“Your heart?”
Her stunned words had him pulling back. “Rois, I—”
“You love me?”
Regret poured through him at the hopefulness in her voice. He could not tell her of what she made him feel, but by God he could show her. Neither would he leave her with her body aching. At this moment it was about Rois, the only woman he would ever love.
With deft movements, Griffin stripped off the last of his clothing. His heart pounding fast, and her taste infused in his every breath, he claimed her mouth. As his hands stroked against the lush velvet of her skin, he pressed her back, rested his hard length intimately against her, her slick heat proof of her desire.
As he drew out each kiss, he skimmed his fingers over the curve of her neck. He lingered at the base and then slid lower, his each movement rewarded by her moan of pleasure.
“I am going to make love to you,” he whispered, “Show you what you make me feel.”
Her lips swollen from his kisses curved with satisfaction. “I would be liking that.”
“Aye,” he said, mimicking the Scottish burr, pleased by her laugh.
“’Tis a pathetic burr, Sassenach.”
“Ouch, lass, you wound me.”
Rois caught his hand, drew it to the curve of her breast, her eyes dark with need. “You, my husband, are wasting time.”
His body tightened, savoring if only for these few moments her words. “A task I will take care of.” He cupped her breasts with his hands, lowered his mouth to taste, suckle each with reverence.
She arched against him, her body responding to his every touch, her passionate responses those any man would dream of. “I want to touch you, taste you everywhere.”
Her eyes met his, widened in understanding, then she smiled a warm welcome, and his heart filled. He sprinkled kisses across the flat of her stomach.
“What is it you want me to do?”
“I . . .”
Red slashed her cheeks, her innocence to him a precious gift.
“I want to please you,” she whispered.
His mind conjured images of her taking him, touching him, using her hands and mouth. His body jolted. “It pleases me to make you smile, to watch you as I touch you.”
She shivered at his confession. “Then take as you want.”
Griffin swallowed hard. Slow, he must take it slow.
“Watch me,” he whispered, holding her gaze he kissed the silken skin of her stomach, slid his hands in wondrous exploration of each curve, every slant of her body. His tongue feathered across the downy triangle of curly hair.
On a soft moan, she arched against him.
Her woman’s scent lured him, driving him wild as he tasted her, savored how her eyes glazed with passion. He caught her slick nub with his mouth, and slid his finger deep within her heat.
“Griffin!”
At her gasp, he set a slow pace as he flicked his tongue over her swollen, sensitized skin.
On a moan, she arched to meet his every drive, her body’s trembles growing, and her gasps fragmenting to moans.
He increased his pace, understanding what she needed, what for this moment only he could give.
Her body shuddered. “I—I need you.”
“You have me.” Always, he silently finished. He drove his tongue against her slick sheath, loving her taste.
Lost to her need, her frantic movements assured Griffin she’d succumbed to the building of heat, to a moment so perfect a man lived and breathed to find it.
With frantic movements, her hands came down, slid across his shoulders, and urged him up.
“Rois, I—”
“I need to feel you inside me,” she breathed.
He swallowed hard, wishing he could fulfill her request. He stilled. In a sense he could, but he must be careful. With his finger stroking her, Griffin slid up, covered her swollen folds with his hardness.
Her warm slickness welcomed him.
Immense peace surrounded him, enveloped him until he immersed himself in the near experience of making love with her.
She moved against him, her full breasts making him groan. He rubbed his thumb over her slick, swollen nub, gritting his teeth as his length slid across the entrance of her swollen sheath.
Her body arced in a chaotic dance.
Griffin shifted again, careful to not slip and sink deep inside her slick warmth, her pleasure worth the moment’s risk. To ensure her innocence remained intact, he laid his hand over his sensitive tip, pressed his remaining length against her slick length, pressed harder.
She groaned.
Headiness enveloped him, her frantic movements threatening to shatter his hard-won control.
“Griffin, I—” Her body bucked. “I . . . Help me!”
As her body jolted against him striving toward release, he pulled back and drove again.
A creak sounded.
Wood shuddered.
Gave way.
The bed was collapsing! Griffin thrust his hands out to cushion her fall as his body surged forward. Unprotected, he sank deep.
And her barrier of innocence shattered.
Chapter Twenty
Hands gripping the slats of the fallen bed, Griffin stared at the stunned expression shattering Rois’s face, assured with their bodies intimately connected, his expression held the same shock. On a gasp, she turned away, but he caught her wince of pain.
“Rois.”
“I—I . . .” Her voice wavered.
“Look at me.” He struggled to keep his words gentle as his entire body raged to drive into her over and again. And if he did so, he would be a bastard. She was a virgin, or had been until moments ago. She needed tenderness, to understand the beauty and pleasure of their bodies joined. He took another steadying breath.
Encased by the fragile morning light, her chestnut hair fell aside and wary green eyes met his. Her lower lip trembled. “Our marriage is now real, is it nae?”
“Yes,” he replied, humbled by the enormity of the fact. Worries overwhelmed him that between the complications of his serving King Edward and often being away, in the end he would hurt her. Griffin stared at the burst of sunlight streaming into the chamber, the rich rays welcoming the newborn day.
The day he was to leave.
Alone.
Except the collapsed bed aiding in the consummation of their marriage had changed everything.
“Griffin?”
Her unsure whisper refocused him on her shattered innocence. He stroked her cheek. “I never meant to take you so roughly.” Or to take her at all. Now, Rois was his in every way.
She studied his face, hers void of condemnation. “’Twas an accident.”
Anger rumbled through him that she would offer understanding when he deserved none. In an attempt to pleasure her, he’d courted the chance of her losing her virginity.
And lost.
Griffin ran his thumb across the sweep of her lower lip. “Do not excuse me.”
Shadows of laughter filtered through the chamber.
He caught the sparkle of light above and looked up.
Fairies glanced down at him.
No, not fairies, paintings. For a moment he swore one moved.
“Griffin, what are you looking at?”
He tore his gaze from the ceiling. He’d witnessed naught but the exhaustion of his mind. “It is—”
Light glinted from across the room.
He looked over. Inside the bowl on the table, the mate to the halved stone he wore around his neck glowed.
“It is what?” Rois asked.
The shimmer of light faded.
On a rough exhale, Griffin faced her. “Did you see naught odd about the gemstone on the table?”
Her brows drew together in confusion, then she glanced at the bowl. Shaking her head, she turned. “Nay. Why are you asking me if—”
“Never mind.” He’d seen naught. Nor would he give further thought to the images induced by the MacGruders’ talk of their grandmother’s chamber holding magic. This moment was about Rois, her first time making love, precious moments he would give his wife to cherish.
His wife.
Moved by the gift of her in his life, he cupped her face in his hands. With exquisite slowness, he drew her into a searing kiss, seduced her with expertise to make her forget the chaos of the moments before. Feather-lightly, he slid his hands over her naked body, savoring each curve, her every tremble.
Slowly, her body began to relax, her lips responding to his, and her soft writhing shifting to exciting demands.
Griffin lifted his head. “’Twill not hurt again.” Eyes locked with hers, he skimmed his mouth against the slender column of her neck.
Her body stiffened against his, but he understood her nerves. She’d experienced the pain. “Trust me.”
The depth of sincerity in Griffin’s request moved Rois, and tears burned in her eyes. “I do.”
He pressed a kiss against the sensitive hollow of her neck. “I wish to show you naught but pleasure.”
With complete faith, Rois lay back and enjoyed the wanton luxury of his nakedness against hers, of how his fullness tight inside her made her feel complete.
“You taste amazing,” Griffin whispered, his tongue sliding down her skin to encircle her nipple. The warm heat of his mouth against the coolness of the air had her gasping. Then his lips covered and suckled.
Her sensations built as he continued. Inside her, his hardness lengthened.
Deepening the kiss, Griffin began an easy rhythm within her, his strokes soft like a summer rain.
Spasms tore through Rois, each one stealing her breath, increasing her body’s tremors.
On her moan, he slid his thumb down to her sensitive nub to tease her further.
Her mind blurred, and her body grew desperate. Loving the feel of him, his complete passion of her body, she rose up to meet him.
With his next drive, her body began to convulse. His pace increased, heightening her sensation. Brilliant bursts of reds, blues, and yellows exploded around her, and she cried out.
Griffin’s body tightened. “Rois!”
Warmth spilled into her, and another round of waves took her up again. As her body’s shudders slowed, he drew her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.
Emotion swamped her. She wished they could lay here forever. Then doubts crept through her mind. He’d agreed she was his wife and had seemed sincere, but did he intend to keep her with him when he traveled to England? Or, would he keep to his original plan and send her with her father to Kincardan Castle?
Griffin pressed a kiss upon her cheek. “You are thinking.”
His lighthearted words teased a brief smile. As quickly it fled. She searched his face for a sign of his intent, his answer able to destroy her.
“What?” he urged.
“Now that we have . . .” She took a deep breath and pushed past her nerves. The topic was too important to avoid. “As I am now your wife in every way, will you take me along when you ride to Westminster Palace?” Hesitation flashed across his face, and she swallowed hard. “I see.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, sighed. “You cannot understand the breadth of what you ask.”
The turmoil-roughed reply gave her hope. “That you serve King Edward?”
“Yes. That I have pledged fealty to your enemy.” Griffin damned the peril he would expose Rois to. Firsthand he’d witnessed what happened to traitors of England. The lucky ones were strung up before their wives and children. Those who caught King Edward’s attention were drawn and quartered, their bodies displayed on pikes at town entries.
She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Loyalties are easily changed.”
At Rois’s hopeful voice, he cupped her hand within his, thankful for her belief in him. “I will take you with me.”
A smile widened her mouth. “Truly?”
“You are my wife, whom I adore. Never could I leave you behind.” She threw her arms around him, her fervent kiss making his body harden and his mind frenzied until he wanted to drive into her over and over again as she cried out from release.
From below a man’s voice called out for knights to pair up to spar.
On a shaky breath, Griffin broke the kiss. He held her tight, his body ferocious with need. “Rois, if we remain here any longer, I will make love to you again. For now, we should not. Your body is tender and needs rest.”
Rois pushed up to face him. Red slid up her cheeks. “We could be careful.”
Her shy smile lured him to forget the day, or her newly taken innocence, and make love with her again. The haphazard spray of the fallen bed around them tamped his yearnings. The splintered wood was a potent reminder of his family’s meddling. They meant well, but did not understand the full danger he exposed Rois to by living with him in England.
He shoved aside several strands of chestnut hair from her cheek. “We have many miles to travel. Already I worry you will be uncomfortable with the long ride ahead.”
“I will be fine.” Rois drew the hand-stitched coverlet around her body, paused, then ran her hand over the fabric. “Never have I seen such a blend of yellow and silver. ’Tis unusual.”
“It is.” Like the woman who once lived within the tower chamber.
She hesitated. “Do you think anyone will mind me borrowing the sheet?”
“No. Worry not, I will return it before we leave.”
“But—”
Griffin scooped her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
He winked. “Carrying my wife to our chamber.” He strode to the door, the pleasure of holding her weighing against the challenges ahead.
At the entry, Rois’s face paled. “G-Griffin, the bed.”
He sighed. “I know,” he said as he stepped onto the top step of the turret. “I will inform the MacGruders of its fate.” And what a laugh they would have.
“Nay,” she whispered. “’Tis in one piece.”
It could not be. On a hard swallow, he turned. Inside the grandmother’s chamber, the bed stood intact. The sheet spread over the top without a wrinkle. ’Twas as if the heap of timbers and the tumble of bed linens they’d made love on moments ago was naught but a tale.
She trembled in his arms. “H-how can this be?”
Angst wound in Griffin’s gut as he stared at the bed, and then toward fairies woven within the tapestry. From across the chamber, one seemed to smile. He swallowed hard. God’s teeth, ’twould seem the stories of the MacGruders’ grandmother’s chamber and the magic inside were true.
“’Tis a long explanation.” Mind racing, he battled the impossible truth in the stories of the fey. Yet, how else could he account for the righting of the bed?
“But Griffin,” she said, “We both felt the bed crash to the floor.”
“It collapsed beneath us,” he conceded. Had destiny planned for him to break her maidenhood?
Destiny?
On edge, he glanced toward the table where his halved Magnesite lay inside the bowl. On a muttered curse, and with Rois in his arms, he strode inside and halted before the sturdy table.
“I thought we were leaving.”
“We are, but”—Griffin scooped up the halved stone, laid it within her palm—“this belongs to you.”
Surprise widened her eyes. She tried to return it to the bowl, but he wrapped her fingers around the halved gem. “’Tis nae mine. You must return it.”
Another tinkle of laughter echoed in the chamber, and he shot the fairy on the ceiling whose smile broadened, a cool look.
“Trust me, ’tis yours,” he said, his voice edged with sarcasm. “Of that I am very sure.” Before something else beyond his earthly control happened inside this chamber, he carried Rois from the room.
Laughter sparkled in Alexander’s eyes as he leaned against the wooden gate inside the stable. “So, you are taking your wife with you?”
Duncan arched a curious brow, and Seathan and Patrik glanced at each other before turning to face Griffin.
At his mount’s side, Griffin gave the cinch one last tug. “I am.”
“I take it you found Rois last night after you left us,” Duncan said, his dimples deep, and a smug smile plastered on his face.
Griffin lifted the reins, then shot the youngest MacGruder a hard glance. “’Twas it not your intent?”
“Aye,” Seathan agreed. “The lot of them plotted to ensure you and Rois were alone in our grandmother’s chamber. I told them to leave the both of you be. Your private affairs are just that.”
Alexander shoved away from the wooden gate. “Left alone last eve, he would have ridden halfway to Westminster Palace by now, and missing the lass fierce.”
“What I feel for Rois matters not,” Griffin said through clenched teeth.
“It does when you would have made a fool’s choice and left her behind,” Patrik charged.
Seathan raised his hand. “Enough. The deed is done.”
“Aye, it is.” Duncan winked at Alexander. “So proven since he is taking our cousin to England.”
“You have told Rois you work for the Scottish rebels?” Seathan asked.
Griffin patted his mount’s neck, shot the eldest MacGruder brother a cool look. “No.”
Alexander frowned. “Why nae? You must know you can trust her with the secret.”
“I do,” Griffin replied, finding comfort in the fact. “But ’tis not so simple. If Rois was ever questioned by the English about my association with the rebels, if she knows about my work as
Wulfe
, her reaction to their inquiries may expose the truth.” He shook his head. “As much as I wish to tell her, ’tis best she remains ignorant.”
“Do you think it wise to withhold something so important from the woman who loves you?” Patrik asked.
Of all men before him, Patrik, with his secret life of
Dubh Duer
, knew well the risks involved. More so, since Patrik’s wife was once a highly paid English mercenary.
“I do,” Griffin replied. “Rois’s emotions are often too easily read.”
“I think it is her right to know,” Duncan said, “but I see the wisdom of your decision as well.”
Seathan and Alexander nodded.
“There is one more thing,” Griffin said, aware his words would receive no welcome. “Once I return to Westminster Palace and finish this mission, Rois and I are moving to Scotland.”
Shock, pure and simple, paled each MacGruder face.
Alexander recovered first. “By God’s eyes, you are needed by the rebels. Your insights of King Edward’s plans have saved of our countrymen’s lives many times over.”
Griffin straightened the stirrup. “I will continue to serve as King Edward’s advisor to the Scots, but I refuse to allow Rois to live in a country where her every move could be suspect.”
“What of Rothfield Castle?” Duncan asked.
“I will continue to maintain my home and lands in England,” Griffin replied.
Seathan crossed his arms over his chest. “And how will you convince King Edward that such a move is prudent to his service?”
A smile edged Griffin’s mouth. “King Edward will believe the loss of his men at Stirling Bridge but a minor setback. Building on that assumption, I will inform him my residing in Scotland will be a sign to the rebels that England’s future is here.”