Page 68 of The Darkland

“Kirk!” Mara gasped. “Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”

He eyed her, his hand to his left side. “You have sorely taxed me, you brutal wench. If you will not sew this scratch, then I suppose I shall have to find someone who will.”

“Lily sews a rather beautiful stitch,” Niles said, a grin playing on his lips. “Mayhap you should seek her skills.”

“Lily is tending Spencer,” Mara said before Kirk could reply. Casting Kirk a long glance, she nodded with resignation. “I suppose I shall have to do it if you’re going to whine about it. Niles, would you procure a needle and thread for me, please?”

Niles dipped his head. “With pleasure, my lady.”

It wasn’t as bad as she had imagined. With Niles’ expert guidance, Mara managed to put seven stitches in Kirk’s side and, rather pleased that she hadn’t vomited in the process, smiled triumphantly at her pale patient. Kirk patted her on the head, his fatigue and blood loss rendering him weak and sleepy.

Still, he intended to find le Vay and apologize for his actions. But the longer he lay on the soft mattress, the more tired he became. By the time Niles left the room, Kirk was snoring softly on the blankets.

Mara bolted the door after Niles departed. A fire blazed brightly in the hearth and she moved to douse the spirit candles, two by the bed and another on a small table by the door. The strange bedchamber was warm and dim, shadows from the flickering flames dancing on the walls as she stood beside the bed and removed her surcoat.

It fell in a heap on the floor. Carefully, she peeled back the linens and crawled into bed, being sure not to disturb Kirk. He lay on the top of the coverlet, sleeping an exhausted sleep, and she kissed him tenderly on the cheek. Gazing at his masculine beauty, memorizing every line of his face, she smiled faintly as she snuggled beneath the covers.

But sleep did not come as easily for her as it had for him. Mara did not know how long she lay there, listening to the strange sounds around her and Kirk’s soft snoring. It was cold in the room in spite of the fire and she pressed against him, relishing his heat. But still, she could not sleep.

His shoulder was next to her face and Mara found herself tracing the powerful lines of his muscles, touching the large veins that bulged through the skin. Her small fingers moved upward, feeling the stubble of his neck and tickling the cleft in his chin. Involved in her exploration, she propped herself up on an elbow to inspected his ears, noting that the lobes were perfectly formed. Finding a tiny scar just under his jaw, she was in the process of examining it when Kirk groaned softly.

“You’re going to be the death of me, lass.”

She smiled. “What do you mean by that?”

His eyes rolled open, clouded with sleep. “What I mean is that I would like to sleep. Ishouldsleep, considering I have lost a good deal of blood.” A great hand came up, cupping her chin. “But all I can think of at this moment is making love to you until the sun rises.”

She put her face in his neck, nuzzling his scratchy skin. “I thought I might lose you today, Kirk. And the thought of you going to Ireland to quell a rebellion frightens me to death. If you were to die…”

“I will not,” he said firmly, grunting as he rolled off the bed. Pulling back the coverlet he had been sleeping on, he removed his hose and climbed into bed beside Mara. Gathering her in his arms, he sighed raggedly at the feel of her delicious body. “Trust me, love. Never doubt that I shall return to you.”

Her naked skin against his, Mara was giddily content. “But what if you do not? What if you die and I am left with nothing?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, bright blue eyes melding with stone-gray. “Give me something to remember you by.”

He grinned, kissing her chin, her cheek. “Gladly. Other than my body and soul, what else would you have?”

She stared off into the darkness of the room as his lips moved down her neck. “A son.”

He stopped. Abruptly, he pulled away, staring at her. “What did you say?”

Mara was resolute. “I want a son.” She touched his face, smiling in response to his shock. “Why does this surprise you? We are to be married, are we not? Whether I conceive now or on our wedding night will make no difference.”

Odd that she was reflecting his own thoughts on the night he had taken her maidenhood.A son.But not so odd considering how much they thought alike. Or how very much they felt for one another.

“But… Mara, we shall not be married until I return from Ireland,” he said. “There will not be time before I leave. And I could be gone months, lass. Time enough for your condition to announce to the world our ill restraint.”

“You would be ashamed, then?”

“Never. But I would not want you to feel ashamed or humiliated.”

“Bearing your child would make me proud.” She continued to smile. “You once told Edmund that we take whatever child God gives us, male or female. And the same can be said for the timing of the child, Kirk. We have no control over such things. For all we know, I have already conceived considering this sin we have committed was established by God to create a child. Has that not occurred to you?”

He nodded vaguely, swallowed by the emotion from the bright blue eyes. “It has. And so has something else.”

“What is that?”

His eyes twinkled. “Your sister was right. You do have a good deal of common sense, though you like to pretend otherwise.”

Mara laughed softly. “And my common sense tells me that I want your son, no matter what the cost. A son for the great Master of Anchorsholme.”