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Ilene boldly lifted his shirt up over his head and her hands found his chest, fingers moving slowly over his bare skin. He gasped as they moved down over the taut bands of muscle on his stomach.
‘You have gentle hands. I like that,’ he breathed.
As she explored the peaks and troughs of his muscled physique, his languid, deep kiss became more urgent. Such smooth skin he had, and such a big, hard body, and when her hands found his manhood and grasped it, he groaned. Unsure of what to do she stroked and squeezed him, cupping his warmth in her hands as his kisses hardened, along with the rest of him.
‘Keep doing that and I’m going to have to throw you down on this bed and make love to you hard and fast woman,’ he moaned into her hair, as he bent in to bite and kiss her neck.
‘And what if I do this?’ she breathed, emboldened enough to press her mouth to his collarbone and along to his chest, then down, taking his nipple in her mouth and circling it with her tongue. She looked up at him. ‘What will you do then?’ she said, trying her best to sound seductive.
‘I’ll go inside you, all night, again and again, until you beg me to stop.’
In response Ilene reached around and grabbed his firm buttocks, loving the feel of her nails digging into his flesh as she pulled his body against hers.
***
Ilene’s clumsy attempt at seduction made Murray feel an unbearable affection for her as if his heart would burst with it. It was obvious that she did not know what to do, so he would have to help her, in fact, he intended to do a good deal more than that. All he’d given her so far was anger and a kind of savage passion. In truth, he had selfishly followed his own desires from the moment he laid eyes on her as a grown woman. Now, he was going to make love to her properly and make her beautiful body ache for him.
With his self-control slipping away as her head moved lower, he suddenly had to be inside her. He pulled her up to him, ripping her shift over her head and rolling her over, face down on the bed. Leaning over, he reached a hand around and found her firm breasts, cupping and stroking them. By god they were magnificent, filling his hands with sweetness. Slowly, he moved down over her smooth belly to the soft, dark mound between her legs, slippery with her need for him. This was the sweet spot which would make her his slave, where he could own her, make her cry out his name. The feel of her pert bottom moving against his manhood, as she pushed against his questing fingers, made it pulse with desire and so he spreading her thighs open with his knee and biting her neck softly, he pushed in a little. Now he had her gasping and moaning.
‘Please Murray, oh…please I want you more than anything,’ she breathed.
‘Then you shall have me. All of me,’ he growled, thrusting into her. She pushed her hand up into his hair and writhed against his fingers where they slowly circled, with an age-old rhythm. Her nails dug into his head, then she grasped hard at his neck, holding her to him, as she reached the brink.
Ilene’s soft gasps of pleasure were pushing him beyond reason. He could scarce hold himself back but he instead he withdrew and flipped her over so that she was underneath him.
‘I want to look at your face when I do it, Ilene. I need to see that you want me.’ In the soft light, she looked like an angel, flushed with passion and lips swollen with his kisses. And she was begging him to take her with those dark, beautiful eyes. ‘Murray I want you,’ she gasped into his mouth. ‘I really do, and not for pity, and not to say goodbye, but just for myself.’
‘Then you shall have me, my love.’ Pulling her leg up and over his back, he glided into her, going deep and gentle and long, finding a rhythm that made her cling and gasp. She threw her head back and pressed her breasts against his chest as he buried his head in a cloud of her hair, silky, thick. Her soft cries inflamed him as he rocked into her, pushing her down into the bed, and, when she cried out his name and gripped the mattress, he stiffened inside her, pouring out all his love.
‘I love you, Murray,’ she said softly, her cheek wet and hot where it pressed against his. ‘I love you and there is only you now.’
‘Don’t cry Ilene. Hush now.’
‘You will come back to me. Promise me.’
‘Aye I will come back,’ he said, pulling her into his arms. He stroked her hair, pulling it gently off her face where it had stuck to her tears.
It was a lie, but the truth would sour the moment. Victory in battle was not about ferocity, or bravery or skill, it was a matter of cold, hard luck whether you lived or die. No amount of love in the world could keep him safe if it was his turn to die and he knew it.
***
In the cold dawn, Ilene watched Murray dress for battle He wound a neckerchief round and round and having been brought up with fighting men all her life, she knew it was to protect his neck from the slash of a blade to the gullet. He pulled on leather trews and over his shirt a leather waistcoat, stiff and tough, but it wasn’t enough to stop a shot, withstand the hack of a claymore or slow an arrow, heading for his heart. He pulled on his blue jacket which always made him look unbearably handsome. Would it soon be spattered in red?
Murray did not look at her or speak as he fastened his pistols and knife and scraped his claymore into its sheath, hung from his belt. Slowly, he became a killer through and through, not the man who had held her through the night, gently loving her with his body, over and over. And Ilene wanted him to be that killer because that way he would survive.
‘Murray, forgive me for everything,’ she said with a sob.
He looked up, his face was harsh. ‘Hush Ilene. You have had my forgiveness these many months so your conscience is clear. You may have lied to me, concealed things from me, but still, I feel I’ve had the better part of the bargain. So no soft words are needed. You know that you are the only thing I ever had that was worth having.’
‘But it’s more than that, Murray.’
‘Let us not do this now Ilene,’ he said.
‘I will do it. I love you.’
He sighed heavily. ‘And I love you, though Ilene I fear mine is a vicious kind of love that has only served to hurt you, and will never make you happy.’
‘If you think I would prefer a gentle love and a steady, dull life, then you are wrong. I want my fierce love, in my heart, in my bed, in my body. I love you, Murray. I love you that will not change, no matter what you do to me.’
