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Son of a Rogue

Page 53

by Cecelia Mecca

“If I was not willing to commit fully to you, he was not willing to commit fully to a cause that was not one of our own. But now, you are one of us.”

“I am one of you?”

“Aye. And we fight for our own.”

She began to understand. Freya’s eyes widened.

“As I said, I wanted to be certain they would come. A majority of the Brotherhood must be in attendance, though those missing may offer their votes in absentia. My father sent word to them but . . .” Rory squeezed her hand. “We were not certain, until now. They are here to witness our marriage, aye. But they’ve assembled for another council meeting too.”

“They are here to decide . . . there is a possibility?”

It was as if she could not speak, which Rory could understand. “As they’ve come all this way, I believe ’tis more than a possibility. Were they to vote no, ’tis likely some would have remained home and sent their well-wishes for our union instead.”

“Rory.” Her eyes began to fill with tears, which Rory wiped away.

“Nay, do not cry, Freya. ’Tis cause for celebration. They will meet tomorrow, and I believe they will vote aye. Once committed, they will not act in half measures. The might of the Waryn and Kenshire retinues, along with the warriors of Clan Kerr, and our allies, will take back Edyington. None wish for Edward to have such a strong foothold this close to the border. Many will fight, and we will win.”

“Edyington.” Freya wrapped her arms around him. Rory held on, more grateful now for his training than ever before.

“We will take it back; your maid and her family will be safe. Edyington Castle will be yours,” he said into her ear. “If they vote aye tomorrow, I swear it. I will go there as your husband and take it back in your name.”

Though he should not with so many close to them in the hall, Rory stole a quick kiss from his intended. He’d never been one to follow the rules well and discarded them easily now. As his lips moved over hers, their kiss deepened.

If he was to break the rules, Rory would do it all the way.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Rory backed her up as they kissed, spinning Freya around suddenly. He did so, it seemed, to open a small door within the corridor, one barely bigger than Rory himself. Though it was dark inside, she immediately recognized it as a pantry.

“Rory, a meal is about to be served. We will be discovered in here.”

“There is another, closer to the kitchens. This is used for storage.” He may have shrugged; Freya could not see him as there was no light inside the small room. “’Tis true, we could be caught.”

She had no warning before Rory’s lips were upon her once again. When Freya opened her mouth to protest, his tongue silenced her. And then, all protestations were lost. He moved expertly against her, twirling and teasing as he began to lift her gown.

“What of waiting until after the wedding?” she asked.

“We will do so,” he said, even as Freya helped him lift her gown, “if you desire.”

As Rory’s hand ran along her lace garter, Freya imagined the door flying open and his entire family standing on the other side.

“We could be caught,” she said again, knowing well he’d not locked the door behind them. Indeed, it was rare a pantry door would lock at all.

“Aye.”

His finger found her, and now that she’d become more accustomed to the dark, Freya could see an outline of his face above her. She reached up, his jaw beneath her palm. Then, touching his lip, Freya was caught unawares as Rory captured a fingertip and began to suckle her as he’d done that day.

Freya was lost.

She reached between them, lifted his tunic, and pulled her finger from his mouth just as she uncovered him. Rory sprang free, and Freya took advantage to feel him as she’d never done so before. She ran both hands up and down the length of him, rubbed the smooth tip, and nearly cried out as he continued his gentle assault.

Then suddenly his hands were gone and, with the material of her gown gathered between them, Rory pressed his hands over hers. Together, they guided him to her. But as her gown began to fall back down, Freya reluctantly let go and aided it to stay in place.

And then he was inside her. She nearly squealed as Rory lifted her legs, growling, “Wrap them around my waist.”

She did.

How he both held her and made love to her at the same time, Freya did not know. But as Rory’s lips captured hers once again, she alternated between fascination at his strength, pleasure from what he was doing to her, and utter panic at the possibility they could be caught in such a position.