Chapter Eleven #2
The last few words were delivered sarcastically. Mara’s frown deepened and she unwound herself from the covers. “Settle my emotions? The need to protect my sister from her deviant husband will never be settled!”
Kirk did not want another argument on his hands, not when the peace between them was new and easily damaged. “We have been through this, Mara. This is Micheline’s marriage and she does not want any interference, from you or from me.”
Mara was working herself into a righteous rage when she saw the expression on his face; it was somewhat saddened. “Did she tell you this?” she asked.
He nodded, his stone-gray eyes gazing into the fire.
“She is correct. It is her marriage and if there is to be any respect at all, she must be the one to establish it. As much as I am reluctant to obey her wishes, I will not always be around to make sure Edmund treats her well. Misha must do that for herself, I am afraid.”
Mara stared at him, sensing his frustration. He had wanted to help Micheline, but her sister had firmly declined his offer. And she could see that the rejection bothered him deeply.
“You called her Misha?” she reached out, touching his arm.
Kirk tore his gaze away from the hearth, finding himself swallowed whole by brilliant blue eyes. “I have heard you address her as such. ’Tis an endearing term of affection between family.”
Mara’s cheeks flamed again, the heat from his naked arm sending a blaze of excitement through her body. “But you are not family.”
“Not yet.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were reluctant to reconsider your marriage proposal.”
He couldn’t have removed his gaze from her if he had tried.
He did not want to try; the magnetism between them was more powerful, more intense, than he had ever known it to be.
“There was truly nothing to reconsider, lass,” he sighed; it was useless to resist the obvious.
“God help me, I cannot stay away from you, not even if my common sense tells me otherwise.”
She smiled radiantly. Great hands suddenly came up and the bed shifted heavily as he pulled her against him, his lips devouring her tender mouth.
Mara gasped with delight, feeling his overwhelming warmth envelope her, melting her completely.
All of the heartache of the past two days was forgotten as his seeking lips told her how eager he was to make all between them well again.
“Kirk, Kirk,” she moaned, her hands in his hair as his teeth nibbled on her jaw. “I am so glad you have not abandoned me. I was afraid I had driven you away.”
“Never,” his voice was muffled against her flesh. “The more you abuse me, the more I want you.”
She giggled, quickly turning to sighs of pleasure as he devoured her neck. “You’re insane to think so,” she whispered. “But know… know I truly never meant to hurt you.”
He heard her, incapable of replying as his lips moved to the swell of her breasts. Mara’s hands touched his face, still terribly concerned with the parallel lacerations as he focused on other, more pleasurable, targets.
“Do they hurt?” she asked, running her fingers over the scabs.
He shook his head, pulling her surcoat off her shoulders.
Before Mara realized it, she was bared to the waist and his mouth was suckling heartily on a rosy nipple.
With a gasp, she stiffened with new, ripe pleasure and the three ugly wounds vanished from thought.
Clutching Kirk’s head against her breast, she fell back on the bed and took him down with her.
She was sweeter than he had ever known a woman to be.
Soft, delectable, tender for the taking.
Pinning her arms above her head, he kissed a delicate circle around each breast, rewarding himself after each turn by sampling a hot nipple.
Mara writhed and panted, experiencing his mouth with the greatest of joy.
Between each breast he moved, blazing a scorching trail up one arm and down the other.
Releasing her arms, his massive hands kneaded and explored as her slender fingers anchored themselves firmly in his hair.
Just as he was forging into the new territory of her abdomen, a soft knock rattled the door.
He almost shouted them away. But Mara lifted her head, panting and dazed.
“The food,” she breathed.
He knew she was hungry. With a heavy sigh, he nodded in resignation and pushed himself off her.
“A moment!” he couldn’t help the frustration in his voice, pulling Mara off the bed and helping her straighten her surcoat. When she was properly secured, he discreetly adjusted his bulging hose and opened the door.
The innkeeper’s wife and the serving wench had their hands full of steaming food.
Kirk pointed silently to the small table next to the hearth and the women quickly deposited their load.
Bowing and scraping their way from the room seemed to take a small eternity and Kirk slammed the door irritably when they were finally gone.
Turning around, he was not surprised to see that Mara was almost half-way through with the meal.
He lifted an eyebrow as he approached. “Did you not think to save any for me?”
Her mouth was full of mutton. “Nay,” she said, pushing his hand away when he tried to take a slab of meat. “This is all mine.”
He grinned and she batted at him, pushing him away and pretending to horde it all. In a flash, Kirk reached down and lifted her from the small chair, taking it himself. As Mara sputtered and shrieked, unable to protest with her mouth stuffed, he deposited her on his lap and took a helping of bread.
“There, you gluttonous wench,” he slopped the bread in gravy and took a healthy bite. “I will claim you and your food.”
She grinned at him, pieces of mutton on her lips.
He kissed her, licking the debris clean.
One kiss led to another, and still another.
Before either one of them could control their actions, the food was back on the wooden trays and they were on the bed, continuing where they had left off before the intrusion of their meal.
The surcoat came off more quickly than before.
And this time, Kirk pulled it completely free, leaving Mara naked beneath him.
Between heated kisses, he somehow managed to remove his boots and finally, his damp hose.
But Mara never noticed; as long as his mouth remained where it was the most pleasurable, she would pay little attention to anything else.
When his hot, naked body covered her on the stale sheets, the only thing she was aware of was her own awakening desire.
Thunder rattled the walls as Kirk’s pace increased, his kisses fast and furious.
Mara gasped with unrestrained delight, her experience with the drunken soldier all but forgotten.
The rude introduction to desire had not scarred her so deeply that Kirk was not able to erase the memory with his scalding hands and searching mouth.
Pulling, tugging, tasting; the delights multiplied as the night deepened.