She responded with a fierceness of her own, returning the kiss, hungrily. All of a sudden, she was desperate for him to take her; her need so intense she could think of nothing else. It was more than a physical need, though. Much more, and she thought she would die if it didn't happen right then and there. He was a tonic to her. A tonic to erase all her betrayals and the lies. The loss of his son. The seed of stinking Murtaugh on her soul! She found herself fumbling at his belt trying to undo the buckle. It came free with a twist and fell like a rock, all metal and clanging bits, startling them both into nervous laughter as they looked at each other, eyes moist with desire.
"Gel, A StÓr." He pulled away. She could see his shoulders stiffen beneath his shirt and he was trembling with something suppressed.
"Arguis? Arguis, what is it?" she asked, reaching for him but he had stepped out of her reach.
His eyes were serious. "I ...I may hurt you," he stammered, hands clenched at his sides. "I'm sorry, Gel."
"You won't hurt me," she soothed. Taking his hand, she placed it upon her chest and he slid it inside her shirt, cupping one breast. His breath came strong and fast as he unpinned the tiny silver brooch that held her tunic closed. She bit her lip hard, tasting blood, recalling her brief tryst with Murtaugh. Arguis was right. It had hurt.
He stared down at her. "It will, A Stór," he insisted still focused on his task. "It will hurt, but it will get better. That's what I'm told anyway."
"I don't care, Arguis." Though her desire was unmistakable, it was more than that. If she were to get pregnant, there would be some doubt as to the paternity of the child, but only to her. She craved that doubt deeply.
The brush of his fingers on her neck sent shivers across her skin. The dress, thus unfastened came loose with a flourish; the folds dropping over one breast. Then he dropped his gaze almost shyly and turned around. Taking his cloak, he shook it up and out, spreading out the folds. It floated over the heather and settled on top, as if covering a fluffy cloud. Then he turned back to his wife and waved gallantly in invitation.
Slowly and without breaking her gaze from him, she slipped the sodden dress over one shoulder and it slid down her arms then quickly over her hips where she caught it, then stepped out of it completely and threw it aside.
Arguis eyes widened. His eyes traveled down the length of her.
She watched him, breathing deep. He pulled his own woolen long-shirt over his head, revealing dark curly hairs on arms and chest and a tiny birthmark on one shoulder. He was ready and hard as iron.
They were both shivering though neither one was cold.
He pulled her to him, warming her with his body and kissed her. She felt boneless, a mass of tingling flesh and heightened sensations melting in his arms and happy. So incredibly happy.
Arguis was tall, appearing more so in the heather. When they broke from the kiss she could see his blue eyes were full of pain, and loss, and hope, yet they seemed fathomless, like they were ancient as the stars or part of the sky. She wanted to crawl into them and escape, be lost in them forever.
"I need you, Geil," he told her. "I need you like I need the sun and the air. I need you so much it hurts. Will you have me back now?"
She answered by pulling him down to her, lowering him over her onto the cloak. And they consummated their marriage.
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