“I want to be inside ye so damn bad.”
He collapsed on top of her, and she lifted her legs around his hips. With one swift thrust he was inside her, filling her, and Fiona cried out from pleasure and relief and bliss.
Arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his hips, she leaned up to kiss him, and their tongues danced a wild rhythm as their bodies collided. She lifted her hips to meet each rapid plunge, their bodies moving in frantic, passionate rhythm. There was a desperation in their coupling, a deep and frenzied need. As though they’d both been waiting so long for this to happen, and now that it finally had, they were racing to the finish.
Brogan drove deep, his hips surging into hers, pleasure thrumming with every plunge. There was something so primal about their coming together, and she loved the raw passion of it. The pleasure that threatened to uproot everything in her entire world.
“Fiona,” he groaned, “God, I love ye.”
“I love ye too,” she gasped.
Pleasure whipped through her, spiraling up into a crescendo, and she cried out, thighs quivering as she clung tighter to him. Brogan thrust hard and swift, until he too was crying out and shuddering against her, inside her.
Slick with sweat and sated from passion, he collapsed beside her, tugging her into his arms. Fiona curled up into the safety of his embrace, the power of his lovemaking still causing her body to tremble. He skated his fingers down her arms and she shivered.
“Perhaps we should stay here until my ankle is better,” she said with a mischievous grin. “We can have them serve us all of our meals in bed.”
“No’ a bad idea at all.” Brogan chuckled, leaned in, and kissed her languidly. “We can stay here forever where no one knows who we are and make love until neither of us can walk another step.”
“I’m all in.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek, feeling complete bliss for once in her life.
Eighteen
While Fiona and Brogan did spend the next two days being languid in bed, they did not spend the fortnight both of them would have preferred, for three reasons.
One—it was expensive, and they were both running low on coin.
Two—the inn was becoming more crowded, and just that morning they’d had to hole up and pay the innkeeper an extra three coins to take care of Milla when several redcoats decided to have their supper and after-supper ales at the establishment, and they couldn’t risk letting the dog outside.
And three—given the men all believed them to be headed to Dòchas Keep, rather than a tavern inn located in whatever town they’d happened to stop through, they found the need to be on their way most pressing.
Two days after peeling themselves out of bed, they were riding through the gates of Dòchas.
A mile away from the castle, Fiona had insisted Brogan let her onto her own horse. She couldn’t have her people see her riding in on his horse and immediately suspect that she was hurt or that they were lovers. Even though both of these things were true, and in fact she was now—
Married.
Oh, goodness, married in truth now.
A smile curled her lips. Well, she supposed she wasn’t going to hide the fact, but she at least needed to tell them first to lessen the shock.
Brogan helped her down from her horse as Uncle Tam came rushing out of the castle and grabbed her up in his arms.
“We feared ye dead,” he said, his chest shaking from nerves, his words broken with emotion.
“I’m alive and well.” Fiona squeezed him back and then pulled away, but kept hold of her uncle’s hands. “Ye remember Brogan Grant, aye, Uncle?”
“Aye.” Her uncle let go of her hands to shake Brogan’s.
“He is my husband,” she blurted out. “We wed on the road.”
“Ye wed on the road?” her uncle repeated, looking at her with an expression that was both shocked and confused.
“Informally,” Brogan added.
That one word had the power to shake her, and Fiona tried hard not to whip herself in Brogan’s direction and demand an explanation.
To that, her uncle raised his brows so high they nearly touched his hairline. “What the hell does that mean?”
Looked like she didn’t need to.
“How about we discuss it over a cool drink?” Fiona said with a bright smile that felt like it might crack. If Brogan backed down now after what they’d shared, after the promises they’d made to each other… She hobbled forward to take Brogan’s arm, raising a brow when she did, but he only winked in return, and in that one simple dip of his eyelid, she felt everything righted with the world.
“So ye wed her and then made her lame?” Despite her best attempt to walk, her uncle appeared to miss nothing. “There’s no other reason for Fiona to come back to Dòchas when there’s a prince to chase about and messages to be delivered.”
“Uncle,” she said, a wee bit hurt at his words. “Brogan would never hurt me.”
“While I did no’ cause her the injury, the fault is entirely my own,” Brogan said.
“What?” Fiona pinched her lips together and shook her head fiercely.
Her uncle frowned. “Come inside.”
In the great hall, Uncle Tam ordered food brought out for them, and cool mugs of ale were filled.
“Explain her injury to me,” Uncle Tam demanded of Brogan.
But Fiona was no weak lass, so she interrupted. “I’ll explain it myself, Uncle Tam. I’m no’ a bairn, and I never have and never will need to have a man speak for me.”
“Well, then.” He grinned at Brogan. “How do ye like that?”
“I love it.” Brogan chuckled.
“Then this may be a perfect match. Now tell me, my dear.” Uncle Tam leaned forward and squeezed her shoulder. “Leave no detail out.”
Fiona obliged, knowing her uncle dearly missed being out in the field, being in battle. He’d been right by her father’s side throughout the rebellions and had continued with Gus, but age had made moving about harder. An affliction in his hands made it difficult to grip his weapons. As they feasted on broiled fish and bread, she left out no details—well, some details; her uncle didn’t need to know about how much she kissed Brogan. She told him of their travels across Skye, the prince’s arrival by boat, and how they’d spent weeks running from dragoons, until she finally came to the part where she’d been abducted, and how Brogan had saved her from her abductors.
“An amazing bit of adventure ye’ve had. What I wouldn’t give to be young again.” Uncle Tam took a long sip of his ale, gaze pinned on Brogan. “The truth of the matter is that if Gus were here, or Ian, they’d likely take ye to task for no’ asking permission to wed their sister. My brother would have pulled his sword on ye.” Uncle Tam frowned into his cup. “Ye’re a Grant. And a rebel at that. ’Tis dangerous for us all to be acquainted, let alone joined in matrimony.”