“Ye are too sure of yerself, Arran. How can ye know what all women want?” I gasped as he slowly entered me once more, rocking gently as he closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure. He moved one of his hands down to me center, just above where he’d entered me and slowly built in me a sensation so overwhelming I could scarcely utter another word.
“What they want, lass, is to be worshiped, for a man to surrender himself to them, giving them every inch of his soul so that they know that once they’ve bedded him, he will nay love another for the rest of his days.”
He paused to plunge in deep once more, and I cried out as he filled me, reaching up to pull on the shoulder-length strands of his hair. He kissed me thoroughly before speaking once more.
“It has been asked of me many times, in the way a lass would touch me, opening nay only her legs but her heart, begging me to give them that most precious part of meself. I always tucked it away, never understanding why I couldna let that part of meself go. Now I know.”
“Aye?” The word came out breathlessly, extended as I moaned at the slow torture.
“Aye lass, ’twas for ye. Me heart waited for ye before I knew ye were to come into me life. I shall worship ye now, love, and as I do so, know that I share with ye me soul, for there is no other in me life but ye. If ye were nay to bed me again, ye would still own all that I am. For the truth is, lass, that ye’ve possessed me soul since the first moment I saw ye. By the end of this night, I shall lay claim over yers as well.”
“Oh, Arran, doona ye not know by now that ye already do?”
The night faded away as he stayed true to his word and not a bit of me went unexplored as he worshiped me over and over again until finally we went to sleep, well after the next morning’s sun had risen into the sky.
Chapter 42
“Now what did I tell ye, man?” Tormod stepped away, releasing the old man who’d served as gardener at the castle for three generations of Kinnairds, allowing him the chance to speak as he’d bid him.
“If I doona do what ye ask, ye shall kill me wife. Ye have her locked away and gagged her where I canna get to her.”
Tormod whacked the trembling man hard across the face. “Nay, ye fool. I shall certainly do all that ye have said, but I intended for me to tell ye what ye are to say to the villagers after ye gather them together this evening. Are ye certain that they will come if ye send for them?
He glared at the old man, watching as he reached up to rub the side of his cheek now red from the impact of his palm. “Aye, sir. I know all in the village and all know me. They shall listen to whatever I have to say to them.”
“Good and what is it exactly, man, that ye have to say?”
“That…that Blaire MacChristy is a witch. That I’ve seen her steal herbs from me garden so that she could cast her spells. That I believe she has bewitched Arran for some time, and it was she that killed Edana, no the loss of a child.”
“And what will ye tell them of Arran, if they should find him innocent in Blaire’s wrongdoing?”
“That the spell she cast on him is too strong and has addled his brain such that his bond to her will only be severed by death. That if we are to keep our village and children safe, we must rid ourselves of both Arran and his new bride, the MacChristy witch.”
“Aye, man. Now doona ye forget what shall happen to ye if ye should waver in yer story. I will be in the crowd listening to yer every word. If ye should waver ’tis yer wife that shall suffer, slowly, and ye shall serve as witness to every horrible act of violence that I have planned for her.”
Tears rolled down the old man’s face, and they brightened Tormod’s heart. Finally, he was the man he’d always hoped to be. People feared him. If his ancestors had taught him anything, it was that with fear came power.
He sent the man away to gather his clansmen. Tormod would follow the old man shortly, but first he had two bodies to dispose of. For come tomorrow, he would be laird. He would no longer have time for such trivial matters.
The first body was that of his sister. The second was the gardener’s wife. He’d slit her throat only moments after he’d taken her.
The old fool knew not that he did Tormod’s bidding for nothing. His wife was long dead, and as soon as he’d turned his clansmen against Arran and Blaire, he would join his wife in death.
*
We spent two more nights at the inn, leaving the room only when necessary. Eventually, we decided that it was time to return home where we hoped for nothing more than to have at least a fortnight of peaceful nothingness.
It took us mere moments as we neared the castle to know that we wouldna get our wish. It was night, but a large crowd gathered. We could hear the angry voices while still a good distance from the stables.
“What do ye think has happened, Arran?” Fear gripped me tight in the belly, and I fought back the urge to beg Arran to turn the horse around so that we could flee from here, something in the back of me mind warning me that the crowd awaited us.
“I doona know, lass, but I doona think there is need to worry.”