Page 42 of Enchanted

Chapter Sixteen

When Keiran and Rosalyn were alone in his chamber, his mouth relaxed into a grin, and he shut the door. The slight widening of her eyes as the latch clicked into place bespoke her nervousness. He allowed himself to visually explore the woman before him. So much of her was still a mystery to him, but now they had time to discover more about each other.

Today he had been surprised by her courage when facing both Lieutenant Long and Oberon. She’d had a newfound confidence that had been lacking in her when they first met. The men in her life would not find her so easy to predict any longer. Perhaps it was the Englishwoman in her that had been her more timid side, and the Scottish woman who was strong and brave had simply been waiting for the right time to emerge.

Two small steps closed the gap between them, bringing her into direct contact with his body. He could not hold back his quick intake of breath that filled the silence of the room. The feeling of her softness against his hardness had him hardening almost to the point of pain. He clenched his jaw, trying to slow down his desire so as not to frighten her as he brought his hands up to her shoulders. His fingers coiled in the silken knot at her crown, removing the pins to allow her hair to fall freely about her shoulders.

He inhaled the scents of heather and moonlight as she lifted her face to his. Staring into her beautiful hazel eyes, he saw not fear but the echo of his own desire. The thought made his heart pound. He slid his hands down her back until he reached the curve of her hips. She held her breath as he bent his face to hers, their bodies touching intimately as he waited motionless for her to bridge the distance between them.

She raised her hands to cup his jaw, then closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his. His emotions warred inside him as he tasted her sweet innocence, wrapped himself in her touch. It had been far too long since he had last been with a woman. Far too long since he had been unsettled by anything.

And Rosalyn unsettled him in every way. She had captivated him from the moment they had met. He had been assailed by unfamiliar emotions and feelings, half of which he could neither name nor identify. She filled him with more than simple desire or lust. She did something to him he could not comprehend. Part of him wanted to hold her, to kiss her, and the other part wanted to do everything in his power to keep her safe, from Lieutenant Long, from Oberon, from her brother, from even himself. Her physical injuries he could heal, but there were other wounds he sensed in her that ran deep, and he was not certain he could mend them. He broke the kiss and studied her once more. Her gaze reflected trust, making his throat tighten.

“I know you will not hurt me, Keiran, so I willingly give myself to you.”

She fitted herself to him, and a shudder racked his body. He took her lips, parting them, and his tongue delved inside. He brought his hands up to pluck at the laces of her dress. When he worked the stubborn laces free, he lifted the gown over her head, then tossed it to the floor.

In return, she unfastened the silver brooch at his shoulder, allowing the tail of his tartan to fall, then deftly unfastened his belt, allowing his sword and tartan to join her dress. He stood before her in only his shirt and boots. While he kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor, she set aside her slippers and hose.

Heady with desire, he pulled her close once more, placing light kisses along her jaw as he slowly lifted the hem of her chemise. The fabric whispered across her abdomen, against her breasts, only to join the rest of their clothing.

She stood naked before him, bathed in only the golden firelight and the warmth of his gaze. His fingers trailed over her abdomen, where the enemy’s sword had pierced her flesh. Not a single mark remained. Feeling the need to atone for what had happened to her, he bent and kissed the unmarred skin.

At his touch, she gasped, then closed her eyes. “You made me whole again.”

“I healed your wound, Rosalyn, nothing more.” He pressed the lightest of kisses from her abdomen to the valley between her breasts. “We are both making ourselves whole again after the misfortune in our lives.”

“Making ourselves whole,” she whispered into the dimness as she brought her hands to rest on his shoulders.

Warmth pooled in his belly as her caress moved down his back, then to his hips. He nuzzled her breast with his mouth before his lips closed over her taut nipples, first one, then the other. She moaned softly and tipped her head back as he increased the pressure of his languid caress. “If you let me, I will heal you in a different way tonight.”

At her questioning gaze, he continued, “Physical touch, even without magic, can give life and express emotion, helping people communicate what they cannot say.”

“Is there something you cannot say?”

His fingers trailed down her abdomen. “What does this touch say?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Compassion.”

He nodded and smiled. “And this touch?” He tapped his fingers over the same sensitive flesh.

“Playfulness?”

“And this?” This time he used long, delicate strokes, then slowly built the pressure as he moved his fingers from her abdomen over her hips and down her thighs.

She inhaled sharply. “Desire?”

He gained his feet and pulled her tight against his body. “Aye, desire. I want you to feel my desire for you, let it sink inside you, let it warm you, and let my touch soothe whatever wounds you still contain.”

“And will my touch heal you?” she asked, running her fingers across the rigid muscles of his chest, and lower. Towards the most male part of himself. “Aye, lass. You make me feel things I have never felt before. The old wounds fade away beneath your touch to become something new.”

“I am a new creation and if I can take you along on this journey of rebirth, then consider me your willing partner.”

He drew in a ragged breath and allowed his hands to span her back, her waist, her hips, and outer thighs. Warmth flared from his hands everywhere he touched. As had happened when he healed her, a spark passed between them, moving from him to her and back again. Did she feel it too? The strange sensation?

Rosalyn opened her eyes, and for a heartbeat he tensed, worried that she would pull away. Instead, she simply looked deeply into his eyes with innocence, tenderness, and passion. The combination fired his blood, racing through him as if a powerful storm had suddenly unburdened itself, swelling a stream into a raging river.

An incoherent sound of anticipation escaped him as he pulled her firmly against him, and another sound followed the first at the sensation of her skin against his own, and the rigidness of his arousal as it nestled into the juncture of her thighs.