Page 46 of Darach

He wondered if she knew how lovely she looked with the sun dappling her hair and face. “You must miss so much from your time.”

“Not really. All I’ve ever needed as an artist is inspiration, and I’ve found plenty of that wherever I go.” She set down her drawing stick and turned her book around to show him what she had sketched. “Today it’s you.”

Darach peered at the drawing, which showed him as he sat by the spring just now. She had drawn him precisely, detailing everything about him but the disfiguring splotch on his face. She’d made him look as he might have if he’d been born like any other man instead of the ugliest of the MacRoss Clan. It also dismayed him a little to realize for the first time how much he and Kendric resembled each other.

“When I look at you I don’t notice your birthmark anymore.” Charlotte set aside the sketch and took hold of his hand. “I just see you. The man I’ve been imagining and saving my heart for and hoping to find for years. For me, that’s the real magic of your Fire sword. It brought me to you.”

“You’ve said you shallnae return to your time.” He brought her fingers to his chest and pressed them over his heart. “I cannae give you bairns, nor all you possessed in your time. That weighs on me as a dozen millstones, yet I’m selfish enough to ask. When ’tis time for the Fire sword to grant your wish, would you do as Emery? Would you wish to stay with me?”

“You’re assuming I’ll earn that privilege.” She set aside her sketchbook and stood up, shrugging out of his tartan and folding it before she pulled off her tunic. “I have to save your clan first, and we still don’t know how I’m going to do that. Making a promise I may not be able to keep is a bad idea.”

He had mapped every inch of her long, lovely body with his eyes, hands and mouth, and yet to see her undressing still made him tremble like a lad. “Do you want a bathe?”

“No.” Charlotte bent to remove her boots and trews, and then straightened, clad only in her underthings now. The morning sunlight cloaked her lovely body in a veil of soft light. “I want you.” She waded into the spring, sinking down and slowly swimming toward the center.

As Darach stripped down to his skin he watched her stroke through the gently steaming water, her movements languid and graceful. Before last night he’d wanted to brand every moment he spent with her in his memory, to amass for the lonely nights he expected to endure once she left the clan to start her life anew.

He’d always been afraid to hope for more than he had, for he’d already been granted immortality and useful purpose. The birthing mark he’d suffered could have ended his life before it had even begun. Had he been born fully mortal, his sire would have likely smothered him and his màthair as soon as he’d seen the hideous blight on Darach’s face. He should be grateful simply to be a MacRoss.

’Tisnae enough simply to protect her.

He dove into the spring, swimming out to where Charlotte floated, and pulled her up into his arms.

“I dinnae care about the wish, or the blade, or why it brought you to me,” he told her, splaying his hands against her back. “I want you to stay with me. Whatever comes, I want no other. Take me as your husband, my lady. Wed me.”

She linked her arms around his neck. “Even if I don’t get a wish, and remain mortal?” When he nodded she hugged him. “I should tell you how crazy that is, saddling yourself with a woman who will age and die on you. I can’t even give you a child to stay with you when I’m gone.” She drew back to look into his eyes, her own shimmering with tears. “It’s horribly unfair to you, but still, I can’t give you up.”

“Then say aye, and wed me as soon as we may, for there shallnae be another for me.” Darach cradled her face between his hands. “I love you, Charlotte.”

Kissing her sealed the vow in his heart, but tasting her cool lips and sweet mouth made heat and wanting explode inside him. He kept his mouth on hers as he clamped one arm around her and swam to the nearest edge, where he lifted her from the water and lay her on the grassy bank. She looked up at him, her gilded lashes sparkling with tiny water droplets, and bared her breasts. He watched her nipples bead as he pulled down her little trews to bare her pretty quim.

Cupping the tight curves of her bottom, Darach shifted down and lifted her to his lips, keeping his gaze locked with hers as he parted her with his tongue. She tasted of the spring and her own sweet slickness, and when he laved the little pearl between her folds she released a soft, needy moan.

“Oh, Darach.” As he pressed his fingers inside her softness her head fell back and her hips arched. “I can’t take much more of this.”

Mastering her pretty little quim with his mouth made him understand why she had sucked him with such pleasure; this way he could watch and hear and taste every moment of her delight. His stiff, swollen cock pulsed and ached to be inside her, but denying himself while loving her slowly gave him a different sort of joy. He could tell from the sounds she made what pleased her most, and as he licked and lashed and stroked her he thought of all the nights ahead that he would no longer have to spend alone.

Charlotte’s body writhed on the grass as she reached her peak, and Darach came up over her, sliding his heavy cock into her drenched sex. The desire stoked by loving her with his mouth and her clenching tightness made him spill almost at once, which made her cry out and shake a second time. He rolled onto his back and held her, convinced he had found an Elphyne of his very own in her arms.

After a long while she opened her eyes and lifted her head. The velvety dark brown of them took on a faint golden sheen from the sun as she regarded him like a cat basking in the sun might. “Can we get married today?”

He had been hers from the first night, but now he could see the same love in her eyes in that very moment. She’s mine.

“If you dinnae mind only taking vows before the clan, aye.” As she smiled and nodded Darach kissed her brow, and then her lips before he lifted her and carried her back into the spring.

The sun had gone well past its zenith by the time they finished bathing, loving again and then basking in its rays on the bank while their bodies dried. Once they dressed Darach combed her damp hair with his fingers before braiding it.

“Do you have to ask the laird for permission to marry me?” Charlotte asked.

“He did not ask mine when he wed Lady Emery.” The sound of approaching footsteps made him turn to see Taveon jogging on the trail, and he went to intercept him.

As he saw the taller man’s grim expression Darach’s gut knotted. “What now?”

“Three dead vassals, found in the granary across from the garrison hall.” The war master glanced at Charlotte before he added in a lower voice, “They’ve been bathed in mortar and hidden in sacks.”

The twang of a crossbow made Darach grab Taveon as he dropped to the ground, and then chips of bark pelted them as a bolt buried itself in the tree behind him. He looked up and saw a shadow flitting through the woods toward the slopes, and scrambled to his feet, drawing the Fire sword.

“Take Charlotte to safety,” he told him before he gave chase.