Read Online One Snowy Knight by Deborah MacGillivray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah MacGillivray
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weight loss was recent. Again, the specter of fear clawed at his heart; he was alarmed that she was ill. The carriage of her body expressed fatigue, yet there was strength to this woman. There was no deformity or stooping to her bones. Skena was formed to perfection; square, proud shoulders, long graceful neck, and wide hips, formed for bearing babes, would make her a prize in any man’s eyes. He failed to discern anything visibly wrong with this Scots lass outside of needing to eat more.
Unhurriedly, she moved to the fireplace to toss on more bricks of peat, and then stirred the fire to raise the flames. It had struck him odd, when he first came to this North Country, that dirt could be burnt, but he soon learnt this was one of the primary sources of fuel for the Scots. The chamber filled with its pungent, almost heady aroma. The bluish flames burned lower, not as bright as a wood fire, yet still threw off enough light to keep the deep shadows at bay and render her worn chemise nearly transparent.
His body flexed hard in a cramp of lust, so intense that it nearly blotted out thought, leaving him with the blinding, primitive drive to mate. His fingers flexed tightly in the woolen blanket to keep from acting on the overpowering urge. The situation did not ease as Skena turned back to the tub, her hands taking hold of the hem of the short rail, and with a quick skimming up her body, pulled it over her head. He drank in the image of Skena’s naked beauty. She might scold him for using the word, but nothing else came to mind that fit so well.
Noel ached to go to her. He wanted to put his mouth on the crest of her rounded breast, swirl his tongue about the peak, stiff from the cool air of the room. Then he would draw it into his mouth and suck hard. He hungered to hear her gasp as she rode the razor’s edge of pain-pleasure, to teach her just how strongly his desires ran. Claim her as a man claimed his mate. He wanted her, but he pined for more than ecstasies of the flesh. He yearned to believe there could be a Christmas miracle that could see them find a peace between them.
As she stepped into the tub, the door opened, and one of the maidservants came in carrying a tray. The aroma told him it was hot stew. Skena glanced up and offered a fleeting smile to the woman.
“I peeked in at your lambs. Nessa has them tucked up, snug in bed. I fear they may not sleep this night though, so excited are they. Andrew keeps insisting the Cailleach sent a Kelpie with that one,” she jerked her head toward the bed, “because the lad wished it so. Such a fanciful tale, but the boy believes it, Skena.”
“Oh, aye. I heard all about his Yule wish when we found the knight.” She offered her a sad expression.
The woman chuckled. “Life would be so easy if we had the power to wish for something and it came true, eh?”
“Wishes are for fools,” Skena said sourly. “If wishes were peafowl we would have a fancy supper this night fit for a king.”
Setting the tray down and putting the bowls on the tabletop, the maid said, “Well, ’tis naught as fancy as a peahen, but I brought cheese, bread, and some stew. The bread is stale, but you can sop it in the broth. No pieces big enough to be a trencher, but still enough to fill a belly.”
“I thank you for your caring, Jenna, but I meant it when I said I was not hungry.” Skena picked up a rag and scrubbed her face.
“Aye, what you always say of late. But I also told you that despite your protests you are going to eat, or I would get Galen and Owen to pin you while I pour it down your gullet. You cannot keep missing meals, Skena. It has to stop. One day you are going to push too hard and end up sick. Then where will we all be? I will not accept nay for an answer. I will stay ’til you eat.” The woman moved to the tub, scooped up a chunk of soap from a bowl on the bench and began lathering Skena’s long auburn hair.
Noel frowned. That bit of conversation merely reinforced his
Unhurriedly, she moved to the fireplace to toss on more bricks of peat, and then stirred the fire to raise the flames. It had struck him odd, when he first came to this North Country, that dirt could be burnt, but he soon learnt this was one of the primary sources of fuel for the Scots. The chamber filled with its pungent, almost heady aroma. The bluish flames burned lower, not as bright as a wood fire, yet still threw off enough light to keep the deep shadows at bay and render her worn chemise nearly transparent.
His body flexed hard in a cramp of lust, so intense that it nearly blotted out thought, leaving him with the blinding, primitive drive to mate. His fingers flexed tightly in the woolen blanket to keep from acting on the overpowering urge. The situation did not ease as Skena turned back to the tub, her hands taking hold of the hem of the short rail, and with a quick skimming up her body, pulled it over her head. He drank in the image of Skena’s naked beauty. She might scold him for using the word, but nothing else came to mind that fit so well.
Noel ached to go to her. He wanted to put his mouth on the crest of her rounded breast, swirl his tongue about the peak, stiff from the cool air of the room. Then he would draw it into his mouth and suck hard. He hungered to hear her gasp as she rode the razor’s edge of pain-pleasure, to teach her just how strongly his desires ran. Claim her as a man claimed his mate. He wanted her, but he pined for more than ecstasies of the flesh. He yearned to believe there could be a Christmas miracle that could see them find a peace between them.
As she stepped into the tub, the door opened, and one of the maidservants came in carrying a tray. The aroma told him it was hot stew. Skena glanced up and offered a fleeting smile to the woman.
“I peeked in at your lambs. Nessa has them tucked up, snug in bed. I fear they may not sleep this night though, so excited are they. Andrew keeps insisting the Cailleach sent a Kelpie with that one,” she jerked her head toward the bed, “because the lad wished it so. Such a fanciful tale, but the boy believes it, Skena.”
“Oh, aye. I heard all about his Yule wish when we found the knight.” She offered her a sad expression.
The woman chuckled. “Life would be so easy if we had the power to wish for something and it came true, eh?”
“Wishes are for fools,” Skena said sourly. “If wishes were peafowl we would have a fancy supper this night fit for a king.”
Setting the tray down and putting the bowls on the tabletop, the maid said, “Well, ’tis naught as fancy as a peahen, but I brought cheese, bread, and some stew. The bread is stale, but you can sop it in the broth. No pieces big enough to be a trencher, but still enough to fill a belly.”
“I thank you for your caring, Jenna, but I meant it when I said I was not hungry.” Skena picked up a rag and scrubbed her face.
“Aye, what you always say of late. But I also told you that despite your protests you are going to eat, or I would get Galen and Owen to pin you while I pour it down your gullet. You cannot keep missing meals, Skena. It has to stop. One day you are going to push too hard and end up sick. Then where will we all be? I will not accept nay for an answer. I will stay ’til you eat.” The woman moved to the tub, scooped up a chunk of soap from a bowl on the bench and began lathering Skena’s long auburn hair.
Noel frowned. That bit of conversation merely reinforced his
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