Highland Conqueror (22 page)

“Aye, I do,” he replied as he began to shed his own clothes.

She watched him, feeling her desire stir with each piece of clothing he removed. He was such a fine-looking man, big, strong, and very, very virile, she mused as he tossed aside the last of his clothing revealing that he was more than ready to indulge the passion they shared. Jolene supposed she ought to feel flattered that she could stir his desire so, and she did, but it was no longer enough for her. She was not sure it had ever been. She knew she would never turn from it, but she ached for the heart of him. In truth, she feared that even this glorious passion would begin to wane if they did not become bonded to each other in some other, deeper way. Just the thought of that made her cling to him as he carried her to their bed.

“Ah, wife, ye are so beautiful,” he murmured against her mouth, and then he kissed her.

Jolene wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to his kiss, to the feel of his body pressed close to hers. She would not hide her feelings from him anymore. She would love him so well that, one day, he would wake to find that he loved her back. It was, perhaps, a fool’s dream, but she would cling to it for now.

“I wasnae pleased to wake and find ye had left me,” Sigimor said as he kissed his way to her breasts. “I intended to hunt ye down all the way to the gates of Drumwich if need be, to get back what ye stole from me.”

Gasping softly as he licked the hardened tips of her breasts, Jolene struggled to speak clearly. “I stole nothing from you.”

“Aye, ye did.” He leisurely suckled at each breast, then raised his head to study the results with satisfaction. “Ye took these pale beauties from me, walked away with these sweet rosy nipples that give me so much pleasure.”

“I am very sorry I could not leave them upon your pillow for you to enjoy at your leisure.” Jolene suspected the breathless huskiness of her voice dimmed the sharp sarcasm of her words.

Sigimor briefly grinned against her skin as he kissed his way down to her smooth, taut stomach. Her sharp tongue was one of the things he loved about her, but he did not think he would admit to that. He placed his hand over her stomach, envisioning it swelling with his child.

“And this fine white belly within which my seed may have already taken root.” He kissed her stomach and felt the faint tremor that went through her. “I will probably have the night sweats for a long time just thinking of how close a Cameron came to being born
in England.” He sat up and stroked her legs. “And ye would have deprived me of the pleasure of these bonnie legs. Sleek and strong like some lad’s, but all woman in shape and softness.”

He spent several minutes honoring her slim thighs with kisses and strokes of his tongue. The soft sounds of pleasure she made caressed his ears like the sweetest of music. She always made him feel as if he was the greatest lover ever born. When her hips shifted on the bed in blind invitation, he slid one hand up the inside of her thigh and watched her as he intimately stroked her. She was hot and wet and the feel of her strained his control over his own needs. He would not be able to play this game much longer.

“Ah, but one of the greatest thefts of all was taking this sweetness away.”

Jolene cried out in delight, with a hint of shock she had yet to overcome, when he replaced his tormenting fingers with his mouth. It was a wicked delight, one she wished she had the control to enjoy for a long time, but she knew she was already lost to restraint. His flattery was an earthy sort, but it had fired her passion. A skilled courtier would probably decry such words as too rough, too blunt, too common, but they were sweet music to her ears.

When she felt her release close at hand, she cried out for him, but he ignored her, sending her tumbling into pleasure’s abyss with his mouth. Jolene was still trembling from the strength of her release as he kissed his way back up her body. She felt her desire heighten yet again as he slowly joined their bodies and closed her eyes against the sweetness of it. How could he make her feel this way, how could he make love to her so tenderly, she wondered, if he did not love her? They were questions she dared not linger on for too long for fear of giving herself false hope.

She realized he was not moving, and opened her eyes. He held himself slightly above her body by resting his weight on his forearms and stared down at her. There was something in the way he was looking at her that made her tremble from the strength of the emotion that swept over her.

“Sigimor?” she whispered, sliding her hands down his side until she clasped his lean hips.

“Ye were going to steal this away from me, too,” he said as he began to move within her, his pace slow, almost lazy. “Ye gave no thought to how I would miss this silken heat.” He touched his forehead to hers, bewitched by the way her eyes turned the color of a fierce Highland storm when her passion ran hot. “Or that ye would leave this poor mon cold, alone, cursed to endlessly ache for this sweet haven. Aye, abandon him to the torment of waking in the night trembling with the need to feel this tight fire enclose him, but kenning he would ne’er enjoy such pleasure again.”

The way he was rubbing against that blindly lustful part of her every time he moved was making it difficult to think clearly, but Jolene struggled to keep her mind fixed upon his words. “But, I came back—”

“Aye, so ye did.” Knowing his control was rapidly slipping away, and sensing that Jolene’s passion was swiftly climbing to its peak, Sigimor increased his pace. “Tis a good thing, too. For when I woke to find ye had left me, I kenned that, along with all these other treasures ye had stolen from me, ye had taken what no mon can live without.”

“What?” She wondered how he could keep talking, but also prayed that he would not falter now.

“His heart and soul, my beauty. Aye, ye had fled with the verra heart and soul of
me.” He brushed his lips over hers and whispered, “Aye, for I do love ye, my Jo, my wife, my soul mate.”

Jolene felt herself shatter. She wrapped her body even more tightly around his as he praised her, then groaned out her name as he found his own release. It was a long time before she roused herself from the stupor caused by the intensity of their lovemaking, an intensity caused by his words as much as his skillful touch. By the time he had briskly cleaned each of them off with a damp cloth and crawled back into bed, she felt able to talk again. When he reached for her, she swiftly moved to sprawl on top of him, squirming faintly in delight over the feel of his big, strong body. She kissed his proud nose and smiled at him.

“So, you love me, do you?” She nearly laughed at the way he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I suspicion ye wish to talk about it now, aye?”

“Just a little. When? When did you know?”

“When did ye ken it?” he countered.

“Ah, well, I knew it not long after we were married, but I tried to ignore it.”

“Because of Reynard and your vow to your brother.”

Jolene nodded and idly traced the intricate pattern of the design encircling his strong arms. “It was very important to me to fulfill that vow. And, I felt Reynard’s needs had to take precedence over all else, for he is but a small child. I crept away as I did because I feared you could too easily turn me from what I saw as my solemn duty. It was not until I faced Roger, was confronted with all that leaving would mean, that I knew I could not do it, not even though I was still so painfully uncertain of what you might feel for me. I could see that, by giving Reynard into Roger’s excellent care, I was already fulfilling my duty and honoring my vow. Leaving would no longer be a matter of honor, but an act of cowardice, of fleeing the chance of being hurt because I could not win your heart.”

“Ye won it from the moment ye stepped up to the bars of my cell at Drumwich. I just didnae see it clear. List your faults as I might,” he ignored her gasp of outrage, “I couldnae silence the voice in my head that kept saying
mine
. Ye were English, dark of hair, and so wee I feared I could crush ye if I tried loving ye, but none of that stopped me from feeling that ye were, weel, right, the one I had been waiting for. My mate.”

She had to kiss him for that, then tried to hug him with her whole body. “I wish you had said something. It might have saved us both a hurt.”

“It sounded foolish. I didnae give ye love words because I didnae think that was what ailed me. Nay, not until I thought ye had left me. S’truth, I think the knowledge had begun to settle in when Harold grabbed ye and I nearly lost ye to him, but ye slipped away ere I had accepted it.” He slid his hands down her slim back and idly caressed her taut little backside. “But, now I have given ye the sweet words everyone says a lass needs and ye have given me some, and so all is weel, aye?”

He looked so relieved, she almost laughed. This was not a man who would constantly stroke her with flatteries and love words, but she did not care. Now that he had told her that he loved her, she knew she would be able to see it in his every action, feel it in his every kiss. It had been there from the beginning, but without the words, she had not been able to trust her own judgment. There would probably be long stretches of time between each such declaration, but she knew she would now hear the words every time
he scolded her for not taking care of herself, or each time he made love to her. Of course, Jolene mused, there was no need to tell him that.

“Aye, but a lass can feel uncertain from time to time, can need some reassurance,” she murmured.

Sigimor held her face between his hands, kissed her nose, then held her gaze with his. “Heed me, my sly Sassenach wife, ye are my mate. I love ye. There. I have said it twice now. Ye are the better half of me. Ye are my comfort, my joy, my pride, my reason for facing each day and getting on with the business of life. Ne’er doubt your importance to me or I will be placing a few sharp slaps on this bonnie bum of yours.”

“Oh, Sigimor, I do love you so, you sweet-tongued devil.”

“Always,” he said in a soft serious voice. “Ye forgot to say always.”

“Aye, my braw laddie, always. Always and forever. Until the sun forgets to rise in the morning,” she whispered and the kiss he gave her told her all she needed to hear in reply.

Scottish border—3 years later

Smiling at the baby seated on her lap, Jolene then looked at her cousin Roger. “He is a beautiful child, Roger. Plump, healthy, and happy.” She glanced toward Emma who sat on the floor before the fireplace laughing at the antics of Reynard, his half-siblings, and his cousins. “Emma fair shines with joy.”

Roger immediately picked up his son when the boy reached out to him. “We both see little Peter as something of a miracle. Nearly as astonishing as you giving Sigimor twin daughters.” He winked at her. “Black-haired daughters, too.”

“There was quite a bit of astonishment all round when they arrived. With so many uncles, real and honorary, I fear they are in danger of becoming quite spoiled.” Jolene smoothed her hand over her slightly rounded stomach. “This one will be a boy.”

“Do you think your husband was disappointed not to get his heir?”

She looked at Sigimor who also sat near the fire allowing his daughter Bridie to climb all over him, then looked back at Roger. “Does he look disappointed?” she asked and smiled when Roger laughed. “Nay. As he says, he already has more heirs than any man needs. I know
you
are pleased to have an heir, but I suspect you would have been equally as pleased with a daughter.”

“Aye.” Roger kissed the top of his sleepy son’s head. “Your husband predicted this you know.” He nodded at her look of surprise and told her all Sigimor had said at the clearing that day almost three years ago and smiled when she laughed. “I thought it all nonsense myself. Yet when I brought Reynard to Emma, she took him into her arms, and became content. So, too, when we took in Peter’s other children. Then her sister and her husband died and her two children came to live with us. Emma had a houseful of children and became very content indeed.”

“She had children to love and care for.”

“Aye, and that sadness I sometimes sensed in her disappeared. She had the family she had always wanted.”

“And then there was little Peter.”

“And then there was this wondrous gift from God.”

Jolene looked at Reynard, now almost six. It had taken so long to arrange this reunion with the boy on her Scottish lands, lands now being run very competently by Somerled. Her pregnancy and then Emma’s had caused several delays. She began to think that had been for the best. Reynard had been happy to see her, but no more than that. It had taken only a few moments for her to see that Emma had become his mother in his heart and mind, and Roger his father. He also had a bounty of children to play with. Although it was a litle sad to see that she had become of less importance to the child and that Peter was only a pleasant but fading memory now, Jolene knew it was for the best.

“Emma loves him,” Roger said quietly, “as do I.”

“I know. Tis easy to see. He is happy as only a child who knows he is loved can be. Have I thanked you yet for naming your child after my brother? It was good of you to honor him so.”

“Emma insisted. When we were sure she was with child, I found myself telling her what your husband had said. Emma was most impressed with such reasoning.” Roger exchanged a quick grin with Jolene. “She believed in it. She then decided that, grievous
and tragic though Peter’s death was, it set us on this path which has given us such joy. Emma wanted to honor him for that. Ah, someone has been hurt.”

Jolene looked at her daughter Allason who was held securely in her father’s arms as he sat down next to her. Allason’s big green eyes held a mournful look and she was pouting slightly. Sigimor was trying very hard not to look amused. He was an excellent father, loving yet firm when he needed to be, but she did think he found too much amusment in his daughters’s occasional naughtiness.

“Mama, I have a ouch,” Allason said, holding out her arm and pointing to a very faint red spot.

After kissing the spot, Jolene asked, “How did that happen, my love?”

“I felled when I picked up the stool. It was heavy.”

“Why did you pick up the stool?”

“To hit Reynard o’er the head ’cause he wasnae list’nen to me.”

Ignoring the badly smothered laughter of Roger, Jolene lectured her pretty daughter about controlling her temper and not hitting people. She then had a brief argument with Allason about apologizing to Reynard, for Allason felt it was unnecesary since she had not hit him. When, after heaving a martyred sigh, Allason went to apologize to Reynard, Jolene frowned at Roger and Sigimor who looked far too amused. She was just about to lecture the men, too, when she realized they were now watching the children. One look told Jolene there was about to be more trouble. Reynard was looking very lordly, Allason looked furious, Bridie stood by her sister looking equally as furious, and Emma looked as if she was terrified she would start laughing. Jolene sympathized. Laughing at the wrong time was a danger a parent was constantly faced with.

“I have seen that look before,” murmured Roger, smiling at Sigimor. “It looks very similar to the one you wore three years ago when you arrived at my camp to retrieve your wife. You looked much like an enraged bull. It sits rather oddly on your delicate, beautiful little girls, but ’tis the same look.”

Sigimor grinned, kissed Jolene on the cheek, and started to return to his children. “Be at ease, wife. I will see to it.”

Jolene watched as Sigimor crouched by his daughters, putting an arm around each little girl. Both began to talk to him as was their habit and it always astonished her that he seemed to be able to sort through the babble. Just looking at Sigimor with their daughters made Jolene feel warm, and so content she felt close to tears. She turned her attention back to Roger and caught him smiling at her.

“You are happy and very much in love, I think,” he said.

“Oh, aye, very much so.”

“And your husband is very much in love with you and those angel-faced little devils of yours.”

“Aye, and although he is a little rough and will ne’er possess a courtier’s skill with sweet words, I know I am loved. You know how hard it was for me to make that choice between two lives, between child and man, but I have no regrets. There lingered only a concern for Reynard, for how my choice affected him, but all of those concerns are now laid to rest. We are both just where we should be.”

Roger nodded. “Well, I had best get this boy to his nurse.”

A few moments after Roger left her, Sigimor returned to her side. He sat down next to her on the high-backed bench and draped his arm around her shoulders. Smiling
faintly, she snuggled closer to him.

“Peace reigns,” he said, idly stroking her arm. “Allason didnae think Reynard was accepting her reluctant apology with the reverence it was due and Bridie concurred.” He grinned briefly when she chuckled, then placed his hand over her stomach. “Do ye feel weel?”

“Very well. I could not delay this visit any longer, Sigimor. Despite the letters exchanged, there was still a concern within me about Reynard. I needed to see him, to see his happiness. My choice that day was as important to him as it was to me.”

“And do ye still feel ye made the right choice?” he asked quietly.

Jolene smiled at him and lightly stroked his cheek. “I speak of choice, but that day, when I faced leaving you, I knew there was no choice for me. I had to stay with you. It hurt to part from Reynard and this visit has fully healed that wound. I just needed to know that I had made the right choice for him as well and now I see that I did.”

He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “And the right choice for ye was me.”

“Aye, husband, the right choice for me was you and it will always be you. As I am the right choice for you.”

“Och, aye, lass. Was, is, and will always be. I kenned that the moment I saw ye. In truth, I set out to conquer ye most thoroughly.”

“You did that, husband. Most thoroughly indeed.”

He nodded. “Good. I like to win.”

Sigimor smiled and savored the sound of her laughter. He had his mate. He had two daughters who would probably turn his hair white and another child was on the way. Life was good. He just needed one little thing to make this moment perfect and he tightened his hold on his wife, the match he had waited so long for.

“Always, wife,” he said and waited.

“Always, husband.”

He nodded. Life was very good indeed.