Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(58)
The warmth of strong arms enveloped me from behind. A delicious soreness ached everywhere as I stretched. I smiled, failing to remember how many times we’d made love. All through the night Iain brought me food and drink, seeing to my every need during short breaks before he attended to me all over again, ensuring every desire had been fully satisfied.
Morning light peeked through the crack on the edge of the tapestry. The mouth-watering aroma of brewed coffee and freshly baked bread wafted up from the kitchen. Iain’s fingertips traced lazy circles on my hips as his lips pressed a gentle kiss onto my shoulder blade.
I turned, lying on my back. Iain remained on his side, his head propped onto a bent arm.
His eyes searched mine. In silence, he sought explanation of all that occurred but feared to know.
Where to begin . . . how much to tell . . .
Lying naked together, freshly sated from poetic lovemaking seemed an inappropriate time to talk about another man. Instead, I asked the question plaguing my mind.
“Iain, what happened?”
He shook his head. “I doona know. I sensed the moment you left. My heart lurched. A rift occurred in this plane and the disturbance rippled into me. I rode Dubhar hard back to the castle and burst into the room holdin’ the box. I felt the magick’s energy snap hot from its surface.”
“So . . . I didn’t split in two,” I said.
“Nay. You disappeared. Your coffee mug upside down on the ground was the only thing that remained,” he replied.
“Iain, I’m so sorry. I meant to touch it one last time, a nostalgic goodbye my only intention. I had no idea the powers holding court over my life weren’t done screwing with me yet.”
He pressed his lips onto my forehead in a gentle kiss. “Isa, I was lost without you. I stood there, willin’ every ounce of mental power I could muster at that box. Nothin’ happened. I refused to leave. Robert tried to drag me away. When my legs gave out from standin’, I pulled the box to the ground with me and laid there, holdin’ it for days.”
Fresh tears welled in my eyes at the love and loss he expressed . . . at what he’d endured. I never wanted him to go through such a horrific, heart-wrenching experience again. I took a deep breath realizing Velloc had to be suffering through the same grief. Iain must’ve sensed my mental path, because he tipped my chin up with his finger, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“Who was he, Isa?”
My lower lip trembled. I had to tell him the truth, regardless of the consequences. “For all intents and purposes, he’s my husband. Your box brought me to the man with whom I was meant to spend the rest of my life . . . twice.”
He dropped his finger, planted his hands on either side of me, and shoved hard into the mattress, launching off the bed on the upward bounce. He growled as he paced at the foot of the bed, shaking his head. “No. I’m your husband. I brought you here.” He stopped and glared at me, anger rolling off his tense shoulders. “You. Are. Mine.”
I sighed. Iain’s emphatic assertion wouldn’t alter the fact that he’d become a victim in the convoluted mess too. His territorial side staked his claim due to first ownership rights. But all kinds of arguments could be made as to why one man would have more right to me than the other; the amount of time spent together threw a vote in Velloc’s favor. No amount of debate toward either case changed my shredded feelings.
Both men held my heart. They had equal claim to it.
No way in hell would I say that to Iain, however. I stood from the bed, approaching him. His nostrils flared as he held his rigid stance, glaring at me . . . daring me.
I pressed against him, sliding my arms around his waist and skimming my hands up his broad back. “I am yours,” I said in a soft, firm voice.
He slowly exhaled the breath he’d been holding and relaxed his body, encircling me in his arms. “Isa, I’m never lettin’ you go again. Nothin’ will keep me away from you.”
A shiver raced up my spine, and I gripped Iain tighter. I’d once thought that very thing . . . moments before forces outside my control proved me indisputably wrong.
*
Late morning brimmed with activity in the courtyard as summer gifted the world with abundant sunshine. Iain shut the heavy oak door behind us with a thud. I raised my coffee mug to my lips, sipping the barely cooled, caffeinated heaven as we strolled down the grassy slope. I spotted the back of Brigid’s straw hat as she sat in her favorite corner of the garden.
I blew ripples across the divine liquid, taking another near-scorching swallow as the top layer cooled infinitesimally. My other hand tugged repeatedly at the bodice of my emerald gown. The garment I’d loved not so long ago suddenly felt confining. Running wild in animal skins for over a month had ruined my joy of dressing like a lady.
A frown curved my lips, and I dropped the fidgeting hand from my dress. How unsettling. I’d become like one of Peter Pan’s Lost Boys, stuffed into an itchy chemise and constricting gown that once adorned a beautiful princess in her medieval fairy tale. How quickly things changed.
Iain interrupted my internal battle. “She’s not been doin’ well.”
I glanced up at him, seeing worry lines etched into his face. “Iain, I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve saved all of you from the pain I’ve caused.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, squeezing lightly. “I know, lass. You’re not the only one she’s been missin’.”