The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,98

as he leaned in for a long, slow kiss. “But it would be ungentlemanly of me to refuse my wife completely,” he whispered against her mouth. “Allow me to ease some of yer tension, aye? Close yer eyes and relax.”

For once, Sorcha did as she was told, giving herself over to the expertise of her wonderful husband’s mouth and hands. The more he stroked and kissed, the more she realized he was right. If he had given in and allowed her to ride him, she would not have moved verra little. A groaning shudder escaped her as he added a tantalizing massaging with his thumb to a most delicate place that he knew always drove her mad. Her breath came in rapid gasps. And not surprisingly, she didn’t notice her ribs a bit. “Sutherland…please.” She would surely die if she didn’t get relief soon.

“Just for ye, m’lady,” he whispered, then washed her the rest of the way into the blissful abyss that only he controlled.

“Yes!” she cried out, holding tight to the arms of the chair as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her.

He held her close, gently nipping, kissing, and tasting, as the lovely storm subsided and left her floating in his arms.

“Ye are wondrous,” she breathed, completely spent and unable to move.

“Yer ribs, yer shoulder, I didna pain ye?” He looked at her with such unselfish concern, it made her heart swell.

“Nay, m’love.” She smiled. “Ye didna pain me.” Framing his face between her hands, she shook her head. “But what about ye? Ye didna…” She shrugged. “Didna get…relief.”

“I will get mine soon enough,” he promised as he scooped her into his arms and carried her out the door.

“What are ye doing?” She patted his chest.

“Ye said ye wished to break yer fast in the garden,” he said. “I am taking ye there. I dinna trust yer balance on all those steps.” He came to a halt and gave her a stern look. “I just now got ye back. I am not willing to lose ye.”

“It’s just as well,” she whispered in his ear as he started down the steps. “After the pleasures ye just gave me, I dinna think I could walk anyway.”

Sutherland responded with a proud rumbling chuckle that reminded her of a purring stable cat. “Mrs. Breckinridge!” he called out as he stepped off the last step. “My lady wife would like her breakfast in the garden. Would that be possible?”

Mrs. Breckenridge’s smile outshone a newly pitched torch. “Absolutely, Master MacCoinnich. It will be our pleasure.” She clapped her hands and sent the servants scurrying. “Ye heard our new war chief! Step to it! Our mistress wishes a bit of sunshine with her meal.”

“And set a place for her father, too!” Chieftain Greyloch bellowed as he emerged from the prayer alcove at the front of the hall.

“It will be done, my chieftain!” Mrs. Breckenridge curtsied, then took off with more speed than a woman of her years usually possessed.

The chieftain led the way to his private garden, all the while glancing back and grinning at Sorcha and Sutherland.

“Take care, Da,” she warned as she hugged her arms around Sutherland’s neck. “Watch where ye step, or ye’ll be on yer arse.”

He shook a finger at her as they exited the solar and made their way to the table and chairs the servants had already pulled together. “Such language, daughter!” But his scolding held little fire as he delivered it with a delighted smile and a chuckle.

Sutherland eased her down into the chair layered with pillows and cushions. “Good enough, mo chridhe?”

“Aye, my love.” She relaxed back into the pillows and basked in the warmth of being well cared for and loved. “It is better than good enough. I am blessed entirely more than I deserve.”

“As am I,” he said with a kiss to her cheek before taking his own chair. He looked across the way and nodded. “And here comes another blessing that I’m sure will make ye smile.”

Sorcha turned, and her heart sang.

A bit pale and walking slowly as she held tight to the arm of Lachlan MacKelhenny, Jenny smiled and waved. “Might we join ye?” she asked softly, then flinched as though the sound of her own voice hurt her. “At least for a little while.”

“Will ye be all right, sister?” Sorcha asked, taking hold of Jenny’s hand after Lachlan helped her into a chair. “Ye’re so weak. It hurts my heart.”

“I am much better than I was,” Jenny said with a mournful