Highland Grace (37 page)

Bao’s mouth quirked in a lopsided smile.
“Nay, goddess, but if you would give me a bit more time, I vow that
I shall
know
you better, and more deeply, than you’ve ever
been
known
by any other.”

The carnal promise in his words made her
blood rush in spite of her worry. “I am your wife. Jesslyn.”

Bao chuckled. “A goddess would wed a mere
mortal? Nay. I know you are naught more than a dream—a wish—that my
slumbering mind has conjured.” His eyes drifted closed and it
looked as if he were falling back into a stupor once more. She
shook him and tried one more time to tell him of his son, but he
didn’t answer, so she settled back into her ministrations.

Jesslyn remained at Bao’s bedside the
remainder of the night. Just before dawn, his fever finally broke
and he at last fell into a restful slumber. Relieved and tired to
her very core, Jesslyn disrobed and settled next to him. After only
a few moments, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as well.

* * *

A sharp ray of sunshine pierced Bao’s eyelids
and he threw his arm over them as a shield. It was then that he
became fully aware of the familiar soft curve of silken, heavy
breasts against his side, of lavender-scented hair under his chin,
of a long limb settled over his calf. He pressed her to her back
and, biting back the shot of searing pain to his injured thigh,
rolled onto his side and opened his mouth over her nipple.

She moved beneath him. “Mmm.”

He lifted his head and looked into her sleepy
eyes. “G’morn, love.”

Her eyes flew open and her head shot up off
the pillow. “You are awake! How fare you?” Her hands grew busy
then, feeling first his brow, then his cheeks, then running over
his chest to the wound in his shoulder. “How are your wounds, do
they pain you?” she asked. When her hand started toward his groin
injury, he took hold of it and brought it to his lips instead.

“I fare well—better still, having awakened
with you in my arms once again, where you belong.”

“I’ve missed you.” She raised up and gave him
a kiss.

Bao stroked his fingers through her tousled
hair and held the back of her head in his hand as he brought it
down to rest once again on the pillow. He deepened the kiss,
devouring her lips, delving deeply into the recesses of her mouth
with his tongue. After a time he lifted his head and gazed down
into her bemused blue eyes. “I’ve missed you, too. So very much.”
Gazing down at her flattened stomach, he said, “Where is my
daughter?”

She burst out laughing.

Bao gave her a stunned look. “What?”

Her cheeks billowed as she tried to stop
laughing, which then made her snort, which then made her laugh even
louder.

Bao grinned, let out a chuckle, too. He had
no idea what had his wife so tickled, but he loved her laughter.
‘Twas surely the sweetest music he’d ever hear.

After another moment, she gained control of
her mirth and wiped the tears from her eyes, saying, “I hope you do
not object to a son, for ‘tis a
son
that we have.”

Bao gaped at her. “A-a...
son?
” He sat
up and stared straight ahead. “I know not how to care for a
son—I’ve raised only a lass!”

Jesslyn sat up then as well and placed her
arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Aye, you
do. Just look how well you’ve done with Alleck!”

“Aye, but he’s not a
babe!
”

Jesslyn giggled and stroked the worry from
his countenance, giving his cheek an affectionate peck. “And what,
pray, do you believe will be so different in caring for a male babe
rather than a female babe?” she asked. “They both cry when they
need changing, or are hungry, or don’t feel well, or just because.
We do the same for both genders: We change their swaddling clothes,
we feed them, and we hold them and comfort them. We love them.”

“You named him Bao Li,” Bao stated after a
moment.

“Remember you now?” Jesslyn asked. “You were
quite feverish last eve when I told you.”

Bao nodded his head slowly and looked off in
the distance. “Aye,” he replied. “I thought it a dream. A lovely
goddess, made of pure gold light, sat at my bedside telling me the
story of my grandfather, the great warrior prince.” He looked down
into his wife’s eyes once more. “Just as my mother would do each
eve when she put me to bed.”

Jesslyn narrowed her eyes and dropped her
arms to her sides. “Aye. And you tried to charm your way into the
lovely
goddess’s bed!”

“Nay, into
your
bed,” he stressed,
vaguely recalling now what he’d said.

“But you did not
know
it was me!”

“I was raving, my love,” he reminded her.
Then, with care to his wounds, he twisted around to fully face her
and cupped her face in his hands. As he gazed intently into the
limpid pools of her angry sky-blue eyes, he told her softly, “But
last eve was
not
one of those casual dalliances—nay, it held
much more meaning. For when my eyes beheld the golden enchantress,
I felt exactly as I did the first time I saw
you
.”

For a long moment, she looked into his eyes.
“I want to make love to you, Bao.”

His heart tripped. “Aye. But we cannot yet,
can we?”

She shook her head. “Not for a few more
days.”

He trailed his eyes down her torso and gazed
at the golden hair covering her mons. “Open your legs,” he demanded
darkly.

“We can’t...you know,” she reminded him
again, but she followed his command.

Bao grinned. “Aye. But we can do this....” He
stroked her between her thighs. “And this....” he blazed a trail
with his tongue down between her breasts, over her quivering
abdomen, to the apex of her womanhood and laved it once, twice,
three times in quick succession with his tongue.

Jesslyn moaned in ecstasy, her abdomen
tightening, quivering in anticipation.

Bao lifted his head and continued his
question, saying, “Right?”

Her nod was exuberant.

“Good.” And then he proceeded to do just as
he’d promised. After her first climax, he moved back up her body,
needing to love all of her. He kissed her lips and delved deep
inside her mouth with his tongue, allowed his hands to stray over
the recovered curve of her waist, up to the ripe, rose-tipped
mounds of her breasts. She squirmed beneath him and he captured one
of those peaks between his lips and suckled gently as he caressed
her slick, swollen labia with his fingertips. He wanted desperately
to push a finger in, but fought the urge, instead using that finger
to taunt another orgasm from her. It wasn’t long before she peaked,
and at it’s pinnacle, she reached down and stroked his manhood in
the same rhythm with which he plied her.

Bao jerked, ready to pull away, but then
forced himself to allow the touch. He
had
to get over this
aversion. He just had to. Closing his eyes, he concentrated only on
the moist, hot feel of her, on the fact that ‘twas her hand on him
and in the next second, his head flew back and a moan flew from his
dry throat. His hips jerked involuntarily in time with her hand.
“God that feels so good.” Without realizing he did it, his fingers
quickened their motion and as she crested a third time, she
tightened her fist around him and squeezed hard.

He gasped. “You make my head swim.”

Slowly, she settled back onto the mattress
and opened her eyes. Her gaze settled on him as she caught her
breath. “My thanks for letting me touch you.”

He let out a strained chuckle. “’Tis my
pleasure, I assure you.”

She surprised him when she raised up and
gently pressed Bao to his back, careful of his injuries. “I think I
can do this right, if you’ll let me.”

His heart started pounding, and not from
desire. “What are you about, love?”

She shook her head and then, before he could
stop her, she took him into her mouth. Using her hands as well, she
employed the ancient rhythm that would bring his seed up. Bao
gritted back the immediate shadow of revulsion that threatened and
forced his eyes, his mind, only on her and how much he loved her.
He fisted his hands in her hair and watched her lips take him, felt
her tongue against the underside of his erection. In no time, there
was only pleasure as he bucked and moaned, tossing his head from
side to side as his wife teased him and stroked him, sucked him and
pleasured him.

His orgasm was a raging fire in his veins. A
bellow of delight burst from his throat as his seed spewed from his
sex into the loving cavern of her warm mouth. He collapsed back and
peeked at her through one eye. She seemed to be savoring the
victory, for her smile was smug as she rose from her position on
the bed and washed her face at the washstand.

“You are much too good at that for
my
own good, my love.”

She swung her head around and gave him a
wide-eyed look. “Truly?”

“How can you even question such after the
force of the eruption I just had?”

She shrugged and turned back to her
ablutions. “Graeme said I didn’t do it right, that—”

“Graeme! ‘Tis always Graeme! Clearly he was
an idiot.” He sat up and rested his arms on his bent knees. “I am
truly sorry if I offend, but I am tired unto death of being
compared to a dead man.”

She turned and faced him. “You are right. I
shan’t do so again. You’ve proved yourself more my mate than Graeme
ever was.”

He grinned. “’Tis glad I am to finally hear
you admit it.”

Her eyes softened and her lips turned up, but
she said naught further. With a shrug, she turned back around and
dropped a cloth into the basin of water.

He lay back and watched her as she warmed the
dampened cloth in her hand before turning and walking back toward
the bed. Lifting the cloth to his belly and groin, she cleansed him
of the remnants of their loving. The grace of her movements, the
unconscious femininity of her, fascinated him. Her golden hair lay
in soft strands over her breasts, tickling and snagging on the rosy
peaks. He lifted his hands and rested them on her upper arms,
drawing her down on top of him. Then he rolled her onto her back
and gently moved the hair away from her right breast. “You are so
very lovely. Perfect, in fact.” He stroked his tongue around the
circumference of the peak a few times.

Her voice was gentle when she said, “So are
you.”

He lifted his head and looked at her, shocked
to hear her say such. “Nay, not by miles. I’ve seen too much, done
too much.” He moved a lock of her hair off of her cheek with his
finger, enjoying the silky feel of her cheek as he did so. “But you
make me feel that I
could
be a better man. Someday.”

“Come here. I want to hug you.”

For some reason, that made his heart feel
like a starburst exploding in his chest. He grinned and did as she
requested.

It was long minutes before they rose from
their bed and dressed. Bao, who was feeling much recovered, even
after the morning’s pleasurable exertions, would not even consider
staying in his sick bed until Daniel looked at his wounds again.
Jesslyn had reminded him of Branwenn’s surrender, that there was a
truce made, that his sister would be leaving for Cambria now that
he was well enough for her to say her farewells to him, so he
insisted upon meeting with the prince and then seeing his
sister.

* * *

“Bao! I’ve been so worried!” Branwenn said as
she pressed her cheek even further into her brother’s chest. It was
late, well past sunset, and they were standing in the center of the
solar. They’d been given this time alone by the others to say their
farewells in private, for she would leave at first light on the
morrow. Never, she supposed, to cross the threshold of this keep
again. She held Bao with all her might and he, in turn, was almost
squeezing the breath from her lungs, but she cared not. She stood
in a state of melancholy bliss, memorizing the wonderful,
comfortable feeling she had when he held her thus, knowing this
would be the last time she’d ever be held by her brother, her
protector, her hero, again.

“I am well, little one, do not fret,” Bao
said as he lifted his hand to the back of her head and stroked her
hair.

“But what if you hadn’t recovered? I would
never have forgiven myself for being the cause of your death!”

“Branwenn,” Bao chided, “you must not think
of what might have been—you must only think of what
is
, else
you’ll surely make yourself daft.”

Branwenn nodded her head and squeezed him a
bit tighter.

He tightened his hold as well and dropped his
cheek to the top of her head. “I am quite well now, I assure
you.”

Branwenn swallowed past the lump in her
throat and nodded again, but said naught further.

“Do you desire that I travel to Cambria with
you and Prince Llywelyn?” Bao asked softly. “I could stay until you
are well wed.”

Branwenn shook her head. “Nay. You must stay
here with your family,” she said thickly. Her throat was clogged
with unshed tears, tears she was trying valiantly not to release in
Bao’s presence. It would only make this parting more difficult, and
it was time for her to meet her destiny with the courage of a woman
grown, not the fear of a wee lass.

“Do you like your cousin, the prince?”

Branwenn sighed, shrugging. She nodded. “Aye,
well enough, I suppose. He’s younger, and more handsome, than I’d
expected. And kinder, as well.”

“Aye, he seems to hold affection for you,
which eases my mind. He will take good care of you while you are
under his protection. And Reys cares for you as well. He’s sworn on
his life to watch over you in my stead.”

“Aye,” Branwenn agreed, “and this man for
whom I am intended is a bold warrior—unbeaten at the tournaments,
at least until recently, I’ve been told. He will be a good
protector, I’m sure,” she said, managing to keep most of the fear
from her voice.