To Avenge Her Highland Warrior (Highland Fae Chronicles Book 3) (14 page)

The desire to move away and admire her was strong but he had been needing her for so long, he feared it would be the end of him, so he remained on top of her as they fought to remove the rest of his garments. Once they were both naked, he grasped her face and kissed her until she squirmed beneath him. Her nails raked his back and buttocks and her kisses were greedy.

When he reached down between them to pleasure her, he found her wet and wanting. She shook her head. “Just take me, Logan. It has been too long.”

Powerless to do anything but comply, he used his hand to spread her legs and eased himself fully on top of her, palms on either side of her head. For several breaths, they stared at one another. Her heart throbbed against his chest and he swallowed heavily. Then taking her mouth, he took her body too.

Logan swallowed her cry as he plunged into her. Nails dug into his skin, the sting a reminder of the strength of this woman. More sounds emanated from her when he rocked into her tight heat. The world became a blur of colours, and he closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of her body around him. Flashes of something struck him—a feeling so powerful he might have reeled back if she had not been clasping him so tightly. Though he could not force his mind to concentrate, his body seemed to remember her. When she clasped her legs around his hips, he used a hand to cup her rear and pound mindlessly into her. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he had done this before, but the fog refused to clear, so he concentrated on new memories. He opened his eyes and watched her expression change with each thrust.

“Oh God,” she cried out as he pressed furiously into her.

Her gaze locked onto his and it hit him again, like waves crashing against rocks—the sensation that he knew this woman better than he knew himself. Unable to take any more, he burrowed his head into the crook of her neck and moved inside her until sweat pricked on his spine and blistering pleasure burned through his body.

She convulsed, once, twice, several more times and shattered around him. Teeth gritted, he followed her, urged on by her small cries and panting breaths. Her hands smoothed up and down his back when he spilled into her. Mayhap he had once experienced the very same sensation but, for now, he swore nothing had ever felt like that. His climax seared him, branded him, ate into his soul and told him he’d never find a woman like this ever again. It seeped into his mind and wound her around his heart. He could not be sure it was love, but he strongly suspected she was right—that he had once loved her and his body remembered as much.

Logan sagged to one side, and wrapped an arm around her. Fumbling for his plaid, he draped it over her nude body and skimmed a finger down her profile. She rolled over to face him, and he admired the way her skin glistened and her hair had tangled around her head. She looked like a wild little nymph now.

He felt as if he’d been waiting for an eternity for her but he still did not comprehend his own feelings. Words begged to tumble from his mouth yet jammed on his tongue. How could he confess love when he knew so little of her and even less of himself?

She gave him a gentle smile of understanding and leaned up to kiss his forehead. “Come, we must make haste. We are on the verge of war and yer son awaits.”

He nodded, apprehension snarling in his gut. Could he be a good father? A good... husband? Would she take him—a lowly peasant and a man with no memory? His planned future had vanished before him, mired in a web of lies and confusion and now he was at her mercy.

Nevertheless, he could not help but grin and kiss her firmly. If he had to have his future in anyone’s hands, he was grateful it was hers.

***

The proud jut of Glencolum castle above the hills made Lorna smile. She gripped Logan’s hand, aware of the tension in his body. Things were not yet settled. She still could not be quite sure who this man was but when he had made love to her, he looked at her like Logan had in the past. That, and the threat of war, sent coils of nervousness into her belly, but the knowledge her son was behind those thick, grey walls almost washed them away. They climbed the slope to the keep and found several men patrolling the castle. One caught sight of her and he dashed back into the building.

With her hand firmly clasped in Logan’s, she paused and drew in a breath as she eyed the tall mass of the castle and her gaze fell on the window of her chambers. Many months she had sat in that room and cried for Logan and then for the father her son would never know. But now Ewan had his father back. She glanced at the dark-haired man beside her, his features grim and wary, and wondered what it must be like to not know who you were.

Two women dashed down the short steps leading from the entrance door and she heard their exclamations as they hurried toward her. Alana, her cousin’s wife was the first to embrace her. The petite woman with her fiery golden hair and a lively manner did not surprise her but the warmth of Catriona, her brother’s wife, did. They had been close but both struggled with physical affection after what men had inflicted upon them. The elegant raven-haired woman only revealed her tender side with her husband.

“Where have ye been?” Alana queried, her voice breathless.

Catriona’s pale skin had grown ashen when her gaze fell on Logan. Alana had never met him, but Catriona knew him well. Lorna took Logan’s hand again and pulled him to her side.

“Logan wasnae killed,” she said quietly. “Nearly, but not quite. But he doesnae remember anything, Catriona.”

She blinked and her mouth opened and shut. “Naught? Not the battle or...”

“Naught,” he confirmed gruffly.

“Yer Logan?” Alana asked, eyebrows raised. “Oh my.”

Knowing they could spend forever trying to explain and make the women understand, Lorna waved a hand. “Where are my brother and my cousin? I must speak with them with haste.”

“They have gone to the villages,” Catriona told her. “To raise an army. They intended to break down the walls of Kilcree and rescue ye.”

“How did ye know I was there?”

“It took us some time to figure it out. We have been scouring the hills in search of ye. We thought ye dead. Ye didnae even tell yer nursemaid why ye left Ewan with her,” Alana exclaimed.

At the mention of her son, she felt Logan’s hand tighten around hers.

“He has missed his
màthair
.”

“I have missed him,” she said, her throat constricting. For a while, she had thought she might never see her babe again yet here she was with his father in tow.

“Come,” Catriona said, with her usual practicality, “ye must be wearied.”

They followed her in and both women retreated to allow them to traipse up the spiral stairs to the chamber. She stopped outside the door and gave Logan a smile before pushing it open.

The nursemaid sat in one corner and her eyes widened when she saw Lorna. “My lady, I heard shouts but I didnae realise ye’d returned!” Effie stood and hastened over to pat her arm affectionately. “I am mighty glad yer safe. Ewan has been missing his
màthair
.”

“And I have been missing him. Effie, this is Logan.”

Effie’s eyes grew even wider in the shadows of the room. Everyone in the keep knew of her grief over the loss of Logan. No doubt the news of his miraculous return would spread through the castle like wildfire.

The older woman dipped. “I shall leave ye be then. Ewan is sleeping.” She motioned with her head to the crib before offering another dip and leaving them.

Logan shut the door gently behind the maid and lingered by the door, his mouth stretched into a grim line of tension. Lorna lifted the babe out of the crib, grinning as he stretched his chubby arms and settled against her chest. She lifted his head to her mouth, inhaled his beautiful scent and brushed her lips over his dark, downy hair. When she raised her tear-filled gaze to Logan, she saw him swallow. His gaze was stormy, almost unreadable. Thick tension cloyed the air.

Sucking in a breath, she carried Ewan over. She tried not to smile when he shrank back against the door. This big bold warrior scared by a babe. But she had to feel sympathy for him. His whole world had been turned upside down and now he had friends and a child he knew nothing of.

But would he accept her and her son as his family? And did she want that? Logan would never be the same man he was, but was there enough of him left for her to love?

“Put yer arms out,” she said softly and he immediately obeyed. Lorna eased the babe into his hold and helped Logan position him in the crook. “Support his head.”

The stiffness eased from his posture as he gazed at the babe. “He’s still sleeping,” he said, surprise tingeing his voice.

“Aye, he loves his sleep, he does. He must trust ye.”

Logan gulped audibly and their gazes connected. She saw it then. The soft cast to his eyes that reminded her of the old Logan. He was in there, buried and confused, but this man was still the man she had once called a friend and lover.

Ewan wriggled and stretched again, his dark eyes coming open. Alarm flittered across Logan’s face. “What do I—?”

“Shhh, he’ll be fine. Just rock him gently.”

Logan moved awkwardly yet the babe settled again, and a hesitant smile came across Logan’s face. He lifted him, mimicking Lorna, and kissed his head. She noted the mist in his eyes before he blinked it away.

“I-I thought I wanted things—land, riches... but now they dinnae seem important.”

“What do ye want now?” she inched closer, trepidation tangling her windpipe.

“I think I want ye, Lorna. And Ewan.” He nodded. “A family.”

Unable to hold back the tears that slipped down her face, she slid into his embrace, Ewan held between them, and buried her face against his chest. “Ye have one,” she whispered.

The darkness still came. He still jerked awake. But it eased rapidly when Logan turned to see Lorna sprawled on her front next to him. Her nose was pressed against the pillow, her hair splayed out around her. Those tiny noises she made forced a grin across his face and the shadows crowding his mind vanished. He peeked over at the crib and then at the light beginning to slip through the shutters. Ewan hadn’t awoken yet. Surprising, as the babe liked to wake them well before dawn.

Logan tucked his hands behind his head and peered up at the canopy above him. The days had been a whirl. Lorna’s brother and cousin had returned with many men and had greeted him like a brother. He liked their company and had joined them for ale for the past three nights but he still felt an outsider. They told tales of their adventures, some of which he’d been a part of, but he had no role here. To go from being in charge of a whole castle to being nothing more than an extra hand frustrated him to no end.

Luckily Lorna knew well how to deal with his frustration. He grinned again and studied her. She’d seen him at his worst and nothing seemed to daunt the lass. Not even his foul moods.

Swinging his legs over the bed, he tiptoed over to the chair in one corner and fumbled to pull his shirt and garments on. Logan slipped on his boots and eased open the door, stealing a quick peek at Ewan before he left. The babe slept on and the sight made his heart squeeze. But he needed a few moments alone. The past days had been about preparing for battle and trying to understand his past. He needed time to gather his thoughts and understand his feelings for Lorna. Did some part of him remember everything he felt for her? Because at times if felt deeper than he could comprehend.

He took the spiral steps down and paused in the Great Hall. Only a few servants could be heard in the kitchen and most were still abed. He stood in the centre of the room near the fire pit and gazed about. What to do? Energy burned through him. Mayhap he should have stayed in bed and awoken Lorna by stroking that beautiful body until she cried her pleasure out against his skin. But Ewan should be awake soon, meaning an early morning session of lovemaking was out of the question.

Instead of returning to his bedroom, he strode to the armoury. As he took the stairs down to the corridor, he savoured the scent of metal and smoke. He ducked under the beam and into the room to find it empty. Swords and daggers were laid out on the table and the torchlight glinted off the metal. Logan picked up his weapon and handled the hilt, giving it an experimental swing. Mayhap he should have killed Gillean when he had the chance. Killing a man when he was on his knees was not to his taste but might it have saved them from battle?

He laid the sword down on a table in the corner and snatched an old swatch of mail. Raking it up and down the blade, he sharpened it until sweat dripped from his brow and down the back of his shirt.

“Logan?”

He turned hastily, blade in hand, only to see Finn’s grinning face. Logan lowered the blade. “Forgive me, ye caught me unawares.”

“Aye, I can see that. What are ye doing up at this early hour?”

“I couldnae sleep. What of ye?”

“The same. I went for a ride.” The grin dropped from the fair-haired man’s face, and Logan’s stomach grew heavy.

“What is it?”

“Gillean and the Norse army will be here before nightfall. I saw them some two miles away from my position. They bring much weaponry so will be slow, but battle is upon us.”

“Hell fire, I should have killed Gillean when I had the chance.”

“Do ye believe that would have stopped the Norse army?”

“Nay. I do not.” He let his shoulders sag.

“I have regrets too. He tried to kill my wife and then my sister. I thought he had killed ye. I look forward to being able to meet him in battle and rectify that mistake, but I regret the battle should be brought to our walls.”

“As do I. I cannae help but think I should have done something sooner...”

Finn shook his head and clapped his hand to his shoulder. “And here I am regretting ever leaving ye at Kilcree. For being fool enough to believe ye dead. I should have known it would take more than a blow to the neck to cut down a warrior such as ye. Ye must forgive me, Logan.”

Logan eyed the man and though he still barely knew him, he felt their friendship must have been a strong one. “There is naught to forgive.”

“There is no point looking back,” Finn said. “Ye taught me that. Were it not for ye, I would never have realised what I had in front of me.”

Logan scowled.

“Catriona,” he clarified.

“I dinnae see—”

“Ye never gave up on my sister.” His gaze darkened and he took a step back. “I hope ye willnae give up on her now.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Ye are in her bed every night. My sister is a proud woman and willnae ask for anything, but I have never seen her as shattered as when we thought ye dead. I hope ye willnae hurt her by yer own doing this time.”

“I willnae. I swear it.” Logan laid his sword down on the table. He’d been struggling to find his place. Mayhap it would take him some time. But the deep ache that throbbed in his chest when he considered Lorna upset or hurt in any way told him he was certain of one thing. He lifted his head and locked gazes with Finn. “I'll ask her to marry me. Should we survive this. I'll ask her.”

***

Torch light glinted across the hills, like little golden stars. A song tumbled through the air, a raucous foot-stomping song that Lorna recognised as one about bonny lasses and their endowments. A shiver crawled over her and she wrapped her arms about her waist. The pretty sight and the jovial song could not cover the tension in the air that hung over the hills like thick morning fog. This was the eve of battle and no songs would change that. Gillean’s army had arrived shortly before dusk and made camp just out of range of the keep.

A hand to her shoulder made her jolt but before she turned, another hand slipped around her waist and drew her into him. The fresh scent of soap and the brush of a rough jaw against her hair told her it was Logan, but her body recognised him before her mind did. Her pulse skipped and bounded, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and a delicious tingle whipped through her.

But no exquisite sensation could change the fact that on the morrow, they faced death. Even Logan’s comforting presence did not lift the deep weight in her heart. She had faced death before—several times now—but never had there been so much at stake. The fate of her son, her family, her friends and her lover would be decided by this battle. She lifted her gaze to the sky and uttered a silent plea for triumph over their enemies.

Unfortunately the odds were not in their favour. The Norse were brutal and with their numbers added to Gillean’s army, they were heavily outnumbered. The weight in her heart pulled it lower and she failed to prevent a powerful tremor.

“Dinnae be afeared,” Logan whispered against her ear. He wrapped his arms around her waist, encasing her in the solid defence of his muscles. “I’ll no’ let anything happen to ye. Nor to Ewan. Dinnae be afeared,” he repeated.

“I am no’ afeared.” The stutter to the words gave away her lie, but she suspected he saw through it anyway. He might not remember their precious friendship but he always knew her better than anyone. And he had seen her weakest moments since his memory loss. Logan understood her need to appear strong. Which was mayhap why he did not question her falsehood.

“We are ready for battle. Yer kin will fight hard for ye. I dinnae envy Gillean, going up against such men. They are fine warriors.”

Lorna pictured her cousin and brother, ready for battle, and a tingle started behind her eyes and in her nose. They were strong and skilled. Morgann with his brutal strength, and Finn with his height and talent with a blade. And now they had wives to fight for and Finn had a child on the way. They had so very much to lose and that scared her to her bones. She could not help feel she had brought this upon them all.

“We shall prevail,” he pressed again.

She flattened her hands over the top of his arms and felt the powerful muscle and sinew there. Cocooned in his embrace, listening to his determined words, she almost believed him.

“I shouldnae have left.” Her throat remained tight and the words a strangled whisper. “I should have done something. Followed through on my plan to kill Gillean.”

“Ye did try, remember? I only wish I had listened to ye sooner.”

She rotated then, lifting her gaze to his. His dark eyes were soft under the meagre torchlight. Lorna pressed her hands around the back of his neck and fingered the thick length of his hair.

“So many regrets,” she said softly, allowing a smile to tilt her lips.

“Aye, but I cannae regret any of my recent decisions.” He dropped his forehead to hers.

Releasing a sigh, she stroked her fingers through his hair and relished the soft brush of his breath across her face. For several heartbeats, they remained. The moment—were it not for the army waiting outside the castle—was perfect. Their son slept soundly under the care of the nursemaid, safe in his bed, and they had one another. The lies and secrets had fallen away and it was just them. No pretences, no uncertainty.

It was, she realised, what she’d always longed for but had never been brave enough to reach out for.

“No regrets,” he murmured.

How did he read her so well? She blew out a long breath—an attempt to release the doubt twisting inside her. If all went well on the morrow and they were victorious, she would not have any regrets, but if it went badly...

Logan stroked his hands over her bodice and up to cup her face. Coarse warmth encased her cheeks offering protection and reassurance. He lifted his head and dropped his thumb to press against her bottom lip. She parted her lips instinctively and saw shadows darken his gaze. Her breaths quickened and her pulse tried to outrace them. Molten lust stirred in her veins. How was it possible such a small touch could erase her fears and turn her brain to mush?

Heat licked through her veins, centring low in her belly. “Logan...”

He groaned. She wasn’t sure she’d communicated her need with that one word until he grasped her bottom and pressed her back against the crenellation. Cold stone met her back but it did nothing to cool the desire that made her want to crawl out of her skin and fling herself into the nearest loch. Though, if she did that, she would not be here, in Logan’s arms. For though the need drove her to lunacy, to be without him was worse. She knew that much to be true.

Logan put his lips to her ear, sending a bolt of sensation down one side of her. He pulled her lobe between his teeth and nipped lightly.

“Logan, I need...”

“I know.” The words puffed in her ear, made the tingles increase. “Ye’ll have it all, Lorna. Patience.”

Patience, he said! On the eve of the battle, when her body felt as though it might explode if he did not end her torment, he asked for patience?

“I have none!” she declared.

“That I well know.” But his admission didn’t speed up his movements. He seemed determined to kiss every part of her, slowly, surely, deliberately.

She glanced around the empty rooftop. Did he intend to take her here, under the stars? Or torture her until she could bear no more, then drag her to their chamber? Either way, she was boneless and out of control. She had done the one thing she could never bring herself to do before—and had offered it all to Logan. Her decisions, her will, they were all in his palm now.

A kiss just behind her ear. Then to the pulse flickering in her neck. Lower, lower, bristle and warm lips skimmed her neck and she drew in a shuddering breath. Logan peppered kisses along her jaw. He even nipped her chin and licked the corner of her mouth. Lorna leaned her head back against the stone and gazed up at the inky sky as he continued his leisurely journey down the arch of her neck.

Hair bunched in his hand, he lifted it away to lean around and lay his mouth on the other side of her neck. Every part of her responded to him, from her toes which curled into her slippers to the hair on her head which made her feel as though she were in the middle of a tempest being buffeted by wind and surrounded by bolts of lightning.

She pressed her nails into his back like talons, needing to hold onto something. How had she managed to resist him for so many years? It had been hard but if she’d ever known it would be like this, she would never have had the strength of will.

“Logan,” she begged again, her voice lost to night air, any strength in her plea sapped by a particularly hot, open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone.

He moved too slowly, too gently. It was delicious and divine but it would drive her to the edge of madness if he continued. She arched, rubbed her chest against him in a bid to ease the ache of her hard nipples and in the hopes of persuading him to lose the tenderness and take her as she needed.

Hard and fast.

Mayhap he longed to savour this, mayhap he had the right idea, but the knowledge they had only this night together before battle forged impatience in her heart. The distant sound of male laughter broke through and ramped up her eagerness. She moved against him and felt the hard ridge of his arousal. If the size and hardness of it was anything to go by, he could not keep this up much longer.