Chapter 16
Aura scrambled off the bed and dropped to her knees beside him. “Declan!”
He rolled to his back with a groan, rubbing at his brow. “I’m fine,” he said, though the words came out more defensive than reassuring.
“You are not fine,” she countered, her hands skimming over him as if to assure herself nothing was broken. “Four times since the woods, and now this? What if the curse has somehow reversed itself? Or—” her voice lowered, “—what if the witch did something to you at the ring of stones?”
He caught her wrists gently, stilling her fussing. “I feel well. No pain. No dizziness. Only an ache where my pride fell.” His lips quirked faintly, trying to coax a smile from her.
But Aura’s worry would not be charmed away. “You don’t understand. It isn’t only your pride that concerns me. It’s the fallout from a witch meddling in your life.”
He sat up, the firelight casting shadows over the strong lines of his face. “If she meant to harm me, surely she would have done so by now.”
Her chin lifted. “You have no way of knowing that. Which is why you are going to rest, and I am going to my cottage. I’ll work on a talisman for you, and I have a potion I’ve been meaning to try—something that might offer protection. Along with that hag stone, you should be well guarded.”
He reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. “And if I say it’s unnecessary?”
“Then I’ll say I am your wife, and it is my place to guard you as fiercely as you guard me.”
His eyes softened with pride and affection. “You’d battle the devil himself for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Without hesitation,” she said like a fearless warrior.
Declan smiled, though there was a speck of unease behind it. “Very well. Make your talisman. Brew your potion. But know this—whatever comes, nothing will take me from your side.”
Aura leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “And nothing will take you from mine.”
Aura left him resting and made her way to her cottage, the narrow path familiar beneath her feet yet offering no comfort.
Worry stalked her every step, clinging like a shadow she could not shake.
She had only just found love—true, fierce, life-changing love—and already the threat of losing it gnawed at her.
She thought of Declan’s laughter, his touch, the way his gaze found hers across any room, and the ache in her chest tightened. She was at a loss to help him, and that helplessness cut deep.
Her hands clenched in her cloak as she stepped inside the cottage. The quiet greeted her, yet it felt heavy. She looked toward the shelf where her herbs, stones, and charms lay. A talisman might give him some protection, but she feared it would not be enough.
She hung her cloak on the peg, her mind circling back to the same truth she didn’t want to face. The witch might be their only answer.
She sat on the bed staring at nothing as worry pressed in.
The door opened without warning. Declan stepped inside, his smile warm, his eyes fixed on her. “I missed you. Couldn’t stay away.”
He crossed the room toward her, when he suddenly lurched forward.
Aura gasped, half-rising, but he caught himself just enough to land over her on the bed, his weight braced on his arms. His mouth curved in a wicked grin. “Seems I’ve fallen for you again.”
Her protest melted under the heat in his gaze, and in the next breath, his lips claimed hers—
His kiss as usual was magical. It swept her up in, sparked her passion, and embraced her in the warmth of his love. But before she got completely swept away, she reluctantly moved her lips off his and hurried to say, “You need to rest.”
Declan lifted his head, along with his brow. “Tell me you don’t want to make love with me, and need I remind you of our promise to always be truthful with each other?”
Aura groaned softly. “That’s not fair.”
“Nothing is fair when it comes to love,” he said with a chuckle and lowered his head to nibble kisses along her neck.
That did it for her, gooseflesh ran over her and passion ignited like a flame to dry timber.
This was not the time, nor place, for shedding their garments or lingering in pleasure.
Besides, her husband could spark her passion with a single look or simple touch.
Even a word of love ignited her desire for him.
“A hasty poke, but no less satisfying,” he whispered near her ear.
“You’ll make sure of that?” she teased, though he didn’t have to since her body rippled with passion from his kiss and nibbles alone.
He lifted his head, his brow narrowed and his eyes heated blue. “Always, wife. Always.”
She shuddered at the intensity of his response as she joined his hands in shoving their garments out of the way. And she barely spread her legs when he swiftly entered her.
She welcomed him with a gasp of pleasure as if he had been gone too long from her and his return stole her breath. He belonged there inside her, moving with strength and a rhythm that commanded yet gave more than he demanded.
Her passion had her responding in kind, commanding in her own way, letting him know she wanted all the pleasure he could give her, all the pleasure they could share.
It felt so incredibly good that Aura was glad her husband set a rhythm that allowed them to linger and their passion to build slowly, until…
There was no waiting, passion took command, turned the rhythm fast, the thrusts harder until Aura shattered, exploding with pleasure. She bit down on her lower lip when she would have preferred to scream out Declan’s name, but she feared her cries of pleasure would echo throughout the village.
Declan contained his groan as well as he emptied into her, leaving a part of himself with her, always with her.
He rolled off her onto his back, though he took hold of her hand. He turned his head toward her and smiled. “Your bottom lip looks like it took a hard blow.”
Her fingers went to feel it, and she cringed. “I couldn’t very well let the whole village hear my cries of pleasure.”
“Why not?” he asked with feigned ignorance, then chuckled. “At least they would know I’m working hard at making sure the clan will have an heir to lead them.”
Aura gasped and her hand went to her stomach and her eyes to the lone shelf where only a couple of crocks sat, not having time to completely settle into her work cottage.
“I should have taken something to prevent that until your problem could be solved.”
He turned on his side. “What does it matter? We are wed and will stay wed and it is only natural that a bairn would follow.” His brow scrunched. “Unless… like never thinking you would marry, you never gave thought to having bairns?”
Her smile spread wide. “Nay, not at all. I loved having siblings and I, out of the three of us, was the one who insisted would have the most bairns.”
“I can make that happen,” he said with a wicked smiled, “with your help, of course.”
Her smile turned soft. “I have known moments of happiness and contentment, but here now with you, wed, knowing we have more days ahead to share, fills me with a happiness I never thought possible.”
He kissed her cheek. “That makes two of us. Never had I thought to find a woman I could not only love deeply but that I could find such rich happiness with.”
Aura turned to rest against him, and they lay enjoying the quiet moment together.
A knock at the door broke the quiet, firm and insistent.
Aura sat up as Declan swung his legs off the bed and crossed the room, pulling the door open. Hamish stood there, his expression tight, worry shadowing his eyes.
“You’re needed at the keep,” he said, his voice low. His gaze moving between them before adding, “Both of you.”
Declan’s shoulders tensed. “What’s wrong?”
Hamish hesitated, then stepped inside as if to be certain no one else could overhear. “Cleric William from Donchill Abbey is here. He says he’s come to wed you.”
The air in the room seemed to still. Declan shook his head. “That’s impossible. The cleric was already here. We are wed.”
Hamish met his gaze evenly. “Cleric William claims Donchill Abbey received my request for a cleric, and no other, and he was sent here by Abbott Bennet.”
Declan’s brow furrowed, confusion giving way to something darker. “If not a cleric… then who?”
Aura’s breath caught. The answer slid from her lips in a whisper, chilling the room.
“A warlock.”