Claray was sure he’d found his release, but this wasn’t the kiss of a sated man. It was hungry, and demanding, almost rough, and then he urged her to the side and back until she felt the center beam that supported the roof of the stables behind her. Pressing her back against it, he caught her behind one leg, pulled it up over his hip and then dragged her skirt up out of the way in front and thrust into her again.
Gasping into his mouth, Claray wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly as her excitement burst back to life as if it had never been sated either. Within moments she was pushing back into his thrusts, and was kissing him back just as demandingly as she fought toward the release she knew was waiting.
This time it came like a small explosion, rocking her mind and leaving her body trembling and weak as he thrust into her one last time and stayed there, his hand tightening almost painfully on her leg as he grunted into her mouth. A moment after that, his grip eased, and then he released her leg and let it drop back to the ground as he broke their kiss.
Conall leaned his forehead against hers for a moment as they caught their breath, and then he stepped away, letting her gown drop back into place.
“Are ye all right, lass? I did no’ hurt ye, did I?” he asked now, concern entering his face.
“Nay,” she assured him, managing a somewhat embarrassed smile.
He nodded, but then smiled wryly. “Let us hope our bedchamber is ready soon, else I fear we’ll be spending a lot o’ time in here with yer animals.”
When Claray relaxed, her smile becoming more natural, he bent to kiss the tip of her nose.
Conall then took her elbow, stepped to the side, and Claray felt a punching sensation in her shoulder. That was all. There was no real pain at first, just an abrupt, dull pressure. It wasn’t until she looked down and to the side and saw the arrow sticking out of her shoulder that the pain struck. Sudden, sharp and vicious it stole the breath from her, leaving her gasping. Raising her gaze to her husband, she saw him turn back in question, and then shock crossed his face.
She thought he shouted something then, but wasn’t sure. Darkness was closing in on her vision and her hearing seemed to be fading with it as she lost consciousness.
“Claray!” Her name was a horrified bellow as Conall saw the arrow through her shoulder, but despite what he saw, his mind was having trouble accepting it. Everything had been fine just seconds ago. Where the hell had the arrow come from? The question screamed through his mind, and he started to turn in the direction it seemed to have come from, but then saw Claray’s eyes close and her face go slack, and leaped toward her instead, to catch her by the upper arms as she fainted.
With his senses suddenly on high alert, the whoosh of another arrow shooting past behind him sounded loud in his ears, but Conall didn’t look around. He was too busy trying to hold Claray up and bellowing for their guards. Much to his relief, the men rushed in at once, filling the space around them and exclaiming as they saw what had happened. Conall ignored them, his attention on Claray as he held her up and tried to get a look at her back by peering over her shoulder. His mouth tightened when he saw that—as he’d feared—the arrow had gone right through her and now pinned her to the post.
The crash of the shutters caught his attention and he glanced to them with a frown when the room suddenly went dark. That was why they’d opened the shutters on the window Claray had insisted on being built into the smaller stables. She said the window was to air the small building when she cleaned the pens, but it had come in handy for allowing light in while she’d worked. It had also been the only source of light once he’d closed the door behind the guards after ordering them out. He hadn’t even thought to close the shutters then. He hadn’t considered that it would allow someone to shoot another arrow at them.
“Claray is pinned to the post and I can no’ see,” he snapped, and much to his relief someone immediately opened the door. Sighing, he took another look over her shoulder at her back. All he could see was about a half inch of shaft between Claray’s back and the post. The arrow tip was buried in the wood.
Straightening, Conall adjusted his hold on her so that he held her securely, but was a bit to the side so that he was as far from the shaft of the arrow as he could get. He then glanced to Roderick. Conall didn’t even have to speak; the man nodded and stepped forward to grasp the arrow’s end with one hand, then gripped it as close to Claray as he could without actually touching her and snapped the end off just past the fletching. He then helped Conall pull her forward off the arrow.
Once Claray was free, Conall released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and immediately scooped her up into his arms.
“Someone grab her medicinals bag,” he ordered, but didn’t stay to see if anyone did and simply hurried for the door, leaving the men scrambling to follow. Their guards surrounded them the moment he was outside the door, and stayed positioned around them as he hurried toward the keep. Hamish saw them coming and rushed to meet them, reaching them when they were halfway to the keep stairs.
“What happened? Is m’lady all right?” he asked, his concerned gaze moving over Claray as he fell into step next to Conall, forcing Gilly to make way for him.
“Someone shot through the window of the smaller stables, pinning her to the post,” Roderick said grimly when Conall didn’t answer.
“Did ye see who did it?” he asked at once.
“Nay,” Conall growled, and silently kicked himself for not thinking to look out the window the moment he realized what had happened.
“What about the rest o’ ye?” Hamish asked, his gaze still on Claray, his expression grim and face pale as he took in the blood soaking into and spreading on Claray’s gown.
“Nay. We were outside the door. They were inside alone,” Roderick admitted, and Conall could hear the guilt in his voice and knew his friend was regretting agreeing to leave them in the small stables alone.
“What?” Hamish asked with shock. “Ye were no’ inside guarding her? Ye were supposed to—”
“I ordered them out,” Conall growled, taking the blame he knew was his own. He wasn’t surprised at the shocked and angry look Hamish gave him. He knew this was his fault. Having the men inside with them wouldn’t have guaranteed the culprit wouldn’t shoot through the window, but he probably wouldn’t have bothered since one of the men guarding them would no doubt have been in front of the window rather than Claray. But the men hadn’t been there, because he’d ordered them out. Worse yet, he’d planned that all along when he’d suggested she see the animals settled. He’d intended to send the men out and take advantage of a few moments of semiprivacy to have at his wife.
Thanks to their present living arrangements, and the necessity for guards, he hadn’t been alone with Claray since the last time someone had shot an arrow at them. He hadn’t had a chance to kiss or touch her in a week and a half, and he’d wanted to. Enough that he’d sent their guards out and then pounced on her like an animal there in the pens, taking her with little care or concern.
The worst part was, he’d planned ahead to do it, and had set Hamish to the task of overseeing the unpacking of the wagons so that he could. He’d known his first would argue with him about leaving them alone in the small stables if he’d been there, and had wanted to avoid the argument. So, he’d set the man to a task to keep him busy, and rushed ahead with his plan. Now his wife might die because he couldn’t control his own desires.