Part 24 (1/2)
Gaelan watched her with her son. Although the boy pouted, she kept up her smiles, her gentle touches to his hair. Connal scarcely looked at him, if not to glare and twice this evening had tried to speak with him, without success. Gaelan wondered how old the child would be before they would find even ground. Impatience for the meal to end, for the moment when he could take his wife abovestairs and make love to her, rode him and he tried to smother it.
But when she looked at him, he could think of aught but her expression when she touched him, when she took him inside herself, the abandon she gave only to him this day. Beside him, his wife looked regal and poised, the lady she was, but Gaelan knew better, and he was delighted that no other man experienced loving her.
No man living, a voice corrected. His dark thoughts turned to Ian, the man's jealousy dangerous, and now he understood from whence it came. For if Siobhan were in the Maguire's arms, he would kill again. And enjoy it.
She turned to him, her brow knitting. ”What ails you? You look ready to devour a body whole, husband.”
His features smoothing out, he leaned close to whisper, ”I want to devour you.”
Her skin pinkened softly and her hand slid over his. People stared and smiled, but she did not see them. Connal folded his arms and pouted harder, but she had no notice of it. Her heart skipped at the look in his eyes, the memory of their play steaming her skin warmer.
Rhiannon approached, clearing her throat. Siobhan turned.
”I will take him.” Her gaze slipped to her brother-in-law. ”Be with each other.” She inclined her head toward the stairs.
Gaelan's features tightened. How did she know?
”Rhiannon,” Siobhan said with a concerned frown, ”tell me you did not-”
”Nay,” she said with a smile. ”'Tis too obvious to everyone that all has changed.” Rhi leaned down, careful not to let Connal hear her. ”I am pleased you made this match work, brother, sister,” she said, her gaze moving between them. ”He will come round soon enough.” Her gaze flicked to the child. ”As will the others.”
Gaelan's gaze bounced off Connal, then to the folk dining around them. He could easily pick out the Irish who were not pleased with their princess, the d.a.m.ning looks obvious and irritating enough that Gaelan wanted to say something, yet did not know what. Loving Siobhan's body was his business, private, and to the folk, naught would change. He was the invader, the enemy still, and he'd hoped Siobhan's acceptance of him in bed would have made some mark toward their allegiance. Apparently, it was not the case, and he hoped they did not rebel against her, for she was his only tight link to gaining their loyalty. None of them would survive in this torn land if even one sought to betray her.
Gaelan's attention turned to Rhiannon as she lifted Connal in her arms. Connal twisted in her hold, reaching for his mother, and Gaelan nudged her, nodding. Siobhan rose and carried her son to his chamber herself. The boy smirked, so adultlike, over his shoulder at Gaelan. It had little effect and he recalled a time when he'd been likewise pleased to have the attention of his own father. Saroan PenDragon was a benevolent man, pleased to find he had a son, an heir late in his life, but his treatment only extended to his blood, for Gaelan's brother, by a different father, was ignored. Gaelan had asked him to help Stephan, but ... anger threatened his mood and Gaelan swilled back the remnants of his wine and stood, determined not to allow the past to interfere tonight. It would come soon enough.
He left the dais, ignoring Raymond's smirk and Driscoll's heated looks as he headed toward the stairs. He found her in their darkened chamber near the fire, her body draped in the russet velvet she wore on their wedding night, arms folded over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Again the bands of silver wrapped her arms, and Gaelan thought she'd never looked more beautiful, more the princess she was.
As he stepped through the door, she tipped her head to look at him.
Gaelan frowned, the sadness in her eyes unmistakable. ”What ails you, love?”
Siobhan drew a breath, exhaling slowly. ”My son is growing angrier by the day.”
”Has he done more mischief?”
”Nay. But I have raised him better, my lord. Someone is feeding this rage.”
Gaelan crossed the chamber, gazing down at her. ”Who would do this?”
She shrugged bare shoulders and his gaze swept her, realizing she was naked and prepared for him. Oh, G.o.d. He tried to focus on the conversation.
”Children mayhaps?” he said.
”A child will contradict other children, yet youth follows what their elders tell them.”
”Who's judgment would he trust?”
”Anyone's here, my lord,” came sullenly.
”It hurts you, doesn't it? That your folk could be saying hateful things to Connal.”
”Would it not you?”
”Nay.” Her brows rose a fraction. ”I am accustomed to being loathed and called aught but my name.” His shoulders moved restlessly. ”'Twas the price of my profession.”
”Those who speak so are of little minds, my lord.”
His lips quirked. ”You called a few choice slurs afore.”
Her chin tipped a fraction higher, her features tight with memory. ”Most of them were truth, PenDragon, at the time, but I apologize if I wounded you.”
”You did.” He caught her shoulders. ”Only you can, I fear.”
Siobhan's expression softened with her body, and he pulled her flush against him, his arms sliding around her waist. She gazed up at her husband, her feelings for him growing by the hour. He confessed his heart so easily, a habit she never expected from a man, any man. She opened her arms, letting the velvet pool at her waist, exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and loving the way his eyes greedily absorbed her. She never felt more of a woman than in his arms. Her hands slid up around his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. He trembled, and it aroused her more.
'Twas something special, making such a powerful man quake like this, and she rewarded him with a slow wet kiss, a seduction of patience, lacking the urgency of this afternoon. Though she'd thoroughly enjoyed loving him by the river, this night she would savor ever nuance. Her desires were in control, his pleasure the outcome. Here, she trusted him; here, in his arms, she felt whole, safe and wonderfully complete. Her fingers pushed into his hair at his nape and he groaned, tightening his embrace. He tasted her as if she were a fine dessert, teasing her lips, and when she drew back, she was aching for more of him. She pushed out of his arms and stepped back, smiling devilishly.
”Strip.”
Gaelan's heart skipped. ”An order?”
”Aye. I want to see all of you.” She sank into a nearby chair, wrapped in velvet and watching him with a patience she did not feel.
Gaelan nearly tore his clothes off, dropping his wide belt to the floor, yanking off his tunic. Her gaze followed every move, and when he stood in naught but braies, the look of antic.i.p.ation on her face nearly undid him. He peeled the hose down and she s.h.i.+fted in the chair, silently begging him to come to her.
He didn't.
The velvet lowered a fraction, exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s above her nipples.
Still he remained near the fire.
Her green gaze marked him like the slash of a blade, stroking over his body, lingering enough at his arousal to make him grow for her.
Distracted for weeks over this woman, Gaelan wanted to make good his promise to have her begging for him. And by the look on her face, she was not far from it.
”What do you want, Siobhan?”
”You,” she said plainly, and his manhood flexed.
Siobhan loved it, seeing him straining not to jump on her. She was well prepared to have him, her body slick with desire, her skin dampening. The firelight glowed off his golden skin, the contours of muscle and man shaded and revealed in the flickering light. She let the velvet drop to her waist, her hair webbing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
”How much?”
Her brow furrowed, then smoothed. ”Very much.”
”Enough to beg?”
Her lips curved. ”Who will be doing the beggin', my lord?”