The moment they rode through the gates of Clachthrom, Diarmot looked for Ilsa. He wanted her and doubted he could wait until they retired for the night.
It galled him to admit it, but her passion would be the surest cure for the chill that had settled inside of him.
After leaving the boys with Fraser, Diarmot washed up in a room off the kitchen, and then searched for Ilsa. He was pleased to find her in the first place he looked. Since that was their bedchamber, it was also convenient.
Ilsa smiled at Diarmot as he entered the room, then frowned a little warily when he shut and latched the door behind him. "Is something wrong?"
She set aside the cushion she had been sewing and rose from her seat by the fire as he walked toward her.
"Another cushion?" he asked, smiling faintly.
"There are a lot of hard seats in this keep. Are Odo and Aulay all right?"
"Tired and dirty, nay more." He ran his hand down her arm, pleased to see her shiver a little in response at his touch. "This gown looks verra fine. The color suits ye."
A compliment, Ilsa thought in surprise, then eyed him with suspicion. In the six weeks she had been his wife, Diarmot had rarely complimented her, except when he was feeling passionate. She could not believe he was thinking of doing that when it was only late in the afternoon, but it would explain the locked door. It would also explain why he was not wearing his doublet.
"Thank ye," she murmured, then realized his hair was damp. "Ye have had a bath."
"Aye, I smelled too strongly of sweat and horses." He slowly tugged her into his arms, smiling at the faint scowl she wore. "I didnae wish to offend your wee nose."
Diarmot kissed the tip of her nose, then kissed the hollow by her ear. She gasped faintly and clutched his shirt. He traced the delicate shape of her ear with his tongue and felt her tremble. Here was the warmth he needed. Although it troubled him that he did need it, he found consolation in the fact that she did not recognize his weakness.
"Tis only the middle of the afternoon," she protested, but could not find the will to pull away.
Since her protest was so weak, Diarmot ignored it. He kissed her, fighting to keep enough of his wits about him to undo her gown. The moment it slid to the floor, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. After setting her in the middle of the bed, he removed her shoes, then hastily undressed. Ilsa looked beautifully flushed and a little dazed, but Diarmot did not want to give her enough time to shake free of desire's grip. Despite six weeks of sharing a bed, Ilsa retained her sense of modesty. He did not want her to become aware of the fact that she was half naked in bed with the sun shining brightly through the window.
Ilsa watched Diarmot shed his clothes with a speed that revealed a flattering eagerness. She did love to see the man naked and he looked especially glorious in the sunlight. She frowned, pulling free of the stupor his kisses always put her into, and started to look toward the window. Just as she was becoming painfully aware of how much light there was in the room, Diarmot settled himself on top of her, diverting her.
His kiss banished all concern about the time of the day from her mind. By the time he started to tug her shift down, she was so lost in her desire, she readily pulled her arms free of it. Ilsa clung to him as he followed the descent of her shift with hot kisses and strokes of his tongue. It was not until he tugged it completely off and tossed it aside that she again became aware of how much light shone into the room. When he crouched over her and she saw where he was staring, Ilsa felt as if she were blushing all the way down to her toes.
"Oh, nay," she whispered and placed her hands over her groin.
"Oh, aye," he said, clasping her hands in his and holding them captive against the bed.
She tensed with embarrassment when he kissed the inside of each of her thighs then touched his lips to the place that so ached for him. A heartbeat later embarrassment was burnt away by searing need. Ilsa freed her hands and threaded her fingers into his thick hair as she opened herself to his intimate kiss. She tried every trick she could think of to control her passion, even counting backward, so that she could savor the pleasure he gave her, but it was a losing battle. Knowing her release drew near, she tugged on his hair, eager to have him join with her. By the time he had kissed his way back up her body, she was shaking from the force of her need. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth at the same time he joined his body to hers.