Page 27 of Bound to a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #8)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I sabeau had lost all track of time. Hours must have passed since they had left the clearing, she and Tiernan hand in hand as they made their way through the forest. The sky was a bright steel grey now, the sun shining brightly behind the clouds that hid it, illuminating the world from the outside. They had long since left the forest, walking instead down a well-worn path, but neither had they met any other travelers nor was there any sign of a village or town nearby.

They had no horse, no food, no gold. But worst of all, they were both covered from head to toe in blood, long since dried out and turned a dark crimson, tacky and thick on their skin and hair.

Isabeau didn’t know how they could possibly get any help like this. At best, people would avoid them. At worst?—

She didn’t know what the worst scenario could be. Getting attacked, she supposed, by someone who didn’t know about Tiernan and his reputation. After all, in their state, he was hardly recognizable.

All this time, they had walked in silence, neither of them knowing what to say to fill it. What was there to say after what they had seen, they had been through? If there was anyone who understood it as well as she did, it was Tiernan, but that only meant that words were unnecessary; insufficient even. Their silence was comfortable, easy, if a little weighted by everything they had gone through that night. There was nothing to be said. Their experience transcended words.

Only when Isabeau heard the bubbling flow of water did she come to a halt. That entire time, she had pushed through, walking next to Tiernan without protest even as her entire body ached, even as her legs threatened to give out at any moment. But now the promise of some fresh water was too tempting to resist. Not only did they need to quench their thirst after walking for so long, but they could finally wash off the worst of the blood from their bodies and their clothes. It couldn’t compare to a fresh change of garments, but it was better than nothing. Isabeau would rather delay their travel rather than stay like this, covered in the blood of men she knew were now long gone.

“Come,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse and strange even to her ears after not using it for so long. Her throat ached too after all that screaming, after all the smoke from the fires and the torches, and she could hardly get the words out. “There’s a creek or a river or… or somethin’ over there.”

Tiernan looked at her as though he could hardly comprehend what she was saying, and Isabeau couldn’t blame him. He had fought for both their lives; he had seen her almost die time and time again that night, and she thought that was bound to leave an impression behind. No matter how strong Tiernan was, no matter how many times he had stared death in the face, fighting and winning battle after battle, the previous night’s savagery would not be easily released from his mind.

Gently, Isabeau guided him to the edge of the path, following the sound of water. Tiernan followed her, their fingers intertwined, their hands never once parting. They made their way through bushes and thorns, twisted roots and large rocks that threatened to trip their feet, the sound of water getting louder with every step. Soon, the creek revealed itself before them; a long, winding rush of water that snaked its way through the woods and down the hill to the valley below. It wasn’t very deep nor wide, but it was enough for them to bathe and so clean that the waters sparkled brightly under the morning light.

Upon seeing it, Tiernan let out a sigh of relief. He and Isabeau made their way to the muddy bank, her feet sinking in the soft earth as she walked. The air around them smelled of wildflowers and fragrant, freshly-watered grass, but all Isabeau could smell was the metallic tang of blood still clinging to her nostrils.

The moment they were close enough, they both fell to their knees by the creek, Tiernan ducking his head straight into the water as Isabeau furiously tried to clean her hands, rubbing them together to wash the blood away.

It was far from an easy task. Dry and caked as it was on her skin, it came off in small flecks that were difficult to remove, stubbornly adhering to her hands, and the longer it took her to wash it off, the harder her heart beat in her chest, a strange panic as unbridled as the water rushing through her fingers gripping her.

It wasn’t until Tiernan took her hands, stopping her from scraping the blood off with her nails that she looked up, some of her panic quickly subsiding. Without saying a word, Tiernan proceeded to wash her hands carefully, making sure he didn’t miss a spot, but that he also did it gently, unlike Isabeau’s previous attempts.

Once her hands were finally clean, a sense of calm fell over Isabeau. She knew it was little more than an illusion; soon, the weight of their reality would once again come crashing down on her, reminding her why the panic had set in in the first place. Never before had she seen so much death. Never before had she seen so much blood, so many bodies around her, so many lives lost.

But Tiernan is still here. He’s alive. He’s with me.

And as long as he was next to her, she had nothing to fear.

Their silence continued to stretch over them as they undressed, Tiernan helping Isabeau peel off her bloodied clothes. The chilly wind hit her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms and legs, but Tiernan was quick to pull her in his arms in an attempt to keep her warm with his body.

When she dipped her toes in the water, she almost immediately recoiled, the icy creek no longer as inviting as it had been only moments prior. The thought of staying covered in blood, though, was much less appealing, and so Isabeau took a deep, steeling breath and let Tiernan pull her inside, up to her waist in the freezing waters.

It felt as though she had stepped in a pool of glass shards, sharp and scraping and stinging. Still without saying a word, Tiernan began to wash her gently, cupping water in his palms and bringing it up to her shoulders, her arms, her chest—anywhere the water couldn’t reach. The skin of his hands was rough against her, callused and hardened by years of hard work, but also warm—a stark contrast to the wind and the water that lapped at her waist.

Little by little, Tiernan washed the blood off her, scrubbing her clean. It was then that Isabeau felt the entire weight of her exhaustion and shock, letting him do as he pleased without even attempting to help him. She was tired. She was ready to go home, but home felt so far away.

And even if she made it home, she knew she would never be the same person she had been when she left.

Was that what she truly craved, she wondered? The Isabeau she had once been had been naive, carelessness. Did she want the lack of concerns, of fear, the perfect, unspoiled life she had once had?

Even if she craved it, she could never have it back. It was long gone.

“Come.” Tiernan’s voice was quiet and soft as he pushed at her shoulders. “Let me wash yer hair.”

Ach, o’ course. There’s blood there too.

Bending forward, Isabeau dipped her long, dark hair into the creek. It would take several vials of oil to get the mats out, several comb-throughs to untangle the knots, but for now Tiernan’s fingers would have to do. Once again, he worked in silence, pouring water over her head and thoroughly scrubbing through the strands until the worst of it was gone, only a few small flecks of blood remaining behind.

By then, Isabeau was shivering from head to toe. The cold had seeped all the way into her bones, chilling her from the inside, and she had begun to fear that she would never be warm again unless she fell into the flames of a fire.

We should have lit one afore gettin’ in the creek.

But neither of them had had the presence of mind to think about a fire when they had seen the bubbling waters. All they had wanted was to drink and wash off.

“Go, get out o’ the water,” Tiernan urged her once she was scrubbed clean. “Stay in the sun, it’ll warm ye.”

Isabeau glanced up at the sky to find it dim and cloudy. No matter where she went, there were no sun rays to keep her warm, but at least she wouldn’t be in the freezing waters. With some difficulty, her feet slipping over the muddy bank, she managed to get out of the creek, her arms wrapping around her body in an attempt to not only hide herself, but also remain warm.

It was a little too late for both those things, she supposed.

Tiernan didn’t take long to wash off, his movements much more hurried and much less gentle than they had been when he had helped Isabeau. By the time he was done, his lips had taken on a blue tint and his teeth were chattering as he rubbed his arms furiously to get some warmth back to them.

“I’ll light a fire,” he said, moving quickly to gather some twigs and some larger pieces of wood. Isabeau tried to help, but Tiernan was quick to shake his head, waving a hand dismissively.

“Stay there,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

And so, Isabeau stood where she was, just outside the shadow of a tree as she tried to soak up what little sun she could, watching Tiernan start the fire. At the first sight of flames, she let out a sigh of relief and rushed to the fire, sitting down on the cloak Tiernan had laid on the ground—the one garment he had on him that wasn’t entirely covered in blood.

“We must wash the clothes, too,” Isabeau pointed out.

“In a moment,” said Tiernan as he sat down next to her and pulled her close, nestling her between his legs and draping himself around her like a blanket. Ever so slowly, the warmth of the fire and that of Tiernan’s body chased the chill away until she was almost comfortable once again—almost, as she was terribly aware of how close and how naked they both were.

There was nothing sexual about the way Tiernan was holding her. If anything, it seemed to her that he had dozed off with his head on her shoulder. But the proximity and the thought that she had almost lost him several times that night ignited a spark within her that she couldn’t ignore. Her brush with death had made her eager to taste more of life and her fear that she would lose Tiernan made her want to reassure herself he was right there, real and solid and as loving as he always was.

With a soft sigh, she shifted against him, glancing back at him only to find him watching her instead of dozing off as she had thought. That tender gaze, those inviting lips with the slight smile upon their eyes meeting—it all drew her in closer until she was pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Shifting slightly, Tiernan kissed her properly, their lips parting to deepen it, his tongue brushing against hers with the softest of touches.

And yet, his hands remained firmly on her arms, simply holding her. No matter how much Isabeau squirmed, no matter how much she tried to imply what she wanted, Tiernan didn’t seem to get it; not until she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and brought his hand to her breast, making him close it around the swell of it.

Against her lips, Tiernan chuckled, his thumb and forefinger immediately closing around her nipple to tug at it and tease. Isabeau gasped against his lips, back arching to chase the touch, that by-then familiar, mindless fog descending upon her once more.

This was what she wanted. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to remember what had happened. She wanted to forget everything, to lose herself in the sensations of Tiernan’s touch.

“I’m right here,” Tiernan assured her, as if reading her mind. And perhaps, she thought, he knew exactly why she needed this, why she was asking him for it. He had been in his fair share of battles, after all, and it was more than likely that he had felt this himself, too, that he had chased the same high. “Dae ye want me tae touch ye?”

Isabeau nodded fervently, back arching a little more in invitation. “Please.”

“Alright,” said Tiernan and Isabeau couldn’t see his smile, but she could feel it against her neck, where he pressed a kiss. “Alright, me love. Spread yer legs fer me.”

As he spoke, Tiernan ran both hands over her thighs, smoothing his fingers over her soft skin. Then he gripped them and guided Isabeau to spread them wider, hooking each knee over his own thighs. Immediately, the blood rushed to her head, her face and chest painted a deep, embarrassed crimson and she was quick to cover herself once more, but Tiernan stopped her before she could, holding her hands away from her mound firmly.

“Let me see ye,” he said, bringing one of her hands to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Dinnae hide from me. Ye’re so bonnie.”

If it was even possible, Isabeau flushed an even deeper red at Tiernan’s words, but she forced herself not to hide, her hands holding onto his thighs instead, as he explored her body. His touch was feather-light, barely felt as he skimmed his fingers up her thighs once more, then her stomach, her chest, only to come back down and trace the curve of her breasts. It was maddening, the soft touch a stark contrast to the ever-growing hardness that pressed against her lower back, proof that Tiernan wanted this as much as she did, but had much more self-control than her.

Isabeau trembled in his arms, but this time from the force of her desire rather than the cold. She sighed and writhed against Tiernan, the anticipation drawing more of her wetness from her core with every gasping breath.

When Tiernan finally dragged his hand down to her mound and firmly laid his fingers over her most sensitive spot, rubbing small circles right over the nub, she was already so far gone, so aroused that a loud, shattered moan tumbled past her lips, her entire body jerking in Tiernan’s grasp.

“Easy,” Tiernan said, as if trying to calm a spooked animal, but his touch never changed, remaining firm and slow, the pleasure of it almost overwhelming. Isabeau had no choice but to surrender to it, hurtling towards her climax too fast, without a moment to catch her breath. “Relax fer me… relax.”

Isabeau tried, drawing in a deep breath just as Tiernan shifted, rubbing his fingers down the length of her folds and back up, the movement just as unhurried, almost hypnotic in its repetition. Though now the pleasure he was giving her wasn’t as direct, as overwhelming, she couldn’t stop trembling, her climax snatched from her before she could reach it.

Slowly, she managed to relax, body melting against Tiernan’s chest. The tension drained out of her, her muscles going lax as she gave in to her pleasure, and it was then that Tiernan moved back up to that spot over the seam of her folds, his slick fingers pressing intently against it.

Only this time, his other hand joined his efforts as well, snaking down her body to push against her entrance, two of his fingers slipping inside her with ease. The sudden intrusion had Isabeau’s toes curling in pleasure, her core pulsing, that familiar pressure in her stomach growing with every thrust of his fingers. She moaned in abandon, her own fingers digging into Tiernan’s thighs as she looked for purchase, her hips rocking ever so slightly as she tried to take him deeper inside her.

“That’s it,” Tiernan praised her, his lips closing around the sensitive skin of her neck. “Let go… I’ve got ye.”

It didn’t take long after that for Isabeau to do just that, finally reaching her peak with a shout of Tiernan’s name, hips lifting off the ground as her walls clenched tightly around him. Tiernan didn’t stop, working her through her orgasm until she finally collapsed against him, utterly drained.

“Good lass,” Tiernan whispered in her ear, leaning over to kiss her, Isabeau parting her lips mindlessly as one last wave of pleasure shook her. For a few moments, she simply lay there, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasm, before she remembered that Tiernan was still unfulfilled, his hard length still pressing against her lower back.

Shifting on the cloak to face him, Isabeau straddled his legs, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close, pressing their foreheads together. Slowly, never once breaking eye contact with him, she reached between them to take him in her hand and guide him to her entrance. Tiernan gasped, his manhood twitching in her grip. When she sank onto his length, taking him deep inside her in one, smooth rock of her hips, he cursed under his breath, trembling with the effort it took to keep his own hips still.

Tiernan’s hands found her hips, guiding her movements. The two of them rocked slowly against each other, holding each other close, their bodies intertwined from head to toe. Isabeau could feel him deep inside her, filling her to the brim as their breaths mingled between them. He was the only thing she could see, the only thing she could feel, her world narrowing down to this one single moment when they were becoming one. Nothing else seemed to exist outside of them. Everything else faded away until there was only her and Tiernan, until Isabeau forgot about everything that wasn’t him.

“I love ye,” she said, whispering the words against his cheek. The stubble there was rough. It suited Tiernan, though, Isabeau thought. It gave him an even more rugged look, adding to that sharp edge he always seemed to have. “Promise me ye’ll always be with me.”

“I promise,” Tiernan said, wasting no time. “I promise ye, mo ghraidh. Naethin’ can take me away from ye. I love y, I love ye more than anythin’.”

That was all Isabeau needed to hear to calm her racing heart. As long as Tiernan promised her he wouldn’t go anywhere, she knew he would be there, by her side. Even if they faced the council when they returned home, even if for whatever reason, her brothers were opposed to them being together, as long as he promised her, then she believed him.

There was always a way, she told herself. Even when things seemed hopeless, there was always a way.

The slow, leisurely rock of Isabeau’s hips soon brought her to the edge once more, her flesh now overly sensitive, her body responding to the slightest of touches. Every time her mound brushed against Tiernan, every time she felt the drag of his manhood against her walls, every time he pressed his lips against her neck, his fingers against her buttocks, another wave of excitement coursed through her until it was all too much, the sensations building one over the other. When she sank down deep on his length, the angle pressing Tiernan’s manhood against a specific spot inside her, Isabeau was suddenly struck by her second climax, falling apart around him.

In response, Tiernan grabbed her hips with a moan, thrusting up into her a few more times before reaching his own orgasm, spilling inside her with a shudder.

Afterwards, the two of them sat there, still intertwined, still sharing the warmth of their bodies. Neither wanted to part, not even long enough to wash their clothes and head back to the path. Neither wanted to let the other go.

“I wish tae marry ye,” Tiernan said, and though it was something Isabeau already knew, hearing it again, like this, took her breath away. She was so used to Tiernan giving her reason after reason for why they couldn’t be together, it caught her by surprise. “I dinnae ken if it is possible. I willnae lie tae ye, Isabeau. I cannae bring meself tae believe that yer brothers will allow it. Ye may ken them better than I dae, but if there is one thing I ken, is that I wouldnae want me sister tae wed someone like me. But I love ye, I love ye, mo ghraidh , an’ I would dae anythin’ tae have ye as me wife.”

Isabeau felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Even now, even after everything they had been through together and everything Tiernan had done for her, he still didn’t consider himself good enough for her—which, as far as Isabeau was concerned, couldn’t be further from the truth.

She reached for him, cupping one of his cheeks with her hand, her thumb rubbing small circles on the swell of it. “I dinnae ken why ye insist on thinkin’ like this,” she said. “I love ye, an’ I think that is more than enough. Why should anyone else dictate what we dae? Tiernan, ye saved me life, time an’ time again. Ye’ve been by me side this whole time. Ye’ve done everythin’ fer me an’ ye still dinnae think yerself worthy o’ bein’ me husband? How can ye say that? Who could be worthier than ye?”

For a moment, Tiernan was silent, his brow furrowed as if he was in deep thought. It wasn’t easy for him to accept what she was saying, Isabeau knew—he had spent so many years thinking himself inferior, someone who was only good at killing and stealing and spreading chaos around him, that now it was difficult for him to believe he was someone else. But Isabeau didn’t care about his past. She only cared about the person he was now, the person she knew he would have always been had it not been for the circumstances that had thrown him into that kind of life. He hadn’t chosen to become a brigand; he simply hadn’t had any other choice.

When he didn’t speak, Isabeau pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. “Ye’re worthy o’ love, Tiernan. Dinnae fight it anymore. If ye’re fightin’ it, ye’re fightin’ me an’ I ken ye dinnae want that.”

It took Tiernan a long time to process what she said and for a while, Isabeau thought that she would get nowhere with him, but in the end, he nodded slowly, almost as if to himself. “Aye… aye, ye’re right. An’ I’ll prove it tae ye. I’ll prove tae ye an’ tae everyone that I’m worthy o’ yer love. I’ll dae anythin’.”

With a sigh, Isabeau pulled him close again, wrapping him in her arms. “Ye already have. Ye can rest now.”

A lifetime stretched before them. But in that moment, all that mattered was the present, the breaths they shared, the hold they had on each other’s bodies.