Page 98 of Laird of Twilight
She pressed closer, feeling a surge of love and a sort of compassion, wanting him to feel as loved in this moment as he made her feel. Touching his thick, glossy, gilded hair, his shoulders, his chest, she let her hands, her lips, her body convey what she wanted. When he worked at the little buttons along the front of her bodice, she helped him draw away the cloth. His fingers slid over the delicate fabric of her chemise, then inside with an exquisite touch over her breast, so that she gasped, pearling there for him. He raised his head to kiss her, rolled with her in the plaids.
* * *
What rocked through him now was deep, profound, as if all the feelings he had reserved over the last weeks, indeed over years, had been saved for her. What had been restrained simmered, roiled, then began to dissolve into a calmness, a bright certainty. She freed him, this girl. She fired his blood and his soul, drew him up out of himself, opened his mind, his heart. No woman had ever done that for him. He kissed her, maddened by the sweetness, the lushness of her, the delicate flowery scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, the taste of her lips. She opened to him, pressed her body to his, and he pulsed for her, hot and sure.
She had magic—she was magic, and more than that, a miracle to him. Since the first time he had seen her, she had brightened his soul. He swept his hands over her, breathed with her, ached for her, grateful she was his now, and he hers. All thoughts of fairies—a fairy bride, the demanding will, all of it—seemed inconsequential now. She was more important to him than any of it.
Urgency whirled through him like a storm, building, time vanishing again. Yet he remained aware that they must return to the world soon. She wanted this too, he knew it now, she savored this peace and privacy and enchantment with him. When she framed his face in her hands and kissed him, arched her body freely against him as if in answer to a question he had not asked, he knew again. This was right.
Kisses went to wildness, fiery as whisky, filling his heart, his soul. He moved with her, braced a hand on rock and plaid, drew strength from the very earth—silent, restrained, infinitely patient. She leaned into him, and he rucked up her skirts, lace and cloth, felt her hands tug at his clothing. He smoothed over the incredible softness of her bare hip, pressed her against his deeply aching hardness. But he slowed himself deliberately, for her.
Still, she was impatient against him, capricious and bold, and as he found the soft space in her that his body sought, he felt the wildness grow, his breathing fast, so fast. She kissed, murmured, though he did not know what she said. Then he groaned and flared his hands over her slender hips, delved and sank, as she looped her arms around him and took him into her, deep and tender, surging with him, all honey and fire. And all he felt for her swept through in a rhythm, his utter need for her, body and soul, bursting through. Her lips moved over his, silently pleading, and he kissed her, taking her breath into his own, giving back of himself.
Chapter 22
“There’s no treasure here, but we did make a great geological find,” James said later, taking Elspeth’s hand as they walked into the outermost cave. “We did accomplish that today.”
She laughed. “And a little more.”
Smiling, he hefted his leather bag on his shoulder. The Goblin Cave held only signs of smugglers, but every moment here was a treasure in itself, for he and Elspeth had found each other, and he was grateful for that gift. And he would return here to further explore the wealth of geological evidence.
“We should search through the smugglers’ things before we go,” Elspeth suggested. “Perhaps they found something and hid it away.”
James removed the blue agate from his pocket and lifted it to the light. “True. Why would Niall MacArthur leave a clue in his painting that led to this cave, if there was nothing here? This agate did lead us to a nice cache of agate in the rock. Oh very well, no more talk of geology,” he said, as his bride slid him a glance. “We can certainly look through the things in the other cave again if you like.”
“Grandda and the others will worry if we do not meet them soon. At least we have crystals and agates to show them,” she said.
“And a marriage,” he said. “Should we tell them?”
“We should talk to my grandfather first, and then—aye, we could tell them.”
James nodded. He wanted her to be happy always, to smile like sunshine. But he had not been able to help her find the treasure. The blue agate still puzzled him, its rarity here, its map-like formation resembling this very cave. He hoped that a cache of similar agate existed here, but there was much to explore yet.
“I should make some geological notes before we go. Shall we delay our departure a few minutes, Lady Struan?” He inclined his head.
She smiled and nodded. “Besides, I forgot my bonnet again.”
Rummaging for a notebook and pencil in his pack, James sat and began to jot down his thoughts. “A good deal of trap rock lies under all,” he murmured, writing. “Much of the interior walls are formed of limestone—abundant evidence of shell fossils.” He glanced up at Elspeth. “Fiona must come with us next time to look at the fossils. She is more experienced with those than I am.”
“If the smugglers are not about, it seems safe enough. The fairies are clearly not here. I wonder why Grandda believed they were.”
“Your grandfather sometimes sees fairies where there are none.” James scribbled more observations, murmuring to himself. “The second cave holds traces of granite composite, with rock quartz, feldspar, mica,” he wrote. “Basalt, other compressed rock. Flecks of crystal formations throughout. Heat once occurred beneath the limestone layers. A subterranean passage exists, pitted with niches where crystals occur. Pocket formations indicate bubbles in ancient lava or magma flow. Good green agate has formed in places there.”
“I will leave you to this, and go fetch my bonnet.” Elspeth slipped into the smaller chamber. He heard her slight footsteps along the rocky slope.
Finishing his notes, he tucked his things away a few minutes later, left his satchel and walking stick in the outer cave, and went back to fetch his bride.
At first, he did not see her, and his heart leaped. Then he noticed her kneeling in a dark corner. “What have you found?”
“Come look! I think there is another little cave here. There is a small opening, but there are a lot of rocks piled up here. It looks like a small avalanche happened here.”
“It almost looks like a cairn—placed deliberately. Let me see.” He crouched, looking over her shoulder. Several small and medium-sized rocks were stacked, cairn-like, in front of a low cleft in the wall. Elspeth was attempting to shove them aside.
“I know we should not disturb a cairn, but there is something behind it. And my grandfather would want to know,” she said as she dragged rocks off the pile.
He knelt to help her. Some were dark and lightweight, others surprisingly dense and heavy for their size. He had expected to find limestone and shale, but soon realized these were odd rocks indeed to find here.
“Mica, schist, biotite,” he muttered. “And iron ore! This is not a natural rockfall, but deliberate. Perhaps the smugglers hid something here after all by blocking off a niche. We might find their best whisky—or a stash of French gold.”
