—
I don’t know how I made it upstairs. Certainly quickly, and certainly not gracefully, and when I finally reached my bed, I blubbered shamelessly, burying my face in the pillow.
There was a quiet knock on the door. Even though my sobs had subsided into quiet weeping, my ignominious retreat had certainly been loud enough to wake Meg.
“It’s not locked,” I said.
The door opened, and the light of a candle cast long shadows at the far end of the room. Judging by its silhouette, the chair was almost as tall as the ceiling. I lay facing it, my knees folded nearly to my chest, my face and pillow wet with tears.
“Sorry I woke you up,” I mumbled.
“I’m not,” said Angus.
I jerked my head off the pillow and looked behind me. He was standing in the doorway, holding the candle.
“May I come in?”
I pulled myself upright, sliding backward until I was against the headboard. I sniffed and wiped my face with shaking hands.
He set the candle on the dresser and crossed the floor to the bed.
“Forgive me,” he said.
I stared at him, trembling. Fresh tears rolled down my face.
He sat on the bed and ran a thumb across my cheek. I held my breath and closed my eyes.
“Forgive me,” he said again.
When I opened my eyes, I was looking directly into his.
“I was wrong, mo run—this is exactly the right time.”
He shifted closer and began kissing the tears from my cheeks in a slow, tender dance that moved from one side of my face to the other. Finally, when I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, he put his lips on mine.
They were warm and full and slightly parted, and I felt the quickness of his breath behind them. He kissed me over and over, with increasing urgency, his beard brushing against my skin. His hand slid down my neck and into my nightgown.
I gasped, and he stopped.
With his hand cupping my breast, he searched my face for a signal. It was a moment of excruciating sweetness, of torturous rapture, of exquisite need. It was unbearable.
I leaned forward, tugging at his shirt. He stood and pulled it over his head. I knelt on the bed, yanking at my nightgown.
“Wait,” he said, and this time I was the one who stopped.
He removed my nightgown, slowly, reverently.
I had never felt so exposed, yet I didn’t want to cover myself. The candlelight flickered behind him, and his breathing grew even heavier as his eyes traveled my body, resting without shame on my breasts and hips.
“Mo run geal og,” he said. “So beautiful.”
He untied his pajamas and let them drop to the floor. I caught my breath. I obviously knew the anatomy, but other than statues, I’d never seen a naked man, never mind an aroused one. Angus seemed to sense that and paused, giving me a chance to look.
Finally, he knelt on the bed and put a hand behind my neck, supporting my head as he guided me backward.
Moments later, when he was poised above me, he looked deep into my eyes and said, “You’re sure, mo chridhe? For this cannot be undone.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I am completely and absolutely sure.”
When he sank into me, I was so lost my body began to quake. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, holding on for dear life.
—
The next morning, it took me a moment to realize I wasn’t dreaming. The candle had long since burned out, so we were in cave-like darkness, side by side, our naked bodies pressed together. He had one arm under my pillow and the other across me, his hand resting between my breasts. I lay very still, with my hands on his forearm. When he stirred, I clasped his hand to my heart and ran my fingers up his arm, marveling at our different textures. Although he was still asleep, a pulsing nudge intensified until the length of him was pressed against my back.
I rolled over and pulled the sheets down, kissing his chest and tracing his scars with my lips and fingers. When I finally worked my way up to his mouth, he took my face in his hands and pressed his lips against mine, parting them so we shared the same breath. A moment later, he lifted me across him like I weighed nothing, setting me down so my knees were on either side of him. I put both hands on his abdomen to brace myself, more than a little shocked to find myself straddling him.
He reached up and ran his thumbs over my nipples. I sucked in my breath and almost didn’t let it out again.
“Maddie, mo chridhe,” he said.
“Angus—oh my God,” I said in a broken voice. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You do, though. Let yourself come to me.”
I lowered my hips slowly, and stopped breathing altogether when I felt the tip of him pressing against me.
“Angus—”
“It’s all right,” he said, stroking my face. “Na stad. I’m right here with you.”
He held himself steady while I took him into me, slowly, slowly, sliding down until he was buried so deep our hips met, then lifting myself up until I was afraid I might lose him, then sinking back down until we were joined again. I leaned forward and put my hands on either side of his head, breathing hard into the pillow beside his face.
He had his hands on my waist, and his hips rose a little higher each time I sank down, pushing himself deeper and staying there longer. I felt his blood pounding, as if our nerve endings had merged.
My legs were shaking violently, and just when I thought I was going to lose control entirely, he reached up and clasped my hands, intertwining our fingers, and guaranteed it.
The contractions overwhelmed me, so unexpected and intense I cried out, and he held my face, covering my mouth with his, pressing into me, faster, more urgently. When I felt his own surrender, I was shot through with an ecstasy so intense I thought my heart might actually stop.
After, as we lay in each other’s arms, he stroked my hair and back. My face was buried in his neck, and every breath I took was suffused with his scent.
“Well,” he said, kissing me. “I’m afraid that while I’d love to stay here forever, duty calls.”
I caught his wrist. “I love you, Angus Grant. With all my heart, I love you.”
He leaned over and gave me a long, lingering kiss.
“And I, you, mo chridhe.”