All that mattered was him.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Consciousness slowly seeped into Darach, and with it, he became aware of the burning pain in his side that grew stronger with each second he was awake. It became so much stronger that he stirred and shifted restlessly in an attempt to relieve the unbearable ache but to no avail.
“Be still, Darach, or ye'd rip yer stitches.”
Was he still dreaming? He knew he'd heard the sweet angelic voice in his dreams, and it sounded flawless. He knew who the voice was, but his delirious mind couldn't put a face to her. He'd struggled and struggled until he'd come to just identify her as the voice in his dreams.
Suddenly, the melody was accompanied by delicate hands. The feeling of her warm hands on his scorching skin was nigh unbearable, but he stilled, not wanting them to stop touching him.
It was confusing, how her touch could pierce through the fires of his discomfort and give him relaxation and delights of the sweetest kind. How she did it, he didn’t know. Her presence pulled him from the heat and pain to a direction of the softest, loveliest feeling a man could have.
Darach tried to swallow, but his throat was parched and hurting. “Thirsty,” he whispered hoarsely.
He slid his tongue over his dry, cracked lips, craving the soothing balm of some moisture.
“Aye, but just a bit. For I’ll nae have ye retching all over the floor,” the voice said.
He felt her tuck an arm underneath his neck and lift his head. A wave of shame hit him that he was now as weak as a newborn kitten and would have never been able to hold himself up if it weren’t for her firm grip.
Darach felt the rim of a goblet pressed to his lips and opened his lips to drink greedily. The cool water was a shock to his system. It was so cold and refreshing that a shiver stole over his body. The contrast was almost painful. The cold contrasted with the fires that burned under his flesh.
“There,” the voice soothed. “‘Tis enough for now. I ken yer suffering from the pain. I’ll make a broth that will make ye sleep a little easier and ease the ache.”
But Darach didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to remain conscious in her arms, cradled to her bosom. Her bosom felt soft and plump. His mind flashed an unclear memory. He'd held on to this bosom once, and it had given him immeasurable comfort and pleasure.
He turned, nuzzling into her softness. He inhaled her sweet fragrance and felt the fires of his agony immediately recede. Her presence surrounded him with a peaceful feeling. She was indeed heavenly.
“I ken ye,” he muttered. He was sure he knew her well.
“Aye, my laird. I ken ye as well. Hush now. Ye must rest so ye can regain yer strength. I’ve not worked this hard for ye tae be restless and undo all the work. Ye cannae die on me.”
No, he had no intention to die. There were important things he must do, though at the moment, his unfocused mind couldn’t grasp exactly what it was that was so pressing.
Maybe she was right. He needed to rest awhile. Perhaps the next time he awakened, he’d know the right of things, and he’d be able to recognize this angel that cared for him.
Weariness was creeping in. He inhaled her scent one last time, wanting to absorb her essence in those final moments of consciousness before he slipped into slumber.
As he dragged in her aroma, a warm, soothing buzz flowed through his veins and lulled him even further, filling him with peace. He was at home with her. He felt safe.
“Aye, Darach. Ye are safe with me. I am nae leaving yer side.”
He felt soft lips brush over his brow, wavering at his temple. He turned his face towards her, wanting her mouth on his own. The desire for her kiss felt like life itself. He needed to taste her just as much as he needed to draw his next breath.
She hesitated for what seemed like an eternity to him before her mouth finally touched his. It was like an innocent gesture from a child. It wasn’t enough, and he wanted much more.
“Kiss me, please,” he growled low in his throat. He heard her soft sound of exasperation before her breathing hitched, and felt her warm breath over his mouth. He could feel her shuddering against him. That tiny puff of air showed that she was close. Despite the soreness in every fiber of his body, he lifted his arm and sank his hand into her hair, gripping her nape to maintain her position as he raised his head, and their lips met. It was a breathless, heated kiss.
Her taste filled his mouth as his tongue slid over her lips like smooth honey. He could swear by the gods that she was the sweetest thing existing. He pushed impatiently at her lips, urging her to open them to him. She gave him what he wanted, and her lips parted with a moan. He delved inside, probing and tasting every part of her mouth.
Aye, she tastes like heaven. Her taste sapped him, and with his strength gone, he slumped back to the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a thud.
“Ye've overextended yerself, my laird,” she scolded in a hoarse voice.
“‘Twas worth it,” he whispered. Darach thought he saw her smile, but couldn't be sure for everything was so blurry to his unfocused eyes. He was vaguely conscious of her leaving, but he didn’t have the strength to protest.
She returned a moment later and pressed a goblet to his lips again. This brew was bitter, and he coughed when he tasted it. She didn’t relent and instead poured the liquid into his mouth until he had no choice but to swallow. Once she was done, she gently stroked his brow with her fingertips as she lowered his head to the pillow.