Page 66 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
“Me son came intae the world but never drew breath. His maither’s heart was broken when she held him in her arms. But she remained wi’ me fer three more days before she joined the wee lad.” He shook his head, drawing in a terrible, long breath. “There was blood. So much blood.” He turned to her. “There was naught I could dae tae save her. The old midwife tried her best, using all her potions and prayers, but Marjorie slipped away before our eyes.”
Keeping hold of his hand, Tyra let her head rest on his shoulder. “’Tis a sad tale, indeed. But I thank ye fer yer honesty and fer trusting me with Marjorie’s story.”
“So, ye see? Now ye understand why I wished tae distance meself from ye?”
Tyra looked up, drawing her brows together in puzzlement. “Because ye still grieve yer lost Marjorie?” Her mouth turned down and she shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.“Ye still love Marjorie and cannae find it in yer heart tae love another?”
Swallowing a sob, Ewan thrust his head into his hands. How could he make her understand?
When he glanced up, he was horrified to see a tear slipping down her cheek. He raised a finger to dab the tear away.
“Nay, nay. It was ne’er me intention tae sadden ye, but tae help ye understand. ‘Tis nae so.” He groaned. “Me love fer Marjorie was not the same as the love I feel fer…” He paused, lowering his gaze. “’Tis nae that I dinnae want ye. I desire ye and I can think of little else than having ye in me bed. But I had vowed tae meself that I would ne’er again be responsible fer making a lass with-child. I cannae bear tae think of once again being the cause of such pain and terrible suffering.”
She gasped, turning to him. “I understand yer pain and sorrow, but ye should have talked tae me sooner. Yedaewish tae kiss me and hold me in yer arms. I kenned it, but ye kept pushing me away. I sometimes thought I was losing me mind!”
He groaned. “Aye. I have a great desire tae be close tae ye, but I am also greatly afeared.”
“We both ken it is nae possible fer us tae be close and tae feel desire without us making a wean. But I am willing tae be a proper wife tae ye.”
“I ken, fer I also always felt ye shared me desire…”
Her face brightened with hope. “Aye. So we must try this taegether.”
He took her hand, his pulse pounding in his temple. Taking her in his arms, he buried his head in the gleaming, sweetly perfumed, cascade of her hair. “I want ye lass, ye cannae even imagine how much. We will find our way, I promise. I will dae me best tae overcome me fear, if that is what ye want as well. It may take me time tae be able tae but fer ye, I wish tae try.”
He raised her hand and ran her finger down his cheek and along her jaw, his gaze on her lips, holding her soft form close.
With a moan he took her mouth, his body crying out in want for her as she wound her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. His tongue teased her lips open and she responded with a cry of delight and the pressure of her tongue on his. She tasted of berries and honey, and he felt as if his starving heart could sup on her forever and still hunger for her.
She took his hand and pressed it to her breast and he felt her heart beating fast against his palm and the nubs of her breasts hardening to his touch as he circled them with his finger and thumb.
It had been so long, so very long, since he’d touched a woman with desire. His body came alive in a starburst of sensation, his shaft like an iron rod, his breath gathering in his lungs fit to burst.
She guided his hand to her hem and he raised it, sliding his fingers along the bare, satin skin of her smooth thigh, and higher still so that she writhed under his touch, pushing her hips a little so that he pressed her and shifted his fingers to her very core.
“Oh, dear Lord, Ewan, I want ye so,” Tyra whispered.
As his fingers slipped between her folds, she bucked and shuddered under his touch.
He ached for her. “Touch me, lass. I cannae bear it, I’m dying fer yer hand on me.”
She ran a hand along the waist tie of his britches to the point where his shaft pushed against the fabric, bulging and hard, begging for her touch. She touched him, her hand tentative at first.
Sucking in a breath, he groaned. “Harder.” He brought his hips to her hand so that she could press hard on his shaft, thrusting a little to meet her touch as they both caressed each other.
She was melting into his fingers, so wet and eager for him. He dared a finger inside her, and she rose to meet it, then another, and she rose again. His hips echoed each move she made, until within only minutes, he found his release with a cry that was half desperate moan, half savage roar.
She spasmed against his hand, sighing, moaning, grinding his name, their mouths still hungering for their lips and tongue.
They both lay back under the now-fading sunlight, their chests heaving as they fought for breath.
Then Tyra surprised him with a sudden peal of laughter. It was a sound like many tiny bells ringing joyously across the loch. He grasped her, enfolding her in his arms and held her tight against him.
“I didnae ken.” Was all she said.
“I didnae ken it could be like this either,” he said. “I’ve ne’er felt like this.”
He’d never known such burning-hot desire, the craving need that pushed all other thoughts aside, making room only for the woman in his arms.
