were.
He
groaned, hard and loud. "Did I wound you?" she teased. He hitched her
up his body.
"Aye,
you wound me to the core and I want revenge!" He lifted her hips and
plunged deep into her softness. As he sheathed himself he pressed the heel of
his hand against their joining. Maggie could no more hold back the moan that
came from the depths of her, than she could stop the convulsive rhythm of their
union, her desperate reaches to match his thrusts until her cry mingled with
his hoarse shout, his shudder of release toppling her pulse of the same. She
landed hard upon him, the fierce beat of their hearts against each other’s
chest. Her hair fell like a silken wave around them both.
He
caressed her derriere, eased them both to their sides, still tangled, still
one.
When
he spoke, his words were no more than a series of pants. "Tell, me wife. Tell
me what you dreamed."
But,
like so many dreams, it had dissolved with only a few reminders. She frowned. "The
babe, Talorc, it's not young Ian. Not yet." And she let sleep claim her
to a night of restless darkness.
Talorc
left William and Padraig to stand by the door of the low sod building, while he
waded into the stream, to fetch a bucket of water. The river was frigid, would
have iced, if the current hadn't kept it moving too fast to form any covering. He
welcomed the way it numbed to his knees, for it sent a shock of alertness to
his senses.
He
turned back to find both of his men had shed their clothes, ready for the steam.
Talorc reached them, handed over the bucket so they could go in before him. He
rid himself of his own garments, and ducked under the low lintel.
William
ladled water onto fiery rocks mounded on top of coals nestled in a small
depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Around it there were low benches,
with slightly taller ones behind those. Talorc grabbed the sheet he had left
there, and wrapped it around his middle, so he wouldn't burn his backside when
he sat.
He
breathed in deeply, of the steam, of the mint that had been added to the fire
and felt every passage in his head clear. "Aye, this is what I
needed." He adjusted the sheet so he could lie back upon the bench. "But
where is Aed?"
William,
happy with the amount of water he had put to hot rock, finally sat down himself.
"He's with your lady wife. Seems she had a dream of sorts, wanted to ask
him about it."
Talorc
grunted. He didn't like her with the storyteller, their heads close together in
discussion. Not that he didn't trust Maggie, despite her peculiar caring for
puny men. He couldn't deny her dream last night, or the way it terrified her,
had her grabbing at her belly.
He
shook it off. A dream was merely a dream. There were other, real problems, to
sort through.
Paraig
doused himself with a ladle of the frigid water until it dripped from his hair,
to his nose down his massive beard. Like a dog straight out of the loch, he
shook it off. Talorc lifted his forearm over his eyes, to protect himself from
the slash of water.
"You've
watched all the boundaries?"
"Aye.
Winter or no, there’s been activity.”
"Any
sign of one of ours meeting them?"
William
no longer smiled. “Ours and theirs cross each other. But no sign that they stop
to chat.”
"What
did you learn from Old Micheil,” Paraig asked, “when you were closed up with
him all day yesterday?"
"Says
the same as you, there are comings and goings out east.” Talorc ran a hand
down his face. “He's too close to the Gunn boarder for my comfort but he’s too
stubborn to stay at the keep for longer than a report."
"There
are others closer to the boarder."
"Aye,
Seonaid is out there. She claims it's quiet like, but then she's a woman, and
not trained to look for problems."
“Tracks
skirt her, but don’t go near.”
"She's
the one you have to move closer to the keep, laird.” Paraig argued, “A woman
and child on their own . . . it's not good."
Talorc
doused himself with the frigid water, felt
He
groaned, hard and loud. "Did I wound you?" she teased. He hitched her
up his body.
"Aye,
you wound me to the core and I want revenge!" He lifted her hips and
plunged deep into her softness. As he sheathed himself he pressed the heel of
his hand against their joining. Maggie could no more hold back the moan that
came from the depths of her, than she could stop the convulsive rhythm of their
union, her desperate reaches to match his thrusts until her cry mingled with
his hoarse shout, his shudder of release toppling her pulse of the same. She
landed hard upon him, the fierce beat of their hearts against each other’s
chest. Her hair fell like a silken wave around them both.
He
caressed her derriere, eased them both to their sides, still tangled, still
one.
When
he spoke, his words were no more than a series of pants. "Tell, me wife. Tell
me what you dreamed."
But,
like so many dreams, it had dissolved with only a few reminders. She frowned. "The
babe, Talorc, it's not young Ian. Not yet." And she let sleep claim her
to a night of restless darkness.
Talorc
left William and Padraig to stand by the door of the low sod building, while he
waded into the stream, to fetch a bucket of water. The river was frigid, would
have iced, if the current hadn't kept it moving too fast to form any covering. He
welcomed the way it numbed to his knees, for it sent a shock of alertness to
his senses.
He
turned back to find both of his men had shed their clothes, ready for the steam.
Talorc reached them, handed over the bucket so they could go in before him. He
rid himself of his own garments, and ducked under the low lintel.
William
ladled water onto fiery rocks mounded on top of coals nestled in a small
depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Around it there were low benches,
with slightly taller ones behind those. Talorc grabbed the sheet he had left
there, and wrapped it around his middle, so he wouldn't burn his backside when
he sat.
He
breathed in deeply, of the steam, of the mint that had been added to the fire
and felt every passage in his head clear. "Aye, this is what I
needed." He adjusted the sheet so he could lie back upon the bench. "But
where is Aed?"
William,
happy with the amount of water he had put to hot rock, finally sat down himself.
"He's with your lady wife. Seems she had a dream of sorts, wanted to ask
him about it."
Talorc
grunted. He didn't like her with the storyteller, their heads close together in
discussion. Not that he didn't trust Maggie, despite her peculiar caring for
puny men. He couldn't deny her dream last night, or the way it terrified her,
had her grabbing at her belly.
He
shook it off. A dream was merely a dream. There were other, real problems, to
sort through.
Paraig
doused himself with a ladle of the frigid water until it dripped from his hair,
to his nose down his massive beard. Like a dog straight out of the loch, he
shook it off. Talorc lifted his forearm over his eyes, to protect himself from
the slash of water.
"You've
watched all the boundaries?"
"Aye.
Winter or no, there’s been activity.”
"Any
sign of one of ours meeting them?"
William
no longer smiled. “Ours and theirs cross each other. But no sign that they stop
to chat.”
"What
did you learn from Old Micheil,” Paraig asked, “when you were closed up with
him all day yesterday?"
"Says
the same as you, there are comings and goings out east.” Talorc ran a hand
down his face. “He's too close to the Gunn boarder for my comfort but he’s too
stubborn to stay at the keep for longer than a report."
"There
are others closer to the boarder."
"Aye,
Seonaid is out there. She claims it's quiet like, but then she's a woman, and
not trained to look for problems."
“Tracks
skirt her, but don’t go near.”
"She's
the one you have to move closer to the keep, laird.” Paraig argued, “A woman
and child on their own . . . it's not good."
Talorc
doused himself with the frigid water, felt
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