Page 64

28: SAFE IN MY KEEPING

HE HADN’T EXPECTED to find her up on the walls.

After supper, Lennox had joined the other guards in the barracks for a game of dice.

However, he hadn’t been in the mood for it, or for the strong wine they were drinking, and so he’d left them to play while he ventured outside.

The mist wreathed thickly around Dun Ugadale tonight, blocking out the waxing moon as well as the surrounding hills and water.

It pressed in, tendrils snaking across the ramparts like the tentacles of a ghostly squid.

The air was damp, with a chill that made him wrap his cloak about him.

Men were keeping watch up here, although the mist drew so close that he could barely make out their figures standing atop the guard towers, schiltrons in hand.

But there was one silhouette that didn’t wield a spear.

A slender, cloaked outline standing on the eastern wall, staring out at the bank of fog.

Davina.

Her stance reminded him of how he’d seen her, on their last night at Kilchurn.

She’d stood staring in the same direction, lost in thought.

She’d cut an ethereal figure then, and she did now.

Lennox paused a moment, watching her, before he quietly moved in Davina’s direction.

And then, when he was a few feet distant, he murmured her name.

She didn’t startle as he’d feared.

Instead, she glanced over her shoulder, as if she’d been expecting him.

Her mouth lifted at the edges, although her gaze was somber, sad.

“Come to order me off the wall and back to my bed?” she asked.

He gave a soft snort.

Aye, she too recalled that eve, the first occasion they’d spoken directly.

“I don’t think so, lass,” he replied softly.

“I remember how ye responded last time I tried that.”

She sighed, turning away once more.

“I’m difficult, aren’t I?”

“No.” He stepped up to her shoulder, his gaze traveling over the wreathing mist. It really was as thick as porridge, curling around them now.

She glanced his way again.

“We haven’t spoken much of late.”

He shrugged.

“I’ve tried to give ye freedom to find yer feet here.”

“While I’ve actively avoided ye.”

He winced.

The lass still could be painfully blunt.

“Am I that odious, Davina?” he asked after a pause, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

His pulse quickened then.

Maybe he was. Perhaps that was why she’d kept her distance.

“No,” she whispered.

“Ye are strong, proud … and loyal to a fault.”

Lennox jolted.

He hadn’t expected such praise.

He met Davina’s eye then.

She wasn’t smiling. Instead, her expression was bereft, her eyes deep pools of sadness.

“Nothing in life is simple, is it?”

He shook his head.

“When I accepted yer offer, I didn’t think about the possible consequences.” Her throat bobbed.

“What if Da attacks Dun Ugadale?”

Lennox sighed.

“He won’t.”

A groove formed between her eyebrows.

“How can ye be so sure?”

“I got to know yer father during my time at Kilchurn,” he replied with a rueful smile.

“Aye, he can be bullish, but he’s not irrational. He may be vexed with me for bringing ye here, and Iver for taking ye in … but I don’t think he’d lay siege to this broch over it.”

Reaching out, he took her hand.

Her fingers were slender and cold.

Too cold. How long had she been standing out here?

However, his words had eased her a little; he saw it in her eyes.

The light was dim upon the wall, her lovely face illuminated by the nearby glow of a brazier.

Silence swelled between them before Davina cleared her throat.

“I’ve missed ye,” she admitted huskily.

Warmth flushed through Lennox’s chest. “Ye have?”

“Aye. Ye aggravate me, Lennox Mackay, ye challenge me … but without ye, everything just seems … flat.”

Lennox’s breath rushed out of him, and he cupped her cold hand between his own, squeezing firmly.

“And I’ve missed ye, lass,” he admitted.

“Those days we spent together, riding here, brought me alive.” He paused there, noting the way her brow furrowed.

She didn’t understand what he meant.

He was going to have to speak plainer.

“When I asked ye to be my wife, I told ye it was because I wanted to protect ye,” he continued.

His pulse was galloping now, his breathing ragged.

“But that wasn’t the real reason … the truth of it is that even then I wanted ye .” He brought her hand up, placing her palm over his hammering heart.

“I’m not good with words like Kyle. I know I lack charm and manners … but surely, this doesn’t lie.”

Her fingers contracted against the quilted material of his gambeson.

“Lennox,” she whispered.

“I’m sick with love for ye,” he admitted, his voice hoarse now.

“It’s a weakness, Davina … ye could rip out my heart and trample over it if ye wished … but its yers, nonetheless.”

Her breathing hitched, and those plump lips he longed to kiss parted.

“It’s not a weakness,” she said shakily.

“It is an honor.” She paused then, as she stepped toward him, closing the gap between their bodies.

“And for what it’s worth, I’d never trample over yer heart. I’d hold it safe in my keeping, forever.”

And then, to his surprise, she leaned into him, raised her chin, and kissed him.

Lennox went still, marveling at the pillowy softness of her lips, while breathing in the scent of lavender from her hair.

A heartbeat passed, and another, and then he reached for her, his hands sliding through the silky tresses of her hair to cup the back of her head.

And with a groan of surrender, he kissed her back.

His mouth plundered hers, hot and hungry, while Davina responded with the same fierceness, the same fire.

Her initial kiss had been chaste, but it had only taken a few moments for desire to ignite between them, as it had weeks earlier.

His tongue swept her lips open, and she was lost.

He tasted delicious, just as she remembered.

And the feel of his heart, going wild against her palm, unleashed something primal within her.

Something that made her forget everything except Lennox.

He hauled her against him, and she fell into his embrace.

Their bodies melted together, and he became her world.

Davina’s hands slid up his chest, and she clutched at his shoulders.

The kiss deepened further, and as she pushed her hips against him, the iron strength of his erection strained against her belly.

Davina gasped, her hand shifting down to stroke him through his braies.

“Not here.” Lennox grasped hold of her wrist. “It’s too exposed … anyone could see.”

Emerging from the haze of desire, Davina blinked.

Of course, he was right.

Despite the enshrouding mist, guards stood at their posts just yards away.

They had no privacy on the wall.

Still holding her wrist, Lennox shifted back and led Davina off the wall.

Wordlessly, they descended the steep moss-covered steps to the barmkin.

There was no one about at this hour in the cobbled courtyard; even Brodie’s forge was dark.

Lennox didn’t lead her across the barmkin back to the broch itself as she’d expected.

Instead, he took one of the burning torches, hanging from a chain on the damp wall, and led her into a small building tucked under the eastern wall.

The smell of iron, wood, leather, and oil greeted Davina, and the ruddy light of the torch illuminated neat rows of helmets, spears, and swords.

He’d led her into the armory.

A bench ran along one side of the space, where the men stood while they polished their weapons.

Lennox placed the torch in a brace next to the door and turned to Davina.

For a few instants, they merely stared at each other, drinking each other in, and then they both stepped forward, their bodies colliding.

Their mouths met with renewed hunger, their hands tearing at each other’s clothing.

Their cloaks fluttered to the ground, and then Lennox was undoing the laces of her kirtle.

He growled with frustration as the laces knotted, while Davina yanked up the hem of his gambeson and léine, fumbling with the laces to his braies.

With a curse, Lennox ripped the front of her kirtle open and then shoved the garment, and the léine under it, down.

Her breasts popped free, straining toward him, and Lennox stared down at them, his thumbs caressing her hard-pebbled nipples.

“Ye have such delicious tits, Davina,” he murmured.

“I’ve dreamed of tasting them again.” And with that, he lifted her onto the bench.

He then stepped close, bowed his head, and took one stiff peak into his mouth, sucking it eagerly.

Davina’s gasp filled the armory, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself up to sensation.

His hot, eager mouth undid her, as it had back at Inverneil.

It shed all her cares from her—all worries for the future, and all regrets for the past. When he touched her, nothing but this instant mattered.

He suckled her harder then, and she arched against him.

She began scrabbling at his clothing once more, frustration pulsing through her.

“Please, Lennox,” she gasped.

“I need to touch ye.”

Panting, he ripped his mouth from her breasts and shrugged off his gambeson and léine.

The torchlight illuminated the hard lines of his body, and Davina’s hands traced across the planes of his chest, before sliding down to his belly and the vee of muscle that led down to his groin.

Her blood thundered in her ears as she undid his braies.

His shaft sprang free, rock hard, its crown swollen with need.

She wrapped her fingers around it, marveling at the satiny skin and the steel underneath.

She slid her hand down its length, thrilling as he groaned low in his throat.

Continuing, she gazed down at where his magnificent rod grew larger still, moisture beading on its head.

Images of that wild night at Inverneil returned then, as she’d sat astride his face while she took his shaft deep into her mouth, working him until he spilled.

She wanted to do it again.

Davina wriggled forward, intending to climb off the bench and sink to her knees before him.

Yet he stopped her, stepping back so that she released his throbbing shaft.

“No, lass,” he growled.

“I haven’t finished with ye yet.” The sensual promise in his voice made her shiver.

Her whole body was alight now, her limbs trembling.

“Lean back,” he instructed.

Pushing her skirts high around her waist, Lennox spread her wide, exposing her to him.

And then he stared down at her, his chest heaving now.

“Look at ye,” he growled.

“Beautiful.”

The intensity of his gaze made her squirm, yet when he slid his hand between her thighs and stroked her with his fingertips, she forgot about being embarrassed.

She forgot about anything but the glide of his touch.

His fingers found the exquisitely sensitive nub of flesh there, circling, stroking, and rubbing until her gasps and moans filled the armory.

Davina’s head fell back, knocking against the wall.

She barely noticed though, for warm, throbbing pleasure gathered in her loins, radiating out from where he stroked her.

And when he slid the slick tip of his rod between her thighs, pleasure twisted low in her belly, gathering and coiling.

“Please,” she choked.

“Now!”

Back in Inverneil, they’d taken some time to get to this point, but tonight there was an urgency to their coupling.

Tonight, the urge to join with him, to have him buried deep inside her, made Davina want to crawl out of her skin.

He didn’t argue with her, didn’t prolong her agony.

Instead, Lennox grabbed hold of her hips and tilted them up toward him.

And then, he thrust into her, sliding to the hilt in one go.

He was big, yet she was ready for him.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him even harder against her, welcoming the aching sensation that followed.

Rolling her hips, she whimpered.

“Lennox,” she breathed.

“This feels even better than last time.”

“Aye, angel,” he ground out, sweat glistening on his face now.

“Ye have no idea how often I’ve taken myself in hand of late … wishing I was buried inside yer tight, hot quim.”

Davina gasped.

Mother Mary forgive her, how his lusty words inflamed her.

Lennox slowly pulled back then, letting his shaft withdraw almost to the tip.

He stilled, his gaze ensnaring hers.

“This isn’t going to be gentle, lass,” he warned her.

Her lower belly melted at these words, an ache throbbing deep in her womb.

“Good,” she rasped back.

“Show me no mercy.”

Grunting a curse, he pinned her legs wide and slammed home once more.

He then plowed her in deep, powerful thrusts.

At first, Lennox stared down at where their bodies met as he took her, but as sweat slicked their bodies and the friction caught fire, he unraveled.

He grabbed Davina by the hips, pounding and grinding into her while she writhed under him.

Davina clung to his broad shoulders as he rode her.

Each deep stroke brought her higher, closer to oblivion.

She was both melting and catching fire at the same time.

Their mouths collided once more, their kisses rough and feverish—and when he took her over the brink, Davina cried out into his mouth.

But he wasn’t yet done, and he sank deep into her, again and again, drawing out her pleasure.

Ecstasy rolled over Davina, rippling out from her loins.

She shuddered, so wet now he almost slid out of her.

Lennox drove deep once more, and she wrapped her legs hard around him.

He went rigid then, his spine arching, his own raw cry muffled against her lips.

They clung together in the aftermath, the hunger and power of their coupling leaving them both speechless.

It took a while for the slow throb of pleasure in her womb to subside, and meanwhile, a languorous torpor seeped through Davina’s limbs.

She basked in it, her lips curving in satisfaction as Lennox’s arms went around her.

She nestled her face in his sweat-damp shoulder, enjoying the feel of him still buried inside her.

And eventually, when he drew back and sought her gaze with his, his dark-blue eyes gleamed with emotion.

“There’s no going back after this,” he whispered.

“No,” she replied, her lips tugging into another smile.

“There’s no denying I love ye, Lennox.”

His breathing hitched—and then, to her surprise, a single tear trickled down his cheek.

His chest heaved with emotion.

His reaction moved her, and she reached up, her fingers smoothing the warm droplet.

“I know it’s been a wee while since ye proposed to me,” she said huskily, her ribs constricting.

“But if the offer still stands, I’d like to accept.”