He shoved the thought away, unable to bear it. Nay, he would not risk hurting her so deeply. He would work in secret, use all his skills, his strength, to find some way to make things right.
He would do his best to believe enough for both of them—in a future he had never imagined, in love he had never believed existed, in roots dug so deep into Irish earth he could never think of leaving the land behind.
Aye, Niall resolved with a terrifying surge ofhope, this would be a new beginning for all of them. Surely, this time, the fates would not deny him this chance for joy—a chance to rebuild the trust of Fiona, to know the love of his mother, and, most miraculous of all, to make Caitlin his wife.
Chapter 15
Knee-deep rivers of heather meandered in purple waves across the green meadow. Billows of glossy kingcups lifted buttery faces to the sky. Never had there been such a glorious day, Caitlin thought as she emptied another armful of fragrant flowers into the overflowing basket at her feet.
She turned to cast a loving glance toward Niall's mother perched upon a mossy stone half a hillside away. The woman who had spent years dozing amidst dust and spider's webs and ashes of dreams now delighted in the sunshine, her once-empty days filled with chatter as cheery as the blossoms she plaited into her hair.
Reverend Mother had often said such dayswere a gift, God's warm hand upon the shoulders of those who suffered. Yet living behind the abbey walls, Caitlin had never foreseen that there were other gifts she would find far more precious.
Hidden treasures Niall had unearthed in her body and her spirit. He had all but dragged her through the abbey gates into a world bursting with glorious emotions too great to hold. A splendor Caitlin could never have dreamed of behind the cloistered walls.
The restlessness that had made her body ache and her blood boil for so long had a name now. The willful voice that urged her to such wild abandon had finally revealed that mysterious something she was so desperate to run to.
Niall. The earthy miracle of his hard male body and the astonishing secrets he had unveiled in the tender hills and valleys of her naked form.
Caitlin shivered with delight. Six nights had passed since she and Niall had danced under the moonlight and her world had been changed forever. Nay, it had changed the instant he had roared into her life, snarling beside the druid altar.
He had introduced her to laughter and anger and passion. He had brought her to Daire, offeredher the chance to experience the sweet affection of his mother. He had shared the reluctant amusement and frustration Fiona's antics produced in everyone around her.
Without intending, he had granted Caitlin's dearest wish, showing her the joy and hurt, the sadness and strength that came from being part of a family.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Aye, he had changed her so much she barely recognized herself any longer.
Abandoning the basket full of heather for a moment, she drew near the rippling surface of the stream that burbled nearby and smiled at her reflection for the third time that morning.
Sister Luca would call it vanity. But Caitlin could not resist. She was entranced by the woman who stared back at her. Blue eyes shone with anticipation. Morning sun warmed cheeks glowing in a way they never had before, while her mouth was soft and eager with longing for nightfall to come again.
Darkness sang its siren song, enticed her into pagan worlds where the pull of her own passion grew more powerful than any sorcerer’s spell. Her heart danced to those primal rhythms,awakening earthy cravings the abbey had tried to shut out with its high walls.
But no barriers made of stone or of innocence could curb the magic her body was fashioned to feel or rob her of sensations so exquisite she seethed with impatience for the darkness that would bring Niall to her bed.
Throughout the day, he would ride afield, as if he could not bear to be near her without touching her, kissing her. At dusk, he would return, fighting to conceal the fever in his blood, devoting himself to pleasing his mother and trying with small success to mend things with Fiona.
When at last everyone retired to their chambers, he would pace beneath Caitlin's window until he was certain the rest of the castle slept. Then, when she was wild with impatience, he would steal up the stairs to the Sea Chamber with all its beauty and imagination.
Niall's hot hands would strip away the layers of cloth that draped her body, while she tore at his own garments until they paused, breathless, their naked bodies gleaming in the flickering rushlight. And as Caitlin traversed the deliciously familiar cliffs and ledges of Niall's body, she would rejoice in the wonder of his response toher: his strong hands trembling, his heart thundering beneath her palms, his ragged gasp of pleasure when at last her slender fingers cradled the hard length of his shaft.
Beguiled, she would marvel at the pleasure she had almost missed, her fascination with Niall's naked body matched only by her amazement at the unexpected wonders she discovered in her own.
And as day faded into night again and again and again, she lived for the time when he would steal to her chamber like a shadow lover, a shape-shifter. When he would take her in his arms and make silent, desperate love to her.
Nay, Caitlin thought with a throb of sadness. It was not love Niall brought to her bed, only a craving for her body and the fire they could make together. The mere fact that this proud, wounded man succumbed to any emotional need at all was a miracle, she knew. That Niall should risk admitting to love was too great a bounty to hope for.
Yet she yearned for it, dreamed of it in the hateful brink of dawn, when he stole away to preserve their secret for yet another day.
The reflection that peered back at her from the stream suddenly grew pensive, touched withsorrow. Caitlin shoved the emotion away. She would have the rest of her life to grieve over the fact that Niall could not love her. She would not waste one moment of this precious idyll.
Yet she knew that if she had a lifetime in Niall's arms, she would never get her fill of him—his gruff tenderness, his fierce honor, his desperate striving to please her, to drive her to higher, wilder peaks of bliss. She would never stop hungering for the haunting beauty in his rugged face when the crest was past and he lay beside her, stroking her hair until she slept.
It broke her heart, that nameless longing she sensed in him, the quiet terror, his astonishment that she could want him again and again. It made her wish she had forever to help this battered warrior see himself through her eyes. A man of honor who admitted his mistakes and tried to right them. A man of courage who risked his life to defend those weaker than himself.
A man of such generous spirit he had championed a woman who was all but a stranger and surrendered his future to save hers.
A rustling in the heather made Caitlin look up to see Aniera walking toward her, her newest flower crown perched on her soft hair. A bunchof small white blossoms was clutched in her hands.
