A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) (94 page)

“
It
’
s early days yet,
”
Muira said soothingly, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze.

“
I- I
’
m not ready for him to die yet, Muira,
”
Lachlan blurted unexpectedly, taking his wife completely by surprise.  Lachlan was never uncertain, never unsure of himself. 
“
I
’
m not ready to be Laird,
”
he groaned.

“
That
’
s not true,
”
she said quietly, but confidently. 
“
When the time comes, you
’
ll be ready.  I
know
you Lachlan, and I know that you
’
ll rise to meet whatever challenge is set in front of you.
”

“
That
’
s very kind of you to say,
”
he muttered, stopping where their ways parted.

“
It
’
s the truth!
”
Muira said sharply. 
“
And don
’
t you-
”

But she didn
’
t get to finish, because suddenly he was kissing her, in the middle of a public corridor, in front of her over protective brother (who Muira suspected was being restrained by her slightly less over protective cousin)
–
and she completely forgot what she had meant to tell him.

..ooOOoo
…

Things at Eilean Donan gradually began to calm down over the next week.  The clan lost five people on the second day after the poisoning, three on the third, just one on the forth, and then none the day after that, so everyone began hoping that the worse had passed.  The unfortunate men and women who were still ill were slowly improving, by the fifth day no one seemed to be getting any worse, and once the week had past, everyone was approaching full fitness again.

There was just one anomaly however, Graem.

The Laird showed no signs of recovering.  Lachlan spent as much time as he was able with the old man, in between the general running of the castle, which now weighed entirely on his shoulders.  He delegated tasks of course, but everyone now looked to him for guidance and instructions. 

He was so glad that he had Muira.  He was certain that his wife was all that was keeping him sane.  Lachlan
’
s lips twitched into a smile, an expression rarely seen on his face of late, his wife and their baby
…
  The little life growing inside his wife
’
s body, somehow that made everything else bearable.  And everything else was a strange world of limbo.

Tavish was still being held in the dungeons.  He would be brought to trial, but the Laird was meant to reside over such proceeds
…
and the MacRae
’
s no longer had an active Laird, so to speak.  It was cruel, keeping Tavish waiting, while people decided what to do about this problem, when everyone knew what his fate was going to be.  Although, strangely enough, Lachlan found it quite difficult to work up the required level pity to feel sorry for the man
…

“
I was getting worried about you.
”

Lachlan looked up.  He
’
d just walked back to his rooms from the Larid
’
s chambers.  Sorcha had sent him packing, saying that he looked ready to keel over himself.  His sisters had taken it upon themselves to nurse the Laird around the clock.  One of them was always with him.  Lachlan supposed that they felt the same as him- that Graem had been their surrogate father. 

He hadn
’
t spoken to his mother since their run in
…
that was something else weighing on his mind.

“
Did I wake you?  I
’
m sorry,
”
he murmured slowly, crossing the candlelit room to where his wife was lying snuggled in bed already.

“
I was just dozing,
”
Muira shrugged. 
“
You know I can
’
t slept properly without you here.
”

Lachlan chuckled and stripped off his clothes. 
“
Poor lass,
”
he whispered, crawling into bed beside his wife.

“
I miss you,
”
she whispered in reply, and then said quickly, to counteract the pained look that crossed Lachlan
’
s face. 
“
I know I shouldn
’
t, and that you
’
re busy with more important things, but-
”

“
Nothing
’
s more important than you,
”
he rasped, claiming her lips, kissing her deeply, as if his very life depended on it- perhaps it did; it
felt
like it did. 
“
I
’
ve missed you too,
”
he rasped, moving, covering her body with his own. 
“
I need you, Muira,
”
he panted.  It had been so long. 
“
I need you now.
”

“
Lachlan,
”
Muira whispered breathlessly, hungrily accepting her husband
’
s kisses as his large hands roaming heavily over her body.  She sensed his desperation
…
and shared it as well.

“
Tell me you need this,
”
he groaned, grinding his hard body against Muira
’
s softness shamelessly.  She gasped at the feel of him- at the pressure of his cock, rubbing against her skin through the thin cotton of her nightdress.  He was so hot, so hard, so huge
…

“
I need
you
,
”
she mewed, squirming against him. 

She loved that she was the only one to see him like this, loved that the strong public man who led the clan so naturally came home to her bed every night, and found private comfort in her arms.  Muira thrilled at his power, it was dizzying and thrilling, and yet somehow such a part of the man she loved that she knew he would never lose it.

“
I need you too.
”

Muira shivered as Lachlan
’
s tongue trailed across the insubstantial fabric that stretched across her large breasts.  He touched her through the damp material, suckling one cherished peak into his mouth, while his hand lovingly cupped and squeezed the other.  Muira moaned, and arched against her husband.  She was too impatient to wait; she
’
d waited too long for him already.

“
Don
’
t tease,
”
she puffed, grasping at his shoulders, wanting to feel the crushing weight of his body against her breasts, between her thighs
…
she parted her legs for him eagerly. 
“
Take me,
”
she panted, delighting at the shudder she felt run the length of Lachlan
’
s body.

“
I-
”

“
I want you to,
”
she begged, bucking against him. 
“
Now
,
”
she pleaded.   She could feel the slickness gathering between her legs.  Lachlan had only to hint at his desire to have her and Muira
’
s body responded with an enthusiasm that was hardly ladylike. 
“
You don
’
t have to wait,
”
she moaned, trying to tug him closer. 
“
Don
’
t
wait,
”
she groaned, nudging the greedy little mouth of her sex against the slick head of Lachlan
’
s cock.

Unable to withstand her touch, her pleas any long, her husband finally put them both out of their misery.  He sank forwards on his knees, thrusting sure and deep, embedding himself in the welcoming sheath of his wife
’
s body, as they each groaned with bone-deep pleasure. 

“
Oh God, Muria,
”
he panted against her ear. 
“
You feel so good.
”
  She was wet and grasping and so exquisitely tight.

“
Move,
”
she gasped, when her husband lay still, giving her a moment to get adjust to the feel of his possession.  She didn
’
t want a moment to adjust however; she just wanted him to send her into raptures.  There had been so much fear, so much worry over the past week, that Muria just wanted a few precious minutes of bliss.