Chapter 15 #2
“Aye.”
“And friends should have no secrets ’tween them.” He nodded. “So I want y’ to know where my heart is.”
Merraid bit her lip. Was it possible? Was his confession more than an impulsive outburst? Not just a lusty knave’s trick designed to get under her skirts?
“Y’ needn’t fret,” he said. “I know m’ place.
I’ll do m’ duty. I’ll wed the one I’m told t’ wed.
I’ll be a good husband to her. She’ll want for naught.
Jewels. Bairns… Mice.” He quirked up a corner of his mouth.
“But all the while I’ll know the truth. And I want y’ to know it as well.
” He looked deep into her eyes. “Know that I loved you once upon a time, Merraid. Jus’ know that I loved you. ”
Her heart melted into a puddle.
“T’night,” he continued, “when love runs wild and free, I’d open m’ heart to you.
That’s all. I’m not askin’ for a kiss. Or a tryst. I’m not even askin’ y’ to return the words.
I just think y’ should know how much y’ve meant to me.
How much of a friend to me y’ve been. My best friend.
” He blew out a long breath then, as if his outpouring of emotion had drained him.
“I’ll ne’er love another the way I love you, Merraid.
And I jus’ want to have the memory o’ you and the Beltane fire t’ keep me warm when—”
Merraid would never be sure in that moment if she kissed him out of yearning or just to shut him up.
Either way, she successfully stopped his words. Words that were too powerful. Words that made her pulse race. Words that made her begin to hope, which was the most hazardous thing of all.
For one long moment, he stood frozen as she pressed her lips against his ale-flavored mouth.
She fooled herself into thinking that would be the end of it. She’d silence his reckless and futile declaration. He’d apologize for his outburst. And they would never speak of it again.
But in the next instant, everything changed.
Tentatively at first, he began to respond to her kiss. He moved his lips, coaxing hers apart. His breath sighed softly into her mouth. He tilted his head, teasing her jaw wider, deepening the kiss.
Current bolted through her as he touched the tip of his tongue to hers. She made a small moan of pleasure, which startled her and aroused him.
Capturing her chin between his thumb and finger, he trespassed farther. Delving in with his warm tongue to wage a sensual war with hers.
She yielded to his exploration and clasped his jaw between her hands, drawing him closer to make an exploration of her own. He tasted of ale and fire and fervor. An elixir both delicious and dangerous. Her thirst was great. She drank deep.
Drowning in a whirlpool of desire and curiosity, she forgot all about Carenza and Beltane. She thought only of Gellir. The lad he’d been. The man he was. Her friend. Her hero. Holding him. Kissing him. Loving him.
His deep growl of desire called to something primitive inside her. It summoned forth a woman of raw lust and raging need.
He dropped the dying torch to the forest floor, enfolding her in his arms. She answered him with a sigh of sweet surrender.
He pulled her closer. Against his hard warrior’s chest. And his soft, throbbing heart.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. Threaded her fingers through his long, lush locks. Pressed her aching breasts against him. Melted into his embrace.
They feasted on each other like insatiable, ravenous beasts, unable to gorge themselves quickly enough. And yet she wanted more. So much more.
It felt right. He felt right. As if their love was meant to be.
Would it be so unforgivable to express that love with a tryst? Just once?
In a sennight, Gellir would be wedded to someone else. Someone he didn’t love. Someone who didn’t love him. Someone who would take her hero from her forever.
Was it so wrong to want one unforgettable night with him?
It didn’t feel wrong. It would harm nobody. No one need know.
Merraid would have her virginity taken by a man she adored and admired. A man who’d take care with her and treat her tenderly.
In a sennight, they would part ways and never speak of it. But they would have one lovely memory to sustain them in melancholy moments.
Still, Gellir was a man of honor. Of rules. And codes. And chivalry.
Convincing him to ignore his conscience and follow his heart was a challenge.
But Merraid never backed down from a challenge.
As he continued to kiss her—sometimes with tenderness, sometimes with ferocity—a warm and sensuous vibration began to halo her head. Her aroused breath turned to gasps of longing. Her nipples tightened. And betwixt her thighs swelled a sharp yet pleasant craving.
She could feel the change in him as well.
His breathing grew ragged as he dug desperate fingers into her back.
His heart pounded, pulsing visibly in his corded throat.
And when he lowered his hands, boldly grasping her buttocks and hauling her forward, she felt the shocking steel of his roused cock against her belly.
He wanted her. Nothing could be more seductive.
And just as he’d given her proof of his longing, she wanted to return the favor. She reached down to guide his hand slowly over her hip, across her ribs, and higher, until he cupped her breast.
His shaky sigh sent a thrill of power through her. He spread his fingers across the linen, warming the flesh beneath. Then he brushed his thumb across her nipple, awakening it like lightning.
She sobbed at the sensation. And yet it was still not enough.
With reckless abandon, she dragged down the neck edge of her kirtle and underdress, exposing her breast first to the cold night air. Then to the man who sought to warm her within the comforting palm of his hand.
His mouth tore away from hers, and she gasped at the sudden emptiness.
But he resumed, leaving a trail of kisses along her jaw.
Down the side of her neck. Warming her blood.
Making her shiver with delight. He traced her collar bone with his lips and then ventured lower.
Knowing where he was bound, she waited in breathless anticipation.
With the edge of his thumb, he flicked her puckered nipple and then lowered his head to enclose the sensitive nubbin within his mouth. The wet heat of his swirling tongue washed over her like a heavenly wave. The pressure as he sucked gently drew a rasping gasp from her.
Her head swam. Her knees weakened. She felt a dull ache deep in her womb. And an envious throbbing in her other nipple.
As if he could read her thoughts, he reached up with his free hand and slid his fingers under the shoulder of her kirtle. Inch by inch, he eased the garment down, placing a kiss each time another bit of skin was revealed.
She closed her eyes tightly in simultaneous frustration and pleasure.
When her nipple popped free of its confines, he swooped down on it at once, bathing it with adoring attention while fondling its twin.
Her legs trembled beneath her, threatening to collapse. Her head grew dizzy with bliss. Lost in a fog of lust and longing, she was utterly at his mercy.
How had she become so defenseless? With a sword in her hand, she had always managed to stand up to men. To give as good as she got. How could she be so easily conquered with a kiss and a caress?
Perhaps it was time to fight fire with fire.
While he pleasured her breasts, she slipped one intrepid hand between them and over his braies. There she found and captured his cock.
The harsh gasp he sucked in gave her a heady thrill.
He made no move to prevent her. So she rubbed her hand experimentally over him. The thick hardness sheathed in his braies reminded her of the wooden haft of a fine sword. Curious to know more, she gripped him, running her palm over his length.
He groaned and reared back his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain.
But she knew it was only the pain of yearning. The same pain she endured.
Letting her fingers crawl upwards, she found the lacings of his braies and pulled loose the tie. Then she delved beneath the cloth to find the treasure below.
He shuddered when she plunged her fingers through his coarse curls and enveloped his naked flesh.
She expected his steely strength. But his velvety warmth was astonishing. Powerful and fragile at the same time.
He throbbed in the palm of her hand.
She felt an answering throb where her legs joined.
His breathing was strained and rapid.
Her smile was sultry and triumphant.
But her victory didn’t last long.
While she fondled his enticing length, he shocked her by sliding a firm hand between her thighs. She squeaked in surprise. But as he glided his hand over the crevice there, her protest soon turned into mews of approval.
He knew precisely where she ached. Exactly what kind of pressure to exert.
Still, he wasn’t finished. Despite her continued attentions to his pulsing member, he kept enough of his wits about him to begin inching up her kirtle. He gathered her skirts in his fist, lifting the hem higher and higher. Exposing her ankles. Her knees. Her thighs.
When he ran out of fabric, he slipped his fingers through the down guarding her womanhood and pressed the heel of his hand against the bone there.
It was instinct that made her grind against him. But though she sought relief, her lusty craving only worsened.
“I need ye,” she gasped out.
“I know,” he said.
“Swive me,” she begged. “Swive me now.”
“Och lass, I dare not.”
“Just this once,” she pleaded.
“But I’m bound to another.”
“Your hand is bound. Your heart is your own.” When he hesitated, she forged ahead. “We needn’t tell a soul. No harm need come to anyone.”
“’Tis reckless,” he warned, removing his hand from betwixt her legs.
“’Tis more reckless for me to trust a stranger with my maidenhead.” She knew if she appealed to the protector in him, he’d find it hard to refuse. “Once ye’re gone, ’twill be in the hands of fate.”
He sighed, wrestling with his morals.
“I trust ye,” she said. “I know ye’ll be kind. And gentle. And sweet. Unless…” She dipped her eyes. “Do ye not desire me?”
He smirked. His cock was still hard in her hand. “You know I do.”
“And ye admitted ye love me.”
“I do.”
“Then know this,” she said, placing his hand over her beating heart and gazing up at him with dewy eyes. “Know that I have loved ye since the first time I saw ye. For four long years, I ne’er forgot ye. And even if I can’t have ye, I’ll love ye fore’er.”
Clearly touched, he lowered his head, resting his brow on hers.
“On this night of all nights,” she whispered, “when all may be forgiven, can we not have a wee taste o’ heaven?”