“Yes.” She nodded. “Alfred got us both out safely.”
“Good.” He stroked her hair and stared at the fire as she worked through her grief and hopefully found some closure. Something he realized he found as well, knowing her and the other lass got away. That at least they survived that day.
“Margery will always be with ye, Greer,” he eventually murmured, trying to offer her comfort. “She will always be in yer heart.”
“And in my mind.” She wiped away her tears, her gaze soft when she looked at him. “But I think you already know that.”
“Aye.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her eye. “I’m glad she’s kept ye company over the years.”
“You do not think me mad, then?”
“I think ye the furthest thing from it.” He cupped the side of her delicate neck. “’Tis better she was with ye. That she gave ye strength, comfort, and mayhap even amusement when ye needed it.”
“She did do that,” she murmured. “I have a feeling I won’t be hearing from her much anymore.”
“Whether ye do or not, she’s always welcome.” He tilted her chin until their gazes aligned. “Ye ken, aye? She’s always welcome with us MacLauchlins.”
The corner of her mouth curved up. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“And verra much meant,” he replied. “Whether she’s real or not, she’s part of ye, Greer. Part of everything that got ye to this moment.”
Her brows swept up, and her lips curled higher. “Do you truly think her real?”
“One never knows.” He grinned. “Or so Aunt Mórag would say.”
“Ah, yes.” Though still a tad wobbly, her smile grew. “She who should get along just fine with Ada.”
“To be sure.” He brushed away another tear, glad to see fewer falling now. “I look forward to ye meeting her. All of the MacLauchlins for that matter.”
“Me, too.” She yawned, her voice a faint murmur as she rested her head against his shoulder again. “But perhaps a bit of rest first.”
He didn’t blame her for being exhausted, considering the trauma of the day.
“Aye.” He brought her to the bed. “Rest, indeed.”
Or so he thought when he found her asleep before he even had the chance to lay her down.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled, Greer jolted awake, unsure where she was. When the lightning flashed again and illuminated Teagan’s face, she realized she was tucked against his side, warm beneath the blankets.
She had no recollection of falling asleep or of him bringing her to bed.
Inhaling his scent, she curled her fingers against the heat of his broad chest and admired his masculine features. Admired the man he was all the way around. It was hard to believe how far they had come in so little time. How free she felt. Not just that, but fully present. Here. Not in a painful past or the in-between she’d existed in since, but right here.
What were the odds Teagan had been there that fateful day? That he was, in fact, the warrior-hero she’d built her fictional heroes around? The kindness and compassion he’d shown Margery had meant so very much to her. In its own way, his actions had given her cause to go on. To not give up on humanity altogether.
She rolled on her side and watched him slumber. Though tempted to touch him, to run her fingers along his strong jawline, she didn’t want to wake him. For he, too, had faced much this eve. A past that haunted him. Moments that had stayed with him.
Yet it seemed he was awake, anyway, when he turned his head her way and opened his eyes. He didn’t say anything but simply stared at her, his look so raw and loving her chest tightened.
It was love.
She had no idea how she knew, only that she did. It felt imprinted on her heart. Part of her soul.
She wanted more, though.
All of him.
She wanted to be his wife in every sense of the word.
Seeming to sense it, or simply wanting it himself, he propped himself up on an elbow, held her gaze a moment longer, then brushed his lips over hers. Once, twice, before he kissed her more deeply.
He tasted of man and ale as his tongue wrapped with hers, and his kisses grew hungry. Eager. All-consuming. As if he couldn’t get enough of her. Heat flared beneath her skin when he cupped her cheek and kissed her deeper still. So deeply and so thoroughly, she grew desperate.
Impatient.
At some point, he’d gotten her out of her boots and dress, but she was still in her chemise. He, in turn, still wore his blasted breeches.
“Teagan,” she groaned, aching for him. “Please.”
The juncture between her legs throbbed and ached, making her all that much more impatient. Evidently understanding, or equally impatient, he rolled her beneath him, his kisses ravenous now. Fire consumed her as they tore at each other’s clothes.
There was no slow build this time but a raging inferno of lust. Of hands and fingers, lips and tongues, of slick skin and heavy breathing. He yanked her chemise up, freed himself from his breeches, and settled between her thighs.
Thunder crashed, and rain pounded as his mouth found hers again, their kisses out of control. Urgent and frantic. Needful and desperate. She spread her legs wider and thrust her hips, eager for him to fill her, to assuage the brutal yet exquisite ache pulsing in her core.
“Och, lass,” he whispered in a strangled voice, finally giving her what she needed.
He wrapped his fingers with hers by her head and pressed into her.
Rather than filling her with one quick thrust, he, bit by bit, gave her time to adjust to his girth. Their gazes held, the moment transcendent. As though they crossed some great divide and found each other on another plane. Her every nerve-ending came alive. Her sheer awareness of him making her his. Of being deeper and deeper inside her until he was fully seated.
She trembled with emotion, sensation, and awareness. With feelings she never thought possible. Love and desire. Lust and intoxicating pleasure. Teagan's shoulders and arms flexed with his barely constrained need. With how he fought to hold back and not frighten her. To be gentle when the raging desire between them made holding back a struggle.
“Please,” she whimpered, pleading with her eyes. She gripped his back. Wrapped a leg around him.
Pushed to his brink, he released a strangled groan and moved, thrusting slowly at first, then harder. Deeper. Lost in the feel of it, him, she moaned with pleasure, marveling at how good this felt.
How good it could be.
Should be.
Gone in the moment, immersed in the way his body felt against her, in her, she wrapped her other leg around him. Taking her cue, just as eager, he moved faster, rolling his hips as he thrust. Driving her higher and higher.
Quaking with the force of it, the exquisite liquid-hot pleasure blossoming inside, she dug her nails into his back and met his thrusts. Again and again, over and over, until she hit a crescendo that knocked the wind right out of her.
One moment she chased pleasure, a cresting wave, the next, she rocketed right over the edge. His roar met her cry of release, and he pressed deep, filling her with his hot seed. She locked up, then shook all over, her body pulsing, near vibrating.
They stayed that way for a time, holding onto each other, immersed in the moment before he peppered kisses on her neck, jawline, then lips. Eventually, his gaze found hers again.