Chapter Twelve #4
Mhàiri groaned. Her eyes had darkened to emeralds and were glazing over. Her hips circled, wanting more.
“Easy,” Conan groaned, sweat beginning to slick his chest from the strain of holding back. “We need to go slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”
But Mhàiri was past all thought; only need ruled. She had felt what his fingers could give her, but she needed more. “Conan,” she whispered and pulled him down into a blinding kiss that had her tongue devouring his.
Conan’s hips jerked, thrusting deep. He closed his eyes as her tightness surrounded his thick shaft. Mhàiri threw her head back with a stunned cry. “Conan!”
Freezing, he held her still. “Did I hurt you?”
Her parted lips were swollen from their kisses, and her eyes were glazed with passion as she shook her head. “No, it’s . . . I feel full.”
He closed his eyes as he fought the need to pull out and thrust again. “Tight. You feel tight.”
“It’s so good. You feel so good. I never—”
Watching her face, he let himself sink deeper, sliding the full length of him into her. She gasped and instinctively raised her legs up to wrap around him. Then, without warning, she screamed, “More! Oh, God, please more!”
He let out a groan against her mouth as he pulled back, then started thrusting inside her using a slow, steady rhythm.
Mhàiri’s nails dug into his shoulders. Her soft moans were driving him crazy.
He lost control when she tilted her hips up to meet his, grinding against him, building the tension to an unbearable level.
He pulled back, then slammed into her, repeating the motion over and over again, lost in the pleasure of feeling her wrapped around him.
“Conan!” she cried out again.
He could hear the fear in her voice and understood, for he too was frightened by what he was feeling. His own release was building with an intensity that he had never experienced before, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And he wouldn’t even if he could.
“Come, Mhàiri. Come and take me with you.”
He didn’t give her a choice. Pounding into her, he pushed her further toward the edge, needing her to find her release before he gave in to his own pleasure.
Mhàiri held on to him, her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.
She let out a wild cry as the unbearable tension finally snapped.
Shudders racked her body as she came, and he couldn’t stop himself from coming when she clenched down around him.
His muscles tensed as his own release tore through him.
He let out a loud roar as he exploded inside her.
He rested his forehead on hers as he tried to regain his breath. He had never experienced a release like that and feared his lack of control had harmed her.
Conan held her close. He didn’t want to leave the haven of her body, but he worried that he might be crushing her. Wanting to ask if she was okay, he lifted his head, but when he saw her face, he just smiled.
Mhàiri knew she was right where she belonged, safe and secure in his arms. And she was determined to stay there . . . forever.
“I love you, Conan. There will never be another man for me but you.”
Love. It occurred to him he did not like the word. It was too vague, too imprecise, too shallow to capture what he felt. Mhàiri was his soul mate. A ghrà mo chroì. Never had another occupied his heart, and another never would. His heart was Mhàiri’s and hers alone.
But he could not tell her. Tonight was what they had, and it was all that they would have.
So he did the only thing he could. He brought her pleasure over and over again, and each time her responses became more impetuous, more fevered, loosening his own tightly held reins.
He made love to her as if consumed by a ravenous need, for tonight had to be enough to quench his thirst for her for life.
* * *
Mhàiri snuggled against him as their legs intertwined. “Are you happy?”
Conan nuzzled her hair. Training would start soon and he needed to get out to the fields, but after last night’s revelry, he knew that he would not be the only one arriving late. So, instead, he held Mhàiri tight as though he never wanted to let go. “Aye, more than I have a right to be.”
He knew he should regret what had happened between them. But he never would. He could live forever and he knew there would never be another woman for him.
Mhàiri placed her hands on his chest as his arms wound their way around her back of their own accord.
“That’s not true, Conan. You have a right to happiness, and so do I.
That’s what I realized. Why I came here to you.
” She rose up on an elbow and looked down at him.
“Traveling with my father was a way to avoid the misery of maintaining a home, but it would not have made me happy. I want more than not being miserable. Nor is it enough to be merely satisfied when you just showed me more pleasure than I ever knew possible. So why is it wrong for us to want to continue to know and experience that joy?”
The fingers stroking her back stilled. Tonight had been beyond words, but they both knew that their coming together changed nothing. “It is not wrong to seek happiness as long as that doesn’t include me.”
Mhàiri’s gaze grew in intensity. “But it does. I know you and I together are not what either of us had planned, but we could be happy together. Surely you see that. I’m willing to change and—”
“But I am not. I will not give up what I have worked for all my life.”
Mhàiri pushed herself up to a sitting position.
“And I’m not asking you to. I’m only asking you to include me in your dreams. I can draw the detailed sketches, and you can focus on all the math and measuring to ensure what is captured is accurate.
We will go where you wish, but we will be together. ”
Conan did not want to have this conversation, especially with her sitting in front of him, exposing her perfect breasts to his touch.
Forcing himself to turn away, he threw his legs to the side of the bed and sat up.
“You might be happy at first, but I eventually sour the fondest woman’s feelings.
Even my own brothers would attest to that.
Out there is someone who would nourish your love.
Find him and the happiness you deserve. The best thing I can give you is to leave immediately.
It would make it easier on you.” Make it easier on him.
Mhàiri sat still, unable to move. Conan was not just denying her, but denying her of a future she now very much wanted.
He had given her a passion for drawing things of meaning and value.
And with Conan, she would have both love and a life—a combination she had always secretly wanted but never thought possible.
“I did find him and the happiness I deserve. It is you,” Mhàiri said to his back. She would not let his fear of change rob them both of what they could have. “And you deserve happiness too, which is why we are going to wait until spring to marry so my father can be there.”
“Mhàiri . . .” he said, twisting around.
“Nay, Conan!” Mhàiri said, standing up. She went and found her chemise and bliaut and started yanking them on.
“You tell me that I would be miserable, but you cannot speak for me. We could be married for thirty years and you would still not be able to read my heart and mind enough to tell me what to feel and think.”
Conan had to admit that, based on some of the fights Conor and Laurel had, Mhàiri was probably right, for Conor was still clueless about his wife.
“So, unless you can give me a real reason why we cannot be together, we are leaving in the spring and we are leaving together.”
Conan jabbed a finger in her direction. “That’s one problem right there.
Everything you stated included the word we,” he said, grabbing his leine.
“Not only would we wear on each other’s nerves, when I did have to leave your side from time to time, you would be left unprotected.
I will not be bringing soldiers or guards. You would be alone.”
“If that is your objection, let me put your fears aside. I can protect myself, Conan.” He arched a brow in disbelief.
“I did for two weeks until you and Father Lanaghly arrived,” she reminded him and began to tie one side of her bliaut.
“My father feared the same thing and made sure that my sister and I were able to handle any situation that might arise.”
“And what about bathing? Your father has a large wagon in which to tote his belongings as well as his goods. I will be living off the land, bathing in rivers, hunting for dinner each night, eating over a fire, and sleeping on ground that is often cold and wet.”
“I love to bathe in the river. I enjoy the feel of the water as it goes over my skin. And I think campfires are romantic. Besides, you and I both know that the majority of your nights will be spent in a bed just like this one. You are traveling on orders of your king. Doors will open to you for however long you need. For those nights that we are in between shelter, we will sleep in a cart, like merchants do, when it is too cold and wet to sleep on the ground.”
“But I’m not bringing a cart,” Conan countered.
“Of course we are,” Mhàiri replied, tossing his plaid at him. “How else do you plan on keeping everything protected? I agree it shouldn’t be a large one, just one big enough to tote our belongings and carry all my books of hemp paper.”
“Now you are trying to bribe me,” he huffed and began to fold the plaid around his waist.
“I already did that when I threw myself into your arms this evening. And lucky for us both, you accepted it.” She held on to the side of a bookcase and pulled on one slipper.
“I need to speak to Maegan. I spoke somewhat harshly to her and need to apologize since she is going to help me prepare for a wedding!”
Conan dropped his sword. Snatching it up again, he jammed it into the sheath on his belt. He took ten deep breaths. How had a fantastic night and morning making memories he would treasure turned into this nightmare? “You can say all the nonsense you want, but it will not work.”
Mhàiri went over to stand right in front of him. “You love me.”
“I do not recall ever telling you that.”
Mhàiri smiled, still sure that this would end with them together. She knew he loved her. Of that, she had no doubt. “Good thing I don’t need all the flowery and passion-filled words then, isn’t it? Besides, you not saying it doesn’t make it less true.”
Conan stepped around her. “What if I do love you?” he asked, whipping around now that she was no longer in kissing distance.
“You knew since we met that my future plans did not include a wife, and I have never wavered on the idea of going alone. You attempting to change that is the same as you trying to change me. And I am not changing for anyone!” he decreed, stabbing his thumb into his chest.
Mhàiri fought the compulsion to roll her eyes.
“What a ridiculous thing to say. Of course change is happening. Life happens and we change because of it. You and I had plans. Then we met. The moment that happened, things began to change. It just took a few months, several fights, and last night to figure out how, but now that we have, to pretend otherwise . . . is . . . well, it’s ridiculous! ”
“Ridiculous or not, I’m not changing.”
“I don’t believe you. You are too smart to mean what you are saying.
That you would rather go alone, with a fraction of the resources, and novice abilities to draw.
That you would forgo potential happiness rather than travel with me at your side, when I would help you conquer all your dreams and so much more.
Together, we would be the ultimate team, and deep down you know it. ”
Conan faced her without expression, without moving a muscle. “What about children? What happens to this ultimate team you are envisioning when you get pregnant and we have to suddenly settle down into the static life you and I both dread.”
Mhàiri threw up her arms in exasperation. “Why would having a child affect our lifestyle? My parents raised my sister and me on the road, and we turned out fairly well.”
“Ha! She became a nun.”
“And I became like you!”
“You can’t cook!”
“So I’ll learn! We aren’t leaving for a couple of months. I have time. Fiona will teach me, and you will be the best-fed man in Scotland.”
Conan was breathing hard. Fiona was not a kind woman and did not like anyone to interfere in her kitchen. Ever. But somehow he suspected Mhàiri would be the exception.
“You aren’t listening and you need to, Mhàiri. It doesn’t matter whether you can cook, are willing to sleep outside, or are the bravest woman in the world. I. Don’t. Want. You. With. Me.”
That got her to pause. She took a step back as if he had struck her physically. “Why?” she choked out.
Conan took a breath and slowly exhaled. He ran a hand through his hair. “Because,” he began, searching for the words to explain what he felt. “Because it is not what I planned.”
“You never planned to have a wife so you don’t want one?
” she said, the sound barely a whisper. “Even one willing to do everything you want, doesn’t even consider it a compromise, but an opportunity, one you love .
. . only because it is not what you had planned?
” Her voice gained strength. “Because if that’s true, Conan, you are right.
There is nothing I can do to prove that we can be happy, living a life that is so wonderful, so incredible, neither of us could have envisioned it. ”
Mhàiri marched to his chamber door and yanked it open.
She spun around. “You may go on your trip, make your maps, but years from now, when you still are puzzled as to why it doesn’t bring you the satisfaction you thought it would, you think back on today.
This conversation. For until you realize that only by giving up on your old dreams can you embrace the one that God is offering, you won’t be truly happy.
And I’ve decided that is what I want. I don’t want to just avoid being unhappy.
I want it all. And I intend to have it all. ”