He lay atop her for long moments afterward while she stroked the sweat-damp back of his neck beneath his hair. Finally he lifted his head to look at her. She met that look and smiled at him rather tremulously. He groaned again, shutting his eyes as if the sight of her pained him. Then he withdrew and rolled off her, taking her with him so that she was cuddled against his side, her head on his shoulder, her arm resting on his hard waist just above the opened breeches.
"I should be shot," he said through his teeth, his eyes still shut. His arm tightened around her. Looking up at that lean, dark face, Caitlyn saw his eyes open to slant a look down at her. "I'm sorry, so damned sorry. I just couldn't stop, or exert any control at all. I never meant to hurt you."
"It…it wasn't that bad. Really." He looked so angry that she had to reassure him. Timidly she stroked his chest. The hairs felt rough beneath her fingertips, the skin itself warm and moist. His jaw clenched.
"It wasn't that bad," he echoed with a grim laugh. Sitting up, he leaned over her, shirt gaping open, to drop a kiss on her mouth. "My own, I have bedded dozens, no, scores of women in my life. And not one of them has ever said to me afterward, 'It wasn't that bad.' "
"Well, you see, I love you, so that likely makes a difference." She said this so seriously that he could only stare down at her for a dumbfounded moment. Then he laughed again, the sound as grim as before.
"What will it take to make you believe that making love is usually very pleasurable, I wonder? For the woman as well as the man. God forgive me, I should never have taken you at all, but since I did I should have used more care. I've been wanting you so much, for so long… I forgot you're scarcely more than a child. I can only blame the whiskey-and you. You went to my head as much as the spirits did. But I should have gone slow, should have prepared you. The next time, I promise you, it won't hurt. You'll like it. 'Twill get better and better, until you're begging me to make love to you at every opportunity and I'm fighting you off night and day till I'm worn to a bone."
She looked up at him with doubt plain in her eyes, clearly unconvinced.
"I promise," he said. She eyed him. He studied her for a moment, then got to his feet.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting undressed."
"Oh." She sounded as uneasy as she felt.
He suited the action to the words, shrugging out of the shirt she had all but destroyed and sliding out of his breeches. Sitting up and wrapping the uppermost quilt around herself, Caitlyn watched with some trepidation and more interest as he sat down on the chair in the corner of the room to roll off his stockings. Though the shifting darkness obscured much detail, she could see that he was magnificently made. Broad shoulders and muscular arms tapered down into a wide chest roughened by a V of dark, curling hair before tapering still more into narrow hips and a muscle-ridged abdomen. Her eyes skimmed over the next part of him, the man part, to move down the long, powerful legs. She was not yet ready to fully see what had caused her pain. He was standing again, naked now, moving toward her. A stray moonbeam glinted off his eyes. He was watching her watch him, and the knowledge made her blush.
"Up with you."
She looked up at him wide-eyed as he held out a hand to her, clearly meaning her to get off the bed. Seeing that he was waiting patiently for her to comply, she scrambled to her feet, still clutching the quilt. Suddenly, inexplicably, she felt horribly shy. But he didn't look at her, busying himself with smoothing the bed and turning down the covers with easy efficiency. Outside, the rain had begun to come down in earnest, the droplets making a rhythmic patter against the roof. The fire in his room had gone out hours before, and it was cold as well as dark. Caitlyn curled her bare toes against the chill of the floor, wondering uneasily if his actions were her cue to take herself back to her own room. Never having been with a man before, she was not exactly certain what one did afterward.
"Climb in." Plumping the last pillow, he turned to her, his eyes sharp as they moved over her face. Caitlyn looked from him to the cozily turned-down bed uncertainly.
"Do we… go to sleep together now?"
He actually smiled.
"I thought we'd talk a bit first, if you have no objections."
"N-no." She still sounded doubtful, but he was naked and had to be freezing, and after all, as he himself had said, he'd done this many times before and had to know all the ins and outs by now. But he didn't look the least bit sleepy, he actually looked far more alert than he had when he'd first come home, and as for her, well, she didn't think she'd sleep at all this night. There was too much to think about, too much to weigh and consider. Still, he was waiting patiently for her to do as he'd asked, so she did. When she was settled on her back, lying rather stiffly with her head on the pillow, he reached down to tug gently at the quilt in which she was still wrapped.
"I don't think you'll need this."
For a moment Caitlyn instinctively clutched the quilt close, looking up at him with the tiniest trace of wariness in her eyes, but the slight smile on that handsome, beloved face soothed her fear. After all, he was naked too, and this was Connor, whom she would trust with her life, or her body. Besides, they had finished the man-woman thing for the night, and she knew that never in any other way would he cause her hurt. So she allowed him to pull the quilt from her without protest. The instant it left her, however, she was tucking her feet down under the bed covers and pulling them over herself, not quite ready to lie naked under his inspection. Then he was climbing into bed beside her, his long, hard length sliding down next to her nakedness. His weight made a hollow in the center of the bed, toward which she inexorably rolled. Before they were settled comfortably, her head was on his shoulder and his arm was wrapped around her. His fingers toyed with her hair, stroking and smoothing it over her bare shoulders, which were just visible above the piled bed covers.
"Are you warm and comfortable now?" He had turned his head so that he could look at her. She nodded. If truth were told, she was so cozy and comfortable cuddled next to his warm bare skin that she could have stayed as she was forever. She found she quite liked this part of the man-woman thing, and thought it would be much easier to endure the next time since she knew this period of wonderful closeness would follow.
"Do you hurt anywhere?"
Caitlyn thought about that. The place between her legs was a bit sore, but she did not really hurt. She shook her head.
"You're not frightened of me?"
As that question penetrated, she came up on an elbow to look at him in surprise.
"Of course not."
"I just wondered."
"Well, I'm not. I know you would never hurt me deliberately, so you can just quit feeling so guilty. Believe me, I quite understand about the man-woman thing. I know that men get an inordinate amount of enjoyment out of it, and I'm quite prepared to put up with it to please you."
"Thank you," he said gravely, then made a sound as if he were choking. Frowning down at him, Caitlyn saw that he was struggling not to laugh.
"And just what's so funny?" she demanded, indignant. He grinned then, broadly, and tweaked her nose while she drew back with a frown.
"Nothing at all, my own. You are so sweet and so absurd you make me feel like the biggest rogue unhung. If anyone else had done what I just did to you, I'd be putting a bullet in his brain about now. Since I'd realty prefer not to do away with myself, I'll do the next best thing: I'll make an honest woman of you."
"What?" Caitlyn blinked at him, not quite certain she'd heard him correctly. She sat up suddenly, clutching the quilts to her so that she was covered to the armpits and he was bared to the hips.
"How do you feel about being a Countess?" His smile was crooked and charming as he folded his hands to rest them behind his head. She had a vague impression of flexing male muscles and dark body hair, but she was far more interested in his words than his appearance at the moment. He grinned up at her, his eyes gleaming as they moved over her face. He seemed very carefree suddenly, and happy, as if a burden he'd carried for a long time had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Are you asking me to marry you?" Excitement shot through her, sparkled in her eyes, colored her voice. His grin broadened.
"I must be. What do you say?"
"Oh, Connor!" She threw herself on top of him, hugging him with such force that he all but choked. But he hugged her back, kissing the side of her neck, before rolling with her so that her back was on the bed and he was looming over her. The coverlets were a wild tangle between and around them.
"I take it that means yes."
"Yes!"
"Then since we are affianced, I need have no more scruples and can properly teach you all you need to know about lovemaking." The suggestion of a teasing smile curled the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, yes… You mean there's more?" Her response shifted from joyous excitement to dismay as the import of his words sank in. She regarded him with a slight frown of consternation. He grinned.
"You are a constant source of delight to me, my own. Yes, there's more. You've hardly got started."
"Oh."
His grin widened until he was actually laughing. "Don't sound so worried. Lovemaking's fun. You'll like it, once you get used to it. You have my word on it."
His laughter ignited sparks of suspicion in her. "Connor d'Arcy, are you making sport of me?"
"Now what makes you think that?"
"A man can't-you can't-we already m-made love for tonight."
"Very true." His tone was solemn, but something about his eyes made her suspect that he was still laughing at her. "That being the case, you've nothing to worry about, have you? Instead, you might want to think about giving me a kiss to seal our betrothal. Kissing is nothing to be frightened of, is it? You've always seemed particularly partial to it."
Caitlyn looked at the handsome face with its aquiline nose and strong jaw, at the hard mouth that was quirked just now with humor and something that looked very much like tenderness, at the aqua eyes that were so strangely light against his dark skin, and felt a rush of love so strong that it shook her. He was hers, now and forever. She would be his wife. Connor's wife. It was her dream, and it was coming true. She lifted a hand to stroke his bristly jaw.
"I'll be a good wife to you," she said, as if she were making a vow. The laughter in his eyes died and he looked down at her intently. Then, without waiting for her to kiss him, he was lowering his head and taking her mouth, kissing her hard and fiercely as if to seal his possession of her, and her arms were going around his neck and she was kissing him back. With an inarticulate murmur of impatience at the quilts that bound them both, he freed her from them with scarcely a pause in the intense possession of her mouth. Then he gathered her to him, skin to skin under the sheltering warmth of the covers.
He held her close, pressing soft little kisses from one corner of her lips to the other, nibbling at her lips, tantalizing her with quick forays of his tongue against her teeth until she was clutching his hair and holding his head still so that she could kiss him properly, as he had taught her. Then he kissed her deep and long until her head was spinning and that now-familiar tightening was coiling deep in her belly and her breasts were swelling and aching against his chest despite what she now knew the ending to this feeling would be. But for the rest of the night she was safe, safe to indulge these wonderful sensations without fear of the ultimate man-woman thing, safe to revel in possessing Connor and having him possess her.
When his mouth left hers to trail kisses across her cheek to her ear, which he nuzzled and tickled with his tongue, she smiled and squirmed and returned the compliment with his ear until he was shaking his head to free it from her encroaching tongue and then moving his head lower, out of her reach. With infinite delicacy he traced a path across her throat, all the while holding her close against his body so that the heat and size and strength of him intoxicated her every cell. She clung closer as he ran his tongue around the hollow of her throat, pressing his mouth to the fast-beating pulse and resting there for a moment while his hands stroked down her spine to her buttocks and then stroked them too, with silky soft caresses over the rounded flesh. The quickening inside her speeded up, and Caitlyn remembered how wonderful it had been, how magical were the feelings Connor had aroused in her body before he had hurt her so unexpectedly in the end. But since she no longer had to fear that, not tonight, she could relax and enjoy the caresses, enjoy the feelings that he was stirring in her, enjoy him. For months now she had longed to have him kiss her, longed to have him make her his, longed to kiss him and make him hers. Now, tonight, with the worst behind her, was her chance to do what she wanted.
Her hands began to explore him, timidly at first and then with increasing boldness, stroking over his chest, discovering the crisp silky mat of hairs over steely muscles for herself, rubbing his nipples until she found to her surprise that they came erect just like her own, trailing her fingers down over his taut belly to find his belly button and meander inside. He permitted her exploration to this point, busying himself with watching her face while she familiarized herself with his body. But then, when she dared a glance down at the man part of him that seemed suddenly much larger and more menacing than it had when she had started, he flipped her onto her back with a shake of his head.
"Turnabout's fair play, you know," he said in a voice that might almost have been teasing except for the husky note that lay under the words. Caitlyn looked up at him wide-eyed, watching as he bent to kiss her, but when his mouth was on hers, her head started to swim and all rational thought fled beneath the intoxicating onslaught of his mouth. His hands slid from behind her to cup her breasts, caress them, hold them captive for his mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as he slid his lips over the swelling globes, kissing them so thoroughly that by the time he had taken the first nipple in his mouth, she was gasping at the wonder of it. With the part of her mind that was still capable of coherent thought, she wondered how these preliminaries could give her body such pleasure when the ultimate man-woman thing caused pain, but then his hand slid down between her thighs and she ceased thinking at all.
"Part your legs for me, cuilin," he whispered in her ear when she, partly out of instinct and partly out of fear, kept her legs resolutely clamped together in the teeth of that seeking hand. His fingers moved persuasively in the silken nest at the apex of her thighs as he spoke, insinuating themselves deeper, touching and stroking until with a gasp and a sigh she obeyed him, spreading her legs convulsively until he had full access to the deepest secrets of her body. Her eyes were closed tight, her body and legs stiff, her nails digging deep into his shoulders as his fingers searched, explored, and at last found her. They slid inside that place where he had hurt her so short a time before, and she gasped. But not with pain. There was no pain, just a glorious aching that cried out for relief.
She was on the verge of something momentous when he withdrew his hand.
"Gently now," he soothed her as she protested with a wild little whimper. And then, while her senses were disordered with longing and her defenses were breached, he quickly positioned himself over her and slid that man part of him inside her. A single thrust and he was buried deep, stretching her to the ultimate, impaling her. Shocked at the suddenness of it, the unexpectedness of it, she cried out, stiffening with remembered pain. Her eyes flew open. He was enormous again, hot and throbbing, and it wasn't possible, he could not…
"Connor!" His name was both protest and plea. Her eyes were huge kerry blue pools as they met his. He was holding himself above her, his weight braced on his elbows, their flesh joined as before. But this time there was a keen awareness of her in his eyes. The corners of his mouth curved tenderly as he looked down at her, slender and naked beneath him, her mouth swollen with his kisses, her midnight hair flowing in silken tangles across the white pillow.
"I thought you loved me." His voice had grown noticeably huskier.
"I d-do, you know I do, but…"
"Then won't you trust me, cuilin?"
Caitlyn stared up at him, near despairing. She did trust him, she aid; he wouldn't lie to her deliberately, but perhaps he didn't know how it was for a woman. Or maybe she wasn't like most women. Maybe she was too small to accommodate him; maybe-maybe she was deformed. She didn't know; all she was sure of was that it had hurt before and she feared the pain again. But he was already inside her without causing her pain, and perhaps, just perhaps, this time it wouldn't hurt quite so much. Besides, this was the price she had to pay for belonging to Connor. If she had to endure this five times a night for the rest of her life, she would.
"All right." She closed her eyes tightly, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in unconscious preparation for the onslaught she feared. Her body went rigid. Her hands slid down from his shoulders to close over the hard muscles of his upper arms, her nails digging in. He looked down at her for just a moment, his eyes both rueful and tender. Then, without moving the lower part of his body more than he had to, he bent his head to press a trio of tiny sweet kisses on her mouth.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him in some trepidation.
"I'm ready. Go a-ahead," she said bravely. His lips curved up in that tender almost-smile again, and again he bent to kiss her. That part of him that was joined to her burned and throbbed and seemed to swell deep inside her, but he was not moving and there was no pain.
"Don't look so terrified, my own. I'll do no more than this, I swear. Unless and until you want me to. So you can feel quite safe. This isn't hurting, is it?"
"N-no."
"Well, then. Just relax."
Beneath her clutching hands she could feel the tremors that coursed through the arms that held his weight from her, while in his eyes she could see the effort that restraint was costing him. Her heart swelled with love for him. She told him so, and in response he grimaced and sweat popped out on his brow. Still he didn't move his lower body, just kept himself deep inside her, letting her get used to the feel of him. That part of him that so thoroughly possessed her might swell and burn of its own volition, but he was not using it against her, and she realized that he would not. Gradually her body relaxed.
This motionless possession was not really unpleasant, she discovered now that her fear of imminent pain was in abeyance. His hips, cradled between her legs, pressed tightly against her. Heat and friction combined to create a tension within her that wound gradually tighter, sending tiny quivers of awareness along her nerve endings.
The tips of her breasts just brushed the soft mat of hair on his chest. Her nipples hardened, puckered, ached. Against her belly she could feel the warmth of his flat abdomen. The soft insides of her legs were abraded by his rock-hard thighs. Beneath her hands the muscles of his arms were like iron. Almost unconsciously, Caitlyn's fingers flexed, began stroking the corded sinews.
He moved then, just a little, and a shaft of pure heat shot through her. She caught her breath, feeling her muscles clench around him. Her heartbeat quickened. Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her eyes, because he gritted his teeth. Caitlyn tensed. Still he made no move to find his own pleasure.
This time, he would do nothing to hurt her. He had given her his word, and Connor was ever a man of honor. Caitlyn's fear disappeared, and in its wake a myriad of sensations began to riot through her body. She drew in a soft breath, shifting her legs. The resulting stab of pleasure caught her by surprise. Her eyes widened, and she moved again, experimentally. His eyes were almost shut now, his breathing harsh. Sweat trickled from his forehead to slide down over his jaw. Still he held himself rigidly still, and Caitlyn knew that he was leaving it up to her to learn about lovemaking as she would. Reassured, she tilted her hips so that they pressed closer against him, then pulled them back again. Her eyes fluttered down, opened again to find that Connor's face was reddening. Tremors racked his arms, coursed through his legs. The knowledge that she could affect him so profoundly was intoxicating. She moved again, with more confidence this time, lifting her hips off the mattress to press boldly into him before allowing them to fall back. At the exquisite friction, she caught her breath.
"Sweet Jesus." He groaned the words under his breath. Caitlyn saw his eyes were closed and his lips grimly compressed. He looked as if he were in physical pain, and she knew a momentary flicker of concern. Then she realized that she was the cause of his discomfort, that he wanted her so badly that he was hurting with the effort of holding back, and a warm glow began to build inside her. Growing ever bolder, she moved her hips again, undulating back and forth, sliding up and down on him while her hands traced a slow path up his arms to lock around his neck.
"Oh, my God." Abruptly his face clenched and he started to withdraw. Caitlyn clutched his neck, her legs instinctively wrapping around his back to hold him in place.
"Caitlyn, let go. Let go, or I won't be responsible…" He was sweating so profusely now that his back was slippery with it. He sounded desperate; his eyes as they opened to meet hers looked glazed. At this visible evidence of the strength of his passion she felt a tremor start deep within her loins. It spiraled outward, infusing her skin with heat.
"I'm not afraid any more. Teach me the rest." The words, barely whispered, had a galvanizing effect on him. He stiffened, shivered, then collapsed on top of her, his arms going around her, straining her to him so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. He buried his face in the hollow between her shoulder and neck, muttering endearments that she couldn't decipher against her skin. His hips ground into her violently, pumping in and out with a driving intensity that caught her up and sent her whirling away with it. She clung to him, back arching, face pressed to his shoulder while pinwheels of wildfire exploded through her veins. It lasted just a few minutes, but when it was over her whole world had changed.
"Oh, my." Those were the first words that she said when she came back to earth. They were breathed close to his ear and surprised a laugh out of him. He still lay atop her, gasping for air as was she, but this made him raise his head and look at her.
"Oh, my?" he echoed, lifting his brows quizzically.
She smiled and said nothing more.
"Well, at least that beats 'It wasn't so bad.' I think."
She smiled again, demurely, and lowered her eyes.
"Caitlyn…"
She flicked a look up at him.
"If you don't expand on that fascinating statement, I'm likely to wrap my hands around your lovely neck."
She grinned then, hugely, like a cat who has just enjoyed a large saucer of cream.
"I think I'm going to quite like being your mistress. I knew I would."
He frowned. "You're not my mistress. You're my affianced wife, which is a very different thing. We're to be wed. There's no shame attached to you for what we did."
Caitlyn studied him. To be his wife was her every dream come true, and yet she found she could not trap him into matrimony. She loved him too much. "You don't have to wed me, you know, Connor. Not because of this."
"What, and would you have me endanger my immortal soul?" He grinned suddenly, lightheartedly. "I'll not spend eternity roasting in Hellfire over the likes of you, you devil's imp. I'd much rather spend eternity making love to my lawful wife, and not a whiff of sin about it. So will you or nill you, we'll be wed as soon as I can arrange it. And I don't want to hear further argument on the subject."
He was more than half teasing, but Caitlyn detected a note of seriousness beneath the banter. He had not said he loved her, yet Caitlyn was content. If he did not love her as she loved him, why, he would. She would see to that. As she had told him earlier, she meant to be a very good wife. Then she bethought herself of something.
"I'll have no more of your visits to Meredith Congreve," she told him, scowling.
He looked down at her for a moment, then grinned, all traces of seriousness vanishing. "But, cuilin, I thought you knew: all married men keep a mistress on the side. 'Tis quite the thing. And after all, 'tis you who'll be my wife."
She doubled up her fist and hit him squarely in the shoulder, though she knew he was but teasing her.
"I'll not share, Connor," she told him with mock fierceness. He bent his head to kiss her.
"Nor will I, my own, so I'll be warned if you will. When we wed, we cleave to one another, for life."
"I'd never play you false, Connor."
"Aye, I know it. You haven't a false bone in your luscious little body." He rolled off her and got to his feet in a single lithe movement, moving purposefully away in the darkness. She rose on an elbow to watch him.
"What are you doing?" she asked, mystified, when he came back with a towel.
"I'm going to give you a bed bath, button you into your nightgown, and carry you back to your own bed. Until we're wed, you'll sleep alone. I'll have no scandal about this marriage."
"Marriage," she said dreamily, hitching herself up so that her back rested against the headboard, oblivious of her nakedness. He came around the bed and bent over her, wiping her face with the towel, which he had wetted at the washstand in the corner. She spluttered, and when he would have proceeded with the impromptu bath, she snatched the towel from his hands.
"I can bathe myself, thank you. If you'll turn your back."
"Still shy, after all we've shared? I'll have you cured of that before the ink's dry on the marriage register."
"We're not wed yet," she said positively. "And some things require privacy. Now turn your back."
He met her adamant look for a moment, grinned suddenly, and capitulated, handing over the towel and turning his back.
"You'll lead me quite a dance, won't you? But be warned: I mean to be master in my own house."
"And I mean to be mistress in mine." Caitlyn spent just an instant admiring his powerful back and taut round buttocks, then turned her attention to her impromptu bath. She washed her body quickly but thoroughly, getting out of bed to wet the towel again after a peremptory order to Connor not to turn around. When at last he did, with her permission, she was clad in her nightgown, demurely doing up the buttons. His eyes moved over her, and he grinned.
"That is the most seductive garment I've ever seen in my life. The last time you wore it in here 'twas all I could do to keep from tearing it from your body."
"I fear you're easily seduced."
He chuckled. "Not easily. Just seduced. And very thoroughly, too."
He was still naked, unashamedly so, and her eyes feasted on that tall, powerful body. The darkness of the room still veiled most details, which she regretted. Now that she no longer feared it, she was quite eager to see the man-thing. He reached for his breeches, stepped into them.
"Why are you getting dressed?"
"I told you I meant to carry you up to bed. I do."
"Don't be daft. There's no need. I can walk perfectly well."
He finished fastening the breeches, then scooped her up in his arms despite her protests. "You'll have to learn that I mean to be obeyed. I'll not have a headstrong wife who's forever arguing with me."
"And I'll not have a domineering bully for a husband. Connor, put me down. Do you hear?"
"I hear, my own. What a bossy little wench you are! Take care that I don't take a stick to your hide once we're wed."
"You can try. Though you may end up going to your heavenly reward rather sooner that you expected."
He chuckled at that and bent his head to kiss her, right there in the hall. Caitlyn wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with abandon. So involved was she that she never heard the door open at the end of the hall. The first she knew of Cormac's presence was when she looked up and saw him. He was standing in the doorway of his room, leaning against the jamb, a quilt hitched around his waist and a dumbfounded expression on his face. Realizing how they must look, with her in her nightgown caught high in Connor's arms, cradled against his bare chest while he kissed the life out of her, Caitlyn blushed. Connor, who had become aware of Cormac's presence a scant moment before she had, scowled at his brother over the top of Caitlyn's head as Cormac's brows lifted in an uncanny replica of the quizzical expression Connor wore at times.
"We're to be wed," Connor Said abruptly to his brother, without putting Caitlyn down. Surprise crossed Cormac's face, to be followed by another expression that was difficult to decipher.
"Thank the lord. Maybe then things will get back to normal around here," Cormac said, then turned back to his room and closed the door. Connor and Caitlyn both stared at that closed door for a moment. Then Connor grinned and started walking again.
"Do you think he thinks my disposition will improve once I'm wed?"
"It could hardly get worse. You've been a bear lately."
"I've been fighting a battle with my conscience. 'Tis glad I am to report that my conscience lost."
"Oh, did it now?"
His teasing made her smile and press a kiss to the side of his face. His stubbled cheek felt rough beneath her lips. She discovered she quite liked the sensation, so she put out her tongue to test it further. At that provocation he stopped where he was, halfway up the narrow stairs to the attic, and kissed her so thoroughly that she thought she might suffocate if she didn't die of bliss first.
"A week," he said as he entered her room moments later and laid her down on the bed, deftly whisking the covers from beneath her and tucking them over her. "It shouldn't take more."
"What shouldn't take more?" Her mind was barely functioning after that dazzling kiss.
"To arrange the wedding. Of course, I'll have to explain to Father Patrick that, far from getting behind me, Satan climbed all over me before having her wicked way with me, but…"
Caitlyn swatted him. He grinned, planted a lengthy kiss on her mouth, and turned to go. As he started for the door she remembered something.
"Connor."
"Hmm?" He looked back at her.
"What does 'cuilin' mean?"
"Mickeen told me you didn't know your Gaelic. Ah, well, that's something else you'll soon learn. It means you, my lass with the beautiful hair." With a crooked smile he took himself off.
Caitlyn was still smiling foolishly as she fell asleep.