Read Knight Everlasting Online
Authors: Jackie Ivie
Knight Everlasting (32 page)
Aidan was grunting in small breaths that matched the shoves he was making, holding her with both hands about her hips, the position tilting her forward and making her receive him in little bits of sensation that were driving her mad.
And then something changed, and he shoved fully, filling her with as much as he could reach. Then he gave a twinge, making her moan with the sensation.
“I will na' take you quick, Juliana. Na' this time. Regardless of need and ache and want! And denial! Christ! Regardless ofâ” He cut off his words and everything stopped as he stiffened and tightened, except for the pounding beat of his heart against the backs of her shoulders.
Juliana slit an eye open on a rumple of bed linen at her cheek. She moved her head to face him, but before she could, Aidan responded. He sucked in a breath that moved her with it, and that just made everything flex and move from where they were joined.
“Oh Lord. Doona' move.”
Juliana wasn't moving. She was doing her utmost to accept and enjoy the fullness and heat without the motion her body was tormenting her with. And then he moved, sliding slightly from her only to shove right back in.
“Too . . . wondrous. Juliana . . . it's just . . .”
Hot breath touched her shoulder, instantly followed by his tongue, and that led to more whispered words accompanying his kiss. And more movement of his groin against hers. His kiss reached her ear, and Juliana hunched her shoulder, defending skin that rose in goose bumps of reaction. There was too much sensation, too much emotion, too much intensity, and it was adding and mingling and interspersing the waves from where he was starting to rhythmically rock his loins against hers . . .
Pulling out. Pushing back into place. Pulling out . . . Aidan moved his kiss, trailing his lips to her jaw as Juliana turned her head, and then his mouth slammed against hers, mingling breath. Combining moisture. Connecting flesh.
He rolled her within his arms, putting her onto her back with a twist that had more ecstasy attached. The moan of it passed into the caverns of his mouth, and became more of them as he planted a fist into the mattress at her side and lifted, maneuvering her thigh around and about him, until she was fully beneath him, her legs about him, and receiving every portion of him. While the groan he gave released her lips due to the length and volume of it. Aidan had both hands smashed into the mattress on either side of her as he lifted, using a rocking motion that fueled the wonder building, elevating . . . erupting.
Liquid friction surrounded her, sending flickers down her legs, up through her belly . . . through her breasts. Juliana ran her hands all along and over him, again and again, enjoying every bit of the ridges of his back, the heavy contours of his belly and chest, the heavy roping of strength in his arms. Her caresses sent an itch onto her fingers with every stroke, every touch, every contact, while Aidan's movements added to the exquisite torment creating . . . building.
Heat put a moist film in place atop every bit of skin her fingers skimmed. Breath got harsher, more strenuous . . . quicker paced. Aidan started moving with broader strokes, alternately filling and releasing her with heavier and thicker and stronger movements that started such a tension in her core that she was going mad with it. Juliana flung her head from side to side, blowing little gasps of breath before gaining new ones. The feeling built. Expanded. Enlarged. Got closer. Nearer . . .
Juliana quivered with it, felt a thrill centering from where his motions were increasing, rocking and swaying the entire bed frame in fast-paced, heavy lunges of his body into hers. Over and over again and again, and then she sensed it . . . grabbed at it . . . and then careened right over the edge into such a perfect explosion of bliss, she opened her mouth to give full vent to it.
The note of ecstasy hung in the room, even after she'd spent her breath, giving vent to a wonder that couldn't be contained. Juliana's fingers clung to him, she lifted with him, meeting his every thrust with one of her own as he pummeled her body with an abandon that had nothing rhythmic about it. And then he stopped, pulling her up and against his body with her hold while everything on him went tense and stiff and filled with a vibration that moved her with it.
Juliana's eyes were open and watching as Aidan tossed back his head, letting out a long sobbed note that had every cord in his throat taut and every muscle in his frame rigid, while the mattress shook from the shuddering of his arms.
And then he lowered his head, opened his eyes, blinked, and tipped his head to put a kiss on her nose. “I love you, Juliana,” he whispered. “Forever.”
And then he had to deal with her tears of happiness again.
Epilogue
Aidan woke from the dream reminding him of where he'd hung his sporran bag and on what tree, the exact moment Juliana informed him it was time for their son to enter the world. And time for him to vacate the area, and leave the birthing and laboring to the women.
Aidan was hesitant. If he lost this wife . . . he didn't think he could handle finishing the thought. The grief. The loss. For nine months he and Juliana had been nearly inseparable. Basking in a love that grew daily. Glowing with it.
So he did what he always did.
Became rash. Reckless. Thoughtless. And quick.
It was an omen. And despite the brutal winter weather that was putting new snow atop old crusted ice, he set out for Loch Erind, with fourteen members of his own honor guard, as well as all eleven members of Arran's, since his brother insisted on accompanying him. This left Alpin in control of the castle, and the castle business, and the birthing of the laird's heir. Alpin was in luck that Dame Lileth and Lady Reina were handling it. The lad nearly keeled over when informed. And then he started arguing, until his senior honor guardsman, Iain Blaine, put a hand on the lad's shoulder, and gave the correct counsel.
It took more than two days to reach their camp spot. An afternoon to clear ground for setting up tents and well into the night before they had three huge fires going, but only moments to reach the exact tree where Aidan had hung the sporran bag before he'd dived into the loch. Exactly as his dream had reminded him.
He didn't know what it meant, or why he had to have it, but the little signet ring that barely fit on the bottom of his finger was going to his wife. She'd yet to choose her own token, although she'd gone through his entire treasury playing at which gems she'd wear and with which outfit. But she had yet to choose. And he had yet to make her.
Aidan held the amulet Dame Lileth had made for him next to the ring taken from the woodcutter and twisted them back and forth in the glow cast from his oil wick. Identical. He couldn't wait to return to Juliana and show her.
Juliana!
He moved his vision to the tent weave above him, blinked rapidly at the moisture cursing him, and then went to his knees in prayer.
The return journey was even worse, with another windswept blizzom, costing them an extra day and a half longer. They had to spend one full day and night at the Killoran compound, eating well-roasted meats and drinking full-spirited ales, while the tension and worry kept mounting within him. He shouldn't have left her. He should have been there! If she died while birthing his bairn . . .
The fire didn't hold any answers, nor did his cot, nor did the backs of his eyelids if he tried closing them. Nothing muted the worry. It was only when they finally spied Castle Ketryck's gray stone walls between the falling flakes that Aidan's heart fully started beating again, making large and heavy strokes within his chest that threatened to choke him.
The drawbridge took forever to lower. He could have crossed the near frozen moat before they finally dropped the bridge into position. And the lower bailey had never taken so long to cross! Aidan pushed his stallion to a run on churned frozen ground, and he wasn't waiting for the others before springing from the saddle onto the second step ledge of his front door.
He wasn't but three steps inside the great hall, yanking the ties of his sodden furs apart and shoving the outer layer from him, before Alpin stood from one of the benches, looking like he hadn't slept in days.
“Juliana?”
“Doona' ever do that again!” Alpin cried.
“How . . . is Juliana?”
“Groaning and screaming and crying and making it impossible to sleep. That is how your Juliana is.”
“The bairn?”
“'Tis trouble. It's na' here yet . . . but wait!”
“Oh . . . Jesu'.” Aidan choked on the fear, blinked around the blur of moisture in his eyes, and shook with suppressing the instant red that hovered in his vision.
“Dame Lileth says it's na' a bad sign. S-S-Some b-b-b-bairns . . . it'sâ”
“What, Alpin? What?”
“He canna' speak if you choke him, my laird.”
Iain's bearded face and solid voice stopped the red that was starting to permeate everything. Aidan released his brother's throat and stepped back. One step. Another.
“Are na' you supposed to protect your lord?” Ewan asked his older brother.
Iain pursed his lips and looked to the ceiling as if debating the answer. “Aye,” he finally answered. “That's what I was doing.”
“For the love of God! Alpin! What? What did Dame Lileth say?”
“First bairns take longer. And theyâ”
Alpin was cut off by a newborn's cry splitting the air throughout the hall. Aidan was at a run before he reached the tower steps, and he had most of his men with him. He didn't get past the antechamber where Dame Lileth was sitting, rocking on a chair and humming. And sipping at her mug.
“Aidan Niall MacKetryck.” She reprimanded him with just his name. Aidan came to a stop.
“Aye?” he replied.
“You will contain yourself afore visiting your son. And your wife.”
“Juliana . . .”
“Is well.”
“But Alpin saidâ”
“Aidan Niall MacKetryck.”
She said his name again, in exactly the same reprimanding tone. Aidan pulled up to his full height and controlled the red, until it faded completely. Then he had to admit again to the blur that was wetting up his eyes. He blinked on it and waited.
“If your wife had been in danger, I would have told you so. You ken?”
He grinned. “And my son?”
“Large. Healthy. As was foretold. 'Twas a hard birth. Give Lady Reina a moment to prepare.”
A moment had never taken so long! Aidan and his men paced the antechamber width, occasionally bumping into each other, for what seemed an eternity, but they all stopped and swiveled the moment they heard the door handle being turned down. And then the door opened, and Lady Reina came out carrying a MacKetryck plaidâcovered bundle with two red fists waving from it that had every man there blinking rapidly and clearing their throats, while Aidan shoved through them to the front.
“Your son, my laird.”
It was a good thing she didn't hand the infant to Aidan. His legs were warning him as his knees trembled, and his arms were right behind. He leaned forward, looked at the dark-haired babe, and then went to a giddy grin as it popped a fist into its mouth and started suckling on it.
“Juliana?” he asked.
“She's ready for you now.”
Aidan turned to Dame Lileth and raised his finger. “Doona' dare give any prediction until I return. You ken?”
She smiled widely then waved her fingers at him, and then she went back to enjoying her drink.
Aidan shut the door behind him and approached his bed. Reddish curls the shade of the rowan tree berry caressed the linens and fell all over the side, as if arranged that way. Juliana looked pale, and tired, and absolutely perfect. Aidan was at her side and on his knees, and he didn't even know how he got there. He'd known she was the most beautiful woman, and now he had added proof as she smiled over at him.
“Did you see him?” she whispered.
Aidan couldn't see through the film of tears in his eyes. He had to lift the bed covering and brush them aside.
“Aye,” he replied finally.
“Isn't he . . . beautiful?”
He lifted an eyebrow. And nodded. He didn't trust his voice just yet.
“He . . . looks just like you,” she informed him.
“Well. He does have my hair,” Aidan replied.
“He has more than that, my love. You just wait.”
“He's . . . perfect, Juliana. Perfect. I thank you for him.” He cleared his throat, and rummaged about in his sporran. “And . . . I have something for you, Juliana. It was in my sporran bag. The one I'd thought I'd lost. This came from the woodcutter, but I think it belongs with you.”
He meant to hand her the ring, but instead she got the purple stone amulet with the link to hang from a chain.
“Where did you get this?”
“Nae. Wrong one. Here. This one.”
He handed her the signet ring, too, and watched her do the same comparison he had, twisting and turning them in the light thrown from the torches. They were still identical. Then, she looked across at him and stole his wits. His ability to speak. And nearly got his ability to breathe as well.
“I've never seen this one.” She lifted the amulet.
“D-D-Dame Lileth made it. She said it . . . would make things clear. I doona' ken what she meant. Then. Or now.”
Juliana smiled. “This is my family crest, Aidan. D'Aubenville.”
Aidan blinked several times. Sat back on his haunches. Looked from the ring to the amulet and then back to his wife.
“Y-Y-Your f-f-family crest?”
Jesu'!
He was stuttering.
Jesu'!
He was stuttering.
“I'm Lady Juliana D'Aubenville, Aidan. Fyfen Castle belongs to me. As does all the land surrounding it. My father sent me into the woods with the steward to hide. To keep me safe until the English came to retrieve my property from that horrible clan, the MacDonals.”
“You-you-you . . . The L-L-L-Lady D'Aubenville?” His stuttering was more pronounced than ever. He rivaled Arran. He had to swallow again. Clear his throat again. And try again.
“Yes, Aidan. I'm the Lady D'Aubenville. And Fyfen Castle belongs to me.”
He pulled himself straight, puffed out his chest, lowered his chin, and gave her a look that usually silenced most of his clan.
“I know that look,” she said. “Don't try it on me, Aidan Niall.”
“You doona' own Fyfen Castle, Juliana. Na' anymore. I do. By right of marriage. And lordship. And this is yet another time my rash, reckless, and thoughtless behavior has gotten me a victory. I still doona' believe it.”
“What are you talking of now?”
“Doona' you see? I went reaving from the MacDonal clan. To take a bit of sheep. Maybe a wench or two. And instead . . . I won everything they had!”
And then he put his head back and bellowed before it turned into laughter.
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