Page 66 of Highland Fire

“I have ne’er claimed to be particularly virtuous. Sweet Moira, if ye dinnae put your mouth on me soon, I shall go mad,” he whispered and cried out with pleasure when she obeyed his urgent request.

Tavig fought to control the desire rippling through him. He wanted to savor the pleasure of her lips, her stroking tongue. When she obeyed his silent urgings and took him into the warmth of her mouth, he felt his control rapidly unravel.

Only a moment later, he grabbed her beneath the arms, dragging her up his body. She settled on top of him, easing their bodies together with an instinctive skill that left him gasping. She needed little prompting from him to move, quickly taking them both shuddering into passion’s blinding heights.

He caught her in his arms as she sagged against him, holding her tightly as he released his seed deep inside her. As he savored the way that felt, he suddenly realized he had a way to hold Moira at his side. It was not particularly honorable, even unfair, but he could get her with child. He smoothed his hands over her slim body and decided that if all else failed, he would indeed stoop to that. Reluctantly he admitted that he needed her that badly.

Chapter Nineteen

Tavig groaned, eased out of Moira’s lax hold, and rubbed his forehead. It took him a moment to realize that the pounding he heard was not coming from inside his head. As he staggered to his feet and pulled on his braies, he glared at the door. Still struggling to shake off his grogginess, he stumbled to the door, opened it, and scowled at Mungan.

“Why arenae ye still abed with your bride?” he demanded of his cousin.

“Because we are about to have visitors.”

“Aye?” Suddenly awake, Tavig muttered a curse. “Robertson is here.”

“Weel, he will be riding through my gates in an hour or less.”

“’Twas a foolish hope, but I had wished he wouldnae appear for a few days yet.”

“All things considered, ye are verra lucky he wasnae here when ye arrived.”

“True. I will be ready and at your side ere he arrives. Are the lasses to greet him as weel?”

“Aye, although it wasnae easy to convince Una of that.”

Glancing back at the bed, Tavig groaned. Moira was awake. She sat in the middle of the bed, a linen sheet wrapped around her, staring at him with wide eyes. In her eyes he saw a glimmer of the fear he had tried to defeat.

“Nay, it wouldnae be,” he murmured as he turned back to Mungan. “Moira will be there.”

Shutting the door after Mungan left, Tavig strode to the washbowl. He washed, then fled to the garderobe. Although he knew he was being cowardly, when he returned he was a little annoyed to find Moira still sitting where she had been. He had hoped she would get dressed and be ready to meet Robertson, thus saving him the distasteful chore of forcing her to do something that so clearly frightened her.

“Ye have to be there to greet him, lass,” he said as he started to dress.

“Why? Cannae ye and Mungan tell him everything?” She shuddered. “He will be so furious.”

“He cannae hurt you,” Tavig assured her as he sat down on the bed, taking one of her cold hands between his. “Mungan and I would ne’er allow him to.”

“I ken it, or at least a verra large part of me kens it. Howbeit, inside of me is a small terrified child who refuses to see reason. All she keeps saying is that Sir Bearnard is coming, and he will be verra angry. All she wants to do is hide.”

“Una undoubtedly feels the same, but she will be there to face her father. Can ye do less? And, loving, she is probably counting on ye to be with her, to stand firm at her side. After all, ye are the only one amongst us who can understand what she is feeling as she faces that bastard and confronts his anger.”

Moira sighed. He was right. Una would be expecting her, would need her. And if Una could face her father, then Moira knew she would feel the worst of cowards if she did not do the same.

She slid out of bed to get dressed. The knowledge that she would soon be face-to-face with Sir Bearnard so filled her mind that she was not concerned about washing and dressing in front of Tavig. It was not until she tried to braid her hair that she was fully recalled to his presence. He stepped up behind her to take over the chore. She was grateful for his help as her hands were shaking badly.

“Think of it as finally saying faretheeweel to the mon,” he suggested.

“That may help.”

Her braid done, he turned her toward him, taking her into his arms and kissing her gently. “I wish I could let ye hide. I dinnae like forcing ye to face something that makes ye turn so pale and has ye shaking like this. Aye, I can deal with Robertson, but I feel helpless against the fear he has scarred ye with.”

Despite the fears knotting her insides, Moira had to smile at the frustration darkening Tavig’s expression. “And ye really hate feeling helpless, dinnae ye, Tavig?” She reached out to stroke his cheek.

“No mon likes it. Aye, and vain though it may be, I have always considered myself a mon who could fix most anything, solve most any problem.” He grimaced, jamming his fingers through his hair. “These last few months have been most unsettling. I havenae solved the problem with Iver and I cannae fix what Sir Bearnard has done to you.”

“Nay, ye dinnae have that quite right. Ye will solve the problem with Iver and do so verra soon, even if it isnae in the way ye wished to solve it. And I? Nay, ye cannae take the fear out of my heart. Howbeit, ye have taught me to be less fearful. That is no small victory. I feel certain that a fortnight ago I wouldnae have been able to face my guardian no matter what ye said or did. I would have heeded that tiny terrified child inside of me and run, then hid, despite being sure Robertson would find me and kenning that I would pay dearly for making him hunt me down.”