The Irish Devil Page 6

  Even now he could picture his fertile fields at Shanekill Keep being harvested by his men and the women his men had joined with along the way. They would all forge new lives. Instead of battle and death, there would be growth and birth.

  He slipped his hand down inside the cloak and gently splayed his hand over Faith’s flat stomach. He was anxious to get her with child and watch her body grow with his seed. He had thought the process would be a chore, one that was necessary but one that brought him no joy. It pleased him tremendously to know that he actually lusted after his own wife. And given that she was pure and innocent, he could teach her not only to enjoy, but to look forward to his touch. The thought excited and pleased him. Finally, after all the senseless battles and spilling of blood, he looked forward to his future.

  She stirred against him and he moved his hand slowly up along her narrow waist and came to rest it beneath her breast. While his hand applied a gentle squeeze to her plump breast, his one finger faintly traced her nipple. He smiled when he felt her flesh peak to hardness and he softly squeezed the rigid nipple, wishing the wool material did not block his path.

  A shudder ran through her and she moaned softly, stirring once again. He told himself to stop, to wait until later this evening when he could find a spot where they could be alone. Where he could slowly undress her and drink his full of her, but his own passion was fast taking control and he did not want to stop touching, feeling, wanting her.

  Her eyes fluttered open and his fingers continued to tease intimately and play with her responsive nipple. He was prepared for her to protest and turn from him in embarrassment; he was not prepared for her dark brown eyes to widen in passion or for her to gasp in pleasure. His new wife seemed forever to surprise and please him.

  “You are not adverse to my touch?” he asked boldly.

  Her reply was just as bold and pleased him all the more. “Your touch feels good.”

  “Then I should not stop?”

  “Not if you do not wish to,” she said softly.

  “I do not wish to, but I do wish to touch more of you.”

  “Oh,” was her only response.

  He caught Colin’s approach from the corner of his eye. “You please me, Faith, and I will take your innocence with as little pain as possible. Ours will be a good match.”

  He felt her body stiffen and assumed she grew nervous over his words and the thought of the consummation of their vows. He would alleviate those fears and replace them with desire soon enough.

  He removed his hand from inside the cloak but not before he gave her hard nipple one last brief, strong tug.

  She gasped again and turned her head into his shoulder to hide her flushed face as Colin directed his horse beside Eric’s stallion.

  “There is a small lake up ahead. A good place to water the horses and take sustenance, since Borg is incessantly complaining of hunger.”

  Eric nodded. “Ride ahead and make preparations.”

  Colin tugged at the reins to leave, but momentarily halted his horse and grinned. “The devil has all the luck.”

  He laughed and rode off and for once Eric silently agreed with him.

  o0o

  Faith was amazed at the efficiency and camaraderie of his men. They all worked well together, each going about their tasks with a friendly pleasantry that surprised her. She had always thought of soldiers or warriors as disgruntled men who lived to fight, but then perhaps these men had seen enough battles.

  She sat on the red-and-black plaid wool blanket that Eric had deposited her on when they arrived at the campsite only a few moments ago. He ordered her to relax, though she doubted he realized he sounded as though he forever issued orders, a habit she equated to his battle days and one she clearly understood and, therefore, took no offense to. He had told her he would return shortly after seeing to his men.

  And she did just that, enjoying the beauty of the day. The bright blue sky was thick with big white clouds and the sun seemed unusually bright, the probable reason for the warm breeze that blew across the field where they were camped. The small lake lay calm and serene, its silvery surface sparkling like a polished gem. Many of the wildflowers that flourished around the countryside had already dropped their seeds in preparation for winter, but Faith spotted heather growing in abundance in the near distance and hoped to gather some before they broke camp.

  Bridget approached carrying a good-sized basket and Faith immediately rose to help the girl.

  “Oh please, m’lady,” Bridget protested when Faith reached out to help with the hefty basket. “You must rest. You had a long, tiring night.”

  “You stayed alongside me, Bridget, you must be just as tired.”

  Faith sat back down and Bridget eagerly joined her, placing the basket beside her. “I but assisted you and very little I did. And besides, I slept the whole morning away in the wagon.” She blushed as she reached in and began arranging bread and cheese on the blanket. “Lord Eric instructed the women that I was to rest and not be disturbed. He is a thoughtful lord, and it is pleased I am to be joining his keep. And pleased to be serving you, m’lady.”

  “Thank you, Bridget, and I must say that I am glad you do not mind digging in the dirt. I will need help planting my herb garden once we reach the keep.”

  “I love plants, m’lady. And besides, I have requested Borg’s help with any task that may prove difficult,” Bridget said with a smile.

  “I think the gentle giant is smitten with you, though shy.”

  Bridget giggled. “He is very shy. The poor man turns bright red every time I approach him.”

  “He is coming this way now,” Faith said, watching the large man slowly, almost hesitantly approach them.

  Bridget was not as hesitant. She turned her head and waved at him.

  Borg stopped near the edge of the blanket and held out a flask to Bridget. “Fresh water from the lake.”

  “Please join us, Borg,” Faith offered and before he could respond Bridget reached out to him.

  “Sit here beside me,” she said, tugging at his hand and practically pulling him down beside her. “Let me slice some cheese and bread for you, and give you berries. You must have the berries that we picked before we left.”

  Faith watched Borg watch Bridget. He had a solid, square face with rich, defined features. Though not as handsome as Eric, he was a striking man, due more to his height, the mighty width of him and his long, blond hair that he wore tied back. While he looked a fierce and mighty warrior, he was the gentlest of men, with a soft voice and tender touch. He was a perfect match for Bridget.

  The young servant girl possessed a pretty face, round and plump without a mark or blemish on her creamy complexion. Her long, brown hair was sprinkled liberally with blond streaks and she wore it in a braid that fell to her waist. She stood well over five feet and her large frame carried her extra weight well, dispersing it in all the right places. Faith had frequently caught Borg’s gaze wandering to Bridget’s generous hips. And where Borg was shy and silent, Bridget was gregarious and loquacious. They would be good for each other.

  Bridget was explaining to Borg how she required his help with the preparation of the herb garden. Borg nodded in agreement while he ate the food Bridget continually handed him.

  Faith nibbled at a piece of cheese, enjoying the one-sided exchange.

  When Bridget had finally ceased her chatter, Borg surprised them both by asking, “Do you have everything you need, my lady?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you, Borg. I have been well taken care of.”

  “You need only ask,” he said softly and once again turned silent.

  “I best get back and leave you to eat,” Bridget said, and before she could stand Borg was on his feet offering his large hand to her plump one.

  She eagerly accepted his assistance and casually slipped her arm around his, forcing him to trail along with her since he was entirely too shy to refuse.

  Faith watched the perfectly matched pair walk off, Bridget chattering
away and Borg listening in silence.

  She tore off a small piece of bread from the hefty loaf and took another piece of cheese. She wondered where her husband was, having expected him to return by now. She actually missed his presence. She had not known him long and yet within that time she had grown fond of him. He was considerate, a trait she had not expected him to possess. He was warm and comfortable to sleep against—another good quality about him and one she had not even considered. And then there was his touch.

  She lowered her head to hide the blush that stained her cheeks, not that anyone was near. It seemed that the lord and lady’s blanket had been placed at a discreet distance from the rest of the camp. At the moment she appreciated the distance and solitude that gave her time to contemplate her predicament.

  She favored her new husband in more ways than one. She had not given much thought to the intimacy of the marriage vows. It was a chore she knew she was expected to perform and so she would. But waking to his large hand intimately touching her had evoked a strange pleasurable sensation in her and one she would not mind experiencing again.

  The blush once again rushed to her cheeks, heating them to a soft red.

  Whatever was she to do? She liked this man and respected him and he genuinely seemed to like her. But what would happen when he discovered her secret? What then would he think of her? How then would he feel about her?

  She could not hide her scar forever and once discovered he would want answers. Would he accept her answers as truths? Or would he think of her as most did… a soiled and tarnished woman?

  He would learn the truth when he bed her, but what if he discovered her scar first? Would he still want her as his wife? The distressing thought plagued her and the only solution she could find was to attempt to build a firm relationship with him on this journey in hopes that he would grow truly to understand her. Once he knew her character, he would know the truth about her.

  She sighed, half content with her decision. Besides, what else was there for her to do? She was at the devil’s mercy.

  All of a sudden, the devil stood behind her. She felt his presence; it wrapped around her, consumed her with a sudden heat that tingled her flesh and caused her heart to race. He truly was a man of extraordinary power.

  He eased down behind her, near to but not touching her, though she could feel his warm breath on her neck, causing gooseflesh to consume her arms quickly.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked softly.

  “Some,” she said, though she had no appetite left. “Have you?”

  “No.”

  She immediately reached for a piece of cheese and turned to hand it to him. His eyes assaulted her with such a burning passion that she instinctively knew he wanted a different type of sustenance. She dropped the cheese, startled by his obvious desire and surprised that she not only recognized it but felt the same way herself.

  His large hand scooped up the cheese, reached behind her for a hunk of bread and then he stood, offering his free hand to her. “Come walk with me.”

  Her hesitation was brief. She fussed with her hair, making certain it concealed the scar well and then she reached her hand out to him.

  They walked in a leisurely gait like a newly acquainted couple on a stroll, attempting to become better acquainted. He released her hand once she stood and proceeded to eat his fare as they walked side by side toward a small gathering of trees not far in the distance.

  “Tell me of your keep,” she said, the silence too heavy for her and wanting to learn more about her new home.

  His eyes shone with pride when he spoke. “Shanekill Keep sits on the most beautiful spot in all of Ireland. It is surrounded by hundreds of fertile fields, pastures that generously provide feed for the cows and sheep and glorious meadows that are covered with wildflowers in the summer and into autumn. A soft stretch of hills spread out in the distance and early in the morning a gentle mist kisses the land and sprinkles it with shades of purple that are astounding to look upon. The keep itself will take time to finish, though the main section of it should be completed upon our return. My men are using stone instead of wood for the keep walls so it takes time, though the castle walls were the first to see completion, the many rocks and stones that burrow in the soil cleared from the fields and used for its construction. The cooking quarters were naturally seen to immediately and I made certain our private bedchamber was also finished.”

  Faith found it odd that he referred to the bedchamber as “our.” Usually the lady of the keep had her own chamber and yet he made it sound as though they would share but one chamber. Perhaps the bedchamber consisted of two separate rooms. Though she wished to ask, she chose a different query.

  “There is room for my herb garden?”

  He dusted his now-empty hands of bread crumbs and spoke. “The land is plentiful and fertile. Your herbs should do well there.”

  “I look forward to seeing Shanekill Keep.”

  Eric reached out and took her hand as they neared the small gathering of trees bordered by a row of ragged rocks that bid entrance to the secluded area. “I do not wish you to fear me, Faith.”

  Her heart jumped. Did he plan on consummating their vows now in the confines of the spruces and foliage that bid them welcome? Her stepmother had stressed how important it was that they seal their union. Without the coupling, their vows were just words on paper.

  “I do not fear you,” she said courageously and with only the slightest of tremors to her soft voice.

  Eric gently squeezed her hand as he helped her over the rocks to enter the cloistered area. “Then why do you tremble?”

  She had no chance to respond. He took her a few feet in where the spruce saplings grew thick and the abundant foliage surrounded them and he stopped and turned to face her. She stared wide-eyed at him, chewing nervously at her bottom lip and thinking what a lovely setting this was for their first time together. The thick pine branches hung overhead like a beautifully draped canopy and the rich scent of pine mingled with the sweet scent of lingering wildflowers perfuming the warm air.

  His finger moved to her lower lip, preventing her from nibbling on it. “I have yet to kiss you, wife.”

  She looked at him with surprise. He was right. He had touched her intimately only hours before but he had yet to give her a simple kiss. The thought delighted her and she smiled.

  “You are eager?” he asked, surprised and pleased.

  “Yes, I have never been kissed.”

  So innocent, he thought and again felt pleased. She was all his. No one had ever touched her, soiled her, spoiled her. She was fresh and pure and his lips would be the first to touch, tempt and teach her the ways of passion.

  He brought his head slowly down toward hers and she squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her lips. No, she certainly had never been kissed before. And she certainly was in for a surprise.

  “Relax,” he whispered, his lips near to hers but not touching them.

  She opened her eyes and was instantly mesmerized by his all-consuming gaze. His eyes stormed with passion and raged with an indescribable blue color. They made her body turn to liquid, her knees tremble and if his arm had not slipped around her waist she would have melted to the ground. She was his captor and she was about to surrender willingly.

  His tongue touched her first, stroking her lips, teasing them and tempting her to respond. And she did. She fed on him innocently, tasting with hesitancy and then with an awkward urgency. He understood her innocent ache, expected it and fed it. His lips covered hers and his tongue slyly invaded her mouth. The combination was simply lethal. Her legs crumbled and she moaned.

  He tightened his grip on her as his tongue and lips worked their sinful magic, forcing her hands to crawl up along his hard chest and around his neck. And her tongue… Lord, but it mated most willingly with his, causing his hard loins to ache unbearably.

  She shivered and Eric instantly deepened their kiss.

  He liked the taste of her—warm, sweet and tart—and he could
not get enough of her. His tongue probed, invaded and conquered, though she surrendered with urgency that startled and excited him. Her thin arms even hugged him with a fierceness he had not expected, and his desire soared.

  Would this woman never cease to surprise him? He hoped not.

  He purposely made the kiss gentler so she could probe and learn and drive him crazy. He also wanted to draw her closer to him, feel her body against his, let her feel the strength of him and learn not to be frightened by him.

  He had half expected her to pull away from him he was so hard, but she continued to surprise him. She let out a small gasp when he moved his body and rested his protruding manhood between her legs. And then she simply and quite naturally moved slowly, a little awkwardly but definitely curiously, against him.

  After only a few moments she pulled her mouth from his, moaned softly and rested her head on his shoulder, both having developed a steady intimate rhythm that obviously affected her and most certainly affected him.

  Her moans turned to groans and her hands gripped at his neck.

  “Eric?” she whispered with a soft harshness as if asking him to explain this foreign yet tormentingly pleasing sensation.

  “I wanted to wait,” he said, his own words sounding harsh from his heavy breathing. “Tonight—”

  Her protesting groan echoed in his ear. “Eric.”

  Colin shouted out his name and he cursed the man, which caused Faith’s eyes to widen as she looked up at him.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please?”

  He growled low and dangerously and listened as Colin shouted for him once more.

  He did not waste another minute. Colin would be near soon enough and he would have to disappoint her and that he could not do. He yanked her up against him and silently cursed their interfering clothing and then he moved in a hard, strong rhythm that widened her eyes further and caused her groans to amplify and echo in the small woods.