Keegan stared down at her, dark, sinful eyes hungry to consume her. “I will hear ye then, Willow.”
Her body thrummed, rampant, unfamiliar humming taking over her from head to foot. She sobbed gently, a tear sliding down her face, and Willow was unable to keep herself still, her body still seeking out friction to ignite those embers once more.
“I…I am tellin' ye for me people, me sister! I cannae see them harmed. I’ve told ye.”
Willow’s voice was a beg, and she hated how it sounded, even as she couldn’t stop herself. She needed more of Keegan’s wondrous touch.
“As ye’ve said,” he flicked over her skin, teasing her and making her jump but also not allowing the need for release to diminish, “and there is more.”
“Keegan, I?—”
He cupped her, pressing the heel of his hand to that swollen, aching spot at the front of her seam, and her words were gone.
“Willow, daenae lie to me.”
She struggled to look him in the eye. “I also daenae wish to perish on the field, and I ken me brother will have no care for me! I dinnae wish to tell ye that for fear of the exchange. That is all!”
He studied her, pushing hard on her sensitive skin until she let out a pained whimper.
“It isnae all. I can see it behind those bonny hazel eyes of yers. Say the last, lassie.”
Willow was at her wit’s end. She could hardly think of what to say as the need for more of that intoxicating buzz in her nerves consumed her. Was there more to the truth?Wasthere something that she had not said?
Bloody hell, are there words at all?
She was far past worked up, and against any sense of propriety or restraint that she may have had earlier, Willow grabbed hold of Keegan’s hand at the wrist, holding it steady as she rocked her hips back and forth.
Och, that…I need so much more…of that…
“Ye are such a naughty wee thing.” Keegan pressed back with his knee, forcing Willow into the bookcase and locking his hand tightly against her; she could not get what she wanted like this. “I will admit the sight of ye like this…all a mess for want. It is so verra lovely.”
“Please, Keegan! I will perish! Ye must?—”
He seized her chin, making Willow’s bleary eyes find his on instinct. “Och, now, lass. Ye ken well what I need ye to do. If ye wish for that delicious release—which I would verra much like to see meself—ye will need to speak for me.”
Willow didn’t know what to do. What was it that he wanted to hear? What was she holding back?
Still, as much as she was continuing to act unaware even to herself, the dark, potent thought at the back of her mind cried out once more. She knew the truth, knew what she wasn’t saying. But she couldn’t. Willow could not allow those words to reach the light of day.
But why?
The little voice in her mind, the one she’d long attributed to her pure self, asked the question as if all this was a simple matter. But the rest of Willow remained terrified of the consequences.
“Come now, Willow.” Keegan dropped his head to her throat, kissing and nipping at her overheated flesh.
He was so very skilled with this unique form of interrogation. Willow didn’t want to be the type of woman to succumb to it, but she could not deny how he played her body like a fiddle. His fingers found hidden chords and strummed them to perfect, creating a symphony of lustful sounds.
He doesnae need to do this. He doesnae need to protect ye and keep his word to ye. But he has. He has, Willow.
That voice was as demanding as the tiny flickers of sensations Keegan granted her. The press of his hand on her still sent firethrough that perfect spot, and Willow’s mind was unraveling more and more with each moment.
“If somethin'…”
“Aye, lass? Tell me.” Keegan pulled back his knee only to pat on her delicate skin once more, the feeling making her jump and ache for more.
Willow gasped. It was shaky and pathetic, and damn herself to hell and back, but she didn’t care. She needed more of what Keegan was doing to her, and she would do just about anything to get it. Even this.
“If somethin' were to go awry…” She barely whispered, but Keegan was close enough to hear every syllable, and he rewarded her by starting up gentle strokes along her seam. “If me brother’s men landed an attack on ye…”