Love by the Stroke of Midnight by Raven McAllan (best historical biographies .txt) 📗

am, but you’ve got goosebumps.” And interesting parts of you might shrivel up and hide.

“True enough.” He moved one hand to cover his groin and grimaced. “Definitely affected.”

She’d forgotten he’d hear her. Marcail laughed. “We don’t want that. Are you coming back to bed? Then I could, er, warm you up? An extra birthday present to me from us.” She’d decided their beautiful, slow and arousing lovemaking earlier had been the perfect birthday present, but she wouldn’t take it amiss to see if another session could equal it. “After all, you’re in your birthday suit.”

“If you look at me like you’re doing for much longer, I’ll boil over and be no use to either of us,” Paden said frankly. “Mind you.” He sighed. “I’d get back under the covers with you like a shot and make love to you as many times as I could, but the snow has stopped, it’s almost light and well…as I said it’s now ‘Happy Birthday’, mo ghaol.”

“Thank you.” Marcail looked at her watch. “Bloody hell.” Somehow they’d spent most of the night in the bothy. And not much of it asleep. “They’ll be waking me at the castle soon, and I won’t be there to be woken, if you get me.”

“I get you.”

Strangely, she didn’t feel tired, but invigorated and raring to go. She wasn’t raring to go back to the castle, but she was more than ready, willing and able to make love with Paden again. To experience him deep inside her, relish his lips on hers before he shifted his position so he could caress her nipples, laving them and giving little sucks and nips until those nubs were rock hard.

She wriggled and tried to press closer. Paden chuckled. “Impatient.”

“Oh yes.”

“Then, who am I to disoblige my lady?”

He moved lower until his fingers and then his tongue was inside her, and she writhed in ecstasy.

Which, while she was able to speak, was the moment Marcail tried to insist she returned which favours she was able to, She begged they climaxed together. “Please, oh Please.”

Paden held her hands high above her head.

“Next time, mo ghaol, this is for you.”

He was no selfish lover as he held her tight and watched her fly.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Tears of rapture.

And now she’d missed her chance to torment him as he had her. To stroke and caress his hard male body. To lave and suck every inch of him. To take him in her mouth and taste him as he flew over the edge and came as hard and as fast as she had done.

Not that that was enough. Marcail was sure she had missed something. Something important that had to be said or done. What, she had no idea, but at some point during the previous hours she’d had the impression that she’d agreed to something, and it hadn’t happened.

“It’s not fair,” she grumbled as he threw her undies to her and she caught them one-handed. “I want…” How could she put into words her emotions when she was hard-pressed to know what they meant herself? “What have I missed?” she asked as she wriggled into her knickers under the bedclothes then winced at the thought of putting yesterday’s clothes on again. “I can tell something has happened.”

“Sensing stuff?” Paden winked. “Told you.”

Marcail stuck her tongue out. “Rotter.”

He leaned over and kissed her nose. “The sooner we get the day started the sooner we can hopefully begin the next stage of our journey.”

“A strange way to put it,” Marcail observed as she shivered and, also under the covers, shoved her feet into socks by touch. It was too cold to get out and put them on. “I wish we weren’t in a rush.”

Paden pulled on his jeans, shirt and sweater and sat on the end of the bed to don socks and boots. “So do I, ma ghaol, but as you said, you need to get away home to start your birthday in the proper way. Let’s do all that’s proper.”

“Then we can be improper?” Marcail opened her eyes as wide as she could. “I like the sound of that. What?” she asked as Paden shook his head in a mock-sorrowful way. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

“What happened to the wary, not very happy about everything Marcail?” Paden asked as he lifted her out of the bed. He pulled her sweater over her head then passed her jeans to her. “The one who distrusted the world and especially me?”

Marcail pulled them on and zipped them up. “She met you,” she said simply.

He stopped dead. “Say that again,” he said hoarsely. “Slowly.”

Marcail grinned and squeaked as he swung her around in a circle. “Idiot, you’ll get giddy fall over, land on me, squash me and have to look after me here until…”

Paden slowed and let her down so her feet touched the ground. “And? Are you sensing now?”

She laughed. “Nope, but on consideration, what a good idea. Do it again and we can just stop here.” Forget about whatever is about to be told to me that everyone thinks I’m not going to like.

“Not gonna happen, sorry.”

“Ah well. A woman can dream.”

“A woman can. So can a man, and I’m dreaming of what I hope will be a happy ever after.”

Paden patted her bottom and ended with a little squeeze that Marcail decided was sexy, and weirdly erotic. She wriggled her bottom, and he shook his head ruefully.

“Enough already, ma ghaol, let’s away. The sooner we go and all that.”

Unfortunately, however she might wish otherwise, that made sense. Marcail nodded and began to layer up, thankful someone had left an assortment of hats, scarves and thick socks in the bothy. They might not make her sartorially elegant but they would keep her warm. Beside her Paden was doing the same. “Someone had a great deal of forethought,” she said. “Can you whistle up snow whenever you want?”

Paden grinned. “I can’t, but who is to say what can and cannot happen, or be encouraged?”

He