“Hurry,” Sorrell urged and tightened her grip on his taut arms.
John didn’t hesitate. He plunged into her, meeting less restraint than he had expected, but he mumbled several oaths beneath his breath when she cried out and before he could tell her that he was sorry for causing her pain, she smiled at him.
“You feel so good inside me.”
Her response eased his concern and ignited his passion and he smiled at her. “It gets better… much, much better.”
And it did.
Sorrell moaned so loud with pleasure that she drowned out the drum beats that had grown louder.
John captured her scream with a kiss when she climaxed, afraid it would echo throughout the keep. The kiss also helped stifle his own moan of pleasure that almost shot with a roar from his mouth, he had climaxed so hard.
“I can’t wait to do that again,” Sorrell said breathless and hugged him to her as best she could, since her arms didn’t fit even halfway around him.
He reluctantly rose up off her, having realized the relentless drum beat had stopped, signaling the Lord of Fire’s arrival, and held his hand out to her to help her up.
“We should do that often,” she said, taking his hand.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said and pulled her up off the bed and into his arms. “I did not hurt you, did I?”
“A twinge of pain no more and a small price to pay for unbelievable pleasure.”
He tucked a springy, red curl behind her ear. “Promise me you will always be who you are.”
She chuckled. “Are you sure you want that.”
“More than anything,” he said.
“I promise I will always be me,” she said and shrugged. “I couldn’t be any other way. And you? Promise me the same, since I think I’ve come to love you.”
She worried when he stared at her as if it was a promise he wasn’t sure he could make. Or had she surprised him or upset him with the mention of love? She was relieved when he finally spoke, though it was not what she had expected.
“Remember what I say this day to you, wife. I will keep you tucked in my heart and let no harm ever befall you for all our days. Never forget my words no matter what happens.”
For some reason a chill ran through Sorrell as if his words were a portent of things to come and she wondered if being tucked in his heart meant he loved her. A hard knock sounded at the door before she could ask what he meant.
“You must come, the Lord of Fire demands your presence,” Willow called out.
“You will remain by my side. Do not leave it, not once,” John ordered, taking her by the arm and hurrying her to the door.
There was that commanding tone again, one he seemed comfortable with, and as soon as she got a chance she was going to ask him about it. And let him know he wouldn’t be speaking that way to her.
Sorrell walked alongside her husband through the Great Hall, somewhat surprised to see it empty. She expected to find the Lord of Fire waiting there for them. When John opened the door and raised voices greeted them from outside, she realized why.
The men no sooner had gotten off their horses, then they were arguing.
She was relieved to see that Willow and Snow remained close to the keep’s door, Thaw letting a tiny yelp out each time he got the courage to peek his head out from beneath the hem of Snow’s garment, and Willow keeping a firm arm around her.
“You think it matters to me that Lord Northwick sends his son here?” Tarass, the Lord of Fire asked, his blue eyes glaring with anger. “It changes nothing.”
Sorrell was familiar with Tarass’s commanding nature. Who in the surrounding area wasn’t? She had seen large men quake in his presence and women stare in fascination then scurry in fright if he looked their way.
He was a man of fine features and one that could intimidate with one look. He kept his dark hair short at the nape of his neck and at the sides as well. He was tall and lean, but defined with muscle, warning one not to underestimate his strength. She had seen him lay a large man low one day to the shock of all around him. He demanded respect and easily got it, though more out of fear than respect itself. He was a man to watch with caution.
That James had little choice but to pledge his loyalty to Tarass had been obvious. His troop of warriors he had returned home with were far from abundant, but there were whispers that there were more—much more.
“That you run here at Walsh MacLoon’s bidding to try and convince James to go against me and join forces with him shows me MacLoon isn’t as confident about Northwick’s help as he claims to be.”