Page 41 of Connal

“Aye, but they’re used to the cold and snow.” He stacked two splits over the kindling before using his firesteel to ignite it, and then blew on the tiny flames that appeared. “In my boyhood I chopped and brought wood for an old shepherd named Duff. Stubborn old man refused stop roaming the hills with the flocks, so my sire bid me keep all of the shelters well-stocked. I once did the same with our woodmen. ’Tis yet one more task I’ve neglected.”

“If you try hard,” Valerie said, “you can blame yourself for everything that goes wrong on the island.”

He sat back on his heels. “The laird rules over Caladh, so everything wrong, ’tis my fault. You being trapped here, ’tis another problem I’ve ignored.”

“I’m not so sure it really is a problem. What if I go back to my time, and find myself still in my car at the bottom of that lake? No one knew I was there but Dale’s lover, and she wanted me to die. I couldn’t get out of the car. I would drown.” When he glanced at her she made a helpless gesture. “I like being alive more than I like what was happening my time, that’s all I’m saying.”

He’d rather keep her here than risk that, Connal thought, his mood growing lighter.

Once he’d gotten the fire started he stood and turned to see Valerie asleep sitting up, her arms still hugging her knees under the blanket. Her boots lay where she had dropped them by the bed. He went over to ease her down onto her back, but as soon as he touched her she wrapped her arms around his neck and huddled against him. Knowing she would be warmer nearer the hearth, he lifted and carried her over to the big, crudely-made wooden chair and sat down with her. The slightness of her made him wonder if she would fall sick from becoming so chilled.

Her damp curls tickled the underside of his chin as she pressed herself to him and released a slow sigh.

Connal rubbed his hands over her narrow back as he watched her face. This close he could see the white tips of her golden eyelashes, which were much longer than he’d imagined. A tiny dark brown mole hid in the corner of her left eyelid, and another nestled on the side of her nose just beneath her eyebrow. Her top lip curved out from the bottom, almost as if she were preparing to kiss something. He’d never seen such a lovely mouth, and remembering its softness against his made him bend his head so her breath touched his face.

A memory of Joana came then, one he had tried many times to forget. She had cowered on their wedding night, afraid of his nakedness and her own, as if being together were something that shamed her. It had taken many nights of holding her and countless gentle kisses and words for him to calm her and ease her into loving each other as husband and wife. His patience had wooed her, for every night after that she would open her arms to him willingly.

Valerie’s breath warmed his lips as she murmured something.

He should wake her, Connal knew. Holding her and watching her sleep was only putting more nonsense in his head. She didn’t want him or any man. He did not desire to force himself on her in any fashion. Yet he had missed this, having a woman in his arms, awash in her fragile scent as he beheld her beauty. It gave him a sense of satisfaction in being a man of considerable size and might, and that this delicate, lovely woman trusted him to protect her. Yet in that moment Shaw’s words came back to thrash him.

What the fack want you from that woman? You either lock yourself away from her, or stalk her like a starving hunter. You refuse give her to the Finfolk, but make no place for her among the clan.

Connal wanted her. Not as a wife, and not as a vassal, but as his lover. He wanted her skin against his, and to taste her lips as he caressed her. He wanted to pleasure her until all she could think of was him and what they did together in his bed. He wished to sleep with her in his arms like this, and wake her every morn with kisses and more loving.

In those unseemly thoughts desire began to fill him, hard and hot and demanding––and yet she did not want him in the same way.

As if she knew his thoughts in that moment Valerie’s hand moved to the back of his neck, and she brought her lips to his. He did nothing as she kissed him in her sleep, her soft lips caressing his mouth, the velvety edge of her tongue touching his. Her breasts rose and pressed against his chest as she turned her body toward his, making the blanket fall away. As her nipples puckered under the thin, damp linen of her leine he lost the battle with himself and brought his hand to her ribs. The weight of her cheb’s soft mound pressed along the edge of his thumb and finger, and throbbed with the quickening of her heartbeat. She glided her lips from his mouth to the side of his neck, where she stroked his skin with her tongue.

If ’twas any other female I’d fack her the rest of the night.

Connal tugged the hem of her shirt out from her trews, and slipped his hand under to touch her bare skin, soft and thin as silk velvet beneath his fingers and palm. She had not worn her strange undergarments, so a moment later he held her naked cheb in his hand. He would do no more than this, he decided. As soon as she woke he would put her to bed and spend the night in the chair. If he could take his hand from her. If he could cut off his own unruly cock.

“I’m awake,” Valerie whispered, and lifted her head to regard him. “I have been since I kissed you. Please don’t castrate yourself.”

He didn’t take away his hand, but used his thumb to stroke the tight peak. “Why didnae you speak nor stop me?”

“I like what you think when you touch me.” She arched her back to press her cheb against his hand. “Is that wrong? Are the women in your time expected to hate it?”

“Some do.” He could see the flush of desire on her face, and the heat of it from her breast. “We’re no’ wed. ’Tis wrong in the eyes of mortals. We MacMar cannae sire bairns, so ’tis different among the clan. ’Tis only for sharing such pleasures.”

“So why wouldn’t you want me all night?” Valerie countered.

Her boldness bemused him, but only for a moment.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw Merrick chasing you to shore. When I carried you into my stronghold. When I held your hand and walked these hills.” He liked the sound she made as he gently pinched her nipple. “’Tisnae come a moment when I didnae want you, mo bòidhchead.”

She repeated the endearment, and frowned at him.

“My beauty,” he translated for her as he drew up the shirt to bare her to his gaze. “And so you become. Look at how this lovely thing pouts and blushes for me.”

“I just happen to have two of them.” She drew the leine over her head, leaving her wearing only her trews now. “I’m not entirely convinced yet, although I will say that you do stare a lot at my body. I like that, too.”

“Then you should permit me a proper look.” He picked her up and set her on her feet so he could unlace her trews, and then worked them down her legs. Once she stood naked he shifted to stand behind her. She shivered but otherwise didn’t move as his hands came around her waist, and tugged her back until the soft curves of her buttocks pressed against the heavy fullness of his cock.

“You can’t see much from back there.” She rested her head on his shoulder to look up at him. “Never mind. I forgot how tall you are.”

Everything about her seemed graceful even in such a vulnerable state. Had she been born a highborn lady in his time never would she have stood thus naked before a man. Yet she did not try to cower or cover herself. The heat and lushness of her gaze only invited him to touch her more.