He brought it to the bedside. “Another drink?” he asked. Gwen nodded and just as before, he held the glass for her. She smiled and moved over, patting the mattress. He gave a laugh, shaking his head. “Are you not skittish at all, woman?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “Come here,” she all but begged.

Greylen lay beside her, running his fingers down the side of her face and neck. Gwen closed her eyes and made the most intoxicating sound. It went straight to his groin. She made it again, but this time, he took it. He covered her lips as it formed in the back of her throat, wondering if he might die from the pleasure it gave him. His hand brushed across her stomach and thighs. Then slipped beneath each knee and he removed her sandals one at a time.

He placed her hands over her head and made sure to give her a pointed look indicating she keep them there. She nodded her agreement. “Take your shirt off, Greylen,” she whispered against his lips. She smiled as he ripped it from his body, then laughed as his boots flew across the room. But when he laid his dagger atop the nightstand, the strangest expression came over her. ’Twas as if his habit was something she might cherish for the rest of her life. Where that thought came from, he’d no idea.

She sighed when he took her in his arms again, rubbing his back and pressing him closer. He pulled back and shook his head. Had he not just ordered, albeit silently, to keep her hands safely off his person and above her head.

She tilted her head with a look of mayhap dare, and damn if she didn’t purposely take her time. Stretching her arms high about her head and so enticingly, his hand followed their movement, stroking her from hip to shoulder. He realized then, ’twas exactly what she wanted.

“Well played, wife.”

“Kiss me again, Greylen.”

“You please me more than you’ll ev—”

“Greylen?”

“Aye?”

“Shut up and k—”

So emboldened by Gwen’s actions, he’d not been able to curb the power and force with which he began to feast upon her once more. Seconds later, he realized he needn’t have feared for she met him kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Then their bodies were moving together, their sounds louder as they found the perfect rhythm. That slow, torturous grind he’d felt with her but once before, the night he’d been called away.

His need of his wife now bordered on madness. Lost to the sweet taste of her mouth, the exquisite contours of her body, and the moist heat they created as he rubbed himself between her thighs. His well-intentioned plans—dust.

Cease, man, cease.

Battle, MacGreggor, think battle. Blood…putrid stench…haunting screams…ahhh.