Chapter Twenty

“Stop!” Heart in his throat, Connall bounded up the last stretch of the incline. Everyone in the village stared as he passed, but his attention was fixed solely on Ashley’s lovely face.

By the ancestors, when he’d seen her already standing at the apex of the circle, he’d feared he was too late.

She hadn’t started walking yet, so Connall forged ahead, hiking the few steep steps up onto the rock carving. He shouted, “I’ll make ye an equal!”

Gasps sounded behind him. Her eyes grew round. But still she said nothing.

She didn’t take a step to start her part of the magic, either.

He stumbled to a stop before her, his chest heaving. “A true equal.” Anything. Anything as long as they were together. He pulled in another breath, winded from fear, not from the short dash here.

Because working together, everyone was safer, and everyone was definitely happier.

Most of all him.

And, he hoped, her as well.

Murmurs pummeled against his turned back, and he whipped around. He glared at all of them, stepping so that he was between Ashley and the others. “If the rest of you see how I treat my woman as a weakness, then you don’t deserve either one of us. I’ll go back to her land with her.”

Eithne yelled, “You’re the only one with a hard head, not us.”

Laughter burbled up at this pronouncement, and he stood a moment, taking that meaning in. None of the faces watching him held censure or looked at him with any less respect.

He stared around Achnabreck, the site of where he’d lost his older brother. The site where he’d brought the woman he loved home.

And as the ramifications of what she said registered, and the villagers’ reactions, he felt lighter. Lighter than he’d felt since…since the day his brother had been taken at this very location and Connall had cowered in fear.

As he moved his shoulders in a slight shrug, as if sloughing off the last vestiges of that weight he’d carried since he was young, he realized a new truth—he’d been holding onto the shame of what happened. And it had clouded his ability to lead effectively. Aye, he’d forgiven himself when he’d rescued Aiden, but he hadn’t truly understood how it had affected his life. His decisions. Until now.

He whirled back around, for there was only one person whose opinion mattered. Was he too late for her forgiveness? Too late to mend her broken spirit? “Stay.”

Her eyes narrowed at his commanding tone. “Real men ask nicely,” she said, her voice strong but low so only he could hear.

His knees buckled as a wash of relief swept through him. Instead of locking them tight, he allowed himself to lower to his knees in front of her. She gasped, her eyes getting rounder.

“Ashley. Will ye have me? Your strength melds with mine and makes us both stronger. I cannot…” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without your fiery spirit by my side. I love you.”

Ashley caught her lower lip between her teeth, and her eyes filled with moisture. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I’d decided to stay whether you wanted me or not.”

His heart swelled with pride and love. “Because you’re as stubborn as me.”

“And because someone needed to take this job of being your wife.”

He laughed, his heart feeling full to bursting. He scooped her up and swung her around, the cheers of his tribe as accompaniment.

The druid, however, cleared his throat. “You need to know, that since her season is up, her powers are gone. She’ll no longer have access to the skills the magic imparted to her.”

Connall looked at him over Ashley’s head, and then down at her. “That’s not what made her special.”

…

After Connall’s declaration and her life-altering decision, they stared at each other for what seemed the longest time. They only became aware of their audience when conversational chatter and the accompanying shouts and rustling of a group departing finally penetrated. Mungan placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “We are leaving before the night becomes too long.”

She still found it weird that he was not only a young druid, but a hot one for those who were into his kind of impish looks.

Connall enfolded her into his chest, looking over at the spellcaster. “We will follow soon,” he said, the words rumbling from his chest pressed to her ear.

His heart beat steady and strong.

Ashley trembled as he held her tight and all the adrenaline of the past few moments worked its way through her. Together they turned and watched the last of the tribe walk down the incline back to Dunadd. The last in line, Mungan smiled at them over his shoulder before he followed the rest.

Connall’s strong fingers brushed her cheek and angled her chin up. Love and acceptance shown from his eyes.

I’m so lucky. So lucky to have this moment with him.

“Ashley,” he whispered and lowered his face to hers.

It was a gentle meeting of lips brushing lips as if he reveled in the ability to taste her again, and she closed her eyes.

This. This man.

When it came down to it, he was just a big marshmallow inside. His warm breath, his taste stirred a rush of feeling that welled, stronger and stronger as their mouths luxuriated in tasting each other.

Tasting the promises so fresh from these lips.

But soon the kiss grew in urgency, and Connall stepped into her, placing a leg between her thighs, a hand splaying against her lower back and tugging her closer to him. His other hand cradled her face, his tongue stroking inside her now. A hot flash of need rushed through her veins, and she sucked in a breath.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his mouth.

He groaned and gripped her hip, his mouth crashing into hers, and she undulated against his thigh, seeking pressure where she felt so empty for him. She broke the kiss and gasped, staring up at him. Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back a step. “Did you mean all of that? What you said before?”

“Every word.” His hand left her hip, and he smoothed both palms along her jaw, his gaze piercing. “I love you, and I promise that every day I will show you that I do. You shall not regret making your life here, with me.”

…

Connall had intended to only have a moment away from the tribe to kiss his wife, unable to wait any longer to taste her again. To seal their promise.

That she chose to stay here, with him, humbled him.

But when she’d pushed him backward, his back had grown…warmer. He’d stepped inside the magic circle. While he wanted to make love to her with every fiber of his being, he’d been conscious of the cold for he knew she was more sensitive to it than himself. The magical heat inside the circle sizzled up his spine, speaking to him, telling him that here was the moment. Here was the time. Here they’d be safe. Safe to seal their bond.

He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the spell Mungan had started was not to send her back, but to create this circle of warmth and safety for them.

He stroked his thumbs across her cheekbones, and she shivered. But he knew it was from his touch and not the cold. He took a step back, and she followed, and the moment she stepped into the circle, any lingering tension from their exposed position or from the cold seemed to ease from her muscles.

Joy flared in her eyes.

Then she gave him a coy smile that heated his insides, and she unhooked the silver brooch clasping his mantle closed at his neck, her knuckles brushing his skin. She pushed on his shoulders and the cloth dropped in a pool at his feet. He shivered at the love he witnessed in her gaze and from the touch of her hands.

This was his wife.

He smoothed his fingers down the pale column of her neck, the moon lending its light to make her skin glow. He stroked a fingertip along her pulse point, which now beat faster.

She pulled in a sharp breath. “Connall,” she whispered, her voice full of wonder.

He leaned down until his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Let me make love to you,” he murmured. Her body trembled at the touch of his breath and his words against her ear.

She turned until her own mouth was at his ear. “Yes.” And then she gently bit the soft flesh.

He groaned, his knees nearly buckling as heat and urgency fired through him. Drawing on all his strength, he suppressed the need to hike up her skirts and push between her luscious thighs. Instead he unwound his kilt, watching her track every move of his hands revealing himself to her.

He toed off his sandals and stood before her completely naked, completely vulnerable. The magic from the circle warmed the air, and the tattoos along his skin felt as if they moved and tingled.

She brought her hands up and slowly drew her tunic over her head and stepped out of her skirts. She also removed her shoes, and when she straightened and faced him, Connall swayed at the beauty of her—the dip of her waist, the full curves of her breasts—highlighted by the moonlight.

A shudder seemed to go through her, from her toes, up her legs and to her fingers, as she gazed on him in wonder.

Everything felt right.

He spread his fur-lined mantle across the stone. Then he straightened and held out a hand, palm up, and her lips curved into a smile. She eagerly slid her palm across his and interlaced their fingers.

He sank down to his knees on the mantle, and she copied his movements, almost mirroring his motion and position. Her fingers traced the blue tattoos across his shoulder and down his biceps, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her soft, exploring touch.

Then those fingers nudged his shoulders, and he followed their gentle urging and laid onto his back. She straddled his lap and stroked her hands over his chest, and Connall gritted his teeth at the strength required to hold back. Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. And while everything inside screamed to grip her hips and impale her on his rigid length, he restricted himself to roaming his hands across her shoulders, watching in fascination as goose bumps of desire followed in the wake of his palms.

Then she inched backward onto his shins, bringing her out of reach. His hands fell useless to his sides. “Ashley?”

Then she smiled and leaned forward. And licked him. All up the length of his aching cock.

His hips bucked at the shock of desire that coursed through him. Then she brought her mouth fully onto him, and he groaned at the new sensation—of her hot, wet mouth, the pull and suck.

His hips bucked again, but she had his legs pinned, restricting his movement. Pressure built at the base of his spine as he jerked and gasped.

“Enough,” he growled. “If ye continue, I’ll spill my seed. And that’s not where I’d like to be spilling it.”

Her eyes flared with heat, and she released him. “God, what you just said…Wow, that was hot.” She licked her lips and crouched over him on all fours, her breasts gently swinging. He took himself in hand, stroking up once to feel the evidence of her mouth on his member. And then he very nearly did spill his seed. He ground his teeth and captured her gaze with his own. “Come to me now, will ye. I wish to be sparing your back.”

And honestly, he liked the idea of ceding control to her. If they were to be equals, it needed to be in every aspect.

She slowly lowered herself. He nearly closed his eyes at the exquisite sensation but forced them to remain on hers. The effort, and the love and awe reflected in her eyes, nearly undid him as she brought him, inch by inch, into her body, accepting him, welcoming him.

When she was fully seated, her lips parted and her chest rose and fell on a slight breath. And then her body shuddered for a brief moment as she adjusted to his girth and to their joining.

Heat—from the magic in the air, from the urgency—rushed across his skin, and she began to move in small undulating movements, her eyes never leaving his.

He traced his hands up her slim waist and cupped the sweet, heavy curves of her breasts. She moaned and bent closer, and he skimmed a hand along her spine down to her buttocks and squeezed, pressing her tighter to him.

And as he held her in his arms and she made shallow strokes against him, a feeling of joy and wonder flowed through him, riding the pleasure that grew and grew until it was a tight ball of heat.

“Ashley,” he gasped.

“I know,” she replied.

For this was more than satisfying a need. Each small stroke felt as if they were entwining themselves closer and closer into each other. Their breaths matched, their heartbeats became one, and the beauty of the joining, the sharing, felt so monumental he couldn’t fathom it. He only knew that this woman was his everything.

Then her mouth dropped open as her whole body stilled and then shuddered, her sex milking his length in exquisite, tight pulls.

Knowing he’d be following her in but a moment, he gripped her hips, raised her slightly, and pushed into her one final time. His lower back tensed, his balls tightened, and all the emotion building between them seared down his spine, and he exploded inside her.

As he pumped his pleasure into her—pumped life into her—and her body still shuddered from her own fulfillment, he held her face, held her gaze.

“I love you,” he whispered, his cock still kicking.

“I love you, too,” she breathed.

Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her as tight as he could, her skin to his, feeling himself soften inside her.

And as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms and fought for breath, he glanced up at the half moon now farther along in its journey across the sky.

Magic had brought them together. But it was their own magic which kept them together. Made them strong together. And he could never be more thankful.

Later, after they’d made love a second time with a fierce passion—as if giving in to the need and urgency they’d both wanted to express the first time but held back—they slowly dressed and stepped outside of the circle, the night’s cool air brushing his skin once again.

He clasped her hand, and they turned and looked upon the stone and then to the moonlit wooden walkway below, leading to Dunadd, leading to their hearth home.

From his belt pouch, he fished out the pin she’d crafted. “Will ye pin this on me?”

She smiled up at him. “You found it.”

“Aye. Today.”

And grateful he was, for it had not set well with him that he’d no longer possessed this. And finding it again had started to bring his hard head around.

…

With fingers trembling from excitement, Ashley pinned the metal sword to the cloth covering his chest. So much had happened since she first gave this to him. Even since he’d lost it.

He squeezed her shoulders. “Ready to go home?”

Home. Warmth spread in her chest at that word and what it meant for them. She looked up into his eyes. “Yes.”

He led her down the incline to the horses hobbled nearby and helped her mount.

Oh man, she was sore down there and this was not going to be an easy ride. He swung onto his horse and brought it alongside hers. He looked past her to Achnabreck, a slight frown crossing his features.

“What is it?”

“It’s strange, but ever since I came here to stop you and accepted that I had nothing to be ashamed of regarding my behavior when the raiders came—”

“The ones who took your brother?”

He nodded. “Ever since, as if shedding that shame opened up space within, I’ve felt a memory tickling at me, but it refuses to come.”

“What kind of memory?”

“Something that I overheard and which I’d not remembered before now.” He tightened his fist against his thigh and his horse sidestepped. “But I can’t bring it fully formed. It eludes me.”

She reached over and covered his fist. He visibly relaxed and glanced down at her.

“Don’t tug at it,” she whispered. “Let it come on its own and it will.”

“But what if it’s something that will help us find who took my brother?”

“Even more reason to not struggle with bringing it forward, or it may never surface.”

He cupped her face. “Of a certainty, I found the right woman for the job of being my wife.”

She laid a light punch against his side and laughed. “Indeed, you did. But…” She searched his eyes and frowned. “But you know you don’t need to find him to redeem yourself.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’d like to find him for his sake. And because he’s my brother and I miss him.”

“Then we will.”