“Ye are healing,” he murmured against her lips.
“I feel no pain,” she whispered, hooking her knee up and over his hip, bringing their bodies into contact. It was ever so obvious that Joshua’s body had no reservations about her request, and losing herself in the feel of him would push away her worry that she’d said too much. “Love me tonight, Joshua Sinclair,” she whispered as she took ahold of him.
He groaned into her mouth and pressed her back into the bed. She could feel his arm against the side of her head as the other hand slid along her arm to cup her breast. The strumming pulled a cord inside her that resonated all the way down to the crux of her legs.
Keeping his weight off her, his hand continued down her body, riding the hills and valleys of her curves, teasing out all the deliciously sensitive spots. Kára moaned low, his mouth sliding to kiss a path along her neck, sending shivers of building heat up and down her.
As his fingers skimmed the tightly bound bandage around her middle, he paused. “Do not stop,” she said with as much authority as she could muster under the urge to surrender.
He pushed her gently away from him. “Trust me.” The deep resonation of his voice stopped her cry of unjust treatment long enough to feel him pull her back against his chest. With her injured side facing upward, the pressure that made it hurt was gone. Joshua’s top arm wrapped around her, his hand beginning its leisurely strokes along the front of her body. As he reached her crux, his fingers expertly found her, playing a rhythm that made her pant.
Body on fire, Kára kicked at the heavy blankets until some of them slid off to the floor. She arched her back, rubbing her backside against his raging jack. “Do not make me beg, Highlander,” she rasped, raising her knee to give him access. “Or I will make you beg.”
He chuckled softly behind her, his teeth nibbling along her nape to send shivers and chill bumps along her skin. “Threats from my warrior queen,” he whispered at her ear as his fingers plunged into her flesh.
Her gasp turned quickly to a groan as he touched every aching part of her inside. She felt his jack from behind, seeking her, and arched backward. Holding her open, he teased her, the tip poised for entry.
“Joshua,” she said between pants.
His mouth came up to her ear. “Kára Flett, I give myself to ye.” He thrust into her open body. “Bloody hell,” he roared, passion changing the curse into one of sheer pleasure.
“Yesssss….” Her moan drew out as his fingers found her most sensitive spot while he started a deep, plunging rhythm in and out of her open, wet body.
She could not reach him with her arm. Twisting would hurt her side, so she clutched the pillow before her, pressing back against him with each thrust into her. His lips pressed against the back of her neck as he groaned, and she lifted her top leg to curl back, tangling with his. The vibration of his passion against her nape shot more lines of passion through her body. It was as if she were being pulled apart but building into a tight ball at the same time. Chills and heat, the pleasure built higher and higher, until the tight ball inside her exploded.
“Joshua!” she screamed as the passion overtook her, her breathing so fast she saw stars in the darkness.
His own roar filled the underground den as he flooded her, rubbing to squeeze out every drop of passion in her as he pumped into her from behind. The two of them rode the waves together until they ebbed, leaving Kára with a languid feeling. Silence wrapped around them as their breaths slowed.
Neither of them spoke after saying so much. His little words to her, just a few, but strung together, “I give myself to ye” meant more than breath to Kára. Was it love he proclaimed? That she herself felt? She had never experienced the mix of heaviness and light within her before, the heaviness when Joshua battled, the light when he smiled at her or held her. Not only did he cherish her body, making her cry out in shameless rapture, he respected her and her people.
She hugged his arm where it rested over her. Joshua pulled her into the curve of his body, holding her close in the darkness until they both fell into a gentle sleep, wrapped up in warmth and revelations.
…
Kára’s eyes opened slowly, her hand sweeping under the blankets. She was alone. Twisting and then grimacing at the pinch and pull in her side, she gasped softly, remembering the wound. “Joshua?” she called out.
“I sent him away.” Amma walked over, holding out a cup to her.
“What? Why? Where did he go?” Kára threw back some of the blankets, wrapping the sheet around her nakedness as she sat up and set her feet on the freezing stone floor. Someone had started a fire, so it was not as cold as the night before.
Amma frowned at her. “To Hillside underneath, to ready for the ordeal today. He did not want to leave, but I sent him on his way.” She held the cup out again for Kára to take. “Drink. Eat, and then we will make you into a corpse.”
Kára’s shoulders relaxed, and she took the cup, drinking of the broth. “Is Calder with him?”
“Yes, and Osk. They will help him get ready and will accompany him to the Earl’s Palace.”
“Where is Geir?”
“He is with Erik and keeping an eye on your horse. Broch will carry you and the Highlander quickly away.”
“You can come with us,” she said. Her amma should have gone on the ship, but she and her sister, Hilda,
