He poured and steam billowed.
Slowly, ever so slowly her body cooled but not the deep and aching desire she had for him. What was she going to do about this desperate need for more that had taken her over? If he ever did mark her, she’d likely burst into flames, and honestly, she could no longer deny how much she wanted him to mark her as she’d marked him. They were mated, and the bond had taken ahold of her with a fierce intensity she couldn’t deny. Never had she felt so alive than when she’d been in his arms, and the thought of being without him, it brought pain to her very soul.
“I want you.” Tears misted her gaze. “And I hate having to push you away.”
“I understand why you must, and all will be well, no matter the challenges that lie ahead of us. Keep the faith that we’ll meet them together. Because we will, and always at each other’s side.” He set the pail down and extended a hand to her. “Have you cooled sufficiently?”
“I have, and I need to remain that way.” She slid her fingers around his and he tugged her to her feet, her gown drying with a mere thought as she stood.
“We’re soul bound, Arabel, and we’ll work around your skill, because I intend to join with you. You will be mine, forever, just as I will be yours.”
“Your safety comes first, above all things.” She’d never concede on that.
“I agree, just as your safety too comes first.” He slid one finger under her chin, kept her gaze firmly on his. “Glad I am that you’ve finally accepted all that we will be.”
“I will never burn you.” She stood by that conviction. She’d gladly take her own life before she ever harmed a hair on his head.
“I know. Come. Let’s head downstairs before I lose all thought and drag you back to that bed and really have my wicked way with you.” He opened the door and motioned her through.
“That no longer sounds like such a bad thing.” She reached up on her toes and kissed his chin then before she could give into the look of hungry need in his eyes, she continued on down the passageway.
They traversed the stairwell then entered the great hall. The massive vaulted room held a sweeping crown of wooden beamed rafters that rose to an impressive height, as well as an impressive number of warriors. A hundred or more were seated at trestle tables stacked with platters of cooked meat, boiled eggs, and bread, all of the men eating their fill as serving maids bustled about offering bowls of hot oats and tankards of warm cider.
At the back table nearest the wide arched stone fireplace where sparks flared and firelight shimmered across the hefty clan shield hanging over it, a good forty MacDonald warriors, a score more than the day before, broke their fast. Since the MacKenzie too desired to take the Chief of MacDonald’s land on the Isle of Skye, the MacDonalds had banded together with them in order to fight their enemy as one. Certainly the more warriors they had to defend this keep and the village, the better.
Ahead at the dais, two men sat, both identical to Finlay in every way, from their shoulder-length locks of midnight-black to their wide chests and towering height. Or almost identical. A mark in the shape of a bear’s claw graced the neck of the warrior attired in black leather pants and a fur vest over a white tunic. The same mark given to Ivan, Gilleoin’s second-born son. The singular claw mark gave proof Ivan’s future line would be shifter alone. While, Kenneth, Gilleoin’s firstborn son, held the claw-and-star mark symbolizing his dual shifter-fae blood. ’Twas wondrous to see Gilleoin’s shifter lines had survived more than eight-hundred years, although now they were on the cusp of extinction and such a loyal line of shifters should never be allowed to fall.
“That’s Iain, my eldest brother, with the mark of the claw,” Finlay breathed in her ear. “His mate, Isla, sits beside him.”
Isla, clothed in a richly colored gown of gold with white silk edging the bodice and cuffs leaned toward Iain, her long brown locks swaying forward. She whispered something then nipped his lobe. He growled, sent her a wickedly hot look that spoke of intended promises then kissed her cheek.
“How long have they been mated?”
“Not long, although it took Iain five years to track her down. She was concerned about joining with him, that she’d lose her own clan, so she ran each night the full moon rose. You would have heard the prophecy your grandmother first spoke of at Kenneth and Ivan’s birth, right?”