Highland Captive (33 page)

“Nay,
nay. There is naught that feels wrong. I just tire with more ease than I have
ever done. I need to rest more often but I ken weel that that is surely for the
best.” Seeing that he was already aroused as he walked to the bed and slid in
beside her, she murmured, “Mayhaps I should rest now.”

Tugging
her into his arms, he met her impish smile with a fraudulent scowl. “Ye
shouldnae do that.”

“Nay?
Ye have something that might interest me enough to keep me awake?”

Hastily
removing her nightgown, he held her silken body close and sighed with pleasured
relief over the return of something that had been gone too long, something he
had missed far more than he could have imagined. “I think I may have a thing or
twa to hold your interest for a wee while.” He cupped her shapely derriere in
his hands and pressed her closer.

Feeling
a familiar, delightful warmth curl through her loins, she murmured her
appreciation. “I think ye just might at that, m’lord.”

When
he kissed her, she slid her arms around his neck and reveled in it. This time
he would not be cutting the kiss short, leaving them both wanting more. Even as
she began to succumb to her hunger for him, she was a little unsettled by the
strength of it. She was not sure it was good or even wise to want him so much.
That worry was soon drowned in a flood of passion, however, as his hands began
to move over her in a way that revealed his own hunger.

After
being so long deprived, they needed little to bring them to the point where the
joining of their bodies was a necessity. Aimil was fleetingly surprised that he
seemed as lacking in control as she was. She cried out with relief when he
entered her and equaled his ferocity as he lifted them both to desire’s apex.
As she began to slip down from the heights his lovemaking sent her to, she
clung to him, unwilling to end the unity too soon. Sensing him staring at her,
she opened her eyes and smiled lazily.

“Weel,
ye were right. That did hold my interest for a wee while.” She met his grin
with her own.

“Ye
are an impertinent wretch.” He withdrew from her slightly. “I was a wee bit
rough. Too long without a taste of the sweetness of ye. I havenae hurt ye, have
I?” His hand covered her abdomen.

“Nay.
Think of all we did before I even kenned I was with child. The bairn still
grows and thrives. Aye, think of all Rory did to me yet, as Old Meg says, he
couldnae shake this fruit from the tree. Ye cannae hurt the bairn with a wee
bit of lovemaking. I think ye see it as rougher than it truly is. I dinnae feel
as if it t’was verra rough at all.” She smiled crookedly. “So ye neednae fear
that the reason for this fine wedding has been banished.”

“Ah,
I kenned that something was gnawing at ye.” He gently brushed a few wisps of
hair from her face.

“There
is naught gnawing at me as ye put it.” She did not exactly wish to get into a
discussion about feelings.

“Aye,
there is and there has been. Ye hesitated before ye would say the vows.”

“Weel,
‘tis a big step to be wedded. Ye cannae tell me ye had no pause, didnae
hesitate a wee bit.”

“I
didnae.” He smiled when she frowned and watched him through narrowed eyes. “Nay,
truly, I didnae. I have been thinking on wedding ye from the verra first time I
held ye in this bed.”

“Ye
never said a word to me about it.” She felt a spasm of doubt, yet knew that
Parlan was not a man to say something simply because he thought it might please
her to hear it, to give her lies to ease a worry he only sensed she had.

“Of
course I said naught to ye. I was but pondering it. My pondering might have led
me to decide I didnae want ye for a wife. Then I would have had to tell ye
that. Much better to say naught until I was certain.”

Although
she was not sure she liked the idea that for all the time they had been
together, he had been more or less testing her, she could easily understand why
he had done such a thing. A marriage was forever, and the woman he chose would
be the one to bear his children, his heirs. Such a weighty matter should be
well thought on. Handfast marriages were little more than a test of the
suitability and fruitfulness of a match. Nevertheless, she mused a little
sourly, he had taken his sweet time in deciding whether she suited him. That
did seem insulting.

“Ye
find that less than flattering, do ye? T’was never my intent to deliver any
insult.”

“I
ken it. I can see the sense of being certain about such an important thing.”

“Aye,
but?”

“I
didnae say but.”

“T’was
there to hear in your voice, sweeting. But?” Although he had no intention of
telling her anything he did not feel, he was determined to ease the
uncertainties he knew she felt.

“Oh,
God’s toenails, did ye have to take so long in deciding?” She hoped her
question reflected only hurt pride.

He
forcibly restrained a laugh, knowing that would only add to her injured pride,
mild as it seemed. “I didnae take as long as ye might think, dearling. Nay,
truly, I didnae.” Smiling at the doubt he could read in her expression, he
lightly kissed her pouting mouth. “I was but slow in telling ye. I realized I
best hurry and speak before I went to the Dunmores.”

“And
returned to find I was set to escape.” She realized that had undoubtedly added
to that air of wounded pride she had felt in him that night.

“Weel,
set to drown, leastwise.”

“It
was a good plan. It just went a wee bit awry.”

“Oh,
aye, just a wee bit. Dinnae divert me.” He grinned when she shot him a look of
mild annoyance. “That fine feast I set before ye the day Rory attacked had a
purpose.”

“Aye,
seducing me. Ye accomplished that.”

“Weel,
I willnae deny that I had thought to have me some of that as weel. I had
planned the moment to ask ye to wed me.”

She
felt sorely disappointed that that opportunity had been lost even though she
knew it would not have given her the words of love she craved. “Oh, and that
cursed Rory ruined it.”

“Aye,
but I did speak once ye were returned to Dubhglenn.”

“True
enough, but t’was in such a manner that I was left to think that t’was naught
but the bairn that prompted ye.”

“Come
now, I did tell ye there was more to it than that.”

“Aye,
in a way, but—”she put her arms about his neck and kissed him—“but kenning that
ye had planned to ask me to be your wife before either of us kenned that there
was a bairn soothes the sting even more. I didnae want to become a bride
because ye felt a duty to wed me or because honor demanded it. Aye, or because
your seed decided to take root in me.” She smiled faintly. “I didnae want ye to
do something ye didnae truly wish to do for I kenned the trouble that could
bring.”

“I
am not a man to do what he doesnae really wish to, m’eudail.”

“Aye,
so Papa said.”

“Did
he now?”

“Aye,
and the way he said it eased some of my worries though ‘tis a greater comfort
to hear ye say it.”

“Ah,
lass, I cannae deny that I sorely want the bairn, but ‘tis a feeling stirred in
most part because ‘tis ye that helped create him. I want the bairn because he
is part of ye.”

“Lass,
I hold a score and eight years. For more than half of those I have kenned the
pleasures of the flesh. Aye, I have had more women than I should have. ‘Tisnae
a boast for I ken that ‘tis naught to be verra proud of, but ‘tis a fact. Not
once, with any of them, did I think of children. Aye, my only thought was, ‘Ware,
lad, ye dinnae wish your seed to root here.’ I have been as careful as a man
can be and near as any man can be sure, I ken that I have no bastards.”

“Now,
with ye, I never once gave a thought to being wary, not since the first moment
we made love. I didnae see the need of it, didnae want to take care. It didnae
worry me when I kenned there was a chance ye could get with child. In truth,
the few times I gave it any thought I felt naught but pleasure. T’was a
pleasing thought.”

“Aye,
I want this bairn, but it didnae force me to wed ye. Nay, it but gave me the
means to set ye before a priest even if ye didnae feel like being set there. If
anyone was forced to wed, t’was ye, Aimil, never me. Ye were the one who was
given no choice nor chance.”

She
was touched by his words. It was not what she ached to hear, but it did ease
some of the sting she had felt over the way the marriage had been arranged. So
too did it ease some of her fears. Since he had really wanted to wed her, there
was a very good chance that he was nearly as willing and as ready as she was to
make the marriage a good one, firm and happy.

“Ye
cannae truly say I was forced. Aye, ye and my father decided it, but ye didnae
hear me put up too much of a wail.”

“Nay,
true enough. Why didnae ye, Aimil?”

The
very last thing she wanted to tell him was exactly why she had gone along with
his and her father’s dictates with little protest. “’Cause I didnae really have
any complaint. I have been happy here. Ye ken it. I was never too happy with
the idea of leaving and not just because Rory awaited me for I didnae ken what
Rory was. I wanted to stay. Now I can.”

He
felt somewhat disappointed yet could not really say why. Love was what he
sought from her yet he knew that it was unfair to demand it of her when he was
not willing to give it, at least not yet. He told himself he was being contrary
as he held her close. She had admitted to being happy at Dubhglenn and happy to
stay. That should be enough. It was something that even being deeply in love
did not necessarily promise.

His
hand returned to rest upon her slightly-swollen stomach. It was still a little
difficult to believe that he would soon be a father. He also found the waiting
trying. He wanted to know if he would have a son or a daughter. He wanted to
know if the child would be fair like Aimil or dark as he was. He wanted to hold
his child, a feeling that intensified a great deal when he felt the flutter of
movement within.

“T’will
be verra difficult to wait.”

“Aye,
though—”she smiled a little—“I think t’will be a little harder for me than for
any others for I shall have to tote the wee one around as I wait. Aye, and the
wee one will make me a lot less wee.”

“Ye
will grow round and beautiful.” He smiled at her disgusted look.

“A
lady who is round isnae beautiful. Nay, nor when she waddles like some fat
duck.”

“Ah,
ye plan to waddle, do ye?”

“Nay,
I dinnae plan to but I ken that I will. My sisters did and so has any woman far
gone with child that I have ever seen. Aye, I will waddle and if ye laugh, I
will strike you.”

“I
shall keep that warning in mind.”

“Aye,
best that ye do.”

For
a while they lay quietly in each other’s arms, idly caressing each other and
enjoying the closeness they had both sorely missed. Parlan knew Aimil shared
those feelings by the way she touched him and sighed with something more than
passion when he touched her. No matter how puzzled he might get over what else
she might feel or think, he knew he could trust in her passion. That was always
honest and open, given forth without hesitation or any attempt at subterfuge.
He knew that a lot of husbands would pay a king’s ransom to find that in their
wives.

One
small problem pricked at his current contentment, however. Aimil had said
nothing about Artair. Neither had Artair said a word about his meeting with
Aimil. Although Parlan knew there had been no time to enter into such a
conversation, he could not relinquish the fear that things had not gone well
between the two. He knew Aimil had a right to be angry, especially since any
memory of the time Artair had attacked her still caused him a twinge of fury,
but he wanted his wife and his brother to get along, to be friends. It was
especially important now that Artair seemed sincere in his wish to change and
there was the chance of a better relationship between them.

Although
he was not sure he wanted to hear that their meeting had gone terribly wrong,
Parlan finally gave into his need to know. “Aimil, Artair said he was going to
talk with ye today.”

“Oh,
aye, he did. Just before the wedding.”

When
she said no more about it, he became impatient despite the fact that her soft,
gentle caresses were heating his blood. “So? What happened between the pair of
you? He still lives is all I ken at the moment.”

Wondering
why he was so interested in the subject now when her interests were somewhere
else entirely, she looked at him with a mixture of puzzlement and mild
annoyance. “He apologized for what he had done to me and asked my forgiveness.
I gave it.”

“Just
like that?” He could not believe that what could have been a real problem had
been solved so easily.

“Aye,
what did ye think had happened?”

“I
wasnae sure. Neither of ye said a word so I began to think...” He shrugged. “Ye
were quick to forgive.”

“Nay,
not truly. Weel, after Rory, what Artair had done seemed little or naught. Then
too, Artair didnae accomplish what he had intended. He was then shamed by a
public lashing. What truly, or mostly, prompted my forgiveness was that he
kenned he had done wrong, was shamed by his actions. He wasnae mouthing words
he didnae feel to make us all happy.”