"Dinnae stop," she breathed. "Pray dinnae stop."
God's blood, how could he resist? She needed pleasure as much as he needed to give it. He pressed experimentally, blood rushing through his skull as she bucked into his fingers. Morgann moved the pad of one finger carefully, praying for her to sleep on yet yearning for her to awaken. Around and around he circled with the lightest of touches. Sweat tingled on his brow, his body tight as he watched her respond to each movement. Such passion, such beauty. He should have known she’d be like this.
He pushed harder as she writhed. Did she dream of him as he brought her pleasure? Did she imagine him touching her inside and out? Or did she dream of someone else? The thought made his gut clench and made him more determined to help her reach the peak.
Alana curled her hands around the sheets, breasts thrusting upwards. Powerless to stop himself, he leaned over, put his mouth around one firm nipple and sucked at it through the fabric. She pulsed under his fingers and breathed his name, her legs juddering as a sharp release took hold of her.
He grinned. She had been dreaming of him. As she sagged back down, Morgann drew away tentatively, hopeful she’d awaken and reward him with a look of satisfaction. A hand lay by her side, slightly open and he tucked his fingers in them briefly as her breathing steadied and she fell into a deeper sleep.
With a sigh, he rolled over and slipped a hand under the pillow. How was he meant to resist the lass now? The scent of her lingered in the air, the sound of her breaths teased him. There was a gap between them yet the heat from her skin traversed it. He only hoped Margot was found soon. This waiting was killing him. He longed to be out there, hunting her down, but who could he trust to protect Alana? No one. But he wasn’t so sure he could trust himself now. He just had to control himself for a short while. When this was all over…
He sighed again. When this was all over would he claim her as his or let her go? She’d fought him every step of the way, would she even wish to stay by his side? She’d barely uttered two words to him that eve, not even enough to protest sharing a bed with him. If he’d been inclined to play the chivalrous man, he’d have brought up a pallet from the kitchens and slept on the floor but the castle was cold and he was unable to resist lying next to her. After all, if she didn’t forgive him for his treachery, he might never see her again once he returned her to her father.
Morgann battled these thoughts all night, images of Alana naked and sensual in his arms mingling with thoughts of losing her. He woke with a thick head and gritty eyes. Alana, however, awoke with a smile on her face and he fought to keep the knowing grin from his face, in spite of his bad mood.
She quickly covered her smile, affecting a cool look and greeting him with an even cooler, “Good morrow.”
Still cross with him then.
“Good morrow, lass. Did ye sleep well?” He rolled out of bed and stretched. Her gaze darted up to his chest briefly, cheeks filling with colour as she tugged the sheets around her.
“Aye, well enough,” she replied quietly.
By some miracle, he kept his smug response to himself and dressed quickly. “I’ve to check the nets. Can ye wait to break yer fast until then?” he asked as he sat to tie his boots.
“Aye, I’ll slice some bread while ye do that.”
He paused as he glanced up at her. Golden hair tangled around her shoulders, having escaped her braid during the night. She kept the sheets tucked under her chin and her cheeks were rosy. She was so damned exquisite, it near stole his breath.
As he left the bedroom, the peculiar domestic routine they’d found themselves in struck him. And what was stranger, was, in spite of the fact she probably hated him for his lies, he enjoyed it. For the first time in a long time, he only had to worry about himself and Alana.
Stepping out of the hall, he paused at the top of the stairs and drew in a breath. The day was fresh but not too cold. As he gazed out over the loch, the water so still the mountains reflected almost perfectly in it, he realised now was the time. He needed to tell Alana the truth. She was stronger than he ever imagined and in his bid to protect her from the truth, he’d only pushed her away. But no more. He wanted to close the distance between them for once and for all. If she couldn’t forgive him or didn’t believe him, then so be it, but at least he’d know.
With easy strides, he came to the water’s edge and dipped to scoop some up, the freezing water clearing away his fatigue as he scrubbed his face and hair. Morgann ran his fingers through his hair and removed his boots before wading up to the nets. He lifted them. Not bad. They wouldn’t starve at least.