by Amy Jarecki
“Och, did I not tell you? We’re hunters from the Highlands.”
As the conversation went on, moving from crops to the weather to boasting about how much better things would be once the English were banished from Scotland, Ailish’s eyelids grew increasingly heavy until she tottered into James’ shoulder.
He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. “Och, if we have any hopes of sleeping afore the sun rises, we’d best head for our beds.”
Everyone except Ailish stood. James walked Finlay to the door and shook his hand, thanking him for his hospitality.
Torquil sauntered around the table and whispered in Ailish’s ear, “Next time, mayhap you can share a bed with me, m’lady.”
Gasping, her back went ramrod straight. “How dare you,” she hissed, her face fiery hot.
“Come, Torquil,” said James who had obviously been too wrapped up in conversation with Finlay to have noticed the Cunningham lad’s advances. “Her Ladyship needs her rest.”
The cur bowed as if he thought himself a gentleman. “Good night, m’lady.”
She pursed her lips and leered before she looked to the others. “Sleep well.”
***
After the men had retired to the stables, James sauntered toward the table where Ailish sat, suddenly looking like a hen ready to fight off an annoying cock. Albeit an incredibly bonny hen.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing of any importance.”
“Tell me.”
“You ken Torquil. He likes to stir the pot.”
“And he’s about to have his tongue severed from his mouth. Now tell me what he said.”
“Please, I cannot repeat it.”
“Then I will ensure he keeps his comments to himself.”
“Do not make a fuss on my account.” She peered into her tankard, then pushed it aside. “He’s vulgar. And I pray I never have to endure a moment alone in that man’s company.”
“I shall ensure you do not.”
“My thanks.”
James gestured toward the bed. “Go on, you’d best take your rest.”
She hesitated for a moment, those crystalline eyes searching his. Then, with a subtle nod, she pushed to her feet and strode to the bed. With her back to him, she removed her circlet and veil. “I—”
He suddenly found himself standing behind her, his hands reaching forward. How had he moved so quickly? “Hmm?” he asked, clenching his fists. Damnation, he needed to stop acting on his urges.
She turned with her eyes lowered. With a heave of her chest, she placed her palms on his midriff and slowly slid her fingers upward in tandem with her gaze.
God on the bloody cross. The expression on her face was enough to bring James to his knees. Her breath grew more labored, the warmth seeping through his tunic. A pink tongue slowly slid across her bottom lip as she glanced over her shoulder. “I…we…are…?”
He quirked an eyebrow. She was flustered, making her allure all the more irresistible. “I will sleep on the floor,” he whispered, hating the words but knowing he must.
A furrow of disappointment creased her brow. “Oh.”
“Unless…” James trailed off, stopping himself before he tried to encourage her. Damnation, she was too precious to bed like a common alehouse wench.
Her fingers tickled the base of his neck. “Unless?”
“You want…” He clenched his teeth.
“To kiss you?”
You have no idea.
He wanted to do so much more than kiss. But as she inched upward on her toes, his restraint vanished. Unable to utter another word, he captured her mouth, plunging his fingers into her silken hair, proving how deeply he desired this woman. His cock strained against his braies as his lips wandered across her cheekbones to her tiny earlobes. Ailish shivered and sighed as he kissed her neck, then trailed lower, finding a treasure between the glorious breasts swelling above the neckline he hadn’t been able to block from his mind since he’d set eyes on her this morn.
Sighing, Ailish tilted back her head and rocked into him, her fingers clinging to his hips. She brushed her mons from side to side, rubbing his cock, ratcheting up his need.
Loosening the laces of her gown and the shift beneath, he captured a rosy nipple between his lips.
“Ahhh,” she sighed, the ardent moan begging him for more.
It took but a moment to lay her down, and stealthily tug up her skirts. He nudge between her knees and ran his tongue along the silkiest, most shapely thigh he’d ever seen in all his days.
As he slowly inched up, she arched for him, the intoxicating fragrance of woman sending his mind into a fervor. When he pushed her skirts higher, his seed pulsed to the tip of his cock.
“Magnificence,” he growled, admiring the slender legs, flair of hip, a mahogany nest of curls.
Ailish pushed the cloth just enough to hide her treasure. “Are you sure?”
Him?
Sure?
“Och, lass, all that matters is what you desire.”
She eased back and let her knees drop, opening herself to him. “I want you.”
“Then allow me to bring you pleasure.”
***
Certain she’d gone completely mad, Ailish swirled her fingers through James’ hair while he kissed the most sacred, secretive place on her body. She ought to be utterly mortified and embarrassed to her soul.
But she wasn’t. She spread her knees, delighting in being prone to him—in giving herself to his wicked mouth. Heaven help her, his tongue turned her wanton as he swirled it so close to the place that ached for him.
“Och, ye smell like heaven,” he growled.
She whimpered wanting, craving more, but not knowing what. Gripping the bedclothes in her fists, she rocked her hips while James watched her with those black eyes, his tongue working magic. With a devilish chuckle, he licked the most secret part of her body, making her sizzle with need while her thighs shuddered.
“Mercy!” she cried, arching her back.
Rather than ease away, the black knight grew ruthless in his attack. His fingers swirled in tandem with his wicked tongue. Ailish gasped again when he slid his finger inside her. Good heavens, her core was incredibly moist and slick as if her body knew what to expect.
Him. His manhood.
The fiend worked his finger back and forth as he continued his merciless kissing.
His delightful, ravenous kissing.
Her eyes rolled back, and her hips rocked erratically, unashamedly in tandem with the escalation of desire—a craving low in her belly demanded more, threatening to send her to the brink of insanity if he dared to stop. His finger worked faster. Stars darted through her vision. Her breath came in short gasps.
“More,” she said, her voice far and distant as if it weren’t even hers. But as the word escaped her throat, the rumble of his deep chuckle reverberated against her thighs. He swirled his tongue faster, matching the rhythm of his insistent finger. Ailish gasped, tossing her head from side to side as if she were a demon possessed, craving more, unable to focus on anything but the ripples of need pooling inside “Don’t stop! Please!”
At once, her eyes flew open, a cry caught her throat as her body shattered. Her breath came in short gasps as if she’d just run for miles. What had he done to render her helpless?
When Ailish’s vision cleared and her breathing eased, she shifted her gaze to James. “Have I gone completely mad?”
“Nay, lass.” He grinned, his gaze filled with the same desire she’d just experienced. “I just made love to you with my mouth.”
“Oh.” She glanced to his loins, knowing full well what lay beneath his jerkin. “You still have not been pleasured?”
“My pleasure comes from seeing your desire fulfilled.”
“But—”
He tapped a finger to her lips. “Wheesht. I’ll not take your innocence, lass.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Bloody hell,” James mumbled under his breath as t
he wagon inched along, stuck behind a herd of cattle crossing the border.
“The bridge over the river is awfully narrow,” said Ailish, holding an old blanket closed at her nape, doing her best to appear matronly.
“And we’ll be here half the day waiting for those laggard drovers to move the herd across.” James tilted his head to better see out from under his hood. Aside from the three sentries at the crossing, he counted only two archers standing guard atop the wooden ramparts just beyond the river. But no matter what he saw, there were more.
Ailish tapped her toes against the footrail. “This is making me nervous.”
The whole debacle not only made him nervous, it made him want to be reckless and ride ahead to tell the drovers to move their beasts aside and let him pass. But doing so would only make the soldiers suspicious. “Act as if you haven’t a care.” James glanced back to Her Ladyship’s horse tied to the back of the wagon. The beast was sturdy enough, but he wasn’t a warhorse. He gave his men a subtle nod as well. All four had moved in closer for the crossing. “As long as everyone remains calm, we’ll pass through without trouble.”
The blanket slipped back on her crown as she craned her neck. “It’s just so unnerving.”
James tugged it back up and pulled his hood lower over his brow as well. “All you need to worry about is keeping your face concealed. The less they see of you the more difficult it will be for them to remember what you look like.”
She smiled and batted her lashes. “Aye, sir.”
When she looked at him like that, he thought of nothing but taking the lass into the wood and ravishing her. “Just do not bat those saucy eyes at the sentries.”
“I would not dream of doing so.”
At long last, James drove the wagon across the bridge. He was stopped on the far side by a snarly sentry dressed in mail and wearing a pointed helm with an iron nose-guard. The man stood in the middle of the road and held up his palm. “Halt.”
James pulled on the reins while a tic twitched at the corner of his eye. It would be ever so easy to crack the whip and trample the cur.
“What is your purpose?” demanded the man.
To smite your kind from Scotland forever. One day soon, he’d speak the words on the tip of this tongue. Just not this day. James even managed a semblance of a smile. “We’re hunters taking these pelts to market—they’ll make fine vellum, they will.”
A pair of sentries armed with pikes moved behind to the wagon for their inspection.
“Is that so?” asked the guard. “That’s quite an impressive heap. Where did you fell these deer? The king will be very interested to know.”
Not my king. “They’re Highland roe deer—hunted far from the king’s forests for certain.” The admission made bile burn James’ throat.
“Highlanders, eh?” The man tapped the pommel of the sword sheathed on his belt. “You’ve traveled a long way to sell your wares.”
“They’ll fetch more coin in Carlisle.”
“Perhaps.” The guard rested his hand on the cart horse’s rump. “Tell me, what news have you of the outlaw Robert the Bruce?”
James’ ire ratcheted higher, his fingers itching to pull the sword hidden in the pelts behind his hip and plunge it through the miserable fiend’s heart. “I heard there was a coronation at the end of March. It seems Scotland has a new king, though I’ve not seen hide nor hair of him.”
“Hardly. The bastard is on the run. He’ll be dead along with that demon zealot the Black Douglas.”
James snorted. “I’ve heard Douglas is not of sound mind.”
“Ah, so you’re aware he razed his father’s former keep and hung Sir Clifford’s head from the bailey, have ye?”
Dear God in heaven, if only I could slit this miserable fiend’s throat and be done with it. James shrugged as if he had all day to flap his mouth. “Most everyone’s talking about him. First mention I heard of it was when we passed through Glasgow.”
“Well, when we find him, I’m going to flay him and turn his hide into a belt.”
“What’s this?” asked one of the sentries, pulling a sword out from the middle of the pelts.
James feigned nonchalance. “Och, when ye have a wife as bonny as mine, a man needs to defend himself.”
“All blades are to be confiscated by the king.”
“A moment,” shouted the other pikeman, his arm buried in the stack of furs. “Here’s another!”
“Bless it, I kent you’d cause trouble the moment I set eyes on ye.” James glanced back as he pulled his sword out from its hiding place. “Ye want the Black Douglas’ hide? Well I dare ye to take it!”
The guard’s eyes flashed wide as the hood dropped from James’ head. Stumbling backward, the cur grappled for his sword, but James was faster. Leaping from the wagon, he drove the point of his blade into the guard’s throat.
As he whipped around, a pikeman hurled his lance through the air. James ducked. Ailish’s bow twanged, her arrow hitting the man in the chest and, as he gaped in shock, another arrow shot from behind the wagon lodged in his thigh.
James spun to the third pikeman, ready for a fight. But the man was already down with an arrow buried in his back.
“Haste!” Ailish said, standing in the wagon, her bow loaded and ready for another shot.
“Take out the archers in the ramparts!” James bellowed as he slapped the reins, cuing the carthorse to run. “Keep your head down, m’lady.”
“I have a shot!” she hollered, letting her arrow fly, followed by a shrill cry from a falling man.
But as soon as one fell, he was replaced by another.
Charging around the wagon, Caelan led the way, riding toward the fort with his reins in his teeth. At breakneck speed, the warrior took two shots, each hitting its mark.
After James had driven the cart out of firing distance, he hopped down and offered his hand. “I’ll help you mount.”
“I can manage.” Ailish slung the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder. “You tend to your horse.”
James unhitched the carthorse as Torquil and the men swiftly grabbed the remaining weapons from their hiding places. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Not yet,” said Caelan, kicking his heels. “But they’re after us for certain.”
James mounted while Ailish rode beside him. “Damn,” he growled as they headed south. The last thing he wanted was a skirmish at the border. Now they either must outrun the patrol or set an ambush. Both options were fraught with danger. Worse, as they rounded the bend, the miserable mob of cows blocked the road.
***
“What are we to do now?” asked Ailish?
“May as well use these beasts to our advantage.” With a wave of his hand, James rallied the men. “Walk your mounts through the mob and keep your heads down.”
“Are ye daft?” asked Torquil. “We ought to be riding up the ridge and setting an ambush.”
Ailish glanced upward. There was a ridge beside them, but there was no way to climb it unless they backtracked. Across was a forest of brambles, too thick for anyone to pass through.
James started into the herd. “Do as I say.”
Torquil shook his head. “You’re signing our death warrants.”
“Just meander through these beasts as if it were a holiday. And pray we reach the front of the herd afore the bastards catch up with us,” said the fearless knight.
Ailish glanced over her shoulder as she followed James. The hide of a beast brushed her leg, but they were walking slowly enough that the friction did nothing to annoy the animal.
“What are you doing?” yelled a drover from the side.
“Don’t mind us,” James hollered back. “We’ll be through in no time.”
As they slowly surged forward, James’ eyes never stopped scanning the road behind.
The reins slipped in Ailish’s hand as she forced herself not to dig in her heels and demand a gallop.
“Archers!” yelled Caelan.
“Turn the beasts
around—make them stampede!” James bellowed, slapping his crop on the nose of a steer.
Ailish did the same, shouting at the top of her lungs. As the cattle spooked, so did her horse, rearing and making her feet slip out of the stirrups. She held on with her knees, leaning as far over the horse’s neck as she could. When his hooves hit the dirt, the gelding charged straight for the open road ahead.
“Whoa,” she commanded, tugging on the reins and forcing herself to ease the pressure of her knees. No matter how much she wanted to squeeze, the only way to calm a frightened horse was to relax her seat.
She curled forward, pulling and releasing, pulling and releasing. “Easy now,” she cooed. “Easy.”
By the time she had the gelding slowed to a fast trot, James was beside her. “Are you all right, m’lady?”
She tugged again. “I am now.”
He reached for the bridle and, together, they slowed to a walk.
“That was brilliant,” said Torquil, reining his mount beside them. “But why didn’t you tell us that was the plan afore we walked into the mob?”
“I wasn’t certain we’d reach the front of the herd by the time the soldiers arrived.” James glanced back. “Did you get a look at how many were following?”
“A half-dozen at most,” said Caelan. “Every last one trampled.”
Ailish cringed and crossed herself. “Merciful Father.”
“Better them than us,” said Torquil.
“Do you think more will follow?” she asked.
James leveled a hard stare her way, his black eyes intense. “There are always more—but none who can identify us, God willing.”
Ailish craned her neck, searching for a milepost. “We’d best find a less traveled route to Carlisle.”
James pointed as a detour came into view. “What say you men? We ride for Carlisle at a fast trot?”
“How much farther?” asked Caelan.
“Eight miles, give or take.”
It didn’t take long to ride the distance along the detour. The curtain walls of the city came into view as did the River Caldew skirting along the east side. In the foreground, an enormous cathedral dominated the sky, every bit as large as the cathedral at Scone Abbey. Walls at least as tall as three stories surrounded the city with a blanket of smoke hanging above. A tower presided over the gate’s archway, but though the entry was grand, the gatehouse was dwarfed by the towers beyond.
