She busied herself untying the strings of her petticoat, letting it drop to the floor so that she stood naked before him. Then without further ado, she turned her attention to the flies of his britches, undoing them, releasing his rigid shaft to her gaze as he stepped out of his trews and kicked them aside.
Then, with a whoop of triumph, he snatched her into his arms and strode to the bed to lay her at its center.
He stood gazing at her for only the briefest of moments, glorying in her beauty in the firelight, his heart pounding, his shaft throbbing painfully.
By all the heavenly saints, I will have this woman. There must be a way.
A little husky cry of pleasure issued from her throat as she reached for him, her passion seemingly matching his own. Their lips and tongues mashed together in an all-consuming kiss that drove all thoughts from his head. His senses ruled. The softness of her satin skin under his fingers, her rose scent, the honey of her lips, and the musky taste and scent of her as he plied his lips to her body.
She bucked under his touch as he took her breast in his hand, his fingers roughly urging the puckering nub, making her moan and call out his name. He traced a line from her breast across her belly to her mound, his finger parting her netherlips. Their slickness caused him to groan again, and she thrust her hips, demanding his exploration.
His fingers entered her, thrusting, echoing the moves of his tongue, causing her to writhe under his touch. She pulled his head down and took his lips again, their kiss expunging every trace of the world and its worries.
Annora was all there was, her soft whimpers, the wetness between her legs urging him, her breasts sliding against his heated skin. He shifted so that she was under him and he was supported on his forearms. She wound her legs around him,boldly opening herself, clutching him, raising her body to his embrace, her fingers raking his back.
“Edmund. Please…”
Her eyes were closed, her mouth was almost smiling. He gasped as she pushed against his shaft bringing it into the velvet of her, overwhelming his senses and robbing his sanity.
They flew together to the moon, holding each other, breathing each other’s rasping breaths, tangling their limbs, sliding into bliss, wanting, demanding, greedy for each other. Each of them in turn dominating the other with their desire, pleasuring each other, until they reached the moon and bathed in its silvery light of ecstasy and bewitchment.
When they returned to earth, wrapped in each other’s arms, they fell asleep almost at once. But, as Edmund’s eyes were closing, he whispered into her ear, “Ye belong tae me, Annora Munro, and nay one will tear us apart.
Annora woke next morning with a tight knot in her belly. She was under no illusion that that day’s meeting with the Elders was of the utmost importance. Those four aged men held both her and Edmund’s fate in their hands. She had no idea how they would react once he told them the truth.
Edmund was already awake. He rolled over and mussed her hair and leaned in to give her a brief kiss on the forehead. She could see from the strain in his eyes and his clenched jaw that his feelings about the coming meeting were similar to hers.
She took care with her dress and hair, wanting to be seen in the best possible light as the Elders weighed up Edmund’s words.
She glanced at Edmund as they set off for the refectory. He was every inch the laird in his great kilt of MacNeacail plaid, his black velvet jacket over a fine linen shirt. She had fastened his hair for him with a strip of leather, and his eyes shone with determination.
What fools they would be if they did not anoint him their Clan Chief.
The Elders had already finished breaking their fast by the time they arrived at the refectory and, along with Lady Tyra and Harris MacDonald were ready to make their way to the study fer the meeting.
Tormod greeted them briefly. “I have invited Tyra and Harris tae join us, as a courtesy. I am certain ye’ll nae object.”
Edmund gave a soft laugh. “Of course, I’ll nae object. They should both hear what I have tae say.”
Annora steeled herself for what she knew would be an ordeal. Edmund would reveal to the meeting that they were notmarried, but had carried on since they’d been at Scorrybreac as if they were man and wife.
While taking a mistress would not disqualify a man from becoming laird, what she knew would be a sticking point was that both she and Edmund had deceived the Elders and the clan for too long.
The knots in her belly tightened painfully, making it impossible to consume more than a few mouthfuls of honeyed porridge.
Edmund hastily finished his bowl and got to his feet, dabbing his mouth on a linen napkin. He reached for her hand.
“Come lass, ‘tis time fer us tae meet our fate.”
They took their seats at the table in the study. Along with the Elders, there was a young monk who was plying himself with quill and ink to a pile of parchments on the table before him. This was the scribe who would keep the records.
Tormod opened the meeting by announcing that they were present to discuss the lairdship. He went over Baldur’s letter, pointing out that, according to clan law, the entitlement to inherit the lairdship was Edmund’s. He pointed out that there were two things that should be kept in mind. He looked directly at MacDonald as he spoke.
“First, the old laird’s wishes must be uppermost in selecting an heir tae the lairdship. Second, according tae clan law, thelairdship is tae go tae a male heir, whether the heir was born out of wedlock or from legitimate marriage.” He closed, saying, “There is nay argument. Edmund Sinclair MacNeacail is the rightful heir tae his faither, our late Laird Baldur.”
There were nods all round from the Elders and Tyra, while Harris MacDonald remained implacable, arms folded.
“Now,” Tormod directed his words to Edmund with a smile. “We have waited long tae hear whether ye have decided tae take up yer inheritance.”
