The Pledge (10 page)

“Wha…?”

“Be still, my beauty. You’ve come to my bed and I give you welcome. This night this warrior has need of the likes of you.
’Twould seem I’ve sustained a wound, though I know not with what or how.” He frowned. “Nor can I recall what day ’Tis nor
what battle beset me. Must have been a blow to the skull with a cudgel. No matter, I’m strong enough for this and seek it.
I have a great flame in my innards I would bestow upon thee, my beauty. Forsooth I’ll give you the hottest of loving as you’ll
give the same back to me.”

“Wait! Hugh MacKay—”

He kissed her, his tongue jousting, tickling, teasing, cutting off her sputtering ire and protest. “Resist not, lovely one.
I care not that you’ve given your favor to others, though if truth be told I would prefer that all your talents be mine, alone.”
He grinned at her struggles.

“Will you listen—?”

“Nay! This night you’ll belong to me, as I will be yours, and we will pleasure each other until I must rise from your pallet
and battle once more.” He leaned over her, kissing her neck, her cheek, returning over and over to her mouth. “I’ll fill you
with my heat as you will drown me in your charms.” He kissed her lips again. Then his mouth slid between her breasts, caressing
the
skin, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking there, muttering shocking encouragement that she imitate such on his body.

“Sirrah! I cannot—” Morrigan was spinning. New sensations filled her like rare wine in a goblet. She couldn’t describe what
was happening. Nay! She’d never known there was such. She was on fire with a need she couldn’t name. Her hands clutched Hugh
MacKay even as she told herself it couldn’t be happening.

“You can, my lovely. Tomorrow, I’ll war again, and not know your name. Mayhap I’ll not forget you so easily, though. You’re
a rara avis to be sure. This night you’ll be my mate in passion and ecstasy…” He kissed her, openmouthed, eager, wanting.

Unused to such endearments, to such a clasping of bodies, to such daring words, Morrigan was rigid with outrage. Yet there
was a melting in her, a yearning that ignored his shamelessness. Nay! She would’ve spurred him on if such was necessary. Hugh
MacKay had no need of impetus. He set a fire and fed the flames with an eagerness that left her breathless.

It would seem he was not as sick as she’d believed. That he thought her a common strumpet raised her ire. Then she felt the
coldness of sweat brushing her skin and knew that he was indeed in deep fever. Her umbrage melted, her rage seeped away. She
wrenched her mouth from his. “Stop, MacKay, you’re ailing. Stop!” She felt
her garment tear. Good glory! The evil humors had taken his hearing.

“Seek not to tease me, lovely one. Remove this wrap and I will love you as you seek.”

“Seek? Me?” Sputtering, Morrigan tried to reason with him. Then she caught sight of his glazed stare. “You know me not!”

“Of course I do, sweet one. You’re my whore—”

“What? How dare—”

He kissed her, his mouth filling hers, taking, giving such heat that her fury had no focus. A drumbeat began in her belly,
throbbing until she was deafened by it. Her limbs had turned to hot honey and all they wanted was to entwine with MacKay’s.

When he lifted his mouth a mere breath from hers, she couldn’t get enough air to voice more protest. He didn’t seem to share
her problem. His eyes held more than fever. The look made her fire anew. His body, though pearled with sweat, seemed to have
a seductive, sinuous strength that magnetized her. “Hugh—”

“In the east you’re honored as kadim or houri. If you suit me, I’ll keep you with me. ’Tis not uncommon to keep such as you
in a castle.” He lifted her torn garment from her body, seeming not to notice her protests. “I will inform my people that
you will be an honored guest.”

Gulping breaths, she glared at him. “Oh? Is that the way of it? You’ll not keep me—”

“I shall… until I battle again.”

“Monstrous! You cannot,” she argued with him as he
was freeing her from the last of her raiment. “I am not a houri, Hugh MacKay. Hear that plain.”

“Sweet one! Do not seek to entice me with false shyness.”

“False, is it? I’ll take a claymore to you, I will. And one more thing, you ungracious lout, I’m not…” All at once she realized
she’d been poking her finger into his naked chest. “Good glory! Have you no shame?”

“Nay. Nor should you, my bare beauty.”

“Bare? Don’t be… Eek!” She scrambled to cover herself, slapping at his hands when he continued to ignore her modesty. She
was stunned to realize their bodies were entwined. “Stop!”

“I can’t,” he muttered. “Nor do you wish it.”

“I do…” Words dribbled away when he put his head upon her breast, pulling her nipple into his mouth.

“Beautiful,” he muttered, his lips still surrounding her.

Aghast, she opened her mouth, exhaling and inhaling deep breaths, words of denial caught deep in her throat. “No…” she wheezed.

“Shh,” he muttered, taking her other nipple and repeating the torrid ritual. “I would wash you with my tongue, sweet lady.
Lave you up and down from your woman’s place to your eyes, I will.”

“Good Lord!”

“Seek me, not the Maker, lovely one.”

He was a barbarian! If she’d had the strength, if she weren’t so hot, so trembly, she’d smite the bastard Scot
for such effrontery. His language was atrocious! He spoke in the most outrageous way. If truth be told he was blasphemous.
Ohhh! His mouth upon her middle must be sinful. Surely such wild sweetness could be nothing else.

“ ’Tis not often I’m made so hot. You have done this,” he told her, growling the words. “This is where your magic is.” His
hands went down her middle until they touched her female center. Then his mouth followed, darting at her navel, then moving
lower, his lips pulling at the curls there, licking, making her body as feverish as his. When she bucked beneath him, he increased
the rhythm until she thought she’d go mad.

Stunned by the surge of sensation, building inside her like the mudslides from the cliffs overlooking the Irish Sea, she could
only grip his shoulders and wonder if she was living or dying. The heat she’d never known, nor imagined, grew and expanded,
filling her. When there seemed there could be no more, there was. It cascaded through her like the sea crashing on the shore.

“Hugh!”

“I’m here, beauty.”

“I can’t… I don’t…”

“Ah, ’Tis the same for me. You’ve set me aflame.”

Her body writhed upon the bedding as though she, not Hugh, were caught in a miasma. Trying to gainsay him, to find the words
to stop his wonderful onslaught, seemed impossible. Appalling that she wanted him to continue, yet she couldn’t stem that
wondrous tide of
desire. The thought crossed her mind that he thought her another, that he might not have wanted her as much. Then it evaporated
like the mists in the glen. Why could she not find the strength to stop this thunderous wanting? What magic did MacKay have?
It was a bittersweet certainty that, even if MacKay didn’t know he made love to her, she wanted more and didn’t want him to
stop.

She’d had the swelling sickness in her throat once and her body had burned into watery rashes. She’d thrashed for days on
the edge of oblivion. She had a similar sensation now. If she released her hold on MacKay she could spiral away into nothingness.
He was her anchor to life and hot, melting beauty.

The heat in the core of her was beyond any fire she’d ever thought to have. How to define the mushrooming need that had nothing
to do with hunger and thirst, but was even stronger? It was not for cool, fruited water her being cried. What then? She couldn’t
comprehend the great gnawing that filled her, making her form move with his upon the big bed. What unseen rhythm had them
in thrall?

“So, my sweet, you call me as Circe has always beckoned with your lovely form.”

How outrageous he was! Being with him was more than right, it was a clarion call from spirit to spirit… and much more. She
ached to be closer though she was skin to skin with him. Letting their bodies abrade, their limbs entwine was a command she
couldn’t ignore. That
heat from within was building to a pyramid of feeling she’d not had an inkling of until that moment. Wanting choked her. Air
left her body in great gasps, to be sucked in again in huge gulps.

Her intent to tell him to desist crumpled like the dried sage put into the bedcovering, turning to dust her resolve to make
him lie back, rest. Their sweat-slick bodies rubbed each other like flint against stone, turning them into glowing embers.
Hands gripped hands, legs tangled and tightened, bodies pulsed against each other.

Morrigan forgot protest, forgot inhibition, lost reluctance. She wanted him, and no other. Needed him, no other, and she didn’t
know why, or how it happened. And she didn’t care. She’d never been so weak, so strong, so rejuvenated. What was happening?

“That’s it, my beauty, move against me.”

“I… I do not—”

His mouth took her words, tasting them. When his tongue found its way between her lips and began a dance with hers, she tried
to cry out. Instead her tongue began its own jousting and the intolerable heat built again.

Her arms pressed against him to be freed. When he backed a hair’s space away to give her room, some far-off thought was sure
she’d smite him. Instead she let her arms encircle his neck.

“Hold me tight, little love, I shall carry you with me to Valhalla.”

’Twas blasphemy, an errant voice whispered. Why
would a Scot wish to go to a Viking heaven? True, some said his mother was Icelandic… Thought dribbled away. Her body, heeding
its own clarion call, began to inch up and down him anew. When he cursed, his voice hoarse with urgency, she stopped, uncertain,
hot, eager, but afraid.

“No, sweet thing, I have no anger. You just make me so hard, so needful. I could plunge into you now, but I’ve a fantasy to
make you as wanting as me.” He kissed her hard, his one hand holding her, the other stroking up and down her form.

Euphoria and excitement were a wild paradox that held her. When he looked into her eyes, smiling, he took away all resistance.
She wanted this coupling, enough to drown the fear deep within her. It was madness to desire a Scot. Surely she’d lost all
sense to want him in such a way. No doubt of it. She was depraved.

He turned her body so that the candlelight flashed over it, creating a sunburst of color. “You are a goddess. What deed have
I accomplished that brings you to me from your star?”

Morrigan didn’t have an answer even if he’d expected one. She knew he didn’t when he pressed his face between her breasts,
his tongue laving her, his hands massaging her.

Eager for more, she let her hands touch his back, her fingers feeling the strong, smooth skin, crisscrossed with many scars.
She caressed him as she’d done to no other. Excitement built anew, even as she was sure there
could be no more. It was as though another had taken her life and given her a new one, bubbling with a delight, a desire to
mate with MacKay.

He lifted his head, smiling at her, his eyes glittering. “You taste sweet, my beauty.” His mouth closed over her breast again,
the touch arching her body into him.

He put his arms around her buttocks, lifting her closer. He lifted his head, gazing at her. “I shall make you flame with desire,
beauty.”

Morrigan swallowed. “Yes.”

He smiled, his lazy mouth descending to her skin, scoring down it to her navel, entering and exiting in a wonderful rhythm
that seemed right, though she’d not known of it before Hugh MacKay had done this.

She pulled at his hair when she felt his breath on her woman’s place. None should go there except to plant the seed of a child.
She knew this as did all women. But he’d been there before and she wanted it again. “Ohhh.” The cry escaped her as she felt
his tongue there, going in and out as it’d done in her navel. She would’ve protested, but she couldn’t find the words.

His tongue plunged again and again into her woman’s place. Then she seemed to rip apart in heat.

“MacKay!” she called aloud.

“I’m here, beauty.”

She was being torn by MacKay’s flame the way that lightning struck a tree. There was no pain, only a building, hot sensation
then blackness took her, her body bucking against his mouth.

“I come to you, my beauty.”

Sliding up and into her body, he began the rhythm again, taking her beyond anything she’d ever known. There was a sudden surprising
pain through all the boiling need, then there was nothing but a surging, pounding desire.

His body worked over hers. She rose to meet every thrust, finding a burgeoning fullness that suddenly carried her beyond any
sight or sound she’d ever imagined. She gripped him, thinking that she’d risen beyond the castle, the battlements, the land
of miserable Scots.

She shuddered over and over again, feeling a subtle rawness, but it was not unpleasant. She was still locked into MacKay’s
arms, his mouth in her hair. Then as though a far-off plan was executed, their two bodies strained in an ultimate journey
of joy. For long moments after she couldn’t move, nor could she see or feel. After a while sensation appeared again. She knew
where she was, what she’d done. She tried to free herself. His hold tightened.

“Nay, lass, I already want you more.” Though the words were slurred his hold was fast.

Twice more in the night he loved her, each time better than the last, longer, sweeter, until she was wrung out with new feelings
she’d thought never to experience.

When he began to sleep she gazed at him in wonder. He was devilishly ill with fever, still he’d made love to her over and
over and it’d been wonderful. She was truly wed to a giant of a man. How frightening that,
mayhap, she might come to love this man because of the night of love he’d given her. His feelings wouldn’t be involved because
he thought he’d joined with a courtesan. Would he change his feelings on the morrow and realize he’d made love with his wife?

She rose, easing him away from the coverings, eyeing the blood there. Her husband would never know he took a virgin as bride
and she could never tell him. She began changing the bedcoverings. In a rage he could deny Rhys his heritage. He could put
her aside and the boy, as well. No, she couldn’t confess that Rhys had been born to another mother. Her pledge overrode her
need for truth. The pathos, the irony shook her and she felt a tear on her cheek.