Page 55 of A Celtic Secret
She met his groan of pleasure when he finally slid inside her. When he pressed deep and made her nerve endings come alive. She tried to focus on the sun, but all she could do was feel. Drown. Lose herself in the steady rhythm building between them.
When he matched the thrust of his hips with the swirl of the pad of his thumb on her clit, she groaned louder. Held on to the sill more tightly. Dug her nails into the abrasive stone. Her flesh was still so hypersensitive from last night that it wasn’t long before mini-orgasms rippled through her. Two thrusts later, she catapulted over the rhetorical edge along with him.
“I love that feeling,” she gasped as he groaned in her ear and released deep inside her. “The way you throb. How it keeps the pleasure going.”
When he grew unnaturally silent, she looked over her shoulder only to find his tortured gaze locked on her sketchpad. It seemed the wind had blown it open to one of the images she had drawn upon waking.
“What is that?” Any happiness and desire he had felt vanished as he pulled out of her, picked up the pad, and looked back and forth between her and the image. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” Riona bit back emotion at the telling sketch. One of her and Raghnall in a passionate embrace kissing. “I barely remember sketching it.” She shook her head, hoping he believed her. “These things just happen sometimes. I sketch without knowing what I’m doing or why.” Growing more upset by the moment by his churning emotions, how betrayed he felt, she rested her hand on his forearm. “I loveyou, Declán.Nothim.” She shook her head. “Neverhim. You have to believe me.”
“’Tis hard,” he ground out, swallowing hard as he stared at it. “This sketch came from your mind. Your heart.” His gaze rose to her face, the sadness in his eyes heartbreaking. “How do I know what’s real and what’s not? How do I know if you didn’t forget time spent with him in dreams as readily as you did time spent with me? If a part of you that ye've yet recalled loves him just as much, if not more?”
“Because Iseeyou, remember?” She pried the pad from his clenched fingers and tossed it aside. “Me.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “The woman standing in front of you, your wife, your druidess, sees you and only you.” She pressed his hand over hers. “And that made all the difference. That drove him out.” She gestured loosely at the pad on the floor. “That’s just part of the hold he’s still trying to have over me, and you know it.”
She liked that he didn’t fly off the deep end like some guys might, but then Declán wasn’t that sort. It seemed he was far worse as he fell into a brooding silence instead and got dressed.
“That’s not the way this should be handled,” she said softly. “Closing me out is the surest way to—”
“What?” he cut her off, yanking on his boots. His eyebrows swept up when he looked at her. “Drive ye back into his arms?”
“Arms Inevershould have been in to begin with,” she reminded him. She loathed fighting. Hated confrontation. But he was starting to irritate her. “And you know that. We worked all this out already. Realized it has something to do with our past life. With the horrible part he played jumping into my magical fire.”
“Because he was yer husband and did not want ye to suffer alone?” he theorized. His accent only deepened with his anguish. “Have ye thought of that, wife?” He swung a cloak around his shoulders, scooped up her sketchpad, and strode for the door only to stop short with his hand on the handle. “Whether ye want to stay with me in the end or not, I refuse to let ye go back to him. ‘Twill be over my dead body if ye do.”
She flinched and sank onto the bed when he slammed the door shut behind him. He should know better, after everything they had been through already, that she wouldn’t do that, but she couldn’t help but sympathize with his reaction. If she had pined after him nearly her whole life in dreams only to find him drawing a picture of him and his wife in another life kissing, she would probably be pissed off too.
More than pissed, actually, despite logic telling her otherwise.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hating this. Hating the distance she already felt between them over a picture she didn’t even remember drawing. She much preferred contentment and happiness to strife. What was she supposed to say to him, though? Whether he could see things clearly or not, he had all the facts in front of him already. Had to know soul-deep that all her love was for him.
“Good morn to ye,” came the last voice she wanted to hear at her door a few short minutes later. Imag lowered her head just enough to be considered respectful before eyeing Riona with a cunning look that made her skin crawl. “When I saw me Eisibél having to care for our beloved king below stairs because he was in such a state, I worried after ye.” The look she gave Riona was mock-sympathetic at best. “Do not fear, though. She will see him well cared for.”
“That would be, ‘Good morn to ye, myQueen,” Madison corrected, sweeping into the room so regally, Imag was forced back a few steps. When the older woman lingered, Madison looked down her nose and made a dismissive gesture. “Off with you now. I’ll see to my sister, thank you.”
When Imag seemed affronted and dared to linger a moment longer, Madison slammed the door shut in her beady-eyed face.
“I seriously can’t stand that woman.” She sat beside Riona and swept a stray curl back from her eye like she did when they were kids, and she was determined to soothe her. “What happened, sweetie? There was no missing Declán’s foul mood when he stormed through the great hall off to the gods know where.”
Madison most likely already knew via her thoughts but wanted to talk it out.
“You mean stormed off with Eisibél in hot pursuit,” Riona grumbled. She might have sensed the lovely Irishwoman was no threat the night before, but still.
“Who cares if Eisibél followed him?” Madison waved it off. “Declán only has eyes for you.” She tilted her head in question. “Now tell me what happened because your mind’s a little fuzzy this morning.” She arched her brows. “Like it gets when you’re sketching?”
Riona nodded. “Because I was.”
She sighed and told her sister what had happened. “I understand where he’s coming from, I really do, but I’m still frustrated.”
“Because he can’t see the truth of things beyond his own emotions,” Madison guessed. “Because you feel like he should trust you no matter what.” The corner of her mouth curled up ever-so-slightly. “Even though you’ve only known each other in person less than a few days and have been married less than twenty-four hours?”
“Well, when you put it like that,” she mumbled. “But let’s not forget it sounds like he’s known me in dreams his whole life, so heshouldtrust more.Shouldbelieve me.”
“Dreams where you inevitably always left him to this.” Madison gestured at their surroundings. “Left him with nothing but memories of you in a dream surrounded by a castle that’s heavily influenced by you. A never-ending reminder of you without him ever knowing if you would return.” She shook her head and looked skyward. “On top of all that, when he wasn’t, no doubt, drowning in misery missing you, he had his overambitious stepmother to deal with.”
Madison snorted and went on. “Then there was the pleasure of pretty much being the first kingdom in line against Raghnall over the years, so you know he lost more warriors than his brothers.” She frowned and shook her head. “As far as I can tell, Declán’s had very little happiness in his life.” She flinched. “And what is that God-awful totem in the back of this castle? It makes me sick to my stomach every time I go near it.”
“I don’t know.” Riona slumped, agreeing with her sister on every count. “But it’s all me. Declán built it at my insistence.” She fought back tears as she looked around at the beautiful chamber. The gorgeous décor that was very much to her taste when it came to fairytale castles. “He did all this for me. Every last inch.” She pulled in a choppy breath. “And now Raghnall might ruin everything.”
