did not hesitate to join him. He could count on her no matter the circumstances, a worthy attribute in a wife.
They walked side by side and he unconsciously took her hand in his.
She smiled and it was as bright as the sun, and it filled him with comforting warmth. He squeezed her hand and returned her smile.
“I am glad you heal well.”
“Miss my arms around you?” he teased.
“Aye, I do,” she admitted freely to his surprise. “Why does that shock you? I like your kisses and your touch; it’s your bullheaded nature that annoys me.”
“Me, bullheaded?” he asked with mock astonishment. “I think it is you who is willful, which makes us a matching pair. And a good match I think.”
“We shall see.”
They entered the keep and as they climbed the stone stairs, Tarr stopped suddenly and yanked her into his arms. She met his chest with a solid thud, which caught her breath.
“I have missed you in my arms and, lord, do I hunger for the taste of you.”
Instead of her lips he went to her neck and nibbled and nipped until her skin shivered with gooseflesh.
He laughed softly in her ear. “I love when you shiver against me.”
He captured her response in his mouth, his tongue turning it to a gentle moan, and then she eagerly joined him as her arms swept around his neck and she returned his kiss with an urgency filled with passion.
He finally tore his mouth away and she went to rest her cheek to his shoulder; he grabbed her chin and tilted her head to look into her eyes. What did he see in the bright green depths besides the desire that raged there? Was that a gleam he had never noticed before? Or was it his own foolish thoughts hoping to see—what?
Love?
He released her chin and she again rested her head to his shoulder.
Why did he think of love? He had not given it thought at all. He was to do his duty and marry a woman who would bring honor to his clan. She would bare him fine sons and daughters and remain by his side throughout their life together.
Love had no place in his plans.
It was his turn to moan when she began to nibble and nip at his neck. Her nips were full of fire and purpose. She knew what she did; she did it with intention. She pushed him to his limits and would soon push him past those limits.
Ever so slowly she traced his lips with the tip of her tongue.
“You play with danger,” he warned.
“I am not afraid.”
She sounded as if she challenged him, and that was all he needed.
He grabbed her around the waist, hoisted her up, and braced her against the wall with the strength of his body.
She gasped and he claimed her mouth roughly while his hand sought her breast with a firm squeeze. He thought she might protest, but instead she grabbed onto his shoulders and shared in his fervor.
He rubbed her nipple between his fingers until it hardened and then he lowered his mouth and nibbled on the hard orb until it had both of them squirming.
“Someone approaches,” she said in a fearful whisper, and pushed at his shoulders.
He stopped and listened realizing she had repeated the warning several times before he could react. Now fully hearing the approaching footfalls, he released her to stand beside him.
A servant soon appeared and excused herself as she hurried past them.
Had their lusty liaison been obvious?
Fiona then noticed the wet stain on her blouse and her hand went to cover it.
“You will be my wife, we have done nothing wrong. The clan is proud we will join hands.”
“That has not yet been settled.” Concern filled her voice.
“It has. You are Fiona. I do not believe I kiss both twins and they respond the same way.”
“How can you be so certain?”
He lifted her chin. “There is something about you that is different. I cannot tell what it is; I only know it is there and when I finally discover it, I will know which one of you is which. Then we will wed.”
He sounded as if he commanded and she refused to be forced to wed. The choice would be hers or there would be no marriage. She would wed Tarr of Hellewyk only by her say so, not by his command or demand.
“You do not know me, if you think you can force me.”