With other women, they didn’t matter to him beyond the bed. With Terese, she seemed to matter to him all the time. He had never felt so relieved when she had confessed that she was not a nun. He had been having nightmares about burning in the fires of hell, the flames scorching then devouring his flesh, yet his wicked thoughts refused to leave him alone.
With no further worry over that prospect he was free to pursue Terese, but it wasn’t only his bed he wished to get her in. No, he wanted more from her, but again just what that more was he wasn’t sure.
He did want to learn more about her, where she was from, about her family and who in the past had hurt her so badly. He liked that conversation never failed between them. They always found something to discuss or debate.
Most of all, he liked the way she kissed. She hadn’t shied away from him; she was as eager as he. And she freely admitted that he tasted good. He thought about that moment often since it had happened two days ago. Unfortunately, he had little chance to spend with Terese since. When he was free she was resting, when she was free he was busy with his men.
It seemed everyone was busy. Everagis was growing with the help of him and his men, and he was beginning to wonder if there was some way he could make certain the women remained in the home they had forged with their own hands. He would give it thought and see what he could do.
“Can I interest you in a walk?”
Lachlan spun around with a smile and as soon as he saw Terese with a glow to her cheeks and her honey blond hair secured in a braid, he knew she was well.
He crooked his arm for her to take and she did with a smile and without difficulty.
“You’re feeling much better?” he asked as they began their stroll around the convent.
“It still pains me at times,” Terese said, “but Rowena was quick to show me how well the wound was healing between bandage changes, though cautioned against too strenuous work.”
“Then what are your plans for today?” he asked, ready to suggest something that would involve just the two of them.
“I thought to take a walk in the woods and gather branches to make baskets. We have need for more and”—she said with a teasing grin—“I need help.”
“I’m at your service.” He gave a quick bow of his head.
She hugged his arm. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He leaned close. “And I was hoping you’d ask.”
They walked away arm in arm smiling, oblivious to the curious stares and smiles that followed them off the convent grounds. They didn’t go deep into the woods and were quick to hold hands rather than remain locked arm in arm. It made it easier to walk the uneven terrain and make their way around large rocks and fallen trees.
“Your hand feels good in mine,” she said. “I like the feel of you.”
Lachlan enjoyed her candid proclamations; they stirred his blood. But then he didn’t need much stirring when he was near her. Her closeness alone could spark his passion for her.
“I like your bluntness,” he said emphatically.
She stopped, though her hand remained firm in his. “Bluntness is not an attribute.”
He rested his other hand lightly on the curve of her waist and eased closer so that their garments brushed. “It is with you.”
She laughed. “Again you would be alone in your assumption.”
He gently squeezed her waist, lingering in the feel of her tender curve. “Whose tongue has wounded you so badly?”
“It matters not,” she said.
When she attempted to walk away, he stayed her with a slight pressure of his hand. “He matters to me.”
Her eyes turned sad for a moment and then brightened. “I forget you are my champion.”
“I didn’t forget, and I never will,” he said firmly and released her hand to hug her waist and draw her close. “I’ve been aching to kiss you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked and melted against him.
He claimed her mouth like a starving lover, while their bodies entwined in a hungry embrace. It was as if they had waited years to come together and now they could not get enough.
Their kiss exploded with passion and their hands roamed tentatively, eager but unsure. It was Terese who took the first step and slipped her hand inside his shirt to splay her hand over his chest. At that moment Lachlan felt branded, forever marked by her and oddly enough he relished the thought.
She spread his shirt open and her hand roamed his naked chest at will, he hoping she would travel down further and further. His lips drifted off her mouth to impatiently explore along her neck, sweet and soft and ever so intoxicating.
She took hold of his face and forced his mouth to hers once again, hungrier than she was before, but then his appetite was just as ravenous.