The Warrior Trainer (42 page)

   Her lips trembled beneath the caress of his thumbs. His words penetrated her soul, her very being. "You do not care?”

   His brown eyes smoldered with unleashed passion. "Only for you."

   She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm with all the sensual sweetness his words had brought into her heart. A groan tore from his throat. His mouth sought hers, claiming her in a kiss that was both urgent and gentle. He parted her lips for the demanding invasion of his tongue.

   Helplessly lost in the stirring sensation his kisses always brought, she slipped her arms around his broad shoulders. He pulled her against his full length, clasping her against his thighs while his tongue began to plunge into her mouth, then retreat, only to plunge again in an unmistakably suggestive rhythm that sent desire coiling through her loins.

   "Ian?" she whispered against his lips.

   "Aye," he murmured huskily as his hands moved up to release the tie of his plaid, revealing her body fully to him.

   She pulled away from his kisses, but kept her lips close, almost desperate to reclaim her connection with him. She had to speak the words she longed to say, and speak them now while she still could. "I wish to change the terms of our handfasting agreement." She reached for his right hand with her own, and gently threaded her fingers through his.

   "What do you wish to change
?”

   The warmth of his fingers wrapped around her own. "The length of our marriage."

   "How long?"

   "Forever."

   "Not long enough."

   Scotia smiled her agreement. His reply made her ache with a sudden yearning to possess him, body and soul. She withdrew her hand from his and trailed her fingers across his broad, muscled chest and the sprinkling of hair that teased her fingers with its texture. "I love you," she whispered, bringing her gaze back to his.

   He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a kiss, taking control of their lovemaking in a desperate desire to prove just how much he meant to her. Her fingers feathered the lightest of caresses against his jaw, his throat, his chest. And where her fingers stopped, her kisses began. The taste of his skin went straight to her head, making her bold, freeing her inhibitions, compelling her to continue what she had begun.

   Her lips reached greedily for the hard bud of his nipples, sampling them with slow swirling probes of her tongue. When he shuddered beneath her assault, she shamelessly nipped, then kissed her way across his torso, around his navel, then lower still. When she pressed a warm, moist kiss at the base of his swollen flesh, his head fell back onto his pillow with a sound that was half moan, half plea.

   In that moment she realized she had as much power over his body as he held over hers. Delighted by the discovery, she took another taste, then another, breathless at the urgent hunger she could bring out in him. She played the seductress, surprising him with tender erotic caresses that had him twining his fingers in her hair and whispering "I love you" on a disbelieving breath.

   She continued her assault until his hands became almost urgent upon her shoulders, and the heat of his body flowed beneath her fingertips with a hunger that matched her own.

   With a shift of his weight, he pressed her into the bedding, and his body hovered above her. He kissed every part of her. The passion of his kisses heated her flesh, seduced her spirit, until she felt as though she were drifting beneath him in a hot, wet, shimmering mist.

   His adoring hands trailed his kisses, caressing her battle hardened body until her flesh trembled her ultimate surrender. She was his, now and forever.

   As though sensing her thoughts, he smiled down at her, bringing his hands to her hips, and with slow exquisiteness he entered her, spreading a smooth voluptuousness through her. Her body arched. Pleasure engulfed her.

   His fullness surrounded her. They became one. Slowly, deliberately he stroked her and hot torrents of ecstasy grew stronger and stronger, until she plunged headlong into a vortex of colliding sensations. In that moment, she drew him deeper inside her, opening herself up to him, until his life force pulsed at the very soul of her being. Scotia clamped her legs around him, savoring the warmth of his seed within her.

   They lay together, their limbs possessively entwined, neither willing to break the bond that had been forged between them. Her body still heavy with pleasure, she listened to the sound of his heart thundering beneath her ear, content to know that all of it belonged to her now.

   "I have so much to thank you for," she whispered softly. "You risked your life to save mine. You accepted me for who I was. And," she dropped her gaze to the flat plane of her belly, "you gave me a precious gift this eve."

   He brought her gaze back to his. "A gift?"

   She smiled, unable to restrain the joy that tumbled through her freely. "A baby."

   A grin lit up his face and brought out the dimple at the side of his cheek. "How can you be certain? These things take time."

   "I just know."

   His grin faded to a somber smile. "Then that does not leave me much time."

   "Time for what?" she asked, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation.

   His gaze moved beyond her to where she had set their swords upon the floor. "I have yet to best you in a sword fight."

   She inched closer to his chest and let her thigh slide suggestively over the top of his. "I may never let you win."

   Ian caught her by the shoulders and rolled her beneath him as a new urgency blazed in his eyes. "Has it never occurred to you, my love, that I may never want to win?"

  
As his lips covered hers, she surrendered to the stormy splendor of his kiss, thrilled by the thought that their battle would go on forever.

Epilogue

   Nine months to the day after that final battle with the White Horseman, Scotia's contractions started at midnight. And from the first hint of pain, Ian was at her side, refusing to leave her.

   He brought a cool, lavender-scented cloth up to her temple, brushing away with infinite tenderness the sweat upon her brow as the pressure in her pelvis threatened to tear her apart. It was a battle she had no idea how to fight. She tried to relax, to let the child do the work, but instead of relief, her efforts only brought on a new wave of pain. "Our daughter is in a hurry to be born," Scotia panted.

   "If the force with which she tries to enter the world is any indication, the Warrior Trainer line will be well served by her birth." He drew her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss at its center. A wave of pure pleasure moved through her, countering the pain as her belly tightened again. Over the last several months, Ian's expression had softened, becoming more at ease, no longer darkened by the shadows of the past or duties that remained unfulfilled. Only love and anticipation filled his gaze now.

   She should feel nothing but happiness and anticipation as well, on the day their daughter would enter this world. Yet as she stared into Ian's soft brown eyes, she held one small regret close to her heart. She might have succeeded in providing a new Trainer to take her place, but after centuries of protection by her ancestors, she had been the one who failed to keep the Stone of Destiny safe. The churning gray-green water of the sea was the Stone's protector now.

   "What are you thinking about, my love?" Ian asked, watching her face closely.

   "Nothing."

   His expression became thoughtful. "I can guess what saddens you. And I have something that might ease at least some of your pain." Before she could question him, he slipped his hand from hers and left the room. He returned a moment later with a large object wrapped in the folds of the MacKinnon plaid. "Remove the cloth," he said, holding the gift out to her.

   "Ian." She hesitated with her fingers atop the woolen cloth. "I do not understand."

   "You will." He gave her a reassuring nod.

   With hesitant fingers, she pulled the fabric away and tears misted in her eyes. The Stone of Destiny. "Ian," she whispered brokenly. "How? Oh, I cannot believe this."

   "Griffin and I finally located it yesterday morn beneath the waters at the shoreline," Ian said as he placed the Stone on the floor near her bedside. "We have been looking for it every day for these last nine months."

   "I had no idea." Scotia wanted to slide her arms around Ian's neck, to show him how much this gift meant to her, but another contraction pulled at her, leaving her powerless to do anything more than grip his hand. "You have ... given me so much. What have I... to give to you
?”

   He pressed a possessive kiss to the back of her hand with a reverence that touched her very soul. "You have given me something I always craved, but never expected to find."

   "And what is that?" She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes.

   "A family."

   Scotia could not comment, as another contraction stole her breath and her focus. Their daughter would wait no longer.

   " 'Tis time." Maisie moved to the end of the bed along with Lizbet. Maisie prepared to receive the child while Lizbet stood by with clean linens.

   As the contraction eased, Scotia caught the young girl's gaze. "Your sister is in a hurry to meet you." Lizbet responded with an eager smile. As part of their family, Lizbet would train alongside any daughters Scotia and Ian had, carrying on the tradition of guarding the Stone and training Scotland's warriors together. No longer would the burden fall to just one warrior. The thought brought with it a sense of peace Scotia had never experienced in her lifetime. Her children's lives would be different. For that, she was extremely grateful.

   "Yer doin' well, love," Maisie said in a soft, soothing tone. Scotia barely heard her as a deep, heavy tightening took control of her body and the need to push overwhelmed all else.

   A moment later, the healthy cry of a baby resounded throughout the bedchamber, followed by Maisie's startled gasp. Silence fell over the room as Ian's gaze moved from her face to the child, then back to her again. An amused smile brought out that dimple she loved so well.

   "What is it?" Scotia asked, around the sudden pounding of her heart. "What is wrong?"

   A look of exquisite tenderness came over Ian's face. "Our daughter..." He hesitated.

   After wrapping the babe in the fresh linens, Maisie placed the child in the lee of Scotia's arms. "Yer daughter, my dear, is a son."

  
A son
? Scotia's gaze moved to the tiny infant in her arms. So small. So beautiful. The room suddenly seemed cast in a sunlit haze as the light of morning stretched out across the room, turning the baby's abundant blond hair into burnished gold. From the color of his hair to his firm yet stubborn chin, to the tiny dimple in his left cheek, the baby looked like Ian.

   "We have a son, Scotia. A fine, strong son."

   Scotia shook her head, still not believing what her heart told her was true. "But the Warrior Trainer only has daughters—that's all they've had for centuries."

   He gazed at her uncertainly. "Does it grieve you to know you did not have a daughter?"

   "Nay," Scotia mused, "I am merely unprepared for this. All my life...." She gave a soft chuckle. The baby nestled against her body, seeking the warmth and comfort of his mother. "What shall we call him? We can hardly call him Scotia, as we had planned for our daughter."