the fortress, to take up arms again in his name.
What would Conn do if Niall refused to fight any longer? If Niall left the fortress for the seclusion of Daire? Would Conn suspect... what? That Caitlin lived? That Niall had betrayed his trust?
Nay, Niall reasoned with a twinge of guilt. Conn believed in his foster son. He would never imagine the boy he had cared for would deceive him. It was a dark deceit to pin a future upon. And yet Niall could not help but feel a stirring of hope.
Was it possible he and Caitlin could stay at Daire? That she could be safe here? No man on earth or angel in heaven could guard her as well as he could.
If she were careful, if he were vigilant, was it possible that they could build a life together, here on this secluded patch of land with its memories and its strange fascination, its irresistible spell of enchantment?
He gazed down at Caitlin, her eyes closed now in sleep, and he imagined forever waking with her in his arms, the tenderness in her eyes driving back any memory of mockery and scorn and shame.
Niall drew the folds of wool around her, warming her in his arms. She made him believe that anything was possible, if he had the courage to trust in her, in himself.
For an instant, he almost confided in her, told her of the secrets he now held in his heart. But he did not dare. For if he failed...
He shoved the thought away, unable to bear it. Nay, he would not risk hurting her so deeply. He would work in secret, use all his skills, his strength, to find some way to make things right.
He would do his best to believe enough for both of them—in a future he had never imagined, in love he had never believed existed, in roots dug so deep into Irish earth he could never think of leaving the land behind.
Aye, Niall resolved with a terrifying surge of hope, this would be a new beginning for all of them. Surely, this time, the fates would not deny him this chance for joy—a chance to rebuild the trust of Fiona, to know the love of his mother, and, most miraculous of all, to make Caitlin his wife.