Chapter Fourteen #2
Tears welled in her deep blue eyes, and every bit of the lecture he’d planned to give her evaporated.
The need to wrap her in his embrace, to hold her while she wept, was all he could think of.
When she twisted to slip out of his grasp, he swept her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin.
“Ye have a choice, lass. Come back to the barracks with me, or we can go to yer cottage, though I’m certain I overheard yer da inviting me brothers for a wee bit of poteen. ”
She mumbled something beneath her breath that he couldn’t quite catch.
“What did ye say?” She snorted. “’Tisn’t a proper response, Eileen-lass.
I’m not understanding why ye cannot speak up and tell me where ye want to have our discussion.
” He waited a few moments more. Exasperated, he asked, “Shall I take ye back to me barracks, then?”
This time she grunted at him, and God help him, he laughed.
“’Tis a fine response for a man to make, not yerself. Use yer words, lass.”
“No.”
“Ah.” He turned to head back up the hill. “I do have another option to offer ye, but we have to wait until the great hall is empty. Only a handful of people know about the other place I could be taking ye to. ’Tisn’t safe.”
She lifted her head and met the intensity of his gaze. “You can trust me, Flaherty. I won’t tell.”
“Fenton,” he reminded her, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes and stroking along the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. “And I trust ye, lass. Ye’re a strong and beautiful woman. Faith, but yer head’s as hard as me own. How will we ever get along?”
Eileen sighed and brushed a featherlight kiss to the deepening bruise where she’d punched his chin. “Instead of telling me what to do, you could try kissing me.”
Flaherty felt a hitch in the middle of his chest at her words. Here was a woman with an agile brain, pure heart, and fire in her blood to match his own. He bent his head, and she closed her eyes. Flaherty wanted to see her fire burst into flames.
“Open yer eyes, lass. I want to watch yer eyes as yer passion ignites and takes hold of ye. I want to be the one to stoke the flames, until we are both consumed by the need that I’ll arouse in ye. A need only I can relieve.”
She blinked, but did not close her eyes.
“There’s a lass. When I make ye mine,” he rasped, “I’ll show ye with me lips, me teeth, and me tongue.
I’ll mold yer body to mine, driving ye higher to an ecstasy that only I can show ye.
” He pressed his lips to hers, reveling in the texture, the flavor, and the heat as she kissed him back.
“I promise to use me hands, me body, and me heart to show ye the depth of me love, lass. I’ll—”
“Flaherty?”
The rasp in her voice and the desire in her eyes had him firmly by the bollocks. He fought to hang on to his control. “Aye, lass?”
“Kiss me.”
He groaned and pressed his lips to hers, plundering the sweet, soft mouth tilted up to receive his kiss. “Marry me, today, lass,” he said. “I’ll not spend another night without ye.”
“We cannot.”
“Why in the bloody hell not?”
“The banns haven’t been—”
“We won’t need the banns,” he reminded her. “O’Malley requested the special license. It should arrive any time now.” He cleared his throat and called on a calm he didn’t feel. “When the license is delivered, ye’ll marry me.” He hesitated. “Won’t ye?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the breath out of him. “I will.”
Without another word, Flaherty started walking back toward the tower.
It was going to be a struggle—her pride versus his.
For the first time since she’d released her fear, anger, and frustration in two blows that surprised not only him but, he suspected, her as well, he felt the stiffness between her shoulder blades soften.
Satisfaction flowed from his heart to his bollocks, but he forced his thoughts back where they belonged—centered on the lass who’d finally let herself fully relax in his arms.
From her sigh of pleasure, he knew that she would butt heads with him whenever he tried to tell her what do.
He would have to make a conscious effort not to tell her what to do—unless her safety was at risk.
But, if he listened carefully and watched her expression, he would learn how to defuse her anger.
It was now his mission to find a way that the two of them could get along without this feisty woman raining blows on his head.
Her volatile temper had him wondering if that, combined with her stubborn nature, hid an even hotter fire that burned inside of her.
God in Heaven, he could not wait to teach her how it could be between them.
Resolved to do just that, he knew where he’d begin…
He’d kiss her senseless! Then he’d show her, by his gentle, persuasive touch, all of the hidden places her body held, waiting for his hands to caress, his lips to sample, his tongue to taste…
and delve deep. When she recovered from his tutoring and exploration, then, and only then, he would teach her how to please him in turn.
Together they would set their bed on fire!
He had to pull back hard on the tight leash he normally had on his libido. Pressing his lips to her temple, he rasped, “Ye said ye loved me, lass.”
She sighed, but didn’t lift her head. He continued walking toward to the tower. “Have me scars or me brothers showing up at me wake changed yer mind?”
“I noticed some scars—the ones on your shoulders, too.”
“Ah, that’s a tale for another time. It happened long ago, and the person who wielded the switch learned a very important lesson.”
“I’m sorry you were whipped,” she whispered. “Did your da take care of the matter?”
“He did,” Flaherty replied.
The past itself could be a scar at times. Apparently needing to lighten the moment, she said, “I have scars of my own that you may eventually discover.”
“Well now, lass, as I haven’t noticed any yet, I’m thinking ’twill be a certainty that I’ll find yer scars once we’re wed and sharing a bed.” She sputtered. He chuckled, then asked, just to get a rise out of her, “Are yer scars on yer firm derrière?”
She squirmed against him, and his heart—and parts south of his waistband—took note of said firmness. “Are ye after killing me, lass? We aren’t married yet.”
“How can you even ask me that? When I heard you were missing and dead, I prayed for a miracle!”
He slowed his pace and lifted her chin so that their eyes met.
“We don’t always get what we pray for. ’Tisn’t always possible.
” When she licked her lips, moistening them until they glistened, he pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle wisp of a kiss.
“Don’t be upset if yer miracle doesn’t happen.
What we pray for isn’t always part of His plan for us. ”
Eileen placed her hand against the side of his face. The warmth and size of her hands had surprised him. He still had trouble believing that hands so small would be strong enough to pull a man his size out of the tempestuous waves of the Celtic Sea.
Before he could ask, she said, “I prayed for a miracle…and the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, granted my prayer. I prayed that you were not dead.” She slipped her hands around the back of his neck and urged his lips closer.
When his mouth was within reach, she kissed him with all of the love in her heart.
Undone by her confession—and her kiss—Flaherty placed his forehead against hers.
“I don’t deserve ye, lass. I’ll do me best not to sound as if I’m making demands of ye.
” He got lost in the sound of her breathing as she quietly exhaled.
“Ye deserve so much more than getting wed to me, Eileen-lass, but faith, I’m not strong enough to even think about letting ye go. ”
Her fingers gently began to stroke the back of his head until he lifted it and then lost himself in the depths of her soft blue eyes.
“It would kill me to release ye from yer word.”
She traced the line of his jaw and pressed her lips on either side of the bruise that would fade in a sennight.
The thought saddened him—’twas her mark.
He was proud enough to want to tempt her to punch him again—tempted, but he hadn’t lost his mind entirely.
God, he loved this woman. He may never be worthy of her, but he was keeping her!
Regaining control of his heart and his mind, he kissed her deeply. “There’s a lass. I’ve got ye now,” he promised, brushing his lips to her forehead. “Lord help anyone who thinks to part us.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, a sound that reminded him of a gentle rain that soothed.
Her curves filled in the hollows of his body, torturing him, prompting him to add, “They’ll have to pry ye from me cold, dead fingers, and even then, I won’t be letting go.”
The sound of her lilting laughter was music to his ears, but he needed to add, “I’ll have yer word that ye believe me, lass. I’ve given ye me pledge while God is listening, and there’s not a pledge more binding than that.”
She sighed. “I may agree with you, Fenton, but I can promise you that my da won’t be ready to let me be alone with you until we’re wed.”
Fenton grumbled, “’Twill be pure torture keeping me hands to meself until I have the special license in me hands, and the vicar is standing in front of us asking us to repeat our vows.”
“We may not be able to spend time alone yet, but that doesn’t mean that you could not kiss me.”
He chuckled. “’Tis where I’m wanting to kiss ye that has me head in a spin—and hard as iron, lass.”
“I…um… Well, I can only imagine what you mean.”
“Ye’ll not be left to imagine long, lass. We’ll be wed by tomorrow at the latest. The duke always answers urgent missives right away.”
“Since when is the request for a special license an urgent matter?” she asked him.
Flaherty stopped and took her mouth in a desperate kiss that rocked him to the very depths of his soul. “Does that answer yer question?”
Eileen’s mouth opened and closed, but not a sound emerged.
“Ye don’t have to answer just yet. I’m a patient man.” Flaherty wondered how long she would remain silent, then decided she wouldn’t keep him waiting long.
“Actually, you didn’t answer my question.”
Flaherty snorted with laughter.
“I hardly think my response was funny.”
“’Tisn’t, lass. Me heart’s so full right now, I’ll admit—but only to ye—that ye’ve muddled me head a wee bit.”
“Have I?”
“That ye have, lass. Now give yer intended a break and keep yer lips to yerself for the next five minutes.”
She stared at him, then laid her head on his shoulder. “I think I can wait that long.”
Flaherty prayed to God, and all His angels in Heaven, for the strength to resist the lass until they exchanged vows.
Her head was still tucked beneath his chin when he carried her beneath Penwith Tower’s archway.