Chapter 27
Hunter’s hand was warm in hers. He followed her silently up the narrow, curving staircase that led to her room. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was pretty sure that if she encountered anyone else on the stairs, even a servant, she’d lose her nerve and that would be that.
Nobody stepped in her way.
She withdrew a key from her pocket, unlocked a plain, narrow door at the end of a bare landing, and stepped into a small, neat room.
There was a sturdy bed in the corner, piled high with blankets and cushions. Furniture was scattered around the room, and a rug covered the floor.
“Yer room?” Hunter asked, pushing the door closed with his heel. “Wee bit dusty.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Very funny. And nay, it’s nae me room, nae anymore.
After we returned from the Highlands, Lady Pilbury said that enough was enough, and it was high time she began to treat me as an equal.
She gave me a large guest room downstairs, and when Willow is a little older, she’ll have her own room, too.
This room is… well, it’s nobody’s at the moment, but truly, it still feels like mine. ”
He nodded, crossing the room to where a bookcase stood against the wall. Idly, he let his fingers caress the spines, then turned slowly to face her.
“I love ye, Daphne,” he said bluntly. “I never was a man for romance tales or sentimentality. I thought it was beneath me. I married a woman who didnae want love—nae from me, in any case—and I had what I cared for ripped away from me. I thought it was a punishment, I suppose. It’s easy to keep people at arm’s length. And then there was ye.”
The last moisture drained from Daphne’s mouth. She stood still, transfixed, as he took one step toward her and then another.
Had her room always been so small? Somehow, it seemed ludicrously tiny, with no space between them at all.
“Since that night under the willow tree, me dreams have been full of ye,” he confessed, reaching out a hand. His fingertips brushed her chin.
Daphne leaned into the touch, closing her eyes.
“How would ye feel if I told ye that I felt the same?” she whispered. “I never imagined lying with a stranger, but the truth is that ye never seemed a stranger to me. Ye were just ye.”
“Just me,” he echoed.
She opened her eyes enough to see a slow smile spread across his face. She gasped, her lips parting, and a hard knot of desire pulsed in her gut. She leaned forward, hardly knowing what she was doing, and curled her fingers around his shoulders.
He met her halfway, pulling her tight against him. Their lips crashed together, tongue and teeth, his mouth hot and insistent. Daphne wound her arms around his neck, pulling him close.
It wasn’t enough, and yet it was too much, much too much. Too much, too little, and if he let her go, she would die.
Funny, really.
His warm arms circled her waist. He pulled back from the kiss and pressed his lips against the underside of her jaw, right against the pulse fluttering in her neck. She exhaled raggedly, closing her eyes and tilting her head back.
Hunter tugged on the laces on the back of her dress, a silent question, and she rolled her shoulders. “Aye,” she whispered.
He loosened the strings at the side of her kirtle.
That was something new. Under the willow tree, and even in later intimacies, they’d remained clothed.
Perhaps he sensed a change in her breathing or some tension, because he pulled back, eyeing her warily. Heat blazed in his eyes, and yet his hands hovered above her, not quite touching.
“Lass,” he breathed. “If ye have changed yer mind…”
“Nay,” she said firmly. “I am just… Wait a moment.”
He let his hands drop. She staggered back a step or two, breathing deeply, and steeled herself.
Desire flooded her. The pulsing ache of arousal plunged from her stomach to her sex, an insistent and furious wanting that hardly gave her a second’s peace.
Him. I want him. I’ve never wanted anything else.
Coherent thought faded away. She fumbled at the laces binding her bodice together. She pulled them loose, feeling the garment sag around her. It was easy enough to tug off the kirtle and the skirt underneath. There were petticoats next, several of them, and she kicked them away.
And then, at long last, she was only in her chemise.
It wasn’t cold in the room, but her skin prickled under the thin fabric. She knew without looking that the thin white garment was just about see-through, her pink nipples standing prominent.
His gaze dropped to her breasts, darkening. Hungry. He reached for her again, but she shook her head.
“Another moment,” she whispered.
He shifted from foot to foot. “Ye are killing me, woman,” he groaned.
She allowed herself a smile at that, just a small one. Then she seized the sides of her chemise and, in one decisive movement, pulled it up and over her head.
The garment floated down, landing on the pile of discarded clothes, and she stood naked in front of him.
His eyes faded to dark pools of desire, roaming down her body, hungry for detail. She just stood there shivering a little, her shoulders back.
“I have some marks,” she blurted out, a little giddy with nerves, and placed a hand on the side of her belly. “From when I carried Willow. Me belly got so big, ye see. I believe it’s normal.”
Hunter took a step forward and placed his large, warm hand on the side of her belly.
“It is normal,” he whispered. “Beautiful.”
“I wouldnae say that,” she managed, swallowing.
It occurred to her that she’d very much like a sip of tea. Or better yet, wine. However, the spell might be easily broken by doing something like that, and if this moment faded away… well, would it come back?
I daenae intend to find out.
He leaned forward, and she tilted her head back, closing her eyes. His lips brushed hers, a ghost of a kiss. Then, without warning, he sank to his knees, hands ghosting down her sides.
He pressed his lips to the soft curve of her stomach, glancing up at her with mischief and desire in his eyes.
“Daenae close yer eyes,” he whispered. “Look at me, lass.”
She forced her eyes open. He kissed her belly again, then her sides, where the marks zigzagged across her skin like a tiger’s stripes. His hands slid up and cupped her breasts, his fingers brushing her nipples. Then he lowered a hand to the apex of her thighs.
But his finger only traced a line across her wet heat before he pulled back. She frowned, opening her mouth to complain, when the world spun. Quite without knowing how she had gotten there, she found herself lying on her back on the bed, blinking up at the ceiling.
Hunter leaned over her, and she shivered.
“I’m half afraid that this is a dream,” he whispered. “If I woke and ye were gone, would that make it a nightmare or the sweetest dream I’ve ever had?”
She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ye’ll nae have to find out,” she breathed.
He kissed her hard, then pulled back, tugging off his clothes.
There was no careful seduction about it.
In fact, she was sure she heard a seam tear as he tugged off his shirt, and a button possibly popped off and rolled away.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched as he pulled off layer after layer, revealing a hard, rippling chest dusted with hair, muscular arms, narrow hips, and long, powerful legs.
She stared at his manhood, heavy between his thighs. She had, of course, felt it before, but that seemed very long ago.
He met her gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face. She noticed, as if for the first time, that he had a crooked canine tooth that made him look almost devilish.
No, not devilish. But vulpine. Like a fox.
“Lass?” he breathed.
She held out a hand, and he crawled over her.
At once, the heat of their bodies accelerated to a furnace. He kissed her, his caresses moving lower and lower. Over her breasts, belly, and hips, just like before, except she was lying down this time. When he put his mouth between her legs, she gave a gasping cry, her fingers tangling in his hair.
It didn’t last long, and he crawled up her body again, his slick lips trailing over her neck.
“Ye are driving me mad, Hunter Brennan,” she breathed.
“It’s what I’ve always dreamed of doing,” he chuckled.
He reached down between them, his fingers pressing at her entrance.
Daphne exhaled, letting him slip inside.
Pleasure sparked right down to her core—a lazy, careful pleasure, something that had plenty of time to build up into something breathtaking.
The weight of him took some getting used to, a pleasant ache which broadened into something else, some good.
He shifted his hips, carefully sliding inside her to the hilt. She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling. It took a moment to adjust to his girth inside her, and she arched her back, trying to push herself against him.
A warm palm smoothed over her forehead, tucking back her hair.
“Come now, lass,” Hunter murmured, his voice hoarse. “That’s nae what we agreed on. Look at me.”
She opened her eyes, hazy with bliss already, and he began to move in a slow, steady rhythm, as if they had all the time in the world.
Well, maybe they did.
Her lips parted, faint gasps and moans tearing from her throat. She wrapped her leg around his hip, pulling him closer and urging him on.
“More,” she breathed. “I want more.”
“Lass, I’ll give ye the moon if ye wish it,” he growled, pressing a kiss to her throat, his teeth sinking into her flesh enough to leave a faint red mark and a delicious pinprick of sensation.
“I daenae want the moon,” she gasped. “I only want ye.”
He growled again, and this time, there was no room for words. His thrusts sped up, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. Daphne met him halfway, moaning loudly.
The spark grew, turning into a flame, then a fire, then a furnace that glowed behind her eyes and threatened to swallow her whole. Climax crashed over her, and she cried out, holding him closer to her.
Hunter didn’t stop, growling again, his stubbled cheek pressed against hers.
His hips jerked once, twice, before she felt a rush of something hot inside her.
He leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows around her, face pressing against the crook of her neck.
She laced her fingers together over his spine.
Her fingertips could just reach. It would have been nice to stay like that for a while, the two of them breathing in unison, hearts beating in time.
It could have lasted hours or only a handful of minutes. Really, time had ceased to matter.
Eventually, Hunter propped himself up on his elbows, breathing hard, and stared down at her almost dizzily.
“I love ye, Daphne,” he said simply. “I am saying it a lot, I ken, but I have spent the last few years dreaming of when I could say it again.”
She giggled, reaching up to kiss him. “Daenae worry. I love to hear it. And for what it’s worth, Hunter, I love ye too.”
He kissed her back slowly, lazily. There would be time for more kissing later, more talk, more exploration.
At that moment, however, she was entirely happy to simply lie beside him and look at him.
In her mind, willow branches shifted around them, a precious curtain cutting them off from the rest of the world.
“I’m glad ye are here,” she murmured. “I am glad ye found me.”
“I’m inclined to call it a miracle,” he confessed, grinning.
Willow glanced up from her desk as Daphne stepped into the room. Her face lit up.
“Mama! Miss Sutton and I were reading poetry.”
“Gentle poetry,” Miss Sutton added hastily. “Some of the milder Shakespearean sonnets. And we read a little of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Miss Willow seemed to enjoy it.”
“Oh?” Daphne laughed.
“If we spirits have offended, think on this, and all is mended,” Miss Sutton quoted, rising to her feet and collecting her books, “that you did but slumber here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme…”
“No more yielding than a dream,” Hunter finished, stepping into the room.
Miss Sutton brightened. “Oh! Does the gentleman read Shakespeare?”
“Nae if I can help it,” he responded wryly.
Willow shrieked and dropped her book. She scrambled off her seat and bolted across the room, launching herself into Hunter’s arms. He lifted her, spinning her round and round, laughing and holding her tight.
Miss Sutton tactfully slipped away, leaving the three of them alone in the room.
No, not three. But four.
A small, three-legged fox slunk into the room, eyes bright and quick. Willow shrieked again and wriggled furiously in her father’s arms, trying to get down. Her feet had barely touched the floor before River leapt into her arms. She held him tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Mama said we had to leave him behind,” she whispered. “Mama, look, he’s here! He’s back! But he’s missing a leg.”
“Aye, lass, Rhiannon had to amputate it,” Hunter murmured. “Best to lose a leg than a life, aye?”
“Aye,” Willow agreed immediately.
She pressed a kiss to River’s head, and the little fox wriggled happily in her arms.
“We’ve got some news for ye,” Daphne announced, crouching down before her. “How would ye like it if Hunter stayed near us? How would ye feel if he were to stay for good?”
Willow’s face lit up. “I would like that a lot! Are ye going to stay, Pa?”
Hunter bent down, kissing her cheek. “Aye, lassie. Yer ma and I will stay together from now on. We’ll be a family, the three of us. The four of us,” he added, nodding at River. “If that’s what ye want, lassie.”
Willow beamed. “Aye, Pa, it is. And Mama, ye will be with us, too? Will we go back to Scotland? To the keep?”
“Maybe one day,” Daphne said, before Hunter could utter a firm no. “But for now, it doesnae matter where we go, because we are a family, and family is the same wherever we go. Now, shall we tell Lady Pilbury the good news? Though I suspect that she might have guessed already.”