The Highlander's Outlaw Bride (6 page)

St. Andrew preserve me from over-protective men! Especially this one, who treats me as though I am a wean and unable to care for myself. Condescending—
She swallowed the last uncharitable word and took a deep, encouraging breath.

She pushed away from the rough bark and glided deeper into the forest. Her ankle protested her slow, deliberate steps, but she gritted her teeth and ignored the brief flashes of pain, impatient with her injury yet pleased with its improvement. Reaching the edge of the stream, she considered the best place to ford the water, avoiding the muddy banks that would betray her footprints. She tested the weed-covered ground with a cautious toe.

Something grabbed her elbow, yanking her back from the water’s edge. Her shriek of alarm was cut off as she stumbled, spinning with the force pulling at her. She drew up short, her face against a broad, muscled chest, the musky scent rising from beneath the fine leine covering it one she knew instantly. Bracing her hands against the solid wall, she stared into storm-dark eyes, her heartbeat leaping out of control.

“Wha…what are ye doing?” Her voice squeaked shamefully through her tight, dry throat.

The laird blinked owlishly at her. “Ye left the camp. Ye shouldnae have left the camp.” His behavior intrigued her. There was something about his mannerism, his hard stare at her before he’d answered, and the way he repeated himself that was unlike him. He peered at her again, leaning forward as though trying to focus on her face.

He reminds me of Jamie sleep-walking
. She hid a satisfied smirk.
St. Andrew be praised, he will be snoring with the others shortly
. With a serene air, she shrugged lightly and took a step back. “Och, I dinnae mean to bother ye. I needed to wash after the long day.”

A confused look rumpled his face. Pulling easily from his loosened grasp, she moved closer to the stream and knelt beside the burn. She reached forward, cupping the cold water in her hands and splashed some on her face. Swiveling on her heels, she wiped her face on one of her voluminous sleeves and gifted him with a wide smile.

“See? Much better.” She offered him her hand and he stared at it for a moment before he took it and hauled her to her feet. “Time for bed!”

Her light-hearted quip earned her a frown, and Brianna gritted her teeth as the silence between them lengthened. Keeping her smile in place by sheer force of will, it was all she could do to keep from screaming aloud at the strain in her muscles as she fought the panicked urge to run. Even if he hesitated, she knew she wouldn’t get far, and she silently cursed him roundly for her predicament. Finally, he gave a nod of reluctant consent and she forced herself to stroll calmly across the little glen. The laird followed silently at her back and she felt his gaze pricking like a knife tip between her shoulders.

“Where were ye going?” His voice sounded loud enough to wake the dead. Or at least the somewhat drugged. Startled at the sudden outburst of speech, Brianna whirled, hand up to silence him. But he was closer than she’d judged and her palm landed squarely on his chest. A shock raced through her at the contact and she snatched her hand away. Her gaze flew to his face, wondering if he felt it, too. Judging by the way he stared at her hand, he did.

“Why not rest here? We dinnae want to wake the others, aye?” One drowsy man she should be able to deal with. She did not want to risk waking the other two.

“We could talk a bit,” she said. She gambled her most winsome smile and dragged the plaide from her shoulders. His eyes widened and she followed his gaze, finding her shirt gaped open to his stare. Rolling her shoulders to bring the fabric to a semblance of decency, she spread the plaide on the grass, motioning him to sit. When he hesitated, she allowed the leine’s neckline to slip, baring one shoulder. She dropped gracefully to the ground and patted the woolen fabric beside her.

“Sit here, aye?” she wheedled. “I am too tired to stand around any longer.” She yawned and stretched as though to prove how tired she was, aware his gaze followed her every move. Warmth stole through her. She quickly banished the sensation.

After a moment, the laird eased down beside her.
Men are so easily led. Even Mungo, when he wasnae drunk, could be maneuvered by a simple smile
. She beamed at him as though he’d accomplished something incredible, then curled her feet beneath her.

“It has been a long day, aye?” She pitched her voice intentionally low and soothing. She’d had plenty of practice getting her irascible little brother to sleep at night. How different could this man be? But heat crept up her neck, scorching her cheeks as she remembered the ways the man did not resemble the boy. With a sudden twinge of doubt, Brianna glanced at the scowling face too close to hers.

“I am not tired,” he informed her, his words slow and deliberate. Brianna swallowed hard, fighting her dismay. She’d pinned all her hopes on the lettouces, and though obviously drowsy, he should be asleep—not talking to her and fighting her attempt to soothe him into a stupor. With a stubbornness born of burgeoning despair, she tried a different tactic.

“When my little brother, Jamie, says he isnae tired, I tell him a bedtime story. Would you like me to tell you a story? You could stretch out here and close yer eyes.” She gently pushed one of his shoulders. “Ye look verra tired.”
Sweet Mary forgive me for this duplicity. ’Tis the only weapon I have
.

He stretched his long legs and leaned back onto the plaide. His gaze bore into hers as he rolled up onto one elbow. She tried hard to ignore the way he watched her, the way his eyes focused on her lips as she began a story she’d told Jamie a hundred times before.

“The selkies came out of the sea and shed their seal skins to dance on the land in the moonlight.” She kept her voice a soft monotone, deliberately pitched to lull him to sleep. The fact it didn’t seem to be working only made her try harder, fighting the unsettling effect of his lazy perusal.

“But the man was fascinated by the selkie, and he quickly hid her discarded seal skin as the others fled his approach. Putting their seal skins on, the others disappeared into the sea, but the beautiful selkie could not find hers and was doomed to be trapped forever on the land.”

The laird rolled onto his back. Reaching up, he seized a lock of her hair draped over her shoulder. She swallowed as his fingers closed over the strands, feeling the gentle caress all the way to her scalp. She struggled to continue with the story, using it now as an attempt to keep her attraction for him at bay. Her composure began to crumble.

“He promised to, ah, always protect her and she had no choice but to agree. They lived together as man and wife for many years.” Memory of what it meant to live as man and wife swept through her.
But I dinnae like it
. He slid his splayed fingers down the length of the hank of hair, separating the strands, blossoming warmth through her. She closed her eyes.
It was never like this.

She could not have continued the story if her life depended on it. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, too dry to speak, all moisture pooled warm between her legs. Opening her eyes, she met his heavy-lidded gaze.

Lifting her hand, she touched his shaggy mane, rubbing her thumb across a small scar beside one eye. She stroked her hand slowly down the side of his face, across the short stubble of his beard. He turned his face into the caress and kissed her sensitive palm. She jumped as though stung, the burn of his lips lingering on her skin.

“Ye are quite a sedeu…a seduct…” He frowned, the word he sought obviously not making it from his fuzzy brain to his lips. “Tempting.”

Startled at the direction of her thoughts, Brianna shook her head. “Nae! I am not tempting ye. I am—.” She broke off, realizing what she had almost given away.

“Ye are what?” He demanded her answer, his voice low, gravely. Brianna frantically searched for an answer. But he relaxed and continued. “I remember ye dancing in the moonlight, the water sluicing over ye.” The words barely whispered past his lips as he changed moods and topics with seductive ease.

“I wasnae dancing.” Her gaze locked on his smoldering eyes and she shivered at the thought of him watching her bathe naked in the burn.

“I thought ye were a faerie princess.” A faint smile slid across his lips. With a sigh of relief, Brianna now felt certain he was at last in the first stages of delirium.

“I saw ye fall into the water and ye dinnae come back up.” He frowned.

“Thank ye for saving me.” An unexpected ripple of pleasure slid through her to think it mattered to him. Her skin tingled with a thousand pinpricks of heat as she tried to resist the spell of his caressing voice.

“I believe I will turn in now.” She started to rise, but he caught her wrist in one strong hand, pulling her off balance to fall across his chest. She started to protest, but he stole the words with his lips, one hand tangled in her hair, cupping the back of her head, pressing her to him.

He finally released her, his breathing as ragged as hers, and she pulled back, dazed. Hovering over him on straightened arms, her hair spilled in a sparkling curtain around them, her over-large shirt gaped open to his gaze. She followed the direction of his stare, but only placed a palm on his chest, fingering the lacings of his leine, ignoring the extent of her exposure.

A wolfish grin creased his face. “Ye tempt me over-much.”

Her heart skipped a beat, knowing the tenuous position she was in.
But I am unlikely to meet him again. He isnae likely to remember this night. And, saints help me, I dinnae want to say ‘nae’.

“Are ye trying to seduce me?” Again he turned his attention to her hair, stroking the fall of it as it rippled through his fingers. His eyes, when they met hers, blazed with mockery. “Or do ye think to escape?”

“Nae. I dinnae wish to escape.” She leaned closer, yearning to feel his hands on her. With a deft move, he turned her beneath him, nuzzling her neck as he nipped lightly at the soft skin there. She arched against his aroused body, reveling in his groaned response. His lips bruised hers, crushing them hungrily as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. She twined her arms about his neck and returned his kiss with fervor.

He drew back, stroking the back of his hand across her cheek. “Are ye a faerie princess to so tempt me?”

“Tempt ye? With a wee kiss?” Her laugh rippled low in her throat and his eyes darkened.

“I dinnae know who taught ye about making love, lass, but kissing is just the beginning.”

Brianna’s heart quickened its beat.
No one taught me this
.

He lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers, this time gently catching her lower lip in his teeth. A low groan rumbled deep in his chest and she caught her breath at the sensation. He slid his lips down her neck, kissing the frantically beating pulse. He lifted her shirt away from her body, pushing it up to bare her belly, raining kisses on her exposed skin. She writhed beneath him, breathless and shocked as his mouth dipped lower.

With barely a pause, he stripped away her borrowed clothing, his hands warming her bared skin, teasing her to a fever pitch. She squelched the tiny voice in her head, ignoring its warning. Her brief married life had never approached this soul-quenching pleasure, and she ached to follow it to fulfillment. She knew what she wanted, and it was here, now, and so close to her grasp she could scarcely breathe. His mouth covered her breast, teeth teasing a taut nipple, and she was lost.

She whimpered as he pulled away, but her interest flared as he discarded his leine and leggings, baring himself to her gaze. He knelt between her legs, sliding himself along her length as he trailed kisses up her body. She arched against him and he plunged inside her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders at his short, quick strokes, and pleasure swirled deep in her belly. Suddenly, a shout tore from him. He shuddered for several long moments, then stilled. With a groan, he rolled off of her and dropped to the plaide beside her. One arm pulled her against him, and in two short breaths, he was fast asleep. Brianna gaped at him, astounded.

Chapter 7

Brianna’s chest rose and fell in quick bursts, and she blinked in confusion.
What just happened?
Does this deep longing make things worse?
She had no words to adequately explain her sense of loss at just the point the laird spent himself. Something slipped from her grasp, and she could not name it.
At least with Mungo I dinnae care when he finished quickly
. She stared at the man beside her.

He grunted in his sleep and reached for her. She stiffened at his touch, wondering at the flames still streaking along her skin and the tightness low in her belly.

Men. No care for anything but their own pleasure
.

With a low snort of frustration, Brianna slipped to her feet. The laird muttered and rolled toward her and she saw his eyes glitter from beneath slitted lids. She gave a start. He was no longer asleep and her chance of escape was near gone.

Moonlight glinted on steel. She lunged to his pile of clothing and grabbed the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword, protruding amid the jumble. Testing the cold weight of it, heavy yet carefully balanced, she rolled it over in her hands, tip poised at the hollow between his throat and chest. His eyes widened. He started to sit up, forearms scrabbling on the ground, but Brianna lifted her elbow in warning. He stilled, understanding it would take only an instant to thrust the sword deep in his chest. With a wry lift to his lips, he surrendered.