Page 42 of Kilted Sins

Looking around helplessly, Enya realized her only option was to drag Cillian somewhere away from everyone else and the battle. Naturally, that was easier said than done. Even as she grabbed his ankles and began to pull him away, between bushes and trees, his weight was too much for her to move with any efficiency or ease. By the time she had managed to drag him just a little farther into the woods, her forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her arms and back ached with the effort it had taken her. In the end, she decided that was as good as it was going to get and she glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching before she placed one hand firmly on the wound and grasped the knife with the other.

Cillian didn’t even move. The only thing that kept Enya going was the knowledge that he was still breathing, even if he was unconscious.

With a decisive flick of her wrist, Enya pulled the blade out of Cillian’s stomach and tossed it aside onto the ground. Even as she applied all the pressure she could to the wound, blood fountained past her fingers, painting her hands a bright red that sickened her. Never before had she been so affected by healing a wound. None of her family members had ever been on the verge of death like this—only her mother, whom she failed to save.

But Cillian would not die that day. Enya wouldn’t allow it. The wound was deep and he had already lost a lot of blood, but she would do anything in her power to keep him alive.

After healing the rabbit, Enya had already tired herself out, but she focused all her attention on Cillian, that familiar tingle spreading over her fingers and up her arms as she poured her energy into him. Deep as the wound was, it took a lot out of her to stitch the flesh back together bit by bit, her fingers glowing brighter than any other time she had attempted to fix such extensive damage. The mere fact that Cillian was even alive long enough for her to heal him was nothing short of a miracle and Enya was lucky that she had had the time to drag him away, even the short distance she had managed.

She didn’t want to think what could have happened if Cillian had been stabbed in plain sight of everyone else. With just a little more luck, Cillian would be the only one to know what had happened to him.

There was no avoiding telling him the truth at this point, that much Enya knew. She had to explain everything to him and hope that he wouldn’t be afraid of her once he knew the truth, but also that he wouldn’t try to expose her secret. From what she knew of him, she doubted he would do anything to put her in danger. After all, he hadn’t hesitated to throw himself in harm’s way to save her.

By the time she had managed to heal the wound, Enya was exhausted, the events of the day finally catching up to her. She slumped back against the nearest tree, curling into herself just as Cillian sat up with a gasp, eyes snapping open and hand reaching for a weapon he did not have.

Enya reached for him, placing a gentle hand on his knee, but that did nothing to calm him. He still looked around with wide eyes, then down at himself where the wound should have been; where the blood had seeped into his clothes, now a red so dark it appeared black under the sunlight.

“It’s alright,” Enya said. “Ye’re alright.”

It’s alright. I’m here.

The more Cillian stared at Enya in silence, the more she feared he would never speak. Several minutes had passed since she had explained her powers to him in her room, admitting she could heal wounds with a simple touch, and ever since, Cillian had only stared at her with such intensity that she couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Say somethin’,” she said. Anything would do. She just needed to know the shock was not so terrible that he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“I kent it,” he said, and it wasn’t what Enya had expected to hear. “I kent it! I kent ye were doin’ somethin’. Ye did it tae me an’ ye did it tae Samuel… an’ that rabbit.”

“I did,” Enya admitted. “But I can assure ye, that is all I can dae. I cannae harm anyone. I cannae take life. An’ even if I could, I wouldnae.”

That was what people usually feared: that she could somehow kill them with a simple touch, that she could take as much as she could give. But Enya had never been capable of such a thing and she wouldn’t want to be capable of it either.

Frowning, Cillian stood from his bed and took Enya’s hands in his, holding them tightly. “This is incredible, ye are incredible.”

This was another thing she hadn’t expected to hear, but she didn’t have the time to say anything before Cillian swooped in and kissed her, taking her breath away. In the time it had taken them to get back to the castle, she had regained some of her physical strength, but it was her mental strength which failed her now, as she wrapped her arms around Cillian and held him close, returning the kiss with fervor. She knew she should be keeping herself away from him. She knew she should be thinking about her sister and working towards her original plan, but she was tired and she needed the comfort, so she pushed all other thoughts aside and focused only on Cillian.

When she parted her lips for him, Cillian deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist like a vice. After healing him, he had regained all his strength, feeling no discomfort or pain, but Enya still felt a dull pain in her stomach. Thankfully, however, enough hours had passed since the healing and now the kiss was enough of a distraction to keep the lingering pain away.

Cillian pulled back with a soft gasp, his grey eyes lidded and hazy with desire. “Tell me tae stop.”

Enya shook her head. “Dinnae stop.”

Letting out a shuddering breath, Cillian kissed Enya once more, before he began to scatter kisses over her jaw and neck. Enya tilted her head to the side with a sigh, the hot trail of his kisses driving her delirious with need, and for once ever since she had stepped foot in the castle, she could finally let everything go and simply focus on herself, on something that felt good.

When Cillian’s hands began to roam lower and lower on her body, heat pooled deep in Enya’s core. Her heart raced, the unfamiliarity of the situation worrying her, but she never wanted to stop. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be with Cillian, even if what she was doing was a sin, she craved him like she had never craved anything in her life.

“I want ye,” Cillian mumbled against her neck. When he tilted his head up to look at her, Enya ran her fingers through his dark hair, drawing a soft moan out of him as his eyes fell shut. “Please, Thora. Please.”

The sound of her sister’s name gave Enya pause and she swallowed in a dry throat, hesitating. She had to tell Cillian the truth. He had to know who she truly was, especially after what had happened at the camp.

She had found out who had attacked them. He was Laird Malcolm MacNeil, or so he had told her. He had also revealed to her that he knew precisely who she was. Just moments before Cillian had reached them, he had told her he had seen the sisters switch places right before the trip to Jura and were she to reveal his identity, he would reveal hers.

But this wasn’t the right moment to tell Cillian the truth. She would tell him, she decided, soon but another time. Nodding, she tugged gently at his hair, pulling him up a little to press a kiss to his lips.

“Aye,” she said. “Ye have me.”

As she spoke, she pushed Cillian towards the bed for a few steps, until he took the hint and grabbed her, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed. When her back hit the mattress, Enya pulled him on top of her, her legs falling open as he pushed her dress up and out of the way to settle between them.

Cillian was a solid weight on top of her, warm and comforting, and Enya wished she could live in that moment forever, away from reality. Impossible as that was, she was simply going to enjoy it for as long as it could last, her body responding to every touch of Cillian’s hands, every brush of his lips, every soft sound that escaped him. As he kissed down her neck once more, moving down to her chest, Enya arched her back, pushing up into the kisses, her desire only growing stronger with each of them.