Page 49 of Dorchad

Aware that the big man had a notorious sweet tooth, he pointed toward the other end of the hall. “In the larder, behind the milk bins.” As Beinn grinned he added, “Dinnae eat them all, for you ken how too much fruit sends you to spend the night in the privy.”

“Aye, Seneschal.” The guard skipped off like a happy lad.

Although he should have gone with him to assure he followed his advice, Sgathan grew suddenly weary. Since the second woman from the future had arrived he’d slept little and paced away the early morning hours. He could avoid them easily, and often did, but the strangeness of their ways aggravated him. Even now his brother likely had the healer under him; he plowed into her as freely and often as he wished these days.

Sometimes he hated Dorchad. Tonight he envied him.

In this state he could only calm himself with a few jugs of whiskey, of which he kept a stock in one of the cabinets. Yet the thought of doctoring himself with drink might end with him going in search of Dorchad, or worse, one of their vassals.

’Tisnae so bad. In all the years since we joined the clan I’ve no’ slipped even once.

When Sgathan dropped into his chair by the fire he expected Piseag to jump on his lap, but the cat had gone missing of late. Perhaps it had finally sensed the danger his master presented to him. He could squeeze the life out of the feline with one jerk of his hand. He could go back downstairs to find Sheona and do the same to her. The urge to kill something surged inside him over and again no matter what he did to calm himself.

I shallnae slip.

He still hated himself enough to remain here by the now-blazing hearth and pray to Gods he no longer believed in that he could hold on a little longer.

Rebecca woke with a hard chest in her face, heavy arms encircling her upper body, and slow, warm breath stirring her hair. The lack of light told her it wasn’t even dawn yet, and when she shifted her legs she realized her lover was still inside her. Her bottom reacted to her movements with a delicious ache. She’d spent hours and hours submitting to Dorchad last night, and in the end she’d become so saturated with elation and satisfaction she couldn’t remember falling asleep.

“I shallnae leave you,” he murmured, his hand moving up and stroking the back of her head. “Return to your slumber.”

He was growing harder inside her, which made her body respond with a heated wave of new wetness. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“’Tisnae wise to defy me so soon after I’ve taken you to task.” He cupped her chin and made her look at him. In the darkness he looked more like a sculpture than a living man. “Why do you smile at me thus?”

I’m stupid crazy in love with you, her heart replied.

“I’d love to obey, but when you touch me I can’t sleep.” Daringly she took hold of his hand and pressed it over her breast so her heart beat with frantic speed against his palm. “I want you too much.”

Dorchad kissed her, his mouth so gentle it seemed almost reverent. “You tempt me never again to close my eyes.” He caressed her breast idly, and then reached down to pull her thigh over his hip. “Did I leave you too sore?”

“No.” She was shivering now, wanting more and more of him, her pussy clasping his long, rigid shaft tightly. “I think I’ll always be ready for you.”

He usually took her with hard, deep, powerful strokes, but now he glided in and out of her as if they had all the time in the world to make love. That stoked ripples of completely different sensations inside her, soft and leisurely and yet acutely sweet, bringing tears to her eyes. Dorchad kissed them away as they spilled over her lashes, and then rolled her onto her back, propping himself over her as he kept pumping in and out of her softness.

Rebecca prayed she wouldn’t climax from this unhurried, gentler treatment, for he hadn’t given her any commands. The scent of him, heavier in the mornings, seemed to saturate her as if she’d taken a bath in chocolate and cream. She wondered if he was just making love to her this time, without any instructions or warnings, which perhaps meant she was free to respond as she wished. She tested her theory by running her hands over his back; before now he hadn’t given her permission to touch him.

“Again,” he said, groaning against her cheek.

She let her hands wander this time, sliding them over the tight curves of his churning buttocks and up again along his sides. As he put his mouth to her throat she ran her fingers through his dense black hair, the coolness of the strands winding around her fingers as if it meant to chain her to him. That would never be necessary, Rebecca knew. She could never leave this man; even if he tried to chase her away she’d stay by his side.

When he climaxed she followed almost at once, again without his permission, but the entire interlude seemed to be outside the rules he’d made for her. If Dorchad spanked her again, she thought as she trembled in his arms with the aftershocks, she’d gladly accept the punishment.

“Am I in trouble now?” she couldn’t help asking.

“No. ’Twillnae be the same each time for us,” he murmured, and kissed her brow. “We may indulge in our desires, or simply fack as we wish.”

“This is all new to me,” she admitted as she snuggled up to him. “I want to please you, but I don’t always know what you’re thinking. I love being with you no matter what we do.” Exhaustion swamped her as she thought because I love you, Chieftain MacRune.

Had she said that out loud or just in her head? Rebecca fell asleep before she could decide.

Chapter Thirteen

Unable to sleep again, Dorchad rose and silently dressed, watching Rebecca as he did. She lay sprawled on the ticking, one hand pressed against the faint hollow his body had made next to hers. After he pulled on his boots he went over to drape the coverlet over her bare, pink buttocks, and then stared down at her.

I love you, Chieftain MacRune.

He tried to fathom the words she’d uttered before falling asleep as drowsy nonsense or some manner of teasing. He’d also made it plain to her from the beginning that he could not give her what a mortal man could. As much as he made to dismiss her confession as a jest, deep in the cold vault of his heart he knew that she’d meant it. Ever honest and forthright, Rebecca McIan had offered him her affection without hesitation since coming to the island. He’d used it to take her to bed, but females did not fall in love with men simply because they facked.