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‘Oh Will, everything hurts, inside and out. Tell me truly, am I going to hell now for what I did?’
‘No of course not,’ he said, kissing the top of her head gently. ‘You are a Bain now, and we never beg forgiveness for fighting to keep what is ours. If someone comes at you, then you must defend yourself with everything you have. I am so proud of you, and Morna, you have won the admiration of the men. They have been singing your praises, and Waldrick says he owes you his life.’
Will stared out at the coastline as they rounded the headland. Fitheach, in all its stern glory, came into view. His home, and now he could finally share it with someone, and such a one as to make him the luckiest man alive.
Morna was a woman worthy of a Bain Laird, but was he worthy of her?
Her hand came up and clutched onto a fistful of his tunic, like a child clinging fast to its mother. Suddenly, Morna did not seem fierce, she was just a vulnerable, young woman, frightened, hurt and in need of his protection. Before, she had been something to possess, a trophy and a vessel for his lust, but now his world had changed. He loved her when he never thought he could love anything or anyone again. Something about the realisation made him feel ashamed to his core.
‘Will,’ she said, ‘did you mean what you said to me? Do I have your love?’
‘Aye, you have my love and, in fact, you have all of me, Morna, now and forever, I swear it.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Will shouted her name from above, but she could barely hear him over the rush of the waterfall surging down from the higher ground into the pool at her feet. She waved back at him, squinting into the sunlight and waded a little further into the water, so cold it set her feet to aching. Skye had been blessed with a rare sunny day, so Will had insisted on them riding out to see this place. He had told her it was beautiful, and he was right. They had followed the burn upwards towards the mountains and encountered a series of waterfalls tumbling into pools, some of which were turquoise and inviting, some deep and black.
These last few weeks had been a blissful, carefree time, as they got to know each other better and deepened their affections. Morna’s bruises faded as her contentment grew. There had been walks along the cliff tops, hand in hand. At night they would sup in the great hall with eyes only for each other as if they were the only two people in the world. There were days spent abed, just entwined in each others bodies, as if they could devour each other, so great was their need. Will had opened up a whole new world of pleasure with his lovemaking, so skilful was he with his mouth, fingers, tongue, giving rise to more lust than a body could bear.
Will had only to look at her, and it was as if all her clothes were stripped away and she was naked before his burning eyes. They would ride out all around the island, like today, and find secluded places and fall down on the grass and come together violently. Will’s lovemaking was sometimes as wild as the surging oceans around Fitheach and matched in ardour only by hers. Other times, his touch was so slow and so gentle, it was almost like worship and would bring Morna to the brink of tears, as though her heart were too full. Morna felt things, wanted things, which shamed and excited her equally. How glorious, dangerous and beautiful he was, and, best of all, Will belonged to her.
‘Watch me, Morna,’ he called out, stripping off his clothes and throwing them aside. He wasn’t going to jump was he, the fool?’
As she looked at him, pale, hard and naked, his hair bright in the sunshine, so broad-shouldered and manly, Morna ached to touch him. Sometimes, in the company of the clansmen at Fitheach, it was like torture not to do so.
He smirked at her and waved, and then threw himself off the edge, to come splashing down into the water. For an instant, he was submerged and then surfaced, with a lot of cursing, shaking his wet head, like a dog. He swam to the bank and emerged, deathly pale with cold and hobbled over the smooth stones towards her.
‘God’s teeth, that’s icy,’ exclaimed Will, through chattering teeth.
‘Then why did you do it, you fool,’ she laughed.
‘To impress you. Gods teeth, my cock is fit to drop off,’ he said, laughing and grabbing hold of her. ‘Perhaps you can warm it up.’
Morna put her hand between his legs. ‘I would if I could find it!’ she said.
‘Oh, you’ve a cruel tongue on you, how shall I punish you for your insolence?’ he laughed kissing her, all cold lips at first and then his hot tongue, parting hers.
‘You are getting me wet, you fool, and you are all cold and slippery, like a fish, get off.’
‘I am about to get you wetter,’ he said, pushing her back against a boulder and lifting her skirts.
Morna flinched as his icy fingers found her, but she did not protest. She wanted this, she ached for this. She clutched at his back and dug her nails in hard as he entered her. ‘I love you, I want you, so very much,’ he growled against her mouth, and suddenly there was nothing but Will, and the blue sky above.
By the time they got back to Fitheach, the sky had darkened, and a misty rain was falling. They ran into the great hall hand in hand in search of the fire to dry off and found Waldrick standing before it.
‘Ah, Waldrick, back from the mainland, my friend. What news?’ said Will smiling and squeezing her hand.
Waldrick’s eyes shifted to hers and back to Will. ‘It has begun. Word has it that the English are marching for Berwick to mount an all-out siege, blockading the river and such. King Edward wants that town back, and he intends to have it, no matter what the cost. The Bruce is to counter-attack and is rallying men to arms.’
‘My brothers,’ gasped Morna, as the day spun into darkness.
Will turned to her. ‘Go to our chamber and get yourself warm. I must speak with Waldrick.’
‘But Will, I have to know what will happen now.’
‘And you shall. I will be with you presently. Now go, please.’ He kissed her hands, cold as ice.
Morna walked away on feet of lead. It was all happening again, another battle, the torture of weeks of worrying, the agony of not knowing if her loved ones were among the living or the dead. Lyall and Cormac would be in the vanguard of any force King Robert flung at the English, they would be vulnerable and, as usual, she was helpless.
