Outlaw King

by Julie Johnstone

  Robert’s mouth curled up at that, but then he cocked a questioning eyebrow. “Ye’re certain ye wish this? Before we’re wed?”

  “Yes,” she croaked, suddenly very nervous.

  Robert brought Elizabeth’s palm to his mouth, inhaled her fragrant scent, and kissed her hot skin. It was like a jolt through his heart. “Are ye certain?”

  Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment, but when her gaze rose to meet his, her look held no guile. “I want to join with ye.”

  He grinned. He could not stop it. “Sometimes ye say the most pleasing things.”

  “What is my first lesson?” she said with a hint of amusement.

  He yanked her closer until the full lengths of their bodies were pressed against each other. “Ye will nae ever put yerself in danger for me again.”

  She frowned, the stubborn lass. “I cannot acquiesce to that demand. It would make me a wife unworthy of you.”

  Elizabeth was uncommonly canny, and he was so damned happy and proud that she would be his wife. “Fine. Ye will do all in yer power to nae put yerself in harm’s way,” he said. He tried to sound stern, but by the smirk on her face, he knew he had failed. The woman would likely drive him to madness.

  “I can live with that,” she murmured and wiggled herself against him so that the hard peaks of her nipples rubbed against his chest.

  “Ye’re a sinfully forward lass, thanks be to Christ.”

  She snickered. “I was never this way until you. You make me sinful.”

  “We all have our talents,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

  “What’s mine, then?” she asked so sincerely that it snatched his breath. She did not see herself as special, though she was the most amazing woman he had ever known.

  “Ye make me feel more deeply for ye than I have allowed myself to ever feel for another,” he grumbled.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “You see that as a bad thing?” The brush of her fingertips against his stomach made his muscles jump, and when her hand grazed lower to his thigh, he groaned.

  It took him a moment to control the storm she had unleashed, but he finally managed to say, “I see it as a weakness for a man who must surely still face a great amount of loss if Scotland is to be free.”

  “Then what shall you do?” she asked, stroking his left forearm and then his right.

  He skimmed his fingers over her breasts. With a moan, her eyes fluttered closed, and he took advantage of the moment to savor how lovely she looked in abandonment. “If I am to feel, there is nae a soul I would rather feel for than ye.”

  She bit her lip for a moment. “I’m afraid, Robert.”

  He nodded, feeling his own hard-beating heart. “Aye, lass. As am I.”

  “Of me?”

  “Who else?”

  “Who else?” she asked, astonishment tingeing her tone. “What about the king and my father? They will try to use me even when—no, especially if—we wed. They will try to hurt you if you do not heed the king’s wishes. They will try to rule you.”

  He touched her waist, then brushed her hips before sliding his hands up the curve of her back. He had never abandoned control, but he wanted to now, if only for the time he was in her arms. He wanted to with a throbbing ache.

  “Ye have more power to hurt me than any enemy I have ever faced,” he admitted, exposing himself as he had never done before. “I do not fear yer father, or the king, or death. I fear that ye will regret wedding me, because our life together will be brutal, possibly for long years to come.”

  It was possibly as close to a declaration of love as she was going to get from him. She would take it for now and hope for the words in the days, weeks, or months to come. “I’ll not regret it, Robert, I vow it. I want to be yours, no matter what that brings.”

  In a flash of motion, he stripped off his plaid, set his and her daggers aside, and stood in only his braies, which clung to his hip bones. Her gaze stuck fast to the muscles that made up his stomach. If he was so powerful there… Her gaze dipped lower, stopping between his legs where the material of his braies already strained to hold him back.

  “I feel like swooning,” she murmured, embarrassed, and started to fan herself.

  Robert folded her into his arms and pressed his mouth to her neck, then her ear. “I do as well.”

  “You lie,” she chided, though she was grateful that he would try to ease her fear. A sudden thought struck her. “You’ll not compare me to—”

  “Never.” The word was fierce, and his eyes blazed. He drew in a deep breath against her as he cupped her face. “There is nae a lass in the world who will ever compare with ye. Trust me.”

  She nodded, her heartbeat a steady drum in her ears. “I do. Completely.”

  His flashed a wolfish smile, untied his braies, and let them drop. She gasped at the sight of him, every bit as powerful as she had expected. “There is nae a more vulnerable state than this,” he said. “Ye could kill me now if ye had planned it.”

  “Yes,” she replied, “I suppose if I was fast enough to reach your dagger before you and aimed it just right.” She reached with trembling hands to unlace her own gown, but he shook his head.

  “Let me.” His eyes beseeched her. “I have dreamed of it.”

  “You have?”

  “Aye,” he said, his voice like rough sand. “Nearly every night since I encountered ye in Ireland.” His hands were at her laces, tugging and untying.

  “Since Ireland?” She could not keep the surprise from her voice, nor the pleasure from turning up her lips.

  “Aye.” He brushed a finger over her smile. “I see that pleases ye,” he said in a low growl, as her gown dropped to a puddle at her feet.

  “What exactly did you dream?” Her stomach fluttered just asking the question.

  “Of doing this.” He traced his hands slowly over her breasts, down her stomach—which tightened from his touch—and then circled his hands to her bottom. He gripped her there and pulled her against him, and then kneaded her. Together, they groaned in pleasure.

  “Ye have the most perfect, round arse.”

  “How do you know?” she said, breathless. “You’ve never seen it.”

  “That’s true enough,” he replied. His hands came to her shoulders, and then he slipped his fingers under her shift to let it drop to join her gown on the floor.

  The cool breeze hit her, causing gooseflesh to rise on her skin and making her nipples harden. Embarrassed, she started to cross her arms over her bosom, but he caught her by her wrists.

  “Nay. Do nae deny me the pleasure of seeing ye. I beg ye. Thus far, all I have had are my fantasies, but ye are here in the flesh now.” His hands returned to her shoulders, and he slowly turned her again so that her back was to his chest. He traced a finger over one cheek of her bottom and then the other. She hissed with the intense pleasure his light touch caused her. “I watched ye walk away from me that day in Ireland until I could nae see ye anymore. I imagined in great detail what yer wee perfect bum looked like as ye swayed yer hips back and forth. That verra night I started dreaming about ye and what I would do to ye if we were ever together like this.”

  His warm hands left her bottom and glided down the back of her thighs. His shoulder brushed her as he bent, but when his moist lips pressed against the bare flesh of her bottom, she sucked in a sharp breath of shock. “You dreamed this?” she panted.

  He let out a deep chuckle that promised all sorts of illicit things. “Mo chridhe, this is but the start of what I dreamed I would do to ye.”

  His heart! He had called her his heart! Happiness flowed through her as he gripped her by the thighs and once more turned her to face him. Heat singed every part of her as she realized his view was of her most intimate bits.

  “Robert!” she hissed, leaning down to tug him up to his feet. As he tilted his head up and grinned at her, he batted her hand away as one would a pesky fly. “You did not dream this,” she accused. “Surely not!”

  “I assure ye I did.” And w
ith that, he ran his fingers between her thighs, making her legs tremble, and then higher and higher still, delving into her hair and exploring her with an expert touch that caused her to fear she would fall. She could not voice her pleasurable distress because of her rushing blood and wildly spinning thoughts. And her mouth, well, it simply could only hang open as she gasped with pleasure. All the light in the room seemed to dim to one ray above his head, which made his dark hair gleam. She tried to focus on that, to not lose control, but it was no use. He worked magic with his fingers over her bits, and the need to simply let all control go, to be free with him, overcame her.

  As her core tightened and her legs shook, she threw back her head, and all she could manage was, “Ahh! Robert. Robert. I have to let go.”

  And then she was down on the ground on his soft plaid, and he hovered over her, his hand between them still touching her. His eyes blazed, and a sheen of perspiration dampened his brow. “Ye do nae need control with me,” he vowed, capturing her mouth in a fiery kiss.

  A warm wave rolled over her as her body clenched. She found her hands upon the broad expanse of his back, his skin slick with his effort, his muscles taut with what she imagined was his own need. It felt as if she were floating on a cloud, but slowly, ever so slowly, kiss by kiss, he pulled her from her cloud and back down to him.

  She breathed in the scent of sweat, and desire, and Robert. He hovered over her, his hands on either side of her upper arms, his legs pressed between her spread thighs, and a smug smile on his face, the devil!

  “I too have dreamed of you,” she said boldly, for bared as they were and after what had just occurred, she could not see where there was any reason to restrain her words or her actions. Robert had not lied, he had freed her.

  “Lass,” he said softly with the hint of his dimpled smile, “I can nae tell ye how happy that makes me, especially if yer dreams are at all like mine.” He winked at her.

  “I suppose I’ll have to show you,” she replied, emboldened by what he had done to her and what they were sharing.

  He rolled off her with shocking speed, onto his back, and put his arms at his side, as if he had been forced to submit to her. It struck her then that he was submitting to her—his heart. “Do with me what ye will,” he said.

  She chuckled as she clambered on top of him. “Anything?” she teased, leaning down to press a kiss to his chest. The springy hairs tickled her lips, but she rather liked it. There was nothing soft about him, but she supposed there could not be for him to survive.

  “Anything that will leave me in one piece,” he said with a half grin.

  She ran her hands over the corded muscles of his chest and trailed her fingers over the dips to where the dusting of dark hair on his chest trailed to a vee. She swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry. She honestly had no notion how to proceed, but perhaps she should simply follow his lead from before…

  She slid her hands low between his thighs, and he hissed out a breath. Encouraged by his reaction, she glided a finger over the silken skin that stood rigid and then curled her hand around it.

  “Christ!” he growled and gripped her thighs. “What are ye doing?”

  She frowned. “Am I doing it wrong?”

  “I think ye could verra well simply breathe on me there, and it would be right. But, lass, I can nae say with certainty that I’ll be able to control myself.”

  “Good.” She bent on a whim to kiss his belly. Her hand moved as well, sliding up the length of him, and he bucked underneath her.

  “I see now,” he said, his teeth clenched, “that the plot the king hatched was for ye to kill me with seduction.”

  She snickered while continuing to stroke him. His build fascinated her, and she could not help but stare for a moment before dragging her gaze back to his face. Determination set his jaw, and his dark eyes burned into her. Yet, there was a trace of humor there. He was a warrior, always needing to be on guard, but for her, in this moment, he had lowered it. Her heart squeezed.

  “I love you,” she blurted.

  The amused look suddenly left his eyes and wonder replaced it. A tingling began in her stomach, and when he said, “I love ye, too, mo chridhe,” something intense flared through her.

  “Do ye feel it?” he asked, his hands spreading across her chest over her heart.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He gave a satisfied nod, gripped her by the hips, lifted her, and rolled her onto her back so that he was leaning over her. She frowned. “Why did you—”

  He set a finger gently to her lips. “This is your first time. It needs to be perfect, and though I appreciate yer eagerness to oblige my needs, I would introduce ye to joining with a man tenderly. If ye get me too excited, I fear I’ll nae be able to give ye the tenderness I wish to. Ye stir my blood too much.”

  “Next time, you will let me give to you?”

  “Oh, aye. Later tonight, even, if ye like.” He flashed a smile and then feathered kisses to her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her eyelids, lips, neck, and on it went until she felt nearly boneless. Then his hands began to expertly work over her body, making her feel as if a storm was brewing inside her. She writhed underneath him while he plucked her like strings he had always played, and when she could not take one more touch, one more kiss, she grabbed his bare buttocks and pulled him to her. He surged into her like a storm breaking suddenly across a sky. She had just enough energy to focus on him and cling to him, to ride the waves of their joining.

  When they had spent themselves entirely in each other’s arms, finding their release and screaming without care into the silent room, they lay side by side, panting. After a while, their breathing evened, and Elizabeth stared up at the ceiling. He loved her. She shivered with happiness.

  Robert pulled her to him, situating his arm behind her head. She leaned back on his rounded bicep. The heat from his skin seeped into her scalp, making her drowsy. He brought a hand to her shoulder as she rested her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart thumped in her ear, the sound broken only when the chapel bell rang in the distance. She tensed as thoughts of the future invaded this stolen moment.

  He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her face up to his. “Ye are nae regretting what we did, are ye?” he asked, running a hand over her forehead and smoothing her frown.

  “No. It’s just the church bell…”

  “We did nae commit a sin,” he said fiercely.

  “No, I don’t think that.” She caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek. His touch helped to calm the worries lapping at her like waves against a shore. “I fear the war to come. I fear you will be taken from me or I from you.”

  Robert laced his fingers into the back of her hair and gently tugged her face to his. He gave her a long kiss, as drugging as it was comforting. “There is nae a man, king, or force on this earth that can take ye from me. Ye are mine now. Forever. We can nae be torn apart by others, only by each other. Whatever may come, loyalty and truth must be the only things that lie between us.”

  “I pledge it,” she said with a fierceness that left her breathless.

  Robert gave a satisfied nod and then extracted his arm from behind her head. He stood, and the torch cast a reddish-orange glow about him. She caught her lip at the sight. “You look bathed in blood,” she whispered, her heart pounding suddenly.

  He held his hand out to her. “Likely I will be soon, but nae my own. Do nae fear. Come, we must return. Lamberton will be leaving, and I wish to say my goodbyes.”

  She took his hand and blushed when he tugged her up. They stood bare as the day they were born.

  He smiled and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I had thought perhaps ye had abandoned yer modesty with me along with yer self-control.”

  “Fiend!” she said, swatting his hand away. She bent for her shift, but he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her upright.

  “Permit me,” he said, leaning down and snagging the garment. With the material held negligently in
his right hand, he used his left to raise her arms one by one. “Do nae move.”

  She cocked her eyebrows at him as she fought not to blush.

  His smile became an enormous grin. “Lass, even the tips of yer lovely nipples are fiery red. I do nae think I have ever seen a woman blush as ye do. ’Tis quite beautiful.”

  “You have gone mad,” she murmured and reached for her shift, but he held it out of her reach, grasped her around the waist, and kissed the top of each of her breasts, then her neck, and finally her mouth. She felt quite dizzy when he pulled away.

  “I have gone mad with yearning for ye,” he said and pecked her nose.

  He motioned for her to raise her hands once again. She did, but she also spoke. “Are you not worried that a man as powerful as the bishop of St. Andrews paid homage to the king today? Is that not a blow for Scotland?”

  “Nay,” Robert said, slipping her shift over her head and situating it. “The bishop has long been a friend to the Scottish cause.”

  “But he paid homage to Edward!” she protested. “He is now Edward’s man.”

  Robert brought her hands to his chest, pressed her palms against his solid muscle, and splayed his hands over hers. “Nay, lass. They are but words forced from the bishop’s lips, so he could keep his head upon his body and continue to plot with me and my compatriots to free Scotland.” He released her hands to straighten her shift. A satisfied look came to his face, and then he said, “Lamberton’s words do nae make him loyal to Edward, no more than I am loyal to Edward. They do nae make him Edward’s man, any more than I am Edward’s man.”

  She nodded, trying to concentrate on the conversation at hand, which was clearly very important, but there was something so erotic and distracting about Robert setting her shift to order and talking politics as he did so. Each time he gave her shift a tug, his hands seemed to glide over her skin. Her belly clenched when he looked at her with blatant yearning.

  “Robert.” She swallowed hard. “Remember what you said about possibly joining again tonight?”