***
Smoke from the candles and the smell of crisp, clean hay welcomed Finn as he entered the stables. He inhaled deeply and made his way over to his mount. She whinnied in greeting. He put a hand to her muzzle and grinned.
“At least ye dinnae cause me any problems, Dìleas. Ye are one lass I dinnae need to worry for.”
His mind hazy from ale, he rubbed down her flanks as she pushed against him. It should have soothed him. Time with his faithful horse usually did. She’d seen him through battles and long journeys, and had never faltered, never become ill or weak. If he could only find a woman like that.
Finn scowled. Katelyn had never faltered on their journey. But he didn’t want Katelyn. Something had her upset and it beleaguered him. If he worried over her when he barely knew her, what would happen if he let her work any deeper into his thoughts?
He clenched his fist. Not that he would.
Giving Dìleas one last pat, he strolled to the end of the stables and leaned against the wooden frame. Torches flickered in their mounts and the distant hoot of an owl punctuated the quiet shuffle of men patrolling the walls. High up in the keep a golden glow emanated from Katelyn's chamber. The shutters were still open. Did she look out and think of him? Did raw, painful need heat her body too? All he had to do was think of her—her upturned lips, pearly skin and raven hair—and he grew hard.
Finn slapped a palm against the wood. This would not do. He’d been content with life before Katelyn. He had his kinsmen and his duties, his simple cottage at Glencolum and the company of the occasional maid in his bed. He wanted for nothing and that was how he liked it.
Teeth clenched, he turned away from the taunting light of her window and stepped into the nearest stall. He adjusted his arousal with a hiss and slumped onto a hay bale. Leaning his head against the wood, he pressed a breath out and closed his eyes. His lip tingled at the memory of her fingers skimming over it. What he would not give to feel those fingers on his other scars. She would touch him boldly, he decided, while looking at him with a coy expression on her face. With her lip tucked between her teeth, green eyes glistening with curiosity and desire, those gentle fingers would trace his body.
The ache between his thighs became too much and he wrapped a hand around his manhood, nearly groaning aloud at the pleasure suffused with pain. His rough palm was no match for how Katelyn’s fingers likely felt but he had little other choice. With strong movements, he recalled the flash of a thigh or a breast as he enclosed her in that fur. He imagined parting those thighs and losing himself to her.
For he surely would lose himself in her sweet heat as she called his name and begged for more. Powerless as he was, he would give her his all and her explosive response might be the end for him.
Sweat pricked his forehead when he worked harder, the sensations building. Ach, how he needed the taste of her lips, to hear her ragged breaths mingling with his own. Finn gripped the straw while his climax built. In his mind, he was lost in Katelyn’s body, spilling himself in her and claiming her as his and not some other man’s.
“Not another man’s,” he growled to himself as he jerked and his release swallowed him.
Gathering his breath, he lifted his head and opened his eyes before slumping back again. He did not feel nearly satisfied enough. The twist in his gut told him he’d only find satisfaction with one woman and she was to be another’s. And there was little to be done about it.
Chapter Five
Catriona took a turn around the keep, pausing to admire a scattering of wildflowers. She crouched and picked a few blooms. Supressing a yawn, she admired the tiny yellow flower. Fatigue made her head ache and her mouth dry. Sleep did not come easily since coming to the castle. Dreams of blood and violence, of rough hands, haunted her. Occasionally they were broken by visions of a fair haired warrior but that left her aching and wanting. Who knew which dream was better?
“Pretty,” she murmured as she pressed the bloom against her lips.
“Pretty indeed,” a deep male voice came.
Catriona’s heart stuttered when she turned her head to come face to face with leather boots and great sturdy legs. Her gaze followed them up and up until she reached Finn’s face. The large man smiled down at her, making her stomach do a tiny dance. Hastening to her feet, she swiped her hands down her skirts and dipped her head.
“Good morrow.”
Her gown squeezed the air from her. And it was not like when her terrors consumed her. Normally that left her chilled. Nay, as she studied him, his wide shoulders and his confident stance, her skin grew hot and clammy. He stared at her and she stared back but for the life of her she couldn’t look away. Those blue eyes scorched her very soul.