Page 42 of A Promise of Love

Would that I were blameless, Judith thought, but the words were not spoken aloud.

She was too much the coward for that. Instead, she allowed him to envelop her in his embrace, as if his warm flesh could block out the world.

She snuggled closer to him, wishing that she was as pure as Anne, as gentle, as unused by life as Alisdair’s first wife .

Life had used her too well .

Almost of their own will, her hands curled against his skin, seeking the tactile reassurance of him. He kissed her on the nose, a non-threatening gesture of affection. Judith lifted her lips for a fuller kiss, leaned into him .

If Alisdair had not studied her so avidly for the past months, if he had not come to know just when those loch shadowed eyes of hers hid what she felt, and when they revealed her emotions, Alisdair would have said that Judith was feeling the same singular lust he was now experiencing, that what she wanted was mind-numbing pleasure, a respite from the world around them.

But there was something more urgent in Judith’s eyes than simple passion, something desperate that demanded satiation, some wild emotion which caused his heart to skitter in his chest and made him hold her even closer, an embrace comprised of fear and loss and something even more precious .

At this moment, with the silence of night falling about them, with the activity of Tynan fading below stairs to a simple muttered goodnight greeting, a scrape of boot against a stair, the screech of the bronze doors as they were closed, Alisdair MacLeod recognized that there was a new emotion in the lexicon of his feelings.

He knew its name and all its myriad facets.

He appreciated its strength and its demands, but knew its rewards were worth any sacrifice.

He loved Judith Cuthbertson Willoughby Henderson MacLeod, and the barbarism of it, the sheer melodramatic protectiveness of it rolled his stomach and curled his toes .

They were held together by the savagery of a kiss too quickly ended, by the tenuous bond of her hands clasping his shoulders .

And by words spoken by a man who had always been gentle, but whose tenderness brought the spiking of tears to her eyes .

"You have the softest lips, Judith," he said, and his tone made her shiver. It made her want to move her lips against that finger, capture it in her mouth, taunt him as well with words spoken as if they were the greatest truths in a voice meant to seduce .

One long callused finger touched her cheek, following the path of her skin to the edge of her nose and then to the top of her upper lip. He watched his own finger as if it had a will of its own, not empowered by his mind's wishes .

"My beautiful Judith ."

She said nothing, her eyes fixed upon his mouth, upon the way he framed his words. How could a man's mouth be so alluring? How could he speak and she want to touch her tongue to the full contours of it, to taste his speech ?

He rolled off the bed and removed his clothes, oblivious to the cold, to his own nakedness illuminated by candle light .

“With that wicked smile, MacLeod, you look more like Pan, than a Scots laird." She lay on her side, watching him .

“The Greek god of woods, fields, and flocks? Except that Pan had a goat’s legs, horns and ears.

I prefer my own, thank you." He lay down again and pulled her fully clothed astride him.

She looked down at him, at ease beneath her, hands now propped beneath his head.

Without thought, she brushed back a tousled curl of black hair which fell against his forehead.

Her fleeting smile made his breath catch .

She leaned down against his chest, her chin in her folded hands. Both his large hands were involved in slipping free her garments, one lace at a time, one stocking at a time, her nakedness sweetly and unabashedly accomplished inch by inch .

"I know better than to claim duties or chores," she said, to hide the fact that his fingers were tracing a pattern upon her skin that made her shiver. He could rouse a dead woman with his touch, she thought .

"Then you have learned something during your tenure in the Highlands, my love. There is nothing more important than this ."

She didn't know if it was him calling her 'my love' or the feel of exploring fingers which caused her flush.

It prompted his gentle laughter, a teasing sound from such a large man.

She squirmed, and moved from him, but he only followed, his ease at changing her mind not at all surprising.

She had long suspected her husband had once been a rake .

When he rooted between their bodies to grasp her hand, she did not flinch. He touched her fingers with gentle reverence, a large man who knew his own strength and yet never abused his power .

He levered her hand up to his mouth, blew gently on her palm as a stallion might nuzzle a trainer's hand.

He had it backwards, did the MacLeod. It was submission from her he wanted.

Trust. He wanted her to believe in him, and that she did already.

What he did not understand was that she could not believe in herself .

"I can lift timbers to a rooftop, Judith," he said, refusing to look anywhere but at the palm of her hand. A hand which carried it own scars, softened over as they were by the lanolin from the sheep’s fleece.

"I can lift a broadsword over my head, walk for miles without tiring.

" He looked up, finally, at her face, and his eyes seemed licked by flames like a snifter of brandy backlit by a glowing fire.

"Yet, here, in this room, in this bed, I am equal in strength to you . "

" Me ?"

"Did you not know that there was one place where men and women are equals ?"

Nights of brutality flashed into her mind. If the words had been said by anyone but the MacLeod, she would have struck out at him, either verbally, or with her fists, so angered was she by the trite falsity of his words .

“What happened to Meggie was not lust, Judith. It had no place in passion’s games." He smiled, a gentle, teasing smile as if to tame her from her anger. His voice was so low that she leaned towards him to hear it. His breath brushed against her cheek, the warmth of it infused the air between them .

"In love, Judith, men and women are equals ."

The silence was measured by the beat of her heart, a living metronome.

How many seconds, minutes, eons, stretched between them before she could bear to look into those flame tinted eyes again?

How many seconds did it take to lift her gaze past that aquiline nose to those impossibly long lashed eyes?

Her heart beat steadily, faithful heart, but rapidly, as if straining to make up for the space in eternity in which all time stood still, rocked on its axis by Alisdair MacLeod and tenderness .

"This is to be shared, Judith," he said, his teasing gone, his look so direct and without artifice that it was difficult to stare full face into it, like gazing at the sun .

The air was cold against Judith’s back, but she was warm everywhere else, a curiosity no doubt brought on due to Alisdair’s encompassing look.

He seemed fascinated with her nakedness, although there had been many times in which he’d seen her without her clothes.

And his hands. Curiously tender for such large hands, his fingers explored and dipped and warmed themselves in places she’d not thought heated .

“My dreams are hot things, Judith." He traced an errant tendril of hair behind her ear, wondered if he should keep silent or speak of a man’s secrets. He smiled, a self-mocking smile that he should wish to keep his pride so desperately at the same time he wished to peer into her soul. “These past weeks, my wife, I’ve no control over them, these hot and wild dreams. You tempt me even when you sleep downstairs with Meggie. I’ve wakened with my sheets soaked and my manhood limp and the memory of spilling inside of you only a delicious dream . "

The flush which suffused her face seemed to start at her toes, he thought .

“I but await your summons, Alisdair." Judith buried her cheek on the pillow beside his face. What was he about, that he should say such things to her ?

“I do not wish a dutiful wife in my bed, Judith,” he whispered, leaning over to plant a gentle kiss on the shell of her ear. “I want a woman who wishes to be here, not one who ascribes it as only her wifely occupation ."

“I do not see it as a duty." Her words were muffled by the pillow. His smile was pure devilment .

“Do you not ?"

She raised up and frowned at him. When she didn’t speak, he wondered at her stubbornness and her fear. One day, the fear would be banished. He traced a line from her chin, down her throat to her shoulder and around to the sweet curve of armpit. She shivered and he chuckled .

His fingers stroked her breast, following the edge of the curve to where it began and then finally to the straining nipple.

Judith felt a tug in her middle when he licked his lips.

She could feel his tongue on her flesh even before she bent forward.

An arc of pure fire raced from her breast to her womb, spreading molten tongues of flame in its path .

He relinquished her breast only to cover the other one with raining kisses, unconsciously lifting himself up to meet her softness .

“‘I’ve never given you pleasure, Judith. I’m sorry for that ."

Her look of incredulity was gratifying, he thought, but too innocent for a woman married three times.

He wondered if tonight would be the night in which her last innocence was banished.

Would she look at him the same way tomorrow, and a thousand tomorrows, with curiosity and something else shining in those deeply blue eyes?

Or would her smile be more worldly, teasing, daring?

Would she ever feel that safe with him ?

“Only with my mouth and my hands , wife ."

“You have not taken me since the cove ."