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His head rested on her bosom and they remained entwined for long minutes.
~.~.~
The darkest hour blanketed their chambers when Taran opened his eyes to register Aileen sleeping on him, under the bed’s coverlet. An arm circled her and his other hand caressed her glossy chestnut hair spread on his chest. Tonight, like this, he could welcome her home. The reality of her presence complete, concrete. Replete.
He should be awarded a Royal medal for smoke-screen tactics, he pondered bluntly to himself. At her questioning him about his drinking episode, he had the undeniable obligation to a sincere exposure of his fears. Aye, fears. As a human being, he possessed fears like anybody else. He saw it crystalline. As the clan chief, he never admitted such feelings to a soul. Not even to his son.
His people expected him to show a fierce, decisive, unfailing side of him so they might trust his decisions. As the leader, owning to weaknesses or doubts would get his hands full with contestation and possible rebellion. Not something to risk, surely.
Obliged to be the paragon of fortitude and assertiveness did not favour actions countering it. The result being it built pressure in him, her trip for instance. A pressure he relieved with strenuous labour or—well—sex. Tonight not an exception.
Which made it extremely difficult to expose himself even to his wife. Hence, the artifice of the previous evening. The sole fact he proved to be capable of expressing was his passion. It came easy. And her reaction surmounted the most fantastical expectations.
She enthralled him with her responsiveness. Always did. Because it felt not only physical. It was as if with her body, she surrendered a lot more. Though he could not fathom how much. He preferred not to as his possessiveness would escalate sky-high.
Why complicate the situation by posing those fears in the open if he got the possibility of… going around it? He wondered guiltlessly.
At that precise moment, these issues counted as resolved. And it was what mattered, he terminated his ruminations.
Early morning, she stirred in his arms. Her tousled head came up, she looked at him in the grey autumn light. “I cannot be so weightless that you are comfortable with me scrambled on you.” Breathy and sleepy, the single concept he must be the luckiest man in the highlands to wake in such a manner crossed his mind.
He rumbled a laugh. “I may be on my belly and you find a way over me.”
A delicate index strolled his stubble jaw. “It is unusual.”
Long fingers trailed down her dainty spine. “My penance, no doubt.” He joked lightly.
“Yes.” She answered. “For being slow.”
His features turned quizzical. “Slow?”
The naughty index drew a beeline on his hair-peppered chest. “I should have ravished you the minute I arrived.”
Amused green irises focused on her. “That would have been… entertaining.”
“Entertaining, hun.” Her beeline circled a dark nipple.
Those irises changed colour. “What are you about, woman?” The question rhetorical, naturally.
Mahogany eyes watched him from under thick lashes. “Seeing if you are getting a tad more… entertained.” Her lips substituted her index with an audible response from him.
“I am already very entertained.” And he moved his hips for good measure.
They did not even see the sun go up in the morning.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Alistair.” Aileen greeted her cousin as she came in the drawing room. “What good winds bring you here?”
“Cousin Aileen.” He neared her and took her hands in his. “I was on the way to Aunt Bridget.” He directed her a mischievous smile. “The one you have not seen in a very long time.”
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bsp; Aileen would visit Aunt Bridget when Taran crashed into her life. She tilted her head in understanding. A small smile acknowledged his jest.
“I decided to stop by and see how you are faring.” Not tall as her brothers, with brown hair and eyes, he was something of a dandy in English style attire.
“Last I heard, you were in London.” They sat down, and she ordered tea.
