Authors: Doreen Owens Malek
* * * *
Con flung himself off the bed and stood up, wincing slightly as he felt a stitch in his thigh. The leg had healed quickly and well. Most of the time he forgot about it, except when a sudden move or a quick turn in the wrong direction produced a twinge to remind him. He straightened and shook it out, bending his leg at the knee. As good as new.
Would that he could say the same about his state of mind. He had given Kate the bum’s rush, depositing her on her doorstep in town and taking off without a word. She had tried to do an unkind thing to Aislinn and he couldn’t forgive her for it. Cattiness in women disgusted him.
He took the scarf from his neck and held it to his nose, inhaling the heady mixture of Linn’s perfume and her own warm, feminine scent. Then he wadded it into a ball and threw it on the floor. Damn the woman, she was tying him up in knots. If she was staying in Bally then he would have to go. He couldn’t take any more of this. The raw hunger for her was gnawing at his guts, making him distracted and useless at work. He was getting pointed inquiries from his editor about his manuscript, long overdue and going nowhere. The last chapter was incomprehensible; it read like jabberwocky nonsense. And all because of that sweet faced, amber haired American whose kiss still lingered on his lips. He groaned and thrust his hands through his hair.
He would go up to the house and show her who was boss. He would force the door if he had to, and then he would…
Con kicked the bedpost. He didn’t want that; he didn’t want to press her in any way. He wanted her willing and eager, clinging to him, fitted to him like a glove. He wanted her as on fire for him as he was for her. He wanted her to love him.
He swallowed hard and licked his dry lips. Perspiration beaded his forehead as he thought about her song at the Fleadh. He saw again the beckoning look in her wide dark eyes, the light teasing touch of her soft mouth, the way she had melted against him when he drew her into his arms. She had seemed to want him then...but if so, why had she left him the morning Neil had paid his call? Why hadn’t she been back since? Why, in short, was she dangling him on the end of this intolerable, agonizing string?
If he went to the house he risked being rebuffed again. Another rejection from her would ruin him. His eyes moved to the open door of the cottage. But if he went out to the glen and waited, maybe, just maybe, she would come.
Con pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it on a chair. He wouldn’t sleep tonight; he might as well keep watch, and remember, and hope. He took a broadcloth shirt from a hanger and slipped into it, leaving it unbuttoned in his haste.
On his way out the door he bent and picked up her scarf, putting it in his pocket.
* * * *
Linn stepped from the screen of trees, her heart pounding, and scanned the field before her.
The glen was empty.
Linn swallowed disappointment like a bitter medicine. Had she been sure or just fervently hopeful? She shook her head, biting her lower lip to forestall tears. When was she going to grow up and learn that wishing didn’t make it so? What had made her think for a moment that there was some sort of mystical communication between them, that she would want him and he would know? Slowly, sorrowfully, she turned back to the house.
Con came around the side of the large oak that bordered the property, retracing the same path he’d already paced many times that night. In the distance a figure clad in peach silk with bright, loose hair was walking away from him.
Con dropped the scythe he was carrying and began to run.
Chapter 7
Con didn’t feel his injured leg at all and it didn’t slow him; he ran like the wind, his feet as light as his heart. She had come to him. She had come to him after all.
He caught Linn in several steps. She halted when she heard him behind her, and in the next instant his arms closed about her, pressing her back against him.
“I knew you’d be here,” she whispered.
“I wished that you would come,” he replied.
Linn relaxed into him with a luxurious sigh, reveling in the hard warmth of his body, the feel of his bare chest against her back through the thin robe. Con drew his hands up from her waist and cupped her breasts in his palms. Linn quivered with delight, raising her arms and locking her hands behind his neck, stretching along the powerful length of him like a cat. The abandoned sensuality of the gesture inflamed Con beyond control; he gripped her hips tightly and pulled her against him, letting her feel his arousal. Linn moaned as his lips moved through her hair and found her neck, covering her nape and exposed shoulders with kisses. His mouth was moist, hot, everywhere, sending shivers rippling down her spine, making her knees so weak she needed his support to stand.
Con spun her around in his arms and she waited longingly for his kiss. Instead he held her with one arm and, brushing aside her robe, bent his head and took a nipple between his lips. The sudden, unexpected sensation was unbearably erotic; Linn lay back in the curve of his muscular forearm, her hair trailing almost to the ground, as he laved first one ripe bud and then the other with his tongue. He sucked and nibbled, caressing her tender flesh until she was stimulated to an exquisite, aching sensitivity. Then he straightened suddenly, embracing her, cradling her as if she were the most precious treasure in his world.
“I love you, Aislinn,” he said, his deep voice hoarse with emotion. “I was lost from the moment I saw you.”
Linn closed her eyes in absolute relief, absolute happiness. This was what she’d been waiting all her life to hear. But a tiny doubt remained. “And my father?” she said faintly, clutching him, afraid to remind him and yet afraid to let it pass.
“I don’t care,” he said fiercely, tightening his arms around her. “I can’t make myself care anymore. All I can see and all I can think about is you.”
Linn raised her head to look at him and saw the truth of it in his face. The past was forgotten; it really didn’t matter to him any longer. She put her hand up to touch his cheek.
Con turned her toward the cottage. “Come inside,” he whispered, his eyes brilliant in the shadows. “I’ll not let you get away again.”
“No,” Linn said, resisting. “I want it to be here, where it all began.”
Con sucked in his breath sharply. “You’ll stay with me, then?” he asked, as still as a statue.
“Yes, darling, yes. Don’t you know by now I want you just as much as you want me?”
“That isn’t possible,” he muttered as his lips crushed hers, his tongue probing deeply, his hands drawing the silken robe down her arms. It fell to her waist where it was held in place by the knotted belt. He worked the tie loose with one hand while he slid the other through the fold, caressing the softness of her belly, her thighs, until she trembled with heightened awareness. She sighed, unable to believe she could be so eager for the touch of rough, work hardened fingers on her skin. His hand searched, probing, and she gasped against his mouth as the kimono slipped unnoticed to the grass.
Con picked her up in one smooth movement and lowered her to the ground, spreading her robe beneath her and setting her gently on this makeshift blanket. He paused to shrug out of his shirt and then flung himself down beside her, gathering her to him instantly.
“I will be gentle,” he said shakily, as if instructing himself to maintain control. He shuddered as she explored the broad expanse of his chest, planting a row of kisses along his collarbone, then tonguing his nipples in tantalizing imitation of what he had done to her. Con clenched his teeth and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. “But it won’t be easy,” he added,gasping.
Linn molded her body to his big frame, winding her arms around his neck. In her own wonder, her own delicious discovery, she was only half aware of his agonized response to her slightest movement. He was still wearing his jeans but she felt him as if he were naked, powerful and ready between her thighs. She sat up and moved astride him, and his hands slipped down her back and cupped her buttocks, guiding her. His eyes closed and his lips compressed, his chest heaving, and Linn was thrilled at her ability to please him. When his lashes lifted she arched her back and rocked, her breasts lifting as she saw his reaction to the picture she made.
“Enough!” he ground out, pulling her down to him and reversing their positions so quickly she lost her breath. He stretched her arms above her head and pinned her, moving over her and kissing her until she was unconsciously wrapping her legs around his hips, asking without words for the fulfillment he could give. When he finally released her to stand and remove his pants she never took her eyes from his, holding out her arms to welcome him back.
Con stripped quickly and returned to her, enfolding her tenderly and stroking her hair, keeping his flooding desire in check with an effort. This was his Aislinn, his vision come to life, his dream come true, and he wanted everything to be perfect for her. He was desperate with the need to take her, but he forced himself to slow down and enhance her pleasure. She had had a bad experience with her husband; Con wanted to erase the unhappy memory and replace it with this one of him. There was no rush, he told himself; he would have her in the end.
But he felt the rush in his throbbing loins, the surging primal compulsion to bury himself in the woman he loved. When she sighed and pressed herself against him, her hands moving to caress him intimately as she had done once before, he forgot his prior intention. He pushed her down roughly, his awareness of his own strength lost in the tumult of the moment. Con kissed her body feverishly. His mouth was so consuming, so demanding, that Linn writhed beneath his sensuous assault, swept up in a hurricane of feeling. Con half sat, holding her firmly with one arm around her waist. He stroked the damp warmth between her legs until he could no longer contain himself and bent hungrily to put his mouth where his hand had lately been.
Linn tossed her head from side to side on the cushion of her robe, her fingers tangled in his hair. When he knew that her need was as great, as urgent as his, he knelt and pulled her legs around him. Before she had time to feel the loss of his lips she was awash in a new sensation as he entered her slowly, pausing on the threshold of her womanhood to withdraw slightly. He then eased in a little more, giving her the barest taste of what she wanted.
“You’re teasing me,” she moaned, clutching the folds of the robe beneath her with one hand. Her eyes locked with his and she watched the waves of pleasure, almost akin to pain, transform his features.
“I’m loving you,” he answered thickly, rotating his hips, sinking into her further but stopping just as she was arching blissfully to meet him. Linn groaned in frustration.
“Do you want me?” he gasped.
“Yes, oh yes.”
“Say it. I must hear you say it.”
“I want you, Con. I want you so much.”
His control gone, Con drove into her wildly, making her cry out softly. He raised his head, searching her face anxiously.
“I’ve not hurt you?” he said hoarsely.
Linn kissed his parted lips. “How could you ever hurt me? It’s just ... I never knew it could be like this.”
Con clasped her close, lifting her off the ground and holding her against his chest. Her head fell back and he rained kisses on her exposed throat.
“I need you so badly,” he rasped. “I just can’t hold back any longer.”
“Don’t,” Linn whispered. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel everything with you.”
This was all he needed to hear. He surged into her repeatedly, catching her up in his rhythm until Linn was panting, clutching him tightly and willing him not to interrupt his intoxicating cadence. Just when she thought she would explode into a thousand tiny particles of light he paused, lowering her to the silken mat of her robe.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Con, please don’t stop.”
He had no intention of stopping. His eyes gazed into hers as he put his palms flat on the ground on either side of her, pushing himself up to the length of his arms. He thrust into her powerfully, penetrating more deeply than he had earlier. Linn whimpered and lifted her hips to engulf him, seeking to emhance the exquisite sensation.
“Aislinn,” he said in her ear, “look at me.”
Linn’s eyes were squeezed shut. She opened them and gazed at her lover.
Con’s skin was bathed in perspiration, his hair in damp ringlets, his mouth bruised and wet from her kisses. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as she moved slightly beneath him and intensified his pleasure.
“Promise me that you won’t leave me,” he said.
“Oh darling, I won’t. I don’t want anyone but you. I would die if I couldn’t have you.”
Con lowered his head and pressed his hot, flushed face into the soft curve of her shoulder.
“Then you shall live, my lady,” he murmured, “because you have me now and always will.”
Linn ran her hands over his strong, muscular back, delighting in his beautiful body. She held him close and listened to his harsh breathing, felt the ragged pounding of his heart and the wonderful fullness as he moved inside her. This is it, she thought, ablaze with emotion and physical hunger. This is the love I’ve searched for all my life. She felt cheated that she’d lived so long without it, grateful that she’d found it at last. She dug her fingers into his hips, moaning helplessly, burying her lips in his hair. Everything about him was a marvel: the hardness of his flesh, the softness of his mouth, the effortless strength and sureness of his movements. He quickened his pace again, then went still.