Moonstone (19 page)

Lastly, she leaned in and kissed his jaw. “You’re turn,” she whispered.

They traded places, Rhiannon laying back. He wasn’t sure where he should put his hands. “Where can’t I touch you?”

“My chin.”

“Rhiannon . . .”

“Just touch me
,” she bit.

She was frustrated with him already.
He started at her shoulders, working his way over her sleeves. She took his hand. “I know what you’re doing, but we have to start somewhere.”

“We are.”

She cupped his hand over her breast. His breath caught, and Rhiannon’s fingers tightened over his.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Her face more demined than ever, she slid his hand downward. He let her direct him over her ribcage and the gentle curve of her stomach. Then she stopped. He heard her swallow.

She sat up and tugged her chemise off. 

Uncovered, she looked at the mattress between them, her hair shielding most of her upper body. He almost lifted her chin so that she would look at him in the eye, then stopped himself. He lay back down, urging her to follow. She lay on his chest and he rubbed the soft skin of her back, taking in the feel of her flesh against his. 

“You didna have to do that,” he said. “We would have gotten to it eventually.”

“When you fall off a horse, you get back on.”

“I’m not sure that is entirely pertinent here.”

“When you’re afraid of something you want, after a while, you start to hate yourself. You think of yourself as a coward, and you lose faith in yourself too.”

“You’re not a coward. And I have not lost faith in you.”

“At times you have.”

She was right. He had.
“Can you forgive me?”

“Can you forgive me for scaring you?”

It took him a moment to understand. “When you risked your life?”

“Yes.”

“I forgive you.”

“Then I can forgive you as well.” She looked up, finally meeting his gaze. “I’m ready now.”

“Not just yet.” He nudged her off of him, then rolled onto his side next to her. “Put your hand over mine.” She did, then she pushed her hair aside with her free hand and guided his hand over her skin. His hand fit nicely against her curves. He watched her face flush and her pulse thrum against her neck as he touched her. Her fingers curled around his hand, gripping him tighter and tighter. Suddenly, she let go and drew his face to hers, urgently kissing his jaw and his mouth, her breath mingling with his. She moaned and he couldn’t not follow suit.

He shifted his weight partially over her. When she gasped, he gave her a moment to adjust.

“Too heavy?”

“Nay, ’tis not that.” She looked into his eyes. “You’re shaking.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. Every muscle in his body was wound tight. He felt his pulse in his temples. “I’m afraid of hurting you.”

“But you need me? And I need you.”

“Aye,” he rasped.

Rhiannon hooked her leg through his and he shifted over her, his fingers digging into the mattress, and hers into his back. He waited for her to consent.

She nodded, and as he drew into her, he thought, for one breathtaking moment, they’d finally overcome their greatest obstacle.

And then she froze, followed by a whimper of pain.

He made to pull back, but she hooked both feet around his calves. “Just do it,” she gritted, a tear sliding down her face. She was bunched tight under him, her face twisted.

“Rhiannon . . .
Not like this. I canna.”

Untangling himself from her, he rolled away.

* * *

Sniffing,
Rhiannon pressed her face against the pillow. A goose feather poked her in the cheek.

“
Mo leannan?
”

“I
am so s-sorry,” she said, hiccupping.  

William
kissed her bare shoulder, then turned her around to face him. “’Tis not your fault.” 

“Mora said there would be pain
until my body could adjust. But I did not think it would feel like I was being stabbed with a knife.” She cringed, looking away. “What a terrible thing to say to you.”

“I could have . . .
I tried not to hurt you.”

“I know.”

She watched as William pushed off the bed, then pulled out another plaid and a shirt. His jagged, cauterized scar screamed out to her. If he had tolerated
that
kind of pain, why shouldn’t she tolerate hers?

He
dressed and sat next to her. “I will go below for food. I think you could use some wine as well.”

She pushed herself upright,
holding his other plaid close against her skin. Her hair caressed her bare back.

William ran the tip of his finger over her swollen lips. “I’ll have to remember to shave more regularly from now on.”

He leaned in and kissed her. His lips were warm and inviting. She rested her hand on his arm, allowing it to smooth over him as he pulled away. She had discovered that she liked kissing, and she liked touching. It was just that last bit they tried that hadn’t gone so well. 

“I
will be back,” he said.

The door closed and she
sank back against the mattress, laying there staring at the ceiling until William returned and pushed a goblet into her hand.

“
Perhaps it will dull my shame.” She sat up and drank.

“Stop
it, or I will force you to eat gruel day and night.”

“You do already
.” She swung her legs off the bed and pushed gingerly to her feet, his plaid around her.

“
I’m sorry. Are you sore?”

“More ashamed than
anything.”

He moved their things off the table and set the tray of food on it. Rhiannon
was glad to see meat and vegetables. There was a pile of oatcakes as well. She would have oats coming out of her ears before long.

Rhiannon
sat and piled food on a plate, determined to force herself to eat, even though her head wasn’t in it. William refilled his goblet from the flagon.

“Do you want me to go back to my
chamber?” she asked.

“Of course not.
I will lock both the doors to it in the morning and give Alice the key.” He glanced at her from under his brow, as if asking permission.

Rhiannon nodded, chewing on her bottom lip
. One would think all the kissing would have relived the itchiness of her scar, but it hadn’t.

“We have to work through this before it
. . . kills us.” He seemed distracted by her lips. She released them from between her teeth.

“What if working through it kills us?”

He lifted his goblet, his eyes bright, all things considered. “Worse ways to die, my love.”

Light peeped through the shutters
. It wasn’t even dark yet. “You can go.”

“
I’m not leaving you.”

Rhiannon
looked at her plate, then forced herself to eat. She might as well have been having gruel. Seeing as she didn’t taste it anyway.

William
pushed his plate aside. He hadn’t eaten very much. He polished off his wine. He could drink barrels of the stuff and it had no effect on his senses. It made Rhiannon wonder what it would take to get him drunk. Not that she really wanted to know.   

She looked at her cup and wondered what it would take to get
herself drunk. It might be just what she needed. Rhiannon finished her wine, then refilled her goblet when he wasn’t looking.

* * *

William held her hair out of the way as they sat on the floor, Rhiannon emptying the better part of a flagon into the chamber pot.

She
lifted her head, then listed and caught herself against his shoulder.

“Was it worth it, lass?”
he asked her.

M
oaning, she bent over the pot and retched again.

“Is this how you felt
?” she asked finally. “You know, after those women had their way with you.”

He
assessed her green face. “Is that where you got the idea?”

“The room is spinning.”
Her hand shot out, and she braced herself against him.

“Is that where you got the idea?”
he repeated.

“
Well, aye. I thought it would help.” Her brow furrowed. “Did it help?”

“I
would prefer you conscious. Nay, it didna help, because I didna touch you.”

She sighed. “Did I try?”

“To seduce me?”

“Aye, that.”

“Nay, you fell asleep.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I cann
ot do anything right.”

“Are you finished?”
He gestured to the chamber pot on the floor before them.

“For now.”

William pulled her to her feet, Rhiannon wobbling and catching herself on his arm. Her head lolled back, and she grinned like the drunk she was. “You are a braw man.” She seemed fixated on his bare chest.

“I might be flattered,
under different circumstances.”

Rhiannon
blew her hair out of her face, her breath less than fresh.

“Back to bed with you.” He scooped her up.

“Already?”

“Sleep,” he
said. “You’re not likely to feel much better come morning.” William laid her out on the bed. Rhiannon stretched like a cat, her shape pressing into his plaid.

“W
ere they pretty?” she asked. “Deborah and the other woman?”

“I was drunk.”

“But-”

“I am not having this conversation.”
William smoothed her hair back. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I d
o not know. You could marry me, but I think you already did that.” She reached out, running her fingers down his chest and his stomach. He caught her hand. “Rhiannon,” he gritted.

“
You sound annoyed.”

“My wife
slipped into her cups our first time together so that she could deal with the pain.”

“Well, when you put it like that . . .”

“Go to sleep, please.”

“Aye, my laird.”

She rolled onto her side. The plaid had gaped open and William tucked it back into place. She
was already giving him more than he expected she could.

He wished she could see that.

* * *

“Drink, please,” William said, handing her a cup.

Rhiannon was sitting up in bed, William’s plaid still wrapped around her. She sniffed at the contents of the earthen mug. She wasn’t sure what the foul substance was, but it smelled as bad as the wine she’d deposited into the chamber pot the night before.

“This is disgusting.”

William urged it to her mouth. “But effective. Drink.”

She choked
down a swallow. Coughing, Rhiannon shoved it at him and backed away. She tumbled off the bed, landing on her tail bone with a squeak.

“That hurt,” she said, laying there, unwilling to get up.

He set the cup aside and helped her, then untangled his plaid from around her long legs. His gaze swept over her body as he tucked the swath of wool around her back.

Rhiannon’s pulse raced, reminding her of just how much she’d enjoyed being skin to skin with him.

She watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he knotted the wool, lingering with his knuckles brushing against her breasts. He stepped away.  

“Thank you,” she
breathed.

“Aye.”

“Did you have to drink that concoction the morning after your . . .”

“
Revelry? Aye, my uncle poured it down my gullet.”

“I d
on’t like it. I don’t like the way my head is pounding either.” She caught the back of a chair for support.

William scooped her up and carried her to the window seat
, then sank down next to her, his bare shoulder brushing hers. She propped her cheek on him. Frowning, she snuggled closer. William wrapped his arms around her.

“It
is morning now,” she said. “You are free to go.”    

“I
am still giving Alice the key.”

Rhiannon wanted him to run his hands over her skin. She pressed closer. William slid her onto his lap. He nuzzled her shoulder and she curled her fingers into his hair.

“I’ve hated this,” he said. “The chamber next door is too far away.”

“Me too.”