When he finally pushed into her, she gripped his shoulders hard and let out a breath that had been trapped in her chest for longer than that evening. He went still for a moment, watching her face with that attention she could never fully withstand.
“Are ye alright ?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said.
Then he moved.
He was slow at first, each thrust deep enough that she felt it in her belly. She wrapped her leg around the back of his thigh and pulled him in.
The sound that left him was low and raw and entirely satisfying. He dropped his forehead to hers. She felt his breath on her mouth, warm and ragged. She tilted her hips and watched the restraint on his face falter.
He drove deeper into her, his pace quickening steadily, and the narrow bed knocked once against the wall. She dug her fingers into his back and felt the ripple of muscle with every push. Herbreath came in short bursts. She tried to keep quiet and failed miserably.
“Connor.” His name left her in a moan.
His mouth found her throat. He thrust harder, and she felt the pleasure rise through her with a sharpness that left no room for thought, no room for anything really except the weight of his naked body and the heat between her legs. His breathing was rough in her ear, making her climax crest fast and without warning.
It seized her so completely that her back arched off the mattress. She pressed her face into his shoulder, shaking with the force of it, her whole body locked around him.
He followed seconds after. One final hard thrust, and his arms went rigid on either side of her body. Then he let out a groan that she felt more than heard, low and broken. He shuddered once, then twice, before his weight collapsed onto hers.
The room fell quiet.
Afterward, Connor brought her water and drew the blanket around them. He studied her face with such intensity that she touched the furrow between his eyebrows. Then she settled against his chest.
“So ye are coming home truly?” he asked.
“Will ye continue reading military history to John if I refuse?”
“Every night.”
“Monster. Now I have no choice. I have to come save the bairn.”
Connor laughed, and the sound made her smile. She couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t wait to see Moore Castle again.
She couldn’t wait to become Lady Moore. And properly this time.
EPILOGUE
A WEEK LATER
John kicked the healer’s wrist with enough force to dislodge the ribbon tied around her sleeve. The woman caught it before it fell into her open bag.
“His strength has returned.”
“I could have told ye that,” Connor said from beside the fire.
He stood with his arms folded, watching her listen to John’s chest as if the examination required his personal supervision. John made an offended noise and reached for the ribbon again.
“His chest is clear,” the healer said. “The cold has passed.”
“Entirely?” Violet asked.
The healer laughed. “Well, he is trying to punish me for touching him, so that’s a good sign.”
John kicked again, and Violet stroked one finger over his bare foot. His skin was warm, and his toes curled around her touch. Moira waited nearby with his blanket held open, though her eyes never left the healer.
Once John had been wrapped and placed in Moira’s arms, the healer turned to Violet. Her examination was quieter. She checked Violet’s pulse and asked about her sleep, appetite, and strength. Violet answered each question without softening the truth for Connor’s sake.
