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By now they both labored, whimpers and moans mingling in a bed suddenly far too small for the gyrations of two sweat slicked, writhing bodies in the throes of a passion that had moved beyond mere lovemaking. It had become a battle. A challenge they meant to win. A desperate struggle to exorcise a phantasm played out with pillows.
At one point he found himself on his back, eyes closed, a woman’s lips around his member, his body throbbing as spasms built. He wanted to explode. To shout her name. To hold her and never let her go.
His reaction was sharp. Decisive.
An expert twist. A flash of smile. And his shaft lay buried within her. Their eyes met as he rocked forward. As she rose to meet him, taking as much of him as she could, the slide of her muscles goading his body onward.
The rhythm increased. The tempo stretching to a breaking point. He felt her climax. Head thrown back, neck arched, the ripples of inner muscles as he drove into her again and again.
Her hips came off the bed, her body arced like a bow, the moon washing her skin to pearl. Spasms wracked him. He threw himself forward. Thrust. And thrust again. Pumping himself into her. His seed spilling sticky and hot. Giving himself to her. Praying it might hold her when all else he’d tried had failed. For she’d never given him an answer. Never spoken the words he sought to wring from her with his pleasuring: Yes, Aidan. I will stay.
She watched him as he slept. The broad shoulder sloping down into the long, clean line of his collarbone. The slant of ribs, starkly visible with every breath he took. The powerful, sinewy legs. There was a new boiled-down toughness to his body, as if the unessential bits of him had been burned off in the struggle for his soul. Fine lines lay at the edges of his eyes, deep creases carved into the corners of his mouth where none had been before. And one hand fell defensively across his chest, where the long ugly slash of a new scar marred the sleek musculature.
It had been a night of discovery. The two of them finding each other in the dark. Holding on as they stepped over a new threshold into unmarked territory. Thoughts revealed. Plans dreamt. Bodies explored until they lay spent and bedazzled, their skin damp with lovemaking, their breaths quick and shuddering. Holding all the potential for permanence.
But she wasn’t blind. Belfoyle bore the same signs of neglect as had Kilronan House. Yet he
re among the ancient family heirlooms and Douglas legends, thick as furze, the sense of patient waiting seemed almost tangible. An expectation of a turned corner. A new beginning that might bring the old house back to life.
Yet a new beginning meant new money. And even as the tolerated stepdaughter, she’d not held a dowry large enough to tempt a wealthy financier’s son, much less a peer of the realm. She hated to admit it, but Aidan needed Miss Osborne. Someone with the right family ties and a sterling reputation. A woman Aidan could be proud of and who in turn would be proud to reside upon the arm of the Earl of Kilronan.
She brushed a strand of auburn hair off his brow. Skimmed a cheek shadowed with stubble. Kissed the sensual line of his mouth.
Her actions carrying the grief of a parting.
She’d fantasized. Of course she had. And Aidan had nurtured the dream with his whispered promises tonight. But deep in her heart, she knew better. Only this time the naive child who’d shattered with Jeremy’s abandonment bore a strength she’d only achieved over the last hardscrabble years.
She bent but she did not break.
And her time with Aidan would carry her through a thousand empty days.
From a night of fantasy had sprung a gift beyond measure. A serenity she’d never expected to feel. And a head full of memories no longer bearing the stain of her sins. Her son had come back to her. Every breath he’d taken, every glance from slate blue newborn eyes, every feeble cry as he struggled against the inevitable.
Aidan had taken from her. But he’d also given back. And even if it had been unintentional, she’d give credit where credit was due.
She had her son again. And she knew now he would remain a part of her forever. She leaned over. Whispered in Aidan’s ear so that only he might hear: “Thank you.”
Aidan stood upon the thin strip of beach at the bottom of the cliff. Shaded his eyes as he estimated the climb. A good three hundred feet. Nothing like the sheer ascent of the cliffs to the south, but still a challenge.
He’d accomplished it twice. Once with his father on that long-ago birthday. The second time in the months following his parents’ deaths, when physical exhaustion had been the only way to dull the devastating grief and ease the frustrated desire for vengeance.
It was that same kind of need bringing him here this morning. He’d brought his gear. Leather harness. Ropes. A thin-bladed axe. Hammer. Steel anchors.
Scrambling up the initial part of the ascent, he hammered the first anchor into the rock face. Knotted his rope around it. Attached that rope to the harness at his waist. From here, the way steepened to almost vertical, though at one point, a buttress of rock created a solid handhold at the top. A perfect place to wedge the next anchor into position. Knot the second rope.
The next stretch grew more demanding. No outcroppings or spurs for easy positioning. He found and dug his fingers into a narrow crevice. Pulled himself up. Wind tugged at him. Slapped the cliffs in sea-salty gusts, whining through his ropes. Nesting seabirds squawked threats from their ledges and beat their wings to warn him off.
Aidan’s shoulders strained as he pulled himself up, sweat leaking into his eyes. The harness cut into his waist. His fingers grew slippery and cramped. Breathing harsh with fatigue.
Fumbling with the next anchor, he dropped it. The metallic plink as it bounced off the rock and the crash of sliding shale startled the birds to a fresh round of squawking.
Training took over.
Climb. Hammer. Release. Clip. Repeat.
Clouds moved in from the west. Flattened, bellies black and licked with lightning. The wind became a tempest, the rain arriving in icy sheets.
A voice slithered up out of the torrent. A vicious hissing drowning out the sounds of the storm, the squawk of birds, the rumble of a surging ocean.
