Was this the perfect moment? Probably not. “Let go of the blade, Jacob,” he rasped. “
Slowly
. We don’t want to move the blade.”
Jacob, who still dangled frozen from his arm, slowly released his small fingers from the handle of the blade. An anguished sob escaped Jacob as Malcolm’s blood oozed from the blade, soaking the area around the trousers.
“Shhhh. It’s okay, Jacob. I’m fine.” Malcolm carefully set the boy down, then edged back and winced his way over to the mattress on the floor. He lowered himself onto it and hissed out a long breath as fire-piercing pain dug deeper into the core of his muscles. He knew wounds well enough to say it was going to get worse. “Leona, I need three bottles of gin and a doctor. I would rather not stitch this up myself. Go have Andrew take care of it.”
Leona nodded frantically, her chest heaving, and ushered Jacob to the door. “Jacob, let’s go downstairs to Andrew. Hurry! We need to—”
Jacob let out another sob and grabbed at his mother’s leg. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, Mama. I didn’t—
Is he going to die
?”
Malcolm hissed out another breath, recognizing that the child was more traumatized than he was. “Jacob, no. I’m not going to die. I’m fine and can I assure you I’ve survived worse. Now go to Andrew. Tell him I need three bottles of gin and a doctor and stay with Andrew until the doctor arrives. Can you do that for me? Can you be brave? Like a pirate?”
“Yes, sir! Like a pirate!” Stumbling out of the room, Jacob sprinted out of sight.
Malcolm tried not to move knowing it was best to keep the blade in until the doctor arrived.
Leona lowered herself to the floor before him, her skirts playing across his booted feet. Her chest heaved as she clasped a trembling hand against her entire mouth. “Only the handle is sticking out,” she said through her hand.
“I know, pigeon, I can feel it,” he said through his teeth. “There is no need to elaborate.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I— What do you want me to do?” She leaned in and frantically searched his face, her hands hovering but not touching. “What can I do? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. What do you need?”
He breathed in and out, in and out, trying to control the pain raging through coiled muscles. The fact she was staying with him and was panicked and concerned was a very good sign. It meant she…cared. She cared enough to do
anything
for him given he was in pain.
Anything
.
It was a game he had played since he was nine-years-old.
This just got dangerous.
He cleared his throat, trying to raggedly focus on her and only her as opposed to the raging pain rolling up the length of his thigh. Because if he focused too much on the pain, knowing she was watching him in pain whilst on both of her delectable knees, begging him to instruct her, the perfect moment might not be so perfect. And he wanted it to be perfect. For her. For them. For whatever future—
“Malcolm?” she choked out, still searching his face. “What can I do? Please. I want to help.”
His eyes burned to restrain his aching need to savor the beautiful concern in those green eyes that were focused on him and only him. What if there was no perfect moment? What if he revealed his morbid need for pain and became nothing more than a freak in her eyes? A freak she would never trust to take care of her child or whatever child they brought into this world.
He’d never know more than that single glorious kiss she’d given him.
He’d never hear her say ‘I love you’ in the dark or feel her hands on his skin.
It would all go to another. She and that wit and that laughter he wanted to swallow and keep chained to his heart would go to another. Not him. Another.
“
Malcolm
?” she choked out again, sounding a touch more hysterical. “I need you to look at me and talk to me. Keep talking so I don’t think you’re fading.
All right
?”
His heart hammered knowing, that in this moment, she was his, all his, without prejudice. She was merely waiting to serve him and wouldn’t think any less of him, because she didn’t know.
He’d be her version of normal. He’d be excused anything merely for being in…a lot of pain.
He caught her gaze and leveled his breathing. “Leona, I need you to do something that is going to make all of this damn pain worthwhile.”
She lowered her hand and searched his face, her green eyes panicked. “Of course. What? Anything. What can I do?”
“Close the door and lock it. I need you to lock it.”
She paused. “Lock it? But the doctor will be—”
“It’ll keep Jacob from seeing something he shouldn’t.” He was all about being honest. “Close and lock the door for me.”
Her lips parted. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe— We’ll keep it closed until the doctor comes.” She jumped to her feet, stumbling, and slammed the door and locked it. She skid back toward him, landing back at his feet. She paused. “Wait. Should I go get the gin first?”
“No. No gin. Not yet.” He wanted to feel everything that was about to happen. He shifted his jaw, digging his trembling fingers into the straw mattress beneath him. “Now come here. I need you to kiss me.”
She pulled in her chin. “Kiss you?”
“Yes. Kiss me.”
She choked. “
But you have a dagger sticking out of your leg!
”
He wet his lips and nodded. “I know. Believe me, I damn well know.” He dragged in several uneven breaths. “But this pain…it’s…it’s killing me. And I keep thinking to myself…what if I die?” He wasn’t in
that
much pain, but, how else was he going to get this woman to kiss him while he still had a dagger in him? “I need
something
to distract me while I’m waiting on the doctor. Do you know what I’m saying?”
Leona glanced toward the locked door and then scrambled onto the mattress beside him, toward the side of his good leg. She scooted close, kneeling so as to get more to his level, then grabbed his face and kissed his cheek. She leaned back. “There. Is that better?”
He gave her a withering look. “What the hell was that? Do you want me to die?”
“No, I—”
“Make this pain worth my while. Give me your tongue.
Lots of it
.”
She stared. “Are you— How can you even think of kissing at a time like this?
What is wrong with you
?”
“I’m in pain. A lot of pain.” He was.
He leaned toward her and winced as the dagger rudely reminded him he had company. All he had to do was make her feel sorry for him. “If this is the last time you ever see me alive, pigeon, what sort of kiss would you want to remember me by? Show me. I’d love to see it.”
Her cheeks flushed as an exasperated breath escaped her. “
Must
you call me pigeon and talk about death at the same time?”
“
Must
you make me suffer and resist at the same time?” he breathed. “Don’t make me pull out this dagger. If I pull it out, blood will go everywhere and we’ll both faint. Now kiss me.”
She glared. “You’re insane. But because I feel
incredibly
sorry for you right now, I’ll set aside all common sense and entertain it.” She seized his face with both hands and savagely kissed him, her hot velvet tongue dominating his.
Malcolm almost fainted. Closing his eyes, he grabbed her head and worked his tongue against hers, digging his mouth harder against hers until he couldn’t breathe. Knowing he was making love to her mouth, his cock grew hard.
He wasn’t a practicing Christian gentleman anymore.
This
was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. A woman willing to kiss him because he insisted, even though there was a dagger buried in his thigh. He gripped her hands and, while still kissing her, shoved them toward the flap of his trousers.
She broke away from their kiss. “What— What are you doing?”
His eyes snapped open as his chest heaved. “Avoid the blade and we’ll be fine.”
She choked and leaned back. “Malcolm, how much blood have you lost?”
“Not enough.” He tried to focus on the throb of his hard cock despite the fact that the entire left side of his leg was as equally numb as it was on fire. He grabbed her hands and bringing them to his lips, kissed them. Her palms were soft while her fingers were calloused and rough. He kept kissing and kissing them, wanting and needing her to give into his need. “I’m never letting you go. Not ever. This is just the beginning, do you not realize that?”
Her fingers trembled as she watched him. “You’re delirious.”
“The pain is incredibly bad,” he choked out. It was actually getting bad. So bad his cock wasn’t quite as hard as he wanted it to be. He gripped her hands in between more kisses. “Do you mind if I bite down on your hand? To help?”
A shaky breath escaped her. “My hand?”
“Yes.”
“Will it help?”
“Yes.”
“Then…do it.”
This fantasy just kept getting better and better.
He squeezed her hands tightly, swallowing hard. “I’ll only bite down once, but I will warn you, it will amount to the same amount of pain I’m feeling. Are you capable of handling it?”
She gave him a withering look. “I gave birth standing.”
Damn. “Good. That means you can handle it.” He dug his teeth against the side of her hand, savoring her warmth and softness and then bit down forcefully hard until he could feel his own chest tighten, watching her expression.
She winced, her chest heaving. “Ow!” She yanked her hand away, glared and smacked his shoulder twice. “How is this even helping you?! You’re getting out of control!”
“You have no idea.” She would have looked exactly the same if he pounded his cock into her. He grabbed her face and kissed her again, only this time, he slowed the pace and the pressure. He moved his tongue delicately against hers as a reward for the pain she took for him.
She moaned against him and her mouth softened.
He slid his hands down her neck to her shoulders and curved them to her breasts. Breasts. Beautiful breasts. They were his. At long last his. They were so full and soft even with the material in his way. He was never going back to ‘normal’ after this. Ever.
Knowing he couldn’t fully undress her, seeing the doctor could arrive at any moment, he savagely shoved up her skirts. Forcing her onto her knees in between kisses by tugging her into place beside his good thigh, he slid both his hands up the smooth length of her thighs, reveling in how soft she was. He opted not to pinch or scrape her skin in need given she was responding to him without knowing what he was capable of.
Lord, I vow to protect her. For in doing this, I make her mine. Forever.
She broke away from their kiss, her chest heaving and managed, “For heaven’s sake, you’re injured and the doctor—”
“You’re my doctor right now,” he insisted, dragging her closer and sliding his finger into the folds of her wetness beneath her gown. “I need this. I need you.” He stroked his finger against her, blindly looking for the proverbial nub he’d heard of. “Writhe for me.”
She gasped and used one hand to steady herself against his shoulder. “I can’t…I…Malcolm
…I…”
He buried his head against her corseted waist, biting into the material that separated them and fingered her harder. The pain in his thigh amplified his senses beyond tolerance as he flicked her. The nub controlling her gasps and the involuntary jerk of her hips was so delicate and so small against his large finger, he refused to believe it was capable of giving him
this
much command.
She bowed her head forward against him, fighting against what he knew her body wanted.
Withdrawing his finger from her folds, he smeared her wetness against his mouth and tongue, wanting to know what it would taste like. Salty and sweet. Like her. His hands trembled as he unbuttoned the flap of his trousers, shoved down his undergarments and pulled his rigid cock out, only exposing what was needed to make her his.
He laid back against the mattress and tangled linen, wincing against the blade that was oozing more blood. He didn’t care. If he made love to her and died from blood loss, his life would at least be what it needed to be: real. Heatedly holding her gaze, he held up the length of his stiff cock at its root with both hands. “I’m yours if you want it.”
Her chest heaved as her gaze went from his exposed cock to the dagger in his lower thigh, the wool of the trousers around it blood soaked. “Malcolm,” she choked out, her features twisting in anguish. “I wouldn’t deny you in any other circumstance, but I can’t do this. I can’t—”
He hissed out a breath, recognizing she had gone beyond what he had even hoped for. “Just watch me then. It’s all I need to get me through this.” He wet his hand with saliva and did something he hadn’t done since he was eighteen. He masturbated.
Holding her stunned gaze, Malcolm used one large hand to hold the root of his cock and the other to jerk its midway to tip. He writhed in pain
and
pleasure as he worked his hand faster, his chest tightening against sensations he had long forgotten were worth feeling.