A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) (73 page)

“
Muira
,
”
Lachlan groaned his wife
’
s name again.  It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the pounding of his blood- the throbbing of his cock, especially with Muira
’
s soft, inviting little body wriggling and writhing against him.

“
Please,
”
she said quietly, suddenly becoming seriously. 
“
I need you tonight, Lachlan,
so
much,
”
she confessed.

“
I need you too,
”
he murmured in reply, trailing his lips down her neck. 
“
But I don
’
t want to force you if you
’
re not ready.
”
  He had to get it right this time; there was no more room for mistakes.

“
I
’
m ready,
”
Muira gasped, rolling onto her back, and trying to tug Lachlan with her.  He was still slightly uncertain, but he followed her after only a second
’
s pause, settling in the cradle Muira had immediately proved for him. 
“
Don
’
t wait,
”
she begged, not desperate in the frantic, fiery sense, but in a more intense,
loving
kind of way. 
“
I need to feel you,
”
she whimpered, lifting a hand to Lachlan
’
s face, and laying it tenderly against his cheek.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss against Muira
’
s palm, earning a delighted little sigh from her lips, as he hiked up her nightdress.  He was completely hard for her now.  He
’
d already had her once that night, but the instant that Muira had given her permission his body had surged to life with almost embarrassing enthusiasm.

Lachlan nudged his sex against her slit, dipping the head of his cock in her sticky juices, while Muira again pleaded with him not to make her wait.  He would have to go slow, he would have to be gentle, but Lachlan, obeying, began to sink forward.

Muira gasped and puffed, shivering beneath him as he filled her sheath a fraction at a time.  Lachlan too was trembling, but from the effort it cost him to control his thrust so rigidly.

“
You feel so good,
”
Muira mewled breathlessly, seeking her husband
’
s lips as her hands slowly explored every inch of their territory.

He
’
d never loved her like this before
…
the thought whispered through Lachlan
’
s pleasure hazed mind.  It was a slow smouldering dance that was gradually burning hotter and hotter between their bodies, their breaths were getting shorter, the passion more intense, but neither seemed willing to hurry. 

It was a reconnection of their bodies, their hearts, their souls
…
and a part of Lachlan never wanted it to end.  It had to, of course, and when they broke, barely a second apart, it was earth shattering. 

“
Oh God,
”
Lachlan groaned, collapsing onto of his wife after spilling his seed, while she continued to clench and shudder, and pant her euphoria. 
“
Oh God
,
”
he repeated, mentally and physically unable to find a more articulate way of explaining himself. 

Muira did it for him.

“
That was perfect,
”
she gasped, still holding onto her husband tightly.

Lachlan would have agreed if he could have found the energy to form the words, as he couldn
’
t, as his limited amount of remaining vigour was required to lift himself off his wife
’
s body, he just smiled broadly, and then he grinned contentedly when Muira moved to settle herself comfortably upon his chest.

Should he tell her now how he felt?  Should he tell her again that he loved her?  Perhaps Muira would be more willing to believe him after what had just happened between them?  But
…
what if she didn
’
t
…
or- or what if she didn
’
t love him back? 

The questions flitted through Lachlan
’
s mind.  They repeated themselves over and over, and never coming with any answers, until Lachlan finally fell asleep- having not re-declared his love for his wife.

..ooOOoo..

When Muira woke the next morning she was disappointed to discover that she was alone- and then she was relieved.  She had hardly had a second to bask in the glory of what had taken place the night before, when a wave of intense nausea broke over her and she was force to dash from the bed to the washstand, where she was once again violently sick. 

Muira was still crouched over the bowl dry heaving, in her dressing gown, when Liane arrived half an hour later to help her to dress.

“
Sick again, mistress?
”
she said cheerfully. 
“
Well they say that
’
s always a good sign you know,
”
she beamed.

Muira cast her maid a weak, questioning glance. 
“
A good sign of
what
?
”
she groaned, letting Liane help her back to the bed.

“
Why, that you
’
ll carry the bairn to full term, of course,
”
Liane said brightly, drawing back the heavy curtains and then throwing open a window to let in some fresh air.

Muira blinked, she gaped, and then she made an odd choking kind of noise.  She couldn
’
t be pregnant, surely!  She
’
d know!  Wouldn
’
t she?  After all, her courses were still regular, this argument against the notion she even mused aloud.

“
Begging your pardon, mistress, but they
’
re not,
”
Liane contradicted calmly.  Muira flushed embarrassedly, but he maid seemed not to notice, or not to suffer the same affliction at any rate. 

“
Pregnant?
”
Muira whispered to herself.  She gave a little shiver- half of wonder, half of terror- at the thought.  Her hand drifted, almost of it
’
s own accord, to her stomach.  It was still flat of course, but she couldn
’
t help but wonder if she was really cradling a little life within her womb.

She and Lachlan hadn
’
t discussed children, although she assumed that he knew that a little baby was likely to be the outcome of their almost daily (almost always more frequently than daily) lovemaking.  Muira was quite sure that he would know more about the whole conception process that she did- she just didn
’
t know how he
felt
about it.  They had only just repaired things between themselves, would the prospect of a child be an added strain that their fragile relationship wouldn
’
t be able to take?

Muira hoped not, because she was beginning to tingle, to glow, at the thought of carrying Lachlan
’
s child.  She should probably wait though, she should probably make certain that she was expecting before telling her husband anything.

Liane let Muira lounge in bed for a little while longer before asking her if- that is, telling her that she was- ready to be dressed.  Muira was feeling absolutely fine again by this time and allowed Liane to bustle around, helping with her dress and hair.

“
Liane,
”
Muira said carefully, having settled in her own mind to keep the news of the baby- if there even
was
a baby of course- quiet for the time being. 
“
You haven
’
t told anyone what we suspect have you?
”
  The maid blinked blankly. 
“
About the wee bairn?
”
Muira clarified.

“
Of course not, mistress!
”
Liane exclaimed.  She looked horrified that Muria had even suggested that she might gossip.  So much so that Muira mumbled a quiet apology.

“
Well, I think we should keep it that way, just until I
’
m quite
certain
that I
’
m expecting,
”
Muira reasoned firmly.

Liane looked a little muddled and doubtful, but she nodded obediently anyhow. 
“
Aye, well, if you think that
’
s best, mistress,
”
she murmured, putting the finishing touches to Muira hair just as there was a knock at the door.

Muira heart leapt.  She knew that it was ridiculous to think that Lachlan would knock on his own door (indeed, in the little note he
’
d left on her bedside table he
’
d said that he feared he might be away for the better part of the day) however, Muira couldn
’
t stop herself hoping that it was her husband as she called for the knocker to enter.