Page 54

Chapter

K ieran’s revelations.

MacBrannigan’s attack.

His death.

So much had happened that day, and yet as Kieran strode toward her, all Maisie could think was how much she wished to be in his arms. To feel his body against her. Inside her. When he lifted her chemise, she raised her arms to assist him.

He reached behind her, pulled Maisie’s braid forward, and began to undo it. “I would see your hair flow freely between us as I make love to you.”

As I make love to you.

With her hair now tumbling around her shoulders, Maisie moved toward Kieran, whose hands gently caressed first her neck, and then downward over her shoulders and then arms.

“I would touch every part of you,” he said, his fingertips on her waist and then gliding upwards, finally cupping both breasts. She closed her eyes, giving herself completely over to his touch. When his hand glided down between her legs, she held on to his shoulders to steady herself.

“So wet,” he said, his voice so low she could hardly hear him. Maisie’s eyes popped open. “So ready for me.”

That, she heard.

When he removed his hand and guided her toward the bed, she expected to lie beneath him as she’d done before. Instead, Kieran lay on his back. Pulling her atop him, he guided her until she straddled him from above.

“You are in control.”

She looked down, unsure how to proceed. His smile did not help matters.

“Kieran,” she said. “I do not know how to do this.”

“I assure you.” He gripped himself with one hand and splayed his other on her hip, guiding it upward. “You do.” Easing onto him, Kieran’s groan of pleasure encouraging her, Maisie propped herself on his shoulders with both hands and began to move.

Though his hands remained on her hips, aiding her as she moved up and down, it was Maisie who set the pace. Maisie who controlled their movements.

“I like this very much.”

“Good. You will be doing it a lot.”

She was about to ask what he meant by that, precisely, when his hand moved between them, his thumb rubbing and pressing her just right. In response, her hips seemed to move of their own volition. Circling and pressing until Maisie’s entire body screamed for release.

“Kieran.” She watched him as his lips parted, Kieran’s expression one of pure pleasure. She was doing this to him. “I . . .”

“Go on,” he said, his thumb circling to perfection.

His gentle encouragement was all Maisie needed.

Her toes curled as her core squeezed tight and then released, everything tensing, but blessedly so.

As the glorious feeling began to ebb, her movements made even easier, if such a thing were possible, because of the wetness between them . . . she realized . . .

“You are not pulling from me?”

“Should I?”

The implications of his words flooding her, Maisie’s body coming alive once more, she said nothing. Instead, she began to move again. Up and down, watching Kieran’s expression as he grabbed her hips in earnest and pumped into her from below.

This time, he was in control, even with her atop him.

“Nay,” she said, the building of sensation inside her stomach once again threatening to overtake her.

“Nay,” she said again, her words seeming to push Kieran over the edge.

With a roar of pleasure, Maisie’s core once again clenching as he thrust one final time into her, Kieran held her hips in place.

And spilled his seed inside her.

Joined, irrevocably, she fell atop him. Exhausted. Sated. But also . . .

Terrified.

She lifted her head after some time.

“What have we done?” she asked, the waves of pleasure once again ebbing.

“We’ve made love,” Kieran said, his eyes bright with merriment. “And you came twice for me. I will take it as a new standard for our lovemaking.”

She could not resist smiling along with him. “I dinnae know such a thing was possible.”

“There are many things I’ve yet to teach you.”

She blinked, considering his words that eve. “You speak as if we willnae part when you learn all you need to know of your past.”

“Surely you do not think I’d make love to you in that way and then leave?”

Propped up on him in the most intimate of positions, she and Kieran stared into each other’s eyes for some time. And for one wild moment, she considered saying the words that had been true even before she’d accepted them.

She loved him. And wanted nothing more than to be with this man. And yet . . .

“I will never marry again.”

“I willnae leave you, Maisie. Not after this night. Or before it, even. When I saw you in MacBrannigan’s clutches . . .” His expression changed rapidly. “I willnae leave you.”

“I would not have you leave,” she admitted. “The thought of you riding away from the Red Stag, never to return . . . yet, I made a vow to myself.”

“A vow you made because of your husband. But I am not him. Surely you realize as much.”

She did. Maisie certainly did. Yet the thought of giving Kieran complete control over her life . . . If she married him, all she had would be his. Including herself. It was simply the way of things.

“I do,” she said. “But—”

His finger touched her lips, stopping her. “Do not voice it. Instead, think of what we just shared.”

“How could I not,” she teased, “lying atop you this way?”

Kieran did not answer. Instead, he pulled her head down to him and kissed her. His tongue exploring. His hands holding her head in place, as if she would dare move from him . . . the kiss was unlike many of their others.

It was slow.

Passionate.

Loving.

He’d not said the words either, but she could feel Kieran’s love in the way his mouth moved over hers.

His words implied it. His actions this night were easy to interpret.

And though her heart soared at the prospect of not parting from this man who kissed her so affectionately, a part of her held back.

She could not marry again, not even him. And Maisie doubted Kieran would accept such an arrangement. Nor did she wish it, for she was not fool enough not to realize eventually their lovemaking would produce a babe. One whose parents should be wed.

Tomorrow Maisie would think more on it. For now, she gave herself over to Kieran’s kisses and the promise of sleeping in his arms once again.