Wild Roses (27 page)

"Finian?" Duncan pulled away from her to
stare into her eyes. Taking heart that he no longer sounded so angry, she
blushed at his scrutiny.

"Aye, the harper. For me, Duncan, would you allow
these few things for me?"

He didn't answer, but she could feel in the palpable
easing of tension from his body that he had acquiesced even without a word.
Just as she realized with a start as he bent his head to kiss her burning cheek
that they would not be talking of such things at all if he'd guessed the truth
of her clan—saints help her, that fear had skipped altogether from her mind in
her desire to assist the O'Melaghlins!

"For you, woman, I'll order it done . . . but only
for you."

Maire shivered at the warmth of his breath tickling her
ear, and she imagined from the sudden hungriness in his eyes that he yearned to
kiss her more thoroughly if not for the commander of the guards standing so
near. She blushed all the more deeply as she heard the man clear his throat
again, Duncan finally speaking to release him from his discomfort.

"Did you pay heed to my bride-to-be's requests?
More food and drink for the prisoners, a lamp?"

"Yes, my lord, though it wasn't my intention to
overhear—"

"It's no matter, man, just see that these things
are done within the hour. Allow them warm water to bathe as well, and find them
tunics to wear. I'd wager their clothing was ripped from their backs . .
."

As he fell silent, Maire wondered if once more Duncan
was thinking of Gerard, her suspicion confirmed when the commander of the
guards turned to move away. Duncan's voice was grim with one last order.

"If anyone questions you, Sir Gerard,
anyone
, tell them to speak to me. And no
one is to lift a hand to the prisoners without my explicit command, or to harry
them in any way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord, no doubt of it."

"Good. Leave us."

The commander of the guards appeared only too eager to
oblige, while Duncan seemed to have forgotten the man entirely as he pulled
Maire closer.

"There, woman. Does that please you?"

She nodded, unable to speak for her heart hammering in
her throat at how husky his voice had grown.

"Good enough, then. Do you know what would please
me?"

She stared at him, heat creeping once more over her
face as he gave a slow teasing smile.

"That I wore no armor. It's in the way."

"I-in the way?"

Now he nodded, and lifted her into his arms.

***

Maire's head still spun at how quickly Duncan had
carried her back to his rooms, only stopping once to tell a servant passing by
the steps to the tower that he wanted wine and food brought to them—but that it
must be left outside the door. He did not want to be disturbed.

Those weighty words alone had set her heart pounding,
but now as she sat at the edge of the bed and watched him divest himself of his
mail shirt—a hauberk, he'd just called it—she felt as if he might as well be
undressing her from the ravenous way his eyes swept her.

"Gambeson."

She shivered at the low huskiness of his voice, feeling
as awkward as an untried maiden as he stripped off a padded garment and dropped
it to the floor with his hauberk and mailed stockings, followed shortly by his
undertunic damp with sweat that he peeled from his powerful body. Yet she
wasn't untried, her flesh already burning as she recalled all they'd done the
night before . . . though Duncan had hinted as he'd deposited her on the bed
that there were things between a man and woman she still did not know.

Just as she would not have imagined that a man whose
body she'd found so physically beautiful in firelight could be three times so
in the bright sunshine streaming through the narrow arched windows. Unable not
to, she drank in the wonder of him as he stood, taut of torso and limb, heavily
muscled, before her in calf-length breeches. She found herself brazenly eager
for him to be rid of them as well.

"Braies."

Maire's gaze flew to his face, that handsome teasing
smile making her flesh burn even hotter as he beckoned for her to come to him.
Yet she held back, staring at him in confusion even as spoke.

"Rose . . . I need your help."

Maire could not imagine how, but she obliged him, her
heart so full that her clumsy gait never seemed to attract his attention. It
never had.

He stared into her eyes, that alone drawing her, and
she told herself as fervently as last night not to think of Ronan and mayhap
Niall hiding so close by outside Longford Castle or that her determination
remained as painfully fierce that somehow, she must find a way to leave Duncan.
For now, she only wanted to pretend again that things were different, that
happiness awaited them and not the cold comfort of memories that someday soon
must sustain her.

Maire drew in her breath as Duncan caught her hands and
guided them to the cord at his waist that secured his breeches. The masculine
scent of him filling her senses, she untied the cord with trembling fingers
while still he
held
her gaze, nor did he allow her to
stop there. Without speaking, he covered her hands with his and guided them to
the sides of his waist, where she instinctively understood and began to draw
his braies slowly from his hips.

Now Duncan sucked in his breath, his massive chest
rising and falling as deeply as she felt warmth building inside her, and she
lowered her eyes to the thick line of hair descending from his navel to a dark
thatch she'd not fully seen before. Yet just as his swollen flesh sprang free,
he stayed her hands and swept his braies himself from his body; the garment had
no sooner dropped to the floor when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

His mouth was hard, his breathing harder, Maire
suddenly so dizzy she felt her knees giving way. She clung to him, lost to the
power of his embrace, the wonder that never ceased to engulf her even as she
knew he wouldn't let her fall. Yet his kiss had no sooner begun to deepen when
he abruptly drew away, leaving her to stare up at him flushed and trembling and
breathless.

"My armor is gone, woman . . . but what of
this?"

His hands filled with the pink silk of her gown,
already he was drawing it
up
and over her hips; Maire
leaned into him to steady herself as he quickly pulled the garment over her head.
Still light-headed, she must have lost her balance, for the next she
knew,
she was being carried to the bed, where Duncan
divested her of her camise with as much haste.

Only when she was lying naked beside him did he finally
pause to sweep his gaze over her, and she saw in his eyes stark admiration that
made her know she pleased him as well. His hand trembled as he reached out to
splay his fingers over her breast, long, strong fingers, and she gasped softly
at the warmth of his palm that matched the stirring timbre of his voice.

"Last night I could not fully see your beauty—only
touch to know it. But now I can watch you,
woman . . . watch
you."

As if to mark his words, he drew his fingertips across
her nipple, staring into her eyes even as she sharply drew in her breath and
shivered. Her response seemed only to encourage him, and he bent his head to
first kiss her breast, the warmth of his breath against her skin thrilling her,
before drawing her aching nipple into his mouth.

A low moan slipped from Maire's throat; she couldn't
have imagined such pleasure—had he done so to her last night? He began to
suckle hungrily and she thought no more, his hand gliding down her belly to cup
and gently squeeze her woman's mound. That made her moan again but she fell breathlessly
silent, trembling when his fingers slipped inside her while his tongue played
and teased at her breast.

It was so sweet a thing, yet like torture, and she felt
as if she were splitting apart to know such pleasure where his fingers circled
and taunted her and that where his mouth drew so ravenously upon her. She could
not have been more startled when Duncan suddenly ceased both and raised himself
above her, his dark eyes burning into hers.

He said nothing, as if daring her to read his mind, and
she sensed then as her heart quickened that he intended to do something of
which he'd only hinted. He bent to kiss her, his mouth impassioned against
hers, his tongue plundering deep, but just as quickly he was gone from her.
Maire stared at him wide-eyed when he shifted his body to settle himself
between her legs and then slipped his hands beneath her bottom to raise her to
his mouth.

She threw back her head even as his tongue speared into
her, and she tried, wholly shocked, to slide away from him but he held her
fast. Her flesh burning, her body trembling uncontrollably, she could only
surrender to the onslaught of his mouth, his tongue, his utter possession of
her suddenly
become
all the more complete.

Unbidden, she opened herself to him, her fingers clutching
wildly at linen sheets twisted and rumpled from the night before. As if from
some distant place she could see he watched her, his eyes still burning as she
burned and began to writhe upon the bed though he held her to him, claiming her
with a kiss more deeply intimate than any she'd known.

From that same distant place she heard herself cry out
his name, begging him for release and he gave it to her, Duncan lifting his
mouth from her and rising between her thighs to thrust
himself
into her, filling her, Maire knowing nothing else.

Only sensation rocked her, and the purest of emotion;
she did not realize until long, long moments later after Duncan had collapsed
upon her, rolling to one side with her held fiercely in his arms, that tears
streaked her cheeks. Not wanting him to see them, she kept her face buried
against his chest for as many precious moments, simply listening to him
breathe, his heartbeat slowing again to a deep rhythmic cadence.

It was so sweet, and yet as much torture as anything
that had gone before, that Maire was not surprised when fresh tears came to
torment her. Still she kept her face buried but she felt, too, Duncan tense,
and he drew away to look at her, a finger gently grazing her cheek.

"I wanted to give you pleasure, woman, but that it
has made you weep? God's teeth, have I hurt you?"

Chapter 26

Duncan's voice filled with concern, Maire hastily shook
her head to reassure him though she couldn't seem to stay her tears. Jesu,
Mary, and Joseph, if she didn't stop she would surely give herself away! He
would sense that there was something terribly wrong, which there was—

"It's Adele, isn't it?"

His voice was angry now, and when Maire didn't readily
answer, he swore under his breath and lifted himself onto his elbow.

"I know she came here—she stopped me to say as
much when I was looking for you. By the blood of God, has she made you some
threat?"

Maire thought at once of what Adele had said about her
drowning in the moat, but she wasn't sure it had been a true threat or just a
ploy to frighten her. Again her silence seemed to anger Duncan all the more, no
matter her tears had finally stopped, his expression as hard as stone.

"Damn that woman! Not only does she torment you,
but lies about you as well. She claims you told her that she should take her
retainers and leave Meath—"

"I did."

Maire felt her face grow warm at Duncan's incredulous
look, and she wondered if he might be displeased with her now. Quickly she
sought to explain. "I was angry, Duncan, aye, just thinking of what your family
had done to you and your poor mother. So when Adele came here to say she had no
intention of abiding me as your bride—"

"You told her you'd have her thrown into the
moat."

At Duncan's slow smile, Maire gaped at him, not knowing
why she should be so surprised Adele would have revealed that to him.

"And she claimed that you called her a witch. Is
that true? Did you call my beloved half sister a witch?"

His eyes as full of admiration as gentle teasing, Maire
found she couldn't help teasing him herself. "Beloved, is she? Mayhap I'd
best not answer then—oh!"

Duncan had rolled her onto her back so suddenly and
gently pinned her shoulders to the bed that Maire lost her breath, but she knew
she'd have lost it anyway at how handsome he was, staring down at her.

"Promise me something, will you?"

His voice husky and warm, she could only nod, the
boyish gleam in his eyes doing as much to render her speechless.

"Promise me when next you call Adele a witch, that
I be present to see her face?"

Maire answered his smile with her own, feeling as giddy
to see this playful side of him as he seemed to be enjoying her. Yet he sobered
so suddenly that she did, too, confusion filling her.

"Duncan . . . ?"

"I've never seen you smile so before, woman, never
once until this day."

He spoke in wonderment and yet with regret, staring at
her lips as if waiting for her to smile again. And she so wanted to, just for
him, mustering another even as tears once more clouded her eyes. Saints help
her, what must he think? First weeping, then smiles, then both at the same time
. . .

"Ah, Rose, you're so beautiful. So beautiful . .
."

He found her lips, kissing her so tenderly that Maire
felt her heart ready to burst, no more intimate a thing than she could imagine
that his mouth tasted of her sex. She'd never felt closer to him and yet so far
apart, nor more tempted in that moment to blurt out the truth, that she wasn't
named Rose but Maire O'Byrne, than she'd ever been before.

To dare to trust him, to dare to believe that the
barrier between them could be conquered . . . not by sword but with love. Was
that so vain a hope?