Dare to Love a Scot Page 9
Prim moaned, pushing her breast into his mouth as he licked and sucked her nipple. The sensation triggered a waterfall of pleasure throughout her body, and her hips moved on their own, striking sparks of ecstasy between her thighs as she rode the ridge of his manhood.
His calloused hands gripped her hips, holding her down as she ground against him. A shudder moved though his body and he groaned.
“Bheir thu dragh orm, Prim,” he said, his burr deep and hoarse.
She shivered, not knowing what he had said, but the meaning was clear in the bruising pressure of his fingers, the ragged cadence of his breathing.
“Yes, Lachy,” she moaned in return.
“Feumaidh mi blasad a thoirt ort, tha mi airson a h-uile duine agaibh, bidh thu gu bràth fada dhomh,” he murmured, falling back and lifting her up his body, until she kneeled over his face.
Then he gripped her bottom and brought her down to his mouth, kissing her center of pleasure.
Prim cried out, grabbing the wall to stay upright as bolts of pure heaven ricocheted inside her. She closed her eyes, her hips fighting against his hold, demanding more from him, but he held her, feasting on her until her body was wound so tightly that a single flick of his tongue shattered her.
She screamed, her body slumping forward. He caught her, sliding her back to his lap as he sat up, holding her tightly against him with one arm as the other rummaged between them.
Her head lolled against his shoulder until she felt the hot brand of his manhood against her thigh, and then it prodding her inner flesh. Her senses instantly fired to life again, her heart kicking into an erratic rhythm as he adjusted her hips and slid inside her without any resistance. There was a flash of pain, but it was quickly quieted by the urge to move, to grind against the pressure.
She wanted to weep, overcome by sensation and emotion as he hugged her to him, their bodies moving together as though this was as natural as breathing, as though she was in the exact place that she was meant to be. She felt loved, cherished, and bound to him by the pull of her heart. She sucked in a breath, holding on to him as though she’d die if she let go.
His pants of breath were all she heard, and his skin was all she felt. She breathed in the salty tang of his skin mixed with hers, shuddering as another release, quiet and slow, swept through her. He still pumped into her, holding her hips tighter, sighing her name over and over until his thighs went rigid beneath her and his breathing hitched. Then his body slumped, and he buried his face in her neck.
She hugged him tight, soothing him, closing her eyes and letting the moment sink in.
I love you.
It was more than just a thought in her head. It was a pulse in her body, as real as the steady beat she could feel between her legs where he was still inside her.
“Tha mi gad ghràdh, Prim,” he whispered against her shoulder, kissing her skin, and then he fell back with her still in his arms.
He moved her to his side, and removed the rest of his clothing. Then he lay back down, and tucked her against him, pulling the blanket over them.
She kissed his chest and placed her hand over his heart. “Tell me what you’ve been saying.”
“Another time.”
Prim would have protested, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. She wanted to stay awake and not miss a single moment with him, but her body had other ideas. The sated pleasure dragged her down until she had no choice but to fall asleep.
Her last thought was of the words she wished she could say to him.
I love you.
Chapter 12
Lachy lay awake, his breathing still labored, his body cooling. Prim lay beside him, her curves wrapped around his like she belonged there, and he couldn’t find the logic to deny that he agreed. For some reason beyond his understanding, being with her felt right. Even in a lackluster, one-room tenant cottage, Prim by his side seemed perfect.
He stared at the ceiling, resisting the urge to fall asleep and not overthink his actions tonight, but that would be irresponsible.
They’d crossed a line, and there was no turning back. But the fact was, he didn’t want to.
There was no loving and leaving Prim.
“Tha mi gad ghràdh, Prim.”
He’d confessed his love for her the only way he could, for now. Someday he would say the words in English, but until he was sure he could create a future for them, he would keep that expression close to his heart.
He’d said a lot of things to her in Gaelic tonight.
I need to tell you, I want all of you. Give me forever.
But his declaration of love had been the most terrifying.
What am I supposed to do next?
He hadn’t meant for this to happen, but when he’d left the castle, angry and bitter, he’d had one goal in mind: to take it back. The picture of his mother had been there for his entire life, and he’d never seen it, but those smug aristocrats had. They had never known her, or how she’d died in a musky, cold cottage. His grandfather had sold the castle to an earl to save them, but the village—and his father and mother—they’d only suffered.
If they’d kept the castle, she might well have been alive today.
Though Lachy wasn’t sure of anything.
Until know, he’d never given the sale much thought, and how deeply it had affected everyone. But seeing his mother’s portrait there had renewed his purpose. He would read the journal his uncle had given him, and he’d contact his solicitor and find out what had truly happened.
He had no choice now.
If he wanted to prove himself worthy of Prim and keep her for himself, he wasn’t going to do it living in a cottage barely bigger than a hovel.
He was going do everything in his power to take the castle back. The duke would not like it, but Lachy didn’t care. He had other houses to live in. Prim might not appreciate it, either, but if she cared for him like he suspected she did, then he would make her understand somehow.
But only after he knew the truth about the sale.
If everything had been done legally, Lachy would have no standing to take it back, but if not, he was prepared to fight for the castle—and for Prim.
The English had taken enough from Dennehy Clan. It was time Lachy took something back from them.
Lachy walked Prim back to the castle before the early rays of dawn touched the sky. Returning to his cottage, he opened the book Shamus had given him and began to read. The journal went back to 1383. Lachy flipped through tales of petty battles, raids, and takeovers, before turning to the last pages in frustration. It was there he found passages from his father.
Drunken rants, it looked like, and he’d read those later, but what interested him most were his grandfather’s entries. His father’s father had detailed the struggles of his clansmen—how they had hung on to the last of their pride with desperate and boney fingers. Their livelihood had been slowly slipped away, and their children became sick, with no doctor in the area to tend to them. Those who were able to work had to search elsewhere, ultimately leaving their home village, which only hurt the clan more. There was no baker for bread, no butcher for meat, and no smithy to shoe horses, and the like. Little by little, Lachy’s people had faded into the mist.
But his grandfather still held hope that one day they would come together again.
There will always be times of worry and strife. It is the will of the clan to endure these times, and know that they pass like seasons, if only we hold on and do not give up. I’ve begged my clansmen to not give up. It isn’t in our nature, but as time has passed, their warrior hearts have softened. The blood of Elias Dennehy has been spread too thin over the centuries, and times have changed. My own son, his head is filled with dreams of foreign travels and painting exotic things, and not of his duties to the clan. The times of chieftains is waning, and I don’t know how to salvage it. I, too, am weakened. I pray to the Lord, and I pray to Elias himself, but the only real thing I can do is something that betrays the clan itself.
Lease.
Lachy read the passage again, his skin prickling.
Lease. It was written clearly in his grandfather’s hand. Not a sale. The castle was not sold to the Earl of Cassel, but leased!
Blood rushed to Lachy’s head, and his forehead grew hot.
Bloody hell, how in the devil had the old duke then purchased it in 1780? Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe the Duke of Ablehill had never owned it at all?
Where was the lease agreement?
Lachy’s mind buzzed with questions, but he didn’t know where to find the answers. He would have to write to his solicitor again, see what could be done, and find out where the information could be obtained. He would also need to speak to Ablehill again, and the conversation would not be pleasant—especially not when his relationship with Prim came to light.
The warrior hearts of his clansmen may have softened, as his grandfather had written, but Lachy’s hadn’t. He’d been to battle, and he was not afraid of a fight, not when winning meant having Prim by his side and the home that should have always been his.
They were two pieces of himself he hadn’t known he’d been missing—until now.
Prim went down to breakfast, her eyes gritty and red. When her maid had woken her this morning, she had still been sore, and feeling as though her heart could float into the sky. She’d pretended that she’d had a restful night, but the truth was obvious—or at least it was to her. She’d examined herself in the mirror after her bath while her maid did her hair. Beyond appearing tired, nothing much seemed changed from the outside, but on the inside, she’d been born anew.
Did the act of love do that, or was it something more? Was it the confession of love itself?
She didn’t know, but her number one fear was that Violet, or Heather, would take one look at her and suddenly know all her secrets. Until now, Prim had never kept things from her sisters. But since her jilting, things had been rapidly changing, not just inside Prim, but within the very relationship she shared with her two sisters.
She greeted her family as she entered the informal breakfast parlor and took her usual place, which happened to be across from Violet, and her new husband, Weirick.
Violet’s gaze scanned Prim’s face, and Prim held her stare. If she acted differently or standoffish, her sister would take it upon herself to know why, like a dog who’d scented a fox.
And much like a fox, Violet loved to stick her nose where it didn’t belong.
Prim smiled at her.
“Did you sleep well, dear?” Violet asked.
“No, I woke up more than usual. I have no idea why.”
It was not completely a lie. She’d most definitely woken up in Lachy’s cottage, and then he’d escorted her back to the castle. He’d also insisted walking her all the way to her room, but she was adamant that she could go it alone. Which she had, against his grumbles. Then he’d kissed her goodbye, and Prim could still feel the scrape of his morning beard under her hands and along her chin.
Oh, what lovely memories to have after an unforgettable night.
She sighed.
Violet cocked her head, studying her more carefully now. “You look well, despite the lack of sleep. Glowing, even.”
“The country air has been good for me,” Prim replied. “I’m enjoying my respite from London.”
“Aren’t we all,” Weirick murmured. “I’d be happy to never venture there again.”
Violet rolled her eyes and patted her husband’s hand. “You won’t have to if you don’t wish to. We’ve much to do at Selbourne.”
Weirick snorted. “Whenever you wish to leave, we may, but you and I both know you’re not ready to give up your vigil.”
Prim had begun to eat her toast as Weirick spoke, but the word vigil made her peer up and consider her sister again. “Vigil?”
Violet threw her husband a glare. “Pay no attention to what he says.”
Prim pressed her lips together. Heather had promised her space, but it seemed as if Violet intended to give her no such thing.
“You do have a bit of a glow,” Heather said. “No doubt it’s all the time you’ve spent outside.”
“Yes,” Prim said. “That must be it.”
Have they been watching me closer than I thought? Do they know about Lachy’s and my tree, and our many visits together?
She swallowed a sip of tea, the liquid much too hot as an unwelcome heat climbed her neck. She took another bite of her food, hoping she appeared normal, but feeling as though everything she did gave away everything she was trying to hide.
Soon she wouldn’t have to hide it, but her mother and sisters would throw a fit if they knew the truth of her time spent outside.
“Prim’s been spending her time by the dairy,” Erick added as he set down his newspaper. “The children have taken to her.”
“Children?” Her mother asked.
“Mr. Wilson has a rowdy brood,” Erick replied. “His eldest is eager to join the operation. He’s been helping out as much as his father allows.”
“I hope that won’t get in the way of his education,” Lady Everly said.
“Oh!” Prim said, garnering everyone’s attention. “That reminds me. Erick, we need a school for all these new children. Mrs. Wilson was a teacher before her marriage.”
“That’s a splendid idea, Prim,” he said with a smile. “And further enticement to bring more people back to the village.”
“I can’t wait to tell Lachy,” she said absently, smiling.
Violet cleared her throat. “Who, dear?”
Prim looked around the table. Everyone was watching her. “Beg pardon?”
Violet’s eye held a merciless sheen. “You said, and I quote, ‘I can’t wait to tell Lachy.’”
Prim cursed her skin. A betraying blush heated her cheeks as she tried to think of something to say. “Well, as Erick said, I’ve spent a lot of time near the dairy, and I speak often with Major Dennehy, so much so that I refer to him as Lachy—isn’t that silly? It sounds almost like lucky, but it’s his name.”
Then she clamped her mouth shut. Her blathering was doing nothing to dissuade Violet.
“Oh? I hadn’t thought of that,” Violet said. “Heather, what do you think?”
All eyes turned to Heather, but she had her chin propped on a fist, and her eyes were closed.
“Goodness, Heather, wake up!” Violet said.
Heather jerked awake. “What? Oh!”
She blinked, looking around the table in confusion.
Erick stood, chuckling. “Let me tuck you in bed, my sleepy wife.”
Heather nodded and stood. “My apologies. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.”
Erick set an arm around her shoulders and then swept her into his arms.
“Erick, no!” she protested, but it was weak.
Then she promptly tucked her head into his shoulder.
Everyone remained silent as they watched this loving exchange. Erick carried Heather from the room as she waved goodnight to all of them.
Weirick snorted. “That boy will be strong.”
Prim agreed. “I’m certain it’s a boy, as well.”
She gazed after Erick’s retreating form and sighed. How wonderful to be loved in such away. He’d fetch the moon for Heather, if she needed it. Prim couldn’t help envisioning Lachy treating her with such tender care. Rubbing her sore back while she was carrying their child, helping her to bed when she was too sleepy to eat breakfast.
Violet interrupted Prim thoughts. “Yes, that was a darling display, but let’s not stray f
rom the topic, shall we? It seems as if Major Dennehy has made quite the impression on you.”
Prim took a sip of her tea before answering. “No, he hasn’t.” She could feel her mother’s focus now. “And I don’t know why you would say that?”
Violet grinned. “I don’t fault your fascination. He is quite the specimen, isn’t he, Mother?”
Lady Everly narrowed her eyes at Violet. “That is a vulgar way to speak of him.”
Violet shrugged. “What do you think, Prim?”
Prim took a calming breath. “I think you should leave it alone, Violet. You’re trying to tease me at the expense of a man who isn’t even here.”
“Hmm, yes,” Violet mused. “We should have him for dinner again.”
“He won’t want to come, after last night’s dinner,” Weirick said.
“Why do you say that?” Prim asked in concern.
“He and Erick talked of the castle. It used to be his family’s. His mother’s portrait still hangs in the west sitting room.”
Prim just barely caught herself from dropping her mouth open like a fish. “Interesting. I didn’t know that.”
“The castle was bought from his grandfather, in not the best circumstances,” Weirick added. “I think Lachy thinks the Earl of Cassel somehow took advantage. Something about last night got under his skin.”
Shocked, Prim swallowed her food too soon, nearly choking on a jagged piece of bacon. She gulped down her tea and fought the urge to cough. Lachy hadn’t said anything to her. She wanted to ask questions, but her mother and sister were already inspecting her as though she were hiding something.
“How unfortunate,” she said instead, picking up her fork and diving into her breakfast again.
Her throat hurt now, but she did her best to act as though nothing bothered her, despite the wave of heat enveloping her. For heaven’s sake, she was tender in places she didn’t know could hurt, even her heart. She ached to see him, and to feel the comfort of his arms again, holding her. She’d felt so safe then, so secure in her feelings, and the return of his. But he’d been hiding something from her under the cover of desire. One kiss, and she’d succumbed so easily.