Chapter Eighteen
Ailith crossed the sunlit courtyard, skirts brushing against her ankles, when a familiar streak of black fur barreled toward her.
Teller’s tongue lolled from the side of his mouth, his amber eyes bright with mischief and contentment.
If anything, life at the keep had transformed him.
The once scrappy creature now ruled the motley pack of dogs that roamed the grounds, leading them like a furry general teaching the fine arts of chasing shadows, looking pitiful enough to beg scraps, and launching fearless, if usually unsuccessful, hunts for small swift creatures from the nearby woods.
She bent to scratch between his damp ears, wrinkling her nose.
“Ye’ve been in the mud again. Off to the bath we go,” she scolded, though her voice held more fondness than reprimand.
Teller, of course, heard only the promise of adventure. Tail high, he trotted after her toward the edge of the keep where the forest loomed. Just beyond, a narrow creek, its shallow water clear and enticing.
Only when she coaxed the muddy dog into the cold stream, laughing as he paddled in lopsided circles, did Hendry’s stern warning echo in her mind: Never wander alone.
Her smile faded. She scanned the tree line as the wind stirred the leaves. The sound made her pulse leap. “Teller, we best go back,” she called, the unease sharpening her tone.
The traitorous hound ignored her, darting back to the water’s edge and splashing with oblivious glee. “Teller,” she hissed, lunging for him. He barked and danced away, paw prints marking the wet earth.
After several failed attempts, she stopped, breathless. “If there was an evildoer nearby, ye’ve made enough noise to lead him straight to us,” she muttered.
“I am leaving,” she warned, turning on her heel. Teller, his fur dripping, finally dashed after her, pausing now and then to shake himself, sending icy droplets against her legs. She tried to towel him off with the cloth she’d brought, but each time he slipped away, making a game of it.
She had just straightened from one such failed attempt when she nearly collided with a wall of warm muscle. A startled yelp escaped her as she stumbled back, Teller’s bark ringing out at the same moment. Hendry stood before her, hands raised as if to dispel any more fright.
“Oh, Hendry… ye startled me.” She avoided his eyes, instead casting a silent glare at Teller, who clearly had failed in his duties as her self-appointed protector.
The dog, momentarily surprised, froze. Then recognition lit his face and with a full-body quiver of delight, Teller launched himself at Hendry as if greeting an old friend after years of absence.
Hendry gave Teller an absent pat on the head, his attention fixed entirely on her. His gaze clung to her face, willing her to meet his eyes.
When she finally did, her breath caught. He was furious. The sharp set of his jaw, the dark glint in his eyes, the way his lips pressed into a line so tight, all of it radiated restrained anger. He looked past her toward the creek, his voice low and taut.
“I assume ye came alone.”
“I… er… aye. With… Teller.” The words stumbled out, awkward and thin. “I ken I should have asked Tobin or someone else to come with me.” She searched for a plausible excuse, but the effort crumbled. “Surely any wayward MacLeod has been caught by now…or gone.”
In the years apart, they’d changed. They’d become different people. She a woman who’d been misled, married someone she didn’t love, and then widowed.
He was no longer simply Hendry, but a man who’d been heartbroken by betrayal and tempered in battle. A warrior whose name carried weight in Clan Ross.
They didn’t know each other any longer, not really. They were very different people now, very little of who they’d been remained.
So it meant, Ailith had no earthly idea how to soothe his anger, what to say or do to lessen his ire toward her.
“I am truly sorry for worrying ye. I promise it was without thinking that I—”
“Stop,” Hendry said, moving closer. “It is because of fear that I am angry. When a stable lad told me ye had gone toward the creek, I imagined so many things.”
His statement should have made her feel better, that he acknowledged and explained the reason for his earlier tone was refreshing. Brant would have died before admitting to being wrong about anything. At the same time, Ailith felt worse. Guilty.
“Come,” Hendry said, pulling her into his arms. His chest expanding and deflating as he took in a long breath and let it out, his hold on her tightening.
“I dinnae wish to lose ye. Not after waiting so long for this.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Ailith leaned back in his arms, tilting her chin to meet his gaze, and managed a small, apologetic smile. “I truly am sorry. I should nae have come alone. Teller was so muddy, all I could think was that I needed to wash him before letting him into yer cottage.”
A shadow flickered across his features, darkening the warmth in his eyes.
“It is yer cottage as well, lass. Do ye nae feel at home here?”
Her breath caught, but she forced herself to shake her head. “I am nae home. My home is the cottage in the forest, Hendry. Nae here at the keep.”
The words tasted like a confession she’d been holding too long.
For days, she’d rehearsed how she might tell him she intended to return there.
She loved their stolen nights, his arms around her, the slow-burning passion that made her forget the years apart.
But truth pressed in from every direction.
She was not his wife. And because of that, whispers followed her.
The women of the keep were kind, most of them careful to thank her for tending the wounded, but their eyes told a quieter story.
Conversations stilled when she entered a room.
She had seen the glances of pity, judgment, perhaps even curiosity.
It was no secret she shared his bed, and no blessing of marriage to cloak her in respectability.
Widow or no, it was a sin in the eyes of many.
Hendry’s fingers slid beneath her chin, guiding her face upward until his gaze anchored hers. Whatever she might have said dissolved as his mouth claimed hers.
The kiss was not gentle. It was more like a flood breaking its banks. Her body surged toward him, answering with a hunger that only he brought out. His touch unraveled the tight knots inside her, loosening the weight she’d carried for years. Every part of him was warmth, strength… life.
It felt like waking after a long winter, the world’s colors bleeding back into brilliance.
If he would not marry her, so be it. She would take what she could. His visits. His touch. His voice in the dark. She had lived too long in shadow to turn away from the light he offered, even if it was only borrowed.
Ailith threaded her fingers through Hendry’s hair, basking in the feel of his hard body against her, needing him more than words could ever explain.
They broke apart, his darkened eyes delving into hers. “We have time before last meal.” He gave her a devilish grin, and she allowed him to lead her back to the cottage.
The door slammed shut behind them and Hendry pushed her against it and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her breathing coming in short pants of anticipation.
“I have nae wanted a woman more than ye,” Hendry said. His heated breath against her ear, sending rivulets of desire down her body.
Covering her mouth, his tongue delved in, tangling with hers, and all Ailith knew was that she wanted to take all he would give.
While holding her with one hand, their mouths fused, Hendry fumbled with his breeches until they slid away, and she felt his bare skin between her thighs. He was warm, the fine line of hair that trailed from his chest to below the waist brushed against her sex, fanning the flames of desire.
“Hendry,” Ailith gasped out his name. “Please… now.”
Guiding himself, Hendry grunted as the blunt end of his manhood teased her entrance. Ailith arched, doing her best to urge him on.
Thankfully, Hendry didn’t wait, he thrust his hips forward taking Ailith. Their bodies joined as both let out throaty sounds.
They moved at an unbridled pace, racing to reach a peak from which they could plummet.
Hendry’s breathing was harsh, but he didn’t slow their pace, as he drove in and out without hesitating, each time taking Ailith higher and closer to being overcome.
She looked down at him, his eyes were closed, lips parted, large body moving in the most sensuous of ways. It was then that her release slammed into her with a surprising force. Ailith cried out, her legs shaking, her sex quaking.
“I am close,” Hendry said turning and walking toward the bed with them still joined. He lowered her down, pulled out, and guided her to run. “Get on yer hands and knees,” he instructed in a husky breathless voice.
Ailith complied, her body pliant and unsteady.
He pushed her legs further apart, then she felt it, his sex prodding and sliding into her. It was a glorious sensation, and her body instantly responded. She would never tire of him and of the many ways he could drive her to a beautiful madness.
When he took her hips and pushed in, he went deep, still needing more she pushed back. Immediately his response was evident, his member seeming to harden even more as he began moving.
It wasn’t long before Ailith was drenched in sweat, her body trembling, her cries muffled by the bedding. What she was saying was irrelevant, each word indistinct and running into the next. She begged for release, she demanded he go harder, then she urged that he not stop.
Hendry growled as he found release, his heated seed spilling into her. Ailith barely noticed as she too was lost to the abyss that claimed her.
“Hendry!” she called out his name, then collapsed onto the bedding, darkness sweeping her away.
When she opened her eyes, she was cradled in Hendry’s arms. Ailith smiled up at him, sure she looked a fright, with mussed hair and a splotchy face from the exertion of their lovemaking. And yet, Hendry peered down at her with adoration.
His face was covered in a sheen of perspiration, telling that she’d only been lost for a moment.
“Ye are beautiful. My one and only.”
She closed her eyes as his mouth lowered to hers.
This was certainly not the moment to tell him she was to move back to her cottage.