Highlander's Redemption: The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy, Book Two (13 page)

He got a small
fire going just as Jossalyn reemerged from Burke’s shelter.

“I think his fever
has gone down a bit,” she said woodenly when she reached the meager flames.

“And the
infection?”

“About the same,
though the fact that it’s not getting worse is a good sign.”

“We’ll stay here
for the night, then,” he said as he positioned his hands near the flames,
trying to soak in some of their warmth and cheer. It didn’t help the dead
coldness he felt since he and Jossalyn had closed themselves off to each other,
though.

Without speaking,
she turned and retreated back to her small shelter, leaving him to watch the
fire as it sputtered out, unable to take hold on the soggy wood. It would be a
long, cold night indeed.

Despite the dry,
soft floor of her shelter, Jossalyn lay awake, chewing on the clash she and
Garrick had had earlier. As she rolled over yet again, trying to find the peace
of sleep, she guiltily remembered the way Garrick had built this shelter for
her when the rain had started. He hadn’t even bothered trying to make one for himself,
or to make this one big enough for both of them to share. He wouldn’t push
himself on her, or even hint that he would want to share the shelter with her,
despite the fact that neither one of them was trying to hide their attraction.

She knew he was
right when he had said back at the creek that they couldn’t touch or kiss
anymore—it would only make things more complicated and painful for both of them
when she parted company with him and got herself established on her own.

Even after everything
that had happened, Jossalyn still believed she could start a new life in Scotland
as a healer. She would have to lie low to avoid drawing the notice of her
brother, whom she now knew would throw her to the wolves for disobeying him. Maybe,
though, he would consider her lost to Scotland and give up looking for her and
Garrick and Burke.

She was just as
naïve as Garrick said she was, she thought bitterly. She knew her brother too
well to believe that he would simply give up when he imagined that his pride,
his control, and his crushing grip on power were affronted. He would continue
to hunt them, even though he thought so little of her.

But another
thought whispered in the back of her mind. What if her brother’s accusation
about her aiding the Scottish rebellion were true? Would that be so bad?

For as long as she
could remember, she had wanted to help people. She had learned the skills of a
healer so that she could aid the injured, the sick, and those who needed
another chance at life. And since she had moved north to Dunbraes after her
parents died and her brother was assigned to hold the castle, she had known
somewhere inside that she felt more at home there, among the overpowering
beauty and wildness of nature and the earnest but harried people of the north.

Though she could
heal their bodies—or at least ease their discomfort—she couldn’t heal the
deeper wounds they suffered under King Edward I and his hungry armies. What
they needed, she couldn’t give them: freedom from oppression, invasion, and
domination. But she at least understood them, for she longed for the same
thing.

She had already
decided that she wanted to stay in Scotland and offer her skills to its people,
probably in some remote village to avoid attention. But what if there were more
that she could do to help Scotland and its people overcome their English
attackers? What if she could help more directly?

She discarded the
nascent idea even as she felt the excitement at the possibility bubbling up
inside her. She would never be able to find Robert the Bruce and his army in
the first place. He and his supporters were famously elusive—not only were the
English hunting him, but, if the rumors she heard were true, some Scots who
sided with the English were looking for him too, but to no avail. She had
overheard one of her brother’s messengers say that every once in a while the
Bruce and his rebels would appear, strike the English, and vanish just as
quickly. One English girl—
woman
, she told herself firmly—wasn’t just
going to locate his base of operations and march in, demanding to help.

But, the voice
whispered back, she wouldn’t just be searching blind. She had a connection: Garrick.

He had said that
he was working for the Bruce and the rebels, though he had been evasive about
saying more. Perhaps he could help her reach the rebellion’s secret location,
maybe even introduce her to someone who could help her within the movement. At
least he could point her in the right direction.

Based on Garrick’s
reticence, though, she doubted that he would be eager or even willing to help
her. She would just have to convince him that not only was she in earnest about
helping Scotland secure its freedom, but that she was strong and capable enough
to continue on without him to the rebel headquarters.

She would also
have to wait for the right time and phrasing. After their sharp words to each
other, she very much doubted that Garrick would want to help someone whom he
thought was not only naïve, but also still protecting her cruel English
brother.

The first step to
her new plan would be to apologize to him.

She gave up all
hope of finding sleep and sat up inside the shelter. She felt the same surge of
energy she had experienced when she had decided to escape from Dunbraes to
Scotland several days ago. She was taking charge of her life, making her own
decisions, and forging her own path. Her brother’s determined search for her
and her two companions wouldn’t stop her, nor would Garrick’s willingness—or
unwillingness—to help her.

She peered out
through the branches that served as a makeshift door to her shelter. The clouds
had blown away and the silvery light of the half-moon illuminated their small
camp. No fire glowed in the fire pit several feet from the entrance of her
lean-to, but she saw a shadowy lump huddled in front of it. As her eyes
adjusted, she thought she could make out the color and pattern of the Sinclair
plaid covering the form on the ground.

Just then, the
form rolled over and she could see Garrick’s profile as he lay on his back. She
could tell that his eyes were open, for the moonlight danced in them. Even
still, they were dark pools, appearing nearly black in the low light.

She moved the
branches aside, crawled out of the shelter, and stood, brushing off her skirt. He
turned his head and watched her draw nearer as if he had sensed long ago that
she was awake and about to approach from the shelter. She wouldn’t put it past
his knowledge, she thought as she stopped in front of him. He had an uncanny
ability to anticipate things just before they happened, and his senses seemed
honed to a razor-sharpness.

She knelt down at
his side, but he remained silent, his dark eyes following her.

“I wanted
to…apologize,” she began somewhat awkwardly. She had felt so confident and sure
of herself just a moment ago, but something about his eyes, unreadable in the
low light, made her feel unnerved, and her stomach fluttered. The memory of
their last kiss flew unbidden into her mind, and the flutter turned into a full
flip. She took a breath and forced her insides to calm down, chastising herself
for her unruly thoughts.

“I shouldn’t have
said that you were a cold-blooded killer. You have shown me nothing but
kindness and gentleness through this whole…ordeal. And though I was upset at
the thought that you would kill my brother—my only living family left—I
understand your reasons.”

There. That hadn’t
been so hard, she told herself, though her voice had been tight as she spoke. It
was only because the thought of Garrick killing her brother did indeed still
frighten her. It had nothing to do with his steely-black eyes pinning her as he
sat up, closing some of the distance between them. And even though it was part
of her larger plan to enlist his aid, she surprised herself by meaning what she
had said about understanding why he would have shot her brother.

The silence
stretched, and she began to fidget, but finally he spoke. “I apologize as well.
I shouldn’t have called you naïve. Although your brother has kept you away from
much of the world, you clearly know more than I do about trust and honor.”

The words came out
haltingly, as if he weren’t used to apologizing or having to explain himself. For
some reason, that made his words all the more meaningful to her. A wave of
relief flooded through her. She hadn’t realized it before, but his silent anger
toward her, and her own angry words hanging in the air between them, had been
nearly unbearable.

She cared a great
deal about what he thought of her, she realized, and also wanted to see the
best in him. It wasn’t just his strikingly handsome visage that made her twist
longingly inside, it was also the desire for him to respect and like her. For
she couldn’t deny it in herself any longer—she cared for him.

A pang of
something like pain shot through her. She had already told herself back in
Dunbraes that she couldn’t grow attached to this man, no matter how much the
mere sight of him—let alone his touch or kiss—made her heart race and her
breath hitch. Yet here she was, another heady and intense kiss later, and she
was coming to care for him.

But what could
come of all this? She didn’t know when they would part company, since Burke remained
in a dangerous stage of infection and her brother and his men still scoured the
forest for them. Sooner or later, though, Garrick would continue with his
missions for Robert the Bruce, and she would journey on in search of the headquarters
of the rebellion to offer her healing skills. They would never get to know each
other more, or share more kisses, or—she wasn’t even sure what would come after
that, but the dark promise of their passion lingered in her mind, making her
think of possibilities that would normally cause her to blush.

Her mind began
spinning a new option, though. If they would indeed part ways soon and never
see each other again, what was the harm in one more kiss? Her eyes dropped to
his lips, which suddenly parted as he breathed a curse. Startled, she jerked
her eyes back to his. She was met with the sight of a dark storm of passion
just before he closed the remaining distance between them, his lips coming down
on hers.

Garrick had
watched as a sea change washed over Jossalyn’s delicate features, which were
illuminated in the moonlight. Her skin looked like porcelain, and her normally
golden hair looked icy blonde in the silvery light. Her eyes were depthless,
and he felt like he could drown in those emerald pools a happy man.

He had been
listening to her tossing and turning several feet away inside the shelter, and
had heard her little sighs, which, despite her distance, made the hairs on the
back of his neck stand up in anticipation—of what, he wouldn’t allow himself to
contemplate.

When she had knelt
before him, her mouth had been tight with tension, but after they had spoken
their apologies, those berry-red lips had parted unconsciously. He watched as
she had gone from content but distant to unsure and then finally, a hungry look
had transformed her features. Her eyes had drifted to his mouth.

He couldn’t
withstand this kind of torture. He knew he shouldn’t want her this badly, and
even more importantly, that he shouldn’t act on his desire, but she so clearly
desired him, too. How was he supposed to resist this beautiful lass, who had
surprised him with her iron will and healing gift, her compassion and her
strength?

He couldn’t fight
it anymore—couldn’t fight himself, or her desire.

The first taste of
her lips sent a bolt of pleasure through him. Her softness and scent enveloped
him instantly as he pulled her to him, pressing their bodies together as he
tasted her lips. But it wasn’t enough. He deepened their kiss, his tongue caressing
hers, her warm mouth shooting sensation all the way to his cock. He felt her
arms snake around his neck, pulling him into their kiss, which only fired his
blood more. She wanted him too. She knew at least part of who he was and what
he did, and she still wanted him.

He let one hand
tangle in her hair, holding her mouth in place, while the other rose to one of
her breasts. He nearly groaned aloud at the feel of her firm, soft breast, which
fit perfectly into his hand. He imagined what they would look like if he ever
got to see her naked. Her flesh would be velvety smooth and the color of fresh
cream, and each perfect mound would be tipped in pink the same color as her
lips.

Before he let
himself be completely washed away by the torrent of passion coursing between
them, he tore his mouth from hers, leaving both of them panting.

“We can’t do this,
lass,” he breathed huskily.

She blinked at
him, the haze of desire clouding her eyes. “Why not?”

Christ, that
wasn’t a question he was prepared to answer at the moment. He forced himself to
speak, though. “Because you are innocent, and as much as you may want this now,
you will look back and regret it.”

The words pained
him to say, but he had to be an honorable man, at least for once in his life. He
had accepted the fact that he was a lone wolf, hunting and killing his prey,
but Jossalyn wasn’t just another mark. He could never live with himself if he
used her knowing full well that they would part ways, probably in a matter of
days, and never see each other again. He had to be the one to tell her that she
deserved better. A woman of her standing, a lady, couldn’t just give her
innocence to a mercenary assassin in the Scottish rebellion.

“Why would I
regret being with you, Garrick?” she said as she pulled back a little, more of
the fog clearing from her eyes.

“Do you know what
you’re saying, lass? You’re a virgin. You’ll never be a virgin again if we keep
going.”

She faltered for a
moment, her eyes shifting away from his. “I just…I just want…” He saw the
struggle play out on her moonlit features, and understood exactly how she felt.
He, too, wanted something that he shouldn’t or couldn’t have.

But then she took
a steadying breath and went on, more firmly this time. “All my life I have been
told what to do. First my parents taught me how to act like a lady, telling me
I couldn’t run or ride horses too much or look for plants in the forest. Then
my brother took over my life, and tried to force me to stop being a healer. He
kept me inside whenever he could, and was working on a marriage arrangement
just before I left that would benefit
his
position, but would mean all
but the end of my life.”

Garrick’s hands,
which had fallen away from Jossalyn as she spoke, clenched in frustration on
her behalf.

She sighed,
collecting her thoughts for a moment, then went on. “I’m so tired of everyone
telling me what’s best for me, or trying to control me. I left Dunbraes with
you the first time because I wanted to make my own choices, to start my own
life. And I’m glad you took me away the second time, during the attack.”

She shuddered
slightly. He guessed that she was remembering the scene of the battle. His
stomach sank, her reaction reminding him that a healer could never be with a
warrior, a killer. But then her words surprised him.

“I’m glad because
I have another chance at freedom, at being in control of my own life. I want to
stay in Scotland and be a healer.” She paused and bit her lower lip, seeming to
hold something back.

He almost pushed
her to tell him what else was lurking behind her deep green eyes, but she spoke
before he could. “And I want to be here with you, and…kiss you again.”

Her words sent a
jolt through him. He suddenly felt humbled that this lass wanted him in this
moment. Who was he to tell her what to do or what she should want—or not want? But
he still feared that she didn’t know what would come after kissing if they were
to give over to their desire. She was innocent, and though she had surely been
drilled from the time she could crawl to guard her virginity with her life, she
didn’t seem to know what it would mean to let it go—both between them, and
after, when she would find some other man to love and marry.

The thought of
another man being the recipient of Jossalyn’s love and passion sent a spike of
pain and rage through him.
He
wanted to be that man. But he never would
be, at least not in the long term.

Yet a voice
whispered in the back of his mind that he was here now, and she had made it
clear that she wanted him. Even if it couldn’t last, he could have a taste of
paradise for a moment. He would be able to hold on to the memory for the rest
of his life.

He wouldn’t take
her innocence, however. Though rusty from disuse, his sense of honor was still
intact enough to know that he would be responsible if he used her and then left
her to deal with the consequences.

“You know I want
you too,” he said. It felt foreign to lay himself bare like that, but for some
reason he was able to speak his heart to her. “There are…things we can do that will
still leave you intact,” he said, a strange mix of awkwardness at his words and
anticipation of what they meant coursing through him.

Her eyes widened
slightly. “More than kissing?”

He felt the corner
of his mouth twitch up. “Aye, lass, if that’s what you want. More than kissing,
but I won’t take your innocence.”

Even in the dim
moonlight, he could see the blush creeping up to her cheeks. “I didn’t
know…that is, I didn’t realize that there were things…in-between…”

He let his
fingertips brush against her heated cheeks. His eyes locked on hers, and he
moved in slowly, deliberately, for another kiss. Her lips unconsciously parted
as he drew closer, hitching his desire higher. This time, he tried to
communicate to her through his kiss all the longing he had for her just below the
surface, and the dark promise of what they would share.

Her arms snaked
back around his neck, which was all the indication he needed. He scooped her up
in his arms, and stood, catching the plaid that he had been using as a blanket
as it slid from him. He strode away from their makeshift camp to give them more
privacy from Burke’s presence, and approached the slow-moving creek several dozen
yards ahead through the trees. When he reached a little open area right next to
the creek, he set her on her feet, but held her close for another promise-laden
kiss.

He broke their
contact just long enough to spread his plaid out on the soft ground, then
pulled her down on it next to him. He could hear that her breaths were fast and
shallow in anticipation. He kissed her again, this time deeper. Part of him
kept thinking that she would turn away from him or push him back, changing her
mind about wanting to be with him. But instead, she pulled him closer, her
hands weaving into his hair, which had come loose from its normally tidy queue
at the nape of his neck.

He leaned toward
her so that she reclined down onto his plaid. He pulled his mouth from hers so
that he could drink in the sight of her. Her pale blonde hair was splayed out
across the dark reds of his clan colors, and her lips were swollen and red in
the moonlight.

“God, you’re
beautiful,” he said on an exhale. There was no way that he deserved to be here
with her now, but he didn’t want to question it. Instead, he rested his weight
on one elbow, and let his hand skim across the narrow part of her waist and
brush over the rise of one of her breasts. She shuddered and inhaled at his
touch, and his cock, which was already hard, pressed even more firmly into her
hip.

He lowered his
mouth to hers yet again, and let his tongue caress and tease her while his
thumb brushed over the peak of her breast. She unconsciously arched into his
hand, so he made the contact firmer. Through the material of her dress and
chemise, he could feel her nipple harden under his touch. He let one of his
legs settle between her thighs, and she raised one of her knees, hugging him
closer and pressing his thigh into the crux between her legs. She made a little
noise that was half-sigh, half-moan against his mouth. He couldn’t believe how
much passion she contained within her, how eager and hungry she was for his
touch.

He made a trail of
kisses from her mouth, across her cheek, and to her ear. He nibbled the lobe for
a moment, his blood firing at her gasp of surprise. Then he drew his lips down the
smooth, slim column of her neck. He could feel her rapid pulse beating hard
there.

He moved to her
collar bone, and lower still to the slight swell of her breasts at the neckline
of her dress. She twisted and clenched her leg around his thigh harder as his
lips brushed over the sensitive flesh while his thumb still swirled over the
peak of her breast. Her hands clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging into
his flesh, which only made him more ravenous.

Impatient suddenly
to increase both of their pleasure, he pressed his hips into hers, letting his
cock rub just above the junction between her legs. They both breathed heavily
at the contact, and he realized that he had to stop himself before he did
exactly what he said he wouldn’t.

He rolled back off
of her slightly, but let his hand trail from her breast back across her waist,
over her hip, and down her bent leg. His fingertips brushed the hem of her
dress, and his hand found her ankle. He wrapped his fingers around it easily,
enjoying the feel of her delicate bones, then slid his hand farther up to her
calf, which was stocking-free due to the warmth of summer.

Her breath hitched
even more as his hand continued to rise up her leg. His fingers lingered on the
back of her knee, causing her to gasp and jerk a little. As he inched one hand
higher, he let his other hand slip under her back while still keeping his elbow
under him to support his weight. He fumbled for a moment, but eventually found
the ties running down the back of her dress and tugged them loose.

He moved his mouth
back onto hers even as he continued to loosen the ties of her dress, while his
other hand continued to travel up the smooth flesh of her thigh. He had to have
more of her skin exposed to his eyes and mouth.

Finally, he had
her dress loosened enough so that he could sit up part way and tug gently at
the material on her shoulders. She shimmied her shoulders, helping him pull
down her dress. Her white chemise glowed in the moonlight as he got her dress
past her breasts. Then he went to work on the ties of her chemise, but kept his
other hand on her soft thigh. But he was losing patience. He didn’t bother
loosening her chemise very much, and instead pulled it down over first one of
her creamy shoulders and then the other.

He was rewarded
with a gasp from her as the cool, fresh night air hit her heated skin. He tried
but failed to suppress a growl at the sight that met his hungry eyes. Her skin
was nearly as pale and silky white as the material of her chemise. He let his
eyes devour the swells of her pert breasts, each one tipped with a pink, hard
nipple.

She writhed under
him, reminding him that she still wanted more. He longed to give her everything
she desired, but he also wanted her to be near mad with wanting, just as he
was. He let his hand inch farther up her thigh, and she instinctively let her
bent knee fall open slightly. He trailed his fingertips along the inside of her
leg, leaning his head closer to her breasts. When he blew his hot breath
against one of her nipples, she shuddered and arched, a moan slipping from her
lips. He moved torturously slow, his own cock throbbing with need, but forced
himself to let the pleasure build even higher in both of them.

Right as his
fingertips brushed the damp crux of her legs, he brought his mouth down to
capture one of her nipples. She inhales sharply, jerking and twisting under
both his hand and his mouth. He let his tongue swirl and tease her nipple, just
as he had with their kiss. Meanwhile he drew one finger over her damp folds,
then slipped it inside to glide and press against that button of a woman’s
pleasure. What he wouldn’t give to taste and caress her there with his tongue,
just as he was doing now to her nipple, then sink his aching cock all the way
into her.