- Mild R rating -
"Mmmmm," he said. "Eight years is a lot of saved passion. Are ye sure ye can
handle it?" He grabbed her then and tipped her back so she was lying across
his chest. He held her in both arms and kissed her passionately. His hands
caressed her back and shoulders. He would not let her go. "Let us see how
much love I can make to ye without actually makin' love."
Rory held her but then leaned over to his left so that she was lying on the
ground. He lay along her body and held her in his arms. The playful look was
gone. Now his eyes were intense, his gaze and his lips roaming. "Mornin'
light, wait just a wee bit but not too long" he breathed into her ear. His
hand explored, caressing, tweaking, cupping, then doing it all again. He
pressed his palm hard against her belly. She settled herself against him
with a little sigh; her hands clutched him tightly, her legs wrapped around
his, even her ankle clasped his calf.
When she had put her legs around his, he had caught his breath and looked
hungrily into her eyes. He said in a husky voice, "My Christ, Ceri, I wish I
could hold ye so tight that we melted together, both in each other and
surroundin' each other." His lips went hungrily again to hers. He could feel
his own need rising, but he went on caressing her, He had intended to be
ready to brake his lust for the sake of that later sweeter satisfaction in
their marriage bed. It was more than difficult. "Eight long years," he
sighed to himself.
Her hand found the bottom edge of his shirt and wandered up under it. Her
fingers explored his chest finding it hairy and then glided lightly across
his belly, which was smooth and muscular. "Kiss me, Rory McGuinness." she
begged. "No, don't stop, kiss me again!" Mmmmmm. Rory, Rory, Rory. Rory
McGuinness! Must we wait?"
"Ceri," he moaned, "if ye keep on like that I willnae be able to..." His
head was swimming. He reached for the closure of her bodice and pulled it
loose. He pushed aside the cloth to reveal one breast. She through her own
passion could see his eyes were misty. He leaned to kiss and taste her
nipple. Her responding sigh tore his resolve asunder. His hand went to her
skirt and pulled it up. It was no matter to unclasp his kilt and shove it
away. In moments he was enveloped in her, that now familiar buzzing in his
head loud and urgent. "Ceri, macushla, me only love..." he gasped. He
abandoned conscious thought to sink into the wonder that was Ceridwen.
When they had finished, he cradled her close in his arms. "My God, Ceri, I
have ne'er felt like that before. I cannae begin to describe it." He kissed
the hair on the top of her head. "So that is the 'love' in 'lovemaking'. My
dearest Ceri, how did.. did I live without ye ere this?" He rubbed his cheek
on her hair. She had noticed the catch in his voice and knew that he had
been close to tears. He sighed, "Macushla, if it was half the paradise for
ye 'twas for me... but I think I already know it was." He smiled like an
angel and settled to hold her close until daylight. "I love ye, Ceri. I
He went on, stroking her arm, "Ye are me wife now, my heart. Now and
Lying close to him, her skin against his, she shivered in pleasure at his
words. She felt that indeed she had become a part of him and he of her.
"Yes," she said."I am your wife. And you are my husband."
It was Ceridwen who first noticed the slight lightening of the sky in the
east. After their delirious coupling they had settled into exhausted, quiet
contentment lying in each other's arms. "It's morning," she announced.
Rory lifted his head. "Sure and it is." He grinned and sat up. "Time to make
an honest woman of ye." His face was humorous but only for a moment. He took
Ceridwen's hands in his as she sat up too. "Marry me, Ceri. I mean before
God and man. Please say this is real, not a dream." His eyes were full of
pleading. He stood, reaching to help her up.
Ceridwen gave him her hand and rose to her feet. "It's not a dream, Rory
McGuinness. I shall marry you. Before God and man. This very day, if it be
possible." They smiled into each other's eyes.
He gathered her up and held her tightly against him, his eyes closed. He
buried his face in her hair, which had come loose during their love making.
She heard his ragged sigh. "I cannae wait to be your husband in every way..
can we leave now?"
As they gathered their cloaks and stretched stiff limbs, Rory turned to look
at her. "Macushla, dinnae answer if ye dinnae wish to. Did you love your
first husband? I was at your wedding, ye know. I cannae say ye looked
pleased to be wed."
She blushed to think about that other wedding. "Oh, was it so easy to read
my mind? No, I wasn't in love with him. Though it was my own decision to
marry him; no one forced me." She smiled wryly, "I suppose that I thought I
would avoid heartache in that way. But we became dear friends...before he
Rory reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Avoid heartache? Och,
me dear one, that ye had such fears of love." He gazed at her with concern..
but also understanding. He looked away a moment. "As did I.."
"I was thinking of this when you sang Aignish for me at this very spot, only
a few weeks ago. It came to me that there is no love without sorrow. But we
mustn't try to live without love. Rory, will you promise me something?"
He put his arms around her. "Of course, macushla. Anything."
"Promise me that we will enjoy every hour that we have together."
Rory lifted her chin with his fingertips so he could look into her eyes.
"Ceridwen, I have wasted too much of me life livin' without ye. I plan to
treasure every moment as if 'twere the last I have. Losin' Shan... like
that.. so suddenly.. makes me think that life is sweet and must be tasted as
it comes. I will do all in me power to make every moment of your life as
sweet as song. I will sing to ye each day morn and night and love ye all the
days of me life... whether long or short it may be."
"If you sing to me every morning and every night, I shall indeed be happy."
she replied, smiling at the thought.
He held her and kissed her ear. "Ceri, may I ask ye one more thing? Did ye
ne'er have a child? I know ye dinnae have one now.. was there ever a wee
one?" He looked down into her face tenderly.
"No, there was never a child." She said this very softly, as if she could
hardly bear to hear it herself. But the tears came to her eyes anyway, and
her lip trembled. She looked away for a minute, and when she turned her gaze
back to him, she had overcome the emotion. "I may never be able to give you
children, Rory. Perhaps you don't want to marry..." She could not finish the
His own eyes filled with love and pain for her sake. "Och, macushla, nay,
nay, think not of that. Nothin' could change how I feel about ye." He bent
his head down to look closely at her face. "Ceri, are ye hidin' tears from
me? Please never do that."
"Nay, Rory, you misunderstand me," she said, smiling through her tears, "I'm
crying now for happiness. I was afraid you wouldn't want me..."
He cradled her head against his chest, holding her tenderly. "Poor sweet
lass," he crooned as he rocked her slightly. He started to sing a soft,
sweet song, very quietly. It was a soothing melody. He stroked her hair,
kissed it, and leaned to put his cheek on it.
He bent his head again to look in her face. He put his hand softly under her
chin to lift it so she looked directly into his eyes. They were concerned,
caring. In spite of her words, he knew there was pain behind them... that
she had never had a child. He wanted to say to her, "Me darlin', ye dinnae
know for sure. Mayhap it simply was not to be until we were together." But
he knew words would not do with such an ache in her heart. He resolved to do
whatever he could to complete her.
When she looked up at him again, he simply said, ""Remember what ye said, we
must love each day as if 'tis the only one." He kissed her eyes and then her
mouth gently. And she clasped her arms about his neck, leaning back in his,
and smiled and smiled.
Rory looked around at their special spot on the hill, now lit with dawn's
rosy glow. "I think we shall ne'er look at this place with the same eyes
again." He started to hum "Lark in the Clear Air".
Next: Leaving for Healing
Before there was the novel, there were the stories...
by Nan Hawthorne, who also writes under Christopher Hawthorne Moss, Books and Stories b ChristopherHawthorne Moss at http://authorchristophermoss.vlogspot.com