Page 99 of Bound By Honor
Gently, he pulled at her laces and she felt the golden silk fall away. He lifted her chemise from her and she felt the fire’s warmth on her bare skin.
“You are lovely as I imagined you would be. Come, my dove, let us away to our nest where a night of love awaits us.”
Áine eagerly went. Never before had she known the shared passion that followed. Never before had she felt so treasured, so loved. Angus did not hurry though she was sure he wanted to. As if he were stoking a fire, carefully coaxing the flames, he drew the want of him from her until she could not bear to be separated. When at last they came together, it was a joining of their souls as well as their bodies.
Hours later when they had slept for a while, her eyes opened to see his face next to hers on the pillow. His eyes were closed and his arm lay heavy across her. The fire’s dying embers cast the room in dim light.
In sleep, the lines of stress he had borne with such courage had vanished. He was a powerful warrior in repose with supple skin over hard muscle earned on his ships and in battle. She ran her fingers over his face, moving aside the errant strands of his hair that impeded her view.
So, this is what love looks like.
His eyes still closed, Angus smiled. “You are awake?” When she didn’t answer, he pulled her to him, his warm chest searing her breasts. “Then you have energy for more.”
She laughed and was soon swept away by his kisses.
The next time she woke, sated and happy, sunlight filtered in through the narrow window. Angus lay on his back, awake and staring up at the ceiling.
“What are you thinking?” she asked him.
“Of what must follow.” Some of the lines had returned to his face and she knew he thought of the war, the new role he must assume for his people and his pursuit of his brother’s killer.
“At least we had last night,” she said. And then with a mischievous grin, she added, “A memory worthy of its making.”
He turned his face toward her, his hand reaching out to cup the side of her face. His expression was full of love. “Aye, and there will be more like it.”
The sheet fell to her waist as she rose on one elbow, her long hair falling to cover her breasts. “Whatever comes, Angus, we now face it together.”
ANGUS KNEW THEY could not linger overlong in their love nest though that would have been his choice. They must sail to Islay where he would accept the burden of the lordship should that be the wish of the Council. With a resigned sigh, he rose from the bed and donned the clothes he’d had a servant bring to the chamber the day before.
He glanced back to where his bride slept, her hand tucked under her chin, her long dark hair strewn across the pillow. Silken hair he had run his fingers through during their lovemaking. With skin like cream and delicate curves, her beauty was more than he could have hoped for and her kind heart, a special gift. Leaning over the bed, he kissed her awake. “I’ll send Nessa to help you dress. Once we have broken our fast, we sail to Islay.”
It was with the greatest reluctance he strode to the door. Nessa was waiting outside their chamber. “Your mistress is awake.”
In the main chamber where they had dined the night before, Angus was greeted with knowing smiles by the chiefs, who were breaking their fast with their sons. Their wives, who were yet to arrive, he assumed were overseeing the packing.
“He looks none the worse for wear,” said Tormod Macleod, giving Angus a long perusal.
“I am not so sure,” said Maolmuire, the battle-hardened chief of the MacMillans whose black hair this morning was disheveled. Then with a hearty laugh, he joked, “Are those not circles under his eyes from lack of sleep?”
“Aye,” chimed in Malise, the Maclean chief, nudging his son Malcolm with his elbow, “but a lack of sleep that left him invigorated.”
Much laughter followed as Angus took his place on one side of the long table, reaching for a piece of salmon and some bread to go with his ale.
“Do not torment the lad,” said Malcolm Macduffie, “else he may sail to Dunaverty instead of Islay.”
“Oh, right,” put in John MacNicol of Lewis, a man of fair countenance like the Macleod chief. “You do sail for Finlaggan?” he asked Angus.
“Aye,” said Angus, resigned. “I cannot escape but you sorely tempt me.” A few more jests were bantered about before Angus asked, “Are the abbot and bishop here?”
“The abbot, yes,” said Tormod. “He was just asking when we might depart. The bishop has sailed for Islay. Something about needing to ready his chamber before the horde arrives.”
“Will all of you come?” Angus asked the dozen men at the table dining on kippers, salmon, bread, cheese and berries. Knowing the northern chiefs would be concerned about attacks by the MacDougalls, the Comyns and the MacRuairis, he expected some might not.
“All will come,” said the Macduffie chief. “We do not install a new chief every day, war or no. But some of us will stop on the way south to add a bard or family member to our party. And mayhap a horse or a hound. After all, the usual pursuits will be observed.”
“Thank you,” Angus said. “I would have the clans united now. And I have something of a surprise for them.” He thought of the dowry and hoped it would please the leadership as it pleased him.
Just then, Duncan stumbled into the hall with John and Dermot in tow and took their place at the table.
