Desire pounded through her brain as he began to move more swiftly. His muscles strained and her fingers dug deep into his skin as he loved her, faster and faster, easing that first tiny bit of pain until she felt nothing but that same dark, dusky yearning that she experienced when he kissed her. In that sublime second, she was swept away, and the stars flashed a brilliant hue as he convulsed against her. “Megan!” he cried fiercely. “Oh, love!”
With a triumphant yell, he fell against her, crushing her breasts, his sweat-soaked body joined with hers as she floated away on a cloud of contentment, not thinking of the morrow, not worrying about her freedom, not concerned with anything other than this one glorious man.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, when his heart had quit beating so wildly he thought it might burst.
“Nay.” Her breath was feather-light upon his skin, and he wrapped them both in his cloak, holding her close to him, trying to protect her from the cold winter air. Tenderly, he kissed her forehead and wondered why this woman touched him so deeply. What was it about her that had crept so easily past the barrier he’d worked years to construct, the wall that kept him from caring too deeply for anyone?
Cayley hoped to visit the cripple again. The man, whom she’d sworn to detest, held a fascination for her. She sneaked out of her room and was halfway down the hall when she heard the laughter—a woman’s laughter, soft but distinctive—chasing down the corridors. The bolt on Holt’s door clicked loudly.
Cayley ducked into the shadows.
“If ye be needin’ any more favors, m’lord,” Nell, the freckled seamstress, said as she tossed her hair from her face, “let me know.”
Holt’s voice was low. “Mayhap next time you can bring your friend, Dilys, with you?”
The seamstress pouted. “Dilys? She’s scrawny.”
“Ah, but she has some fine qualities. I think she could learn to pleasure a man.”
“She’s but a lass, barely ten.” Nell shook her head. “Nay, I think not—”
“Bring her with you tomorrow,” Holt ordered, grabbing Nell by the neck of her tunic and running his hands familiarly over her breasts. She arched her spine and purred like a cat. “You need not Dilys, m’lord,” she said, lolling her head and exposing her throat and a breast that Holt chose to bare. His fingers ran distractedly over her nipple. “I will do whatever you want.”
“You’re but one woman, Nell, and an amply endowed one at that. But sometimes one mouth is not enough. Bring Dilys to me tomorrow.” His voice turned hard and he pinched her nipple, causing her to cry out. “And tell her not what I intend to do with her. ’Tis better when there’s a bit of surprise—aye, even fear—involved.”
“You intend to frighten her?” Nell asked, trying to step away, but Holt wouldn’t let go.
“Just a wee bit. ’Twill be fun. Come, Nell, be a good lass.” And with that, he covered her breast and shut the door. Nell slipped down the stairs and Cayley cringed, the contents of her stomach turning sour.
Wolf’s gentle snoring was soft against her nape and Megan, too, wanted nothing more than to sleep with him in the waning moonlight, to cling to him and hold him forever.
But she could not.
They’d coupled thrice already and she tingled at the memory of each savage union, when they’d used the soft fir needles and their clothes for their bed. Finally, sated and spent, he’d fallen asleep, and now Megan had to make good her escape. Though she longed to stay with him, this was her last chance to leave. She planned to ride to Castle Erbyn and speak to Lady Sorcha. If Wolf spoke the truth about Holt, then her husband was a traitor to Dwyrain. However, Ewan would not take the word of an outlaw against that of his most trusted knight. Therefore, she must uncover the truth herself by speaking with Lady Sorcha, who was Tadd of Prydd’s sister.
Surely Sorcha would know of Holt, had he been in Tadd’s army, thus proving Wolf to be honest or a liar of the highest order. Gently, she lifted Wolf’s arm away from her waist and slid out from under his cloak, which they’d used as a coverlet. The air was chill upon her skin as she silently pulled on breeches and tunic while forgoing her mantle, which was crumpled beneath his body. Hardly daring to breathe, she edged to the horses, tethered together in a thicket of oak. Untying the reins and rope with fumbling fingers, she sent up prayer after prayer that Wolf would sleep.
Once the knots were free, she led both beasts away from the fir tree and deeper into the woods. She couldn’t take a chance that he might catch up with her, for if he did, every thing she’d planned would be ruined—the execution of her plan was certainly the salvation for them, each and every one.
Nervous sweat collected on her skin as she slid a bridle over Wolf’s stallion’s head. She didn’t bother with a saddle, and shivering, she climbed onto the destrier’s broad back and held on to the reins of the smaller horse’s bridle. Guilt clung close to her as a shadow as she clucked her tongue and followed the lowering moon. He would awaken alone, without even a horse to carry him to camp. She found no satisfaction in the thought, but urged the horses forward and wondered why she didn’t feel relieved that she’d out-tricked him.
Tears filled her eyes and she told herself their sting was from the fierce wind tearing through the hollow and had nothing to do with leaving her heart in the forest. Somewhere overhead an owl hooted, as if mocking her for her foolishness, but she stiffened her spine and refused to glance over her shoulder, didn’t notice that she was being watched, that standing deep in the shadows of the forest, the outlaw called Wolf watched her leave him, making not one single sound of protest.
’Twas his punishment for bedding her. Despite the demons that had screamed in his head, despite each of his promises to himself, despite the fact that she was his enemy’s wife, he’d made love to her with a passion he’d never before felt.
Never had the earth shifted beneath him, never had he joined with such a willing, loving virgin. Never had he felt such a total release of his soul.
His fists clenched as he hid in the night-shrouded forest and he sent up a prayer—the first in years—for her safety. The urge to chase her was strong, and he had to force himself to let her go. ’Twas what she wanted.
Ten
e lost ’er?” Odell repeated, eyeing Wolf as if he’d finally and truly gone daft. He pushed off his hood, though the wind was bitter cold a
s it raced and screamed through the surrounding trees. “Two ’orses gone, too, includin’ yer favorite?”
“That’s what I said,” Wolf grumbled, meeting the gaze of each of his men with his own brutal stare. Amusement flickered in more than one pair of eyes and smiles were held in check by quivering muscles near the corners of their mouths. Apparently, they thought it great sport that their leader had finally met his comeuppance, and by a woman, no less.
Let them think what they would. Bone-tired from a night of lovemaking and then hiking back to the camp, he wanted none of their nonsense, but understood that he would be the butt of jokes for days to come. ’Twas part and parcel to her release. At the thought of her leaving, he felt a deep emptiness, as if she’d cut a hole in his heart.