Page 2 of The Warrior
All his life, he’d minded his temper, both because he was bigger than other lads and because his position was precarious. He hated the way Moira made him lose control.
“That’s sweet.” She laughed and kissed his cheek. “I was trying to make ye jealous.”
“Why would ye do that?”
“To make certain ye would meet me, because we need to talk.” Her voice was serious now. “Duncan, I want us to marry.”
Duncan closed his eyes and, for one brief moment, let himself pretend it was possible. He imagined what it would be like to be the man so blessed as to sleep with this lass in his arms each night and to wake up each morning to her sunny smile.
“It will never happen,” he said.
“Of course it will.”
Moira was accustomed to having her way. Her father, who had no other weakness, had spoiled her, but he would not give in to her on such an important matter.
“Your father will never permit his only daughter to wed the nursemaid’s bastard son,” he said. “He’ll use your marriage to make an alliance for the clan.”
Duncan pulled out his flask of whiskey and took a long drink. With Moira talking such nonsense, he needed it.
“My father always lets me have what I want in the end. And what I want,” she said, her breath warm in his ear as she ran her hand down his stomach, “is you, Duncan Ruadh MacDonald.”
With all his blood rushing to his cock, he couldn’t think. He pulled her into his arms, and they fell across the blanket, their legs tangled.
“I’m desperate for ye,” she said between frantic kisses.
He still found it hard to believe Moira wanted him—but when she put her hand on his cock, he did believe it. For however long she wanted him, he was hers.
* * *
Duncan ran his fingers through Moira’s hair as she lay with her head on his chest. He fixed every moment of their time together in his memory to retrieve later.
“I love ye so much,” she said.
An unfamiliar sensation of pure joy bubbled up inside Duncan.
“Tell me ye love me,” she said.
“Ye know I do,” he said, though it made no difference as to what would happen. “I’ll never stop.”
His feelings didn’t come and go like Moira’s. One week, she loved her brown horse, the next week the spotted one, and the week after that she didn’t like to ride at all. She had always been like that. They were opposites in so many ways.
Duncan forced himself to sit up so he could see the sky outside the cave.
“Ach, it’s near dawn,” he said and cursed himself. “I must get ye back to the castle quickly.”
“I will convince my father,” Moira said as they dressed. “He’s no fool. He can see that one day you’ll be a famed warrior known throughout the Western Isles.”
“If ye tell your father about us,” he said, cupping her face in his hands, “that will be the end of this.”
Moira could not be as naïve about it as she pretended.
“He would let us wed if I carried your child,” she said in a small voice.
Duncan’s heart stopped in his chest. “Tell me ye are taking the potion to avoid conceiving?”
“Aye,” she said, sounding annoyed. “And I’ve had my courses.”
He brushed his thumb over her cheek. It was strange, but he would love to have a child with her—a wee lass with Moira’s laughing eyes. He had no business having thoughts like that. It would be years before he could support a wife and child, and he’d never be able to provide for a woman accustomed to fine clothes and servants.
