“I cannot give you a bride price of silver or gold,” he said in a low voice. “No riches or land. I have nothing at all.”
Her blue eyes opened, and in them, he saw a hunger that mirrored his own. He had awakened her, opening her consciousness to another kind of temptation.
“All I can give you is this.” He cupped her breasts, gently caressing the erect nipples. She jolted as if he’d set her on fire, but she only bumped against the wall. Killian paused, keeping his hands in place while he leaned in to kiss her again.
This time, he invaded her mouth with his tongue, all the while stroking her erect breasts. His own body was hard with need, and God, what he wouldn’t give to take her. But this wasn’t about satisfying his own lust. It was about pleasuring this woman and showing her what there could be between them.
“Y-you should stop,” she murmured, gasping when he kissed her throat, still touching her breasts. “I can’t breathe.”
“I don’t want you to breathe,” he answered, loosening her laces. “I want you to feel the madness that’s burning inside me. I want you to lose yourself to my touch.”
She was arching against him, fighting to catch her breath. And when he pushed back the shoulders of her underdress, he revealed her creamy breasts, tipped with rose nipples. Son of Lugh, she captivated him.
“I want to taste you,” he said, kissing the delicate skin of her shoulder as he moved lower. “I want to kiss you here.” When she didn’t deny him, he gave in to the impulse, trailing a path down to the erect nipple.
She cried out when his mouth covered one breast, suckling her hard. Her hands locked in his hair, and she shuddered. Her knees buckled, and he caught her, clasping her hips and letting her feel the rigid erection. She was panting now, mindless to everything but him.
“Wed me, Taryn, and I’ll touch you like this, night after night.” He took the opposite breast into his mouth while he fingered the first. She was ragged, utterly aroused. “As my wife, you would be free to do whatever you wish,” he murmured against her skin. “No man will ever force you to do his bidding.”
He knew she was wet, and the image of sliding into her depths tormented him.
“Or if you don’t want me as your husband, I’ll leave you alone.” He broke away, leaving her there. Her hair was tangled around her face, her lips swollen. Her underdress hung open, exposing her large breasts with glistening nipples from his mouth. She flushed beneath his stare and tried to cover herself.
“I never meant to embarrass you in front of the castle,a stór,“ he said. “But I will kill any man who touches you in this way.”
Her face was crimson as she clutched her gown. “No man has ever touched me the way you did just now.”
“And no man, except me, ever will,” he swore, stealing another kiss before he left her alone in the solar.
The next morning, Killian prepared a mount for Taryn while the MacEgan soldiers gathered supplies and their own horses. He hadn’t spoken to her since last eventide when he’d touched her so intimately. All night he had ached for her, haunted by her innocent reactions. He’d wanted to watch her come apart in his arms, but instead, he’d left them both wanting. If he hadn’t stopped then, he would have taken her innocence.
Carice had sworn that she would stay behind, but he’d caught a glimpse of an unknown emotion in her eyes. She was too weak to travel, he knew, and Laochre was the safest place for her. But he sensed that his sister had plans of her own that she would not say. It did seem that her health was improving, and he was glad of it.
When he saw Taryn approaching, he saw the wariness in her eyes. Her face blushed, and she admitted, “I still don’t like horses.”
Killian lifted her onto the calm mare he’d chosen. “This one’s a gentlecailín. She won’t be harming you.”
Taryn gripped the reins so tight, her knuckles were white. “Ride beside me, won’t you, please?”
Her fear of horses hadn’t diminished at all, though at least this time, she hadn’t outright refused. She knew, as he did, that her father’s time was running out. It would still take a few days to reach Tara, and walking was not an option.
“Are you wanting me to catch you if you fall?” he said, recognizing her fear.
She sent him an embarrassed look, and he supposed that was exactly it. “I can endure this if I know you might be there toprevent me breaking my neck. Animals like you. They despise me.”
“Now, that’s not true. Harold is quite fond of you.” To prove his point, he scooped up the cat and settled the smoke-gray feline in the basket beside her.
“Killian...” she warned, but he swung up on his own mount, bringing it beside her.
“It’s only a few days. You can survive this journey,” he assured her. He was about to turn his horse around, to join the guards and servants at the end of the procession, but he saw the discomfort in her posture.
Her hood was pulled up to hide her scars, and she was staring straight ahead, her back stiff. The mare was fidgeting, conscious of her anxiety. If she didn’t relax, the horse would grow skittish.
“You need to calm yourself. The mare can feel your tension.”
She gave a slight nod to show that she’d heard him, but it did nothing to diminish her rigid posture. Killian reached out and took her gloved hand. She gripped his palm tightly, and he said, “You’ve done this once before. You can do it again.”
She didn’t look as if she believed that at all. To lighten the tension, he added, “You’re going to break my fingers, if you don’t stop squeezing that hard.” But still she didn’t look at him, nor did she relinquish her grip.
