Rogue's Challenge (17 page)

Humming, sweet and soft, reached his ears and he nearly fell to his knees with thanks. As she tromped toward him through the wood, he leaned against the tree and waited.

"A pleasant morning to you, mistress,” he said, as she drew near.

"Oh! Ian, you startled me."

He wanted to rail at her for wandering so far away without protection, but her bright smiling face dulled his annoyance.

She came closer and he pulled her into his arms. “Do you have any idea what I thought upon waking?"

Her hands linked about his neck and she looked up at him. “Mmm, you thought I'd been snatched by an evil knight and was being held captive in a dark castle high in the mountains."

With a chuckle, he kissed the tip of her nose. “You are full of fantasy this morn, but the tale is not far from the truth."

Her teasing grin fell somewhat. “I'm not in any danger. I've thought about that first day more thoroughly and have concluded that it's highly likely that whoever the man was, he didn't know I was there until I screamed. Why else would he have done nothing while I was stumbling around?"

"Biding his time for the perfect opportunity."

"For what? I'm not worth anything to anyone here. No money, no ransom, there's no logical reason for anyone to want to grab me."

He pressed her closer. “You are wrong, little one. You are a rare find, one any man would be proud to call his. By theft if necessary."

His words seeped into Jenny's soul and took root. Her hands slid behind his neck and she pulled him down for a thorough kiss. Her heart was going to be broken, there was no doubt now. She was in love with Ian Southernland. A man no woman could tame, no woman could keep to herself.

His arms tightened and he moaned low and deep. “God help me. I want you."

"Isn't that a coincidence.” Her fingers, not quite as skilled as they were the night before, struggled to release him from his pants. Never did she think she would ever behave this way with a man, so forward, so demanding ... so free. Loving Ian with her body and soul did things to her, changed her, and she relished it with a fervor.

"Nay. We cannot,” he choked, stilling her hands.

"Oh.” She stilled, suddenly cold. “I'm sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes and pulling away, “you said you wanted me, so I thought—it doesn't matter what I thought. We should be getting back."

He pulled her against him and tilted her face up. “I want you more than I have ever wanted a woman in my life. But I will not take you like a rutting stag in the wood.” His grim frown eased. “I want to pleasure you in ways you cannot fathom, in a bed of eiderdown and silk sheets for hours—nay, days on end."

"And last night?” she asked, her voice quivering with renewed need.

"Last eve, I lost my head. I am ... better today."

She grinned knowingly. “Care to test that theory?"

His eyes widened. “Sweet Jen, do not tempt me, I beg of you."

"Ian,” she breathed, and brushed her lips across his. Moving across his strong clenching jaw, she found his ear and circled it with her tongue, bringing a low groan from deep in his chest.

Never having felt this sort of power, she was giddy with it, and nearly laughed aloud. Oh what a delicious turn of events.

"Touch me,” she whispered, guiding his strong hand to her breast.

He flattened his back against the tree as she rubbed against his erection. “You are determined to kill me, I fear."

"Just a
little
death."

Fisting his hand in her hair, he tilted her head back and stole her breath with a crushing kiss. Their tongues entangled in a fevered frenzy, neither hearing the crunching of leaves and twigs growing closer.

The game, the power, had turned on her. She wanted him as much if not more than he wanted her, but something made her pause. Ian stilled as well, his breath fast against her cheek.

"'Tis Michael, I wager. Searching for us,” he said.

"Why?"

"Your honor, remember?"

With a deep breath, she pulled away and straightened her clothes. “I can't believe I thought it was sweet,” she growled.

Ian chuckled and took her hand. The nearly blinding pain beneath his breeches would be evident to the lad, and would likely prove that he had not taken the lady's virtue, but it did not ease him in the least.

They met Michael some yards away, and although he glowered at Ian at first, a twisted grin laced his mouth as they returned to camp.

"I will repay that bloody Scot in the lists,” Ian mumbled.

"Can I help?” Jenny whispered.

He kissed her hand with a wide smile. “You can tend his wounds when I am done with him."

"Maybe,” she said with a grin.

They gathered their gear and continued on. Deciding it was in his best interests to avoid Innes, they did not sleep at the farmhouse again, but traveled on. If Jenny was indeed jealous, and Innes pursued him with more vigor, he would find himself in a most disagreeable position. ‘Twas best to avoid the conflict. And with their early departure from Edinburgh there were many hours of daylight still left of which to travel. There was no need to seek shelter at the farm.

Their second night was spent much the same as the first, but Ian did no more than give Jenny a peck on the lips good night once Michael had turned his back. He held his grin at her charming pout as he turned onto his side facing away from her. Although he had been thoroughly pleased with the previous nights’ events, he ached to be inside her after her tormenting him in the woods. The ride had been most uncomfortable all afternoon and plagued him still, but he would refrain. He had to.

Waking to a new day and a lingering ache beneath Ian's belt, they made for the boat. He did not relish the short trip across the loch. Although Michael was beginning to become a rather large nuisance, he was glad the man was with them. If his seasickness took a firm hold, he would be of little use in protecting Jenny.

Eyeing the loch as they neared the dock, he breathed a sigh of relief at the calm water. He made the arrangements and within minutes they were on board and on their way home.

"I'll be glad tae see home,” Michael said.

"And I can't wait to see Tuck,” Jenny said, a bright smile on her face as she looked to the Isle Of Mull. “And everyone else."

"And I cannot wait to have you safe behind the stone walls of Arreyder,” Ian murmured, already noticing a keen interest in Jenny by at least one man aboard ship.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Ian. I love to hear all the nice things, the compliments and so forth, but aren't you blowing things out of proportion? I'm just a girl, not much different than any other. No one is out to get me."

She turned and looked across the deck. “Look over there. Do you see her? She's very pretty—well once you get past the dirt on her face. But look at her bone structure, the color of her hair, her figure. If you cleaned her up and put her in a ball gown and glass slippers, she'd be the perfect Cinderella."

"Cinderella?” Michael asked.

"Yes, um, it's a fairytale. A story."

"Tell us of this Cinderella,” Ian said, noting the soft flush of pink in her cheeks. He doubted ‘twas from the breeze blowing across the bow.

"Well, it's about a girl who is forced into a life of servitude by her stepmother and stepsisters until her fairy godmother dresses her in the finest gown, complete with glass slippers, and sends her to a ball where she meets—um—well ... Prince Charming,” she said, looking anywhere but into his eyes, “and he falls in love with her and saves her from her evil stepmother,” she finished hurriedly.

After her comment in the wood about an evil knight, Ian was beginning to see a side of this woman he would never have believed existed. In her heart she was still a girl with dreams of happy endings. Even with her science and facts, she had not let go of her childlike fantasies.

"Is there no battle in this tale?” Michael asked.

"Sorry, no. There's no battle."

Michael grumbled and walked away as the import of what she had said filtered through Ian's brain. She'd called him Prince Charming the first night they had made love, but said she was no Cinderella. What did that mean? Somehow he felt she was being unkind to herself while donning him with a mantel of perfection, which he was not.

He slipped his arm around her waist as they looked out over the loch and lowered his lips to her ear. “'Tis the same fabled Prince Charming Amelia has named me?” he asked, wanting to be certain of the reference.

"Yes, but you see he's become more of a general term now. More of a standard."

One in which women of her time held the men of their acquaintance to as a guide. And, apparently, he had passed the test.

He kissed her temple, pleased that she would see him in such a light, however misguided. “I am honored that anyone would deem me so gallant. But I disagree with much of what you have said, sweeting."

She lifted her gaze to his. “Oh?"

"I am no Prince Charming and you are not just a girl."

She shook her head. “But—"

"I am a man of honor, but I am not this perfection you have created. I am a man with many faults.” He looked to the girl across the deck. “And as for the young woman, I agree that she would be quite fetching with some proper grooming. But there is more to a beautiful woman than simply her appearance. ‘Tis in the tilt of her stubborn chin,” he said, tweaking hers, “the gleam of intelligence in her large brown eyes.” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “The seductive pout of her lips when she's disappointed. Many things make a woman beautiful, little one, and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known."

Her mouth opened and closed several times, her eyes large with astonishment. “That's not possible.” She blinked and focused on the lacings of his doublet. “I'm not beautiful, not like that. I'm average, at best. You haven't seen the women in my time."

"I have had the pleasure of meeting two women from your world. Both beautiful, although both very different. You, however, are the more lovely of the two."

She shook her head, a deep crease forming between her brows.

"You cannot sway me in this, little one.” He tilted up her chin and kissed her.

"You two are makin’ a spectacle of yerselves,” Michael grumbled.

Jenny grinned beneath Ian's lips, partially at Michael's comment, but mostly at the way Ian had described her. Fantasy, all of it. She was his current interest, the girl of the moment, and he'd likely said something similar, if not verbatim, to any number of women, but it was still a joy to hear.

"I think,” she said, turning in Ian's arms to look at Michael, “that you're just missing Fiona.” The young Scot sighed with a scowl and a nod. “I think too, that when we reach shore that you should get on your horse and hurry on to Arreyder,” she added. “Ian can keep me safe for the few hours it takes to get there."

Michael lifted his head and looked at Ian, his face not hiding his hope that he would agree.

She felt Ian's chuckle rumble against her back as his arms slid around her waist. “Aye, lad. Make for home as quick as can be. The lady and I shall be fine."

His smile bright, Michael lowered his gaze to Jenny. “Are you sure you be wantin’ this, lass? I'm no’ convinced you'll be
safe,
” he said, cutting his eyes at Ian.

"Contrary to my size, I'm quite a grown woman who can make up her own mind, Michael. I'll be fine. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Well, if you be sure."

She nodded then the Scot turned and looked eagerly to shore. To home and his love. She envied him, the future he had with Fiona. Although life was hard here, they would be happy together as man and wife.

Jenny wrapped her arms around Ian's at her waist, urging him to hold her tighter, wishing their affair was more than it was, that there was a future for them. But a rogue could not be tamed, at least not by her.

Minutes later Michael jumped to the dock before the boat had settled alongside the roughhewn planks. Jenny and Ian laughed at his eagerness. Once the horses were unloaded, they said goodbye to the young man.

"I just realized something,” Jenny said. She turned to look at Ian, his gaze on Michael as he disappeared around the corner of a small building at the edge of town. “You didn't get seasick."

He gave her a lopsided grin. “My thoughts were otherwise occupied, sweeting. And quite happily."

She cleared her throat, oddly nervous to be alone with him. “Can we look around a bit before we go? It looks to be market day."

"Aye, that it is. But you have naught left to buy. You said as much before we left Edinburgh."

"I can still look can't I?"

He chuckled and took her hand as they lead their horses away from the dock. “Some things even time does not change."

She shot him a look, but had to admit he was right. Men were the hunters and women were the gatherers. So, in a way, the need to shop was genetically passed from mother to daughter.

They tied their horses to a rail and strolled along the waterfront by various vendors. A man, seeing Ian's fine clothes, did his best to convince him that he needed a new cloak and heaven knows what else. While he haggled with the man, Jenny slipped away to look at some bolts of cloth. She wasn't much of a seamstress, but with Elspeth and Fiona's help she thought she might be able to create a few more gowns for herself. After all she couldn't travel home until the next solstice, almost six months away.

"Oh, I'm sorry,” she said, bumping into a man standing beside her as she turned. “I didn't see you there.” She started to step around him, when he caught her arm.

"Come quietly and no one will get hurt,” he hissed in her ear.

Jenny froze as the feel of something familiar poked her ribs. A gun.

She swallowed down her spurt of fear and cast a glance at the hooded man. “I know you,” she whispered.

"This way,” he said, pulling her away from the cloth vendor.

Her feet followed automatically for several yards as she filtered through the catalog of names and faces in her mind and found him.

"Vernon Cox,” she said, and jerked to a halt.

"Doctor Cox,” he snarled.