Highland Hellion (Blades of Honor #1)

by B. J. Scott

  Arya nodded. “Then best we put some more distance between us.” She kicked her horse into a trot, leaving him, as usual, to catch up.

  “What a woman,” Garrett mumbled aloud, then chased after her. If she was half as spirited when bedded as she was in her everyday approach to things, he’d be one lucky bastard on the night they wed.

  Despite having to stop periodically to water and to spell the horses, they covered half the distance in a little over a day. There were times when Arya’s exhaustion and the needed to rest was evident by the pained expression on her face, but to her credit, she never said a word. And Garrett knew if he’d asked, she’d only deny it.

  Late the second day, a rainstorm, the fury of which Garrett had not seen in many years, hindered their journey. Lightning streaked across the sky, a stray bolt striking a tree only a few feet away, splitting it in two. The wind roared and menacing thunder crashed around them, reminding him of the tales his friends told around the fire when they were young lads. Stories of Viking invaders, Thor’s mighty hammer, and the wrath of the gods.

  It began to pour, sideways sheets of icy rain, pelting them from every direction. He glanced at Arya. Despite being huddled beneath her arisaidh, she was soaked to the skin and her teeth chattered. They’d have to find shelter and wait out the storm or she’d catch her death of cold.

  “We must take cover until the storm passes,” he shouted.

  “Dinna stop on my account. I want to push on.”

  “I have no doubt, but it is too dangerous to continue until the lightning stops and the rain lets up. I know of some caves not far from here. Men used them during the war to hide from the enemy. We can hole up there.”

  Arya nodded her approval.

  They traveled a short distance, then Garrett dismounted and led the way to a dark cavern. He cleared the opening of brush and spider webs before turning to Arya. “Wait here while I check things out. There is no telling what creatures might have taken up residence,” he said, then drew his sword.

  “I’d be happy to share as long as they dinna mind,” Arya stammered. “Anything to get out of this rain.”

  Garrett ducked inside, his eyes taking a minute to adjust to the dim light filtering in from the doorway. But it was a wee blessing for which he was grateful. Otherwise, he’d be grappling around in total darkness.

  Upon further investigation, he found three torches, a pile of wood, and two moth-eaten, but dry lengths of plaid. “Come in, Arya, out of the rain. But dinna come too far until I get a fire started to light your way.”

  “How can you start a fire? You need wood for that.” Arya stepped inside and brought the horses with her. “I canna leave them out there. Sable hates thunder.” She sniffled, then dragged the sleeve of her drenched chemise across her wet cheeks.

  He held up a log and some kindling. “We are not the first to take refuge here. And the last occupants were kind enough to leave a few things behind.”

  “A fire sounds glorious.”

  “It willna be long, and I’ll have you warmed up.” Garrett struck two rocks together until he managed a spark. Within a few minutes, he had a fire blazing.

  Arya inched closer to the flame, then held her hands out to warm them. “That feels so good. I lost feeling in them a while back.”

  “You’ll be much warmer once you’re out of those wet clothes.” Garrett tossed Arya a length of plaid. “Take them off so we can hang them to dry.” He stood, then yanked his tunic over his head.

  “What are you doing?” Arya asked when he tugged down his trews.

  “Getting out of these drenched garments,” he replied simply, then turned to face her.

  “You’re naked,” she gasped.

  “Aye, and I’d suggest you do the same before you catch your death of cold.”

  “I will do no such thing. We are not husband and wife. It isna proper for a lass to see a man’s . . .” She stared at his manhood, then quickly averted her eyes.

  “What happened to the lass who said she’d dinna need to marry because she could bed anyone of her choosing, anytime she liked, without needing the bonds of matrimony? Did you shy from your other lovers?” he asked, then cocked his head to the side and grinned. “I must say you surprise me, Arya. For an independent woman with the experiences you claimed to have, you are quite prudish.”

  “I’ve never. . .” Her face flushed red, and she bit down on her lower lip. Something he’d often seen her do when confronted with a subject she didn’t want to discuss.

  “That is not what you told me, or at least implied the last time I asked you to marry me,” he teased. It wasn’t often he got the better of Arya, and he was enjoying the fact he was making her uncomfortable.

  “You know I spoke in jest. And you were not naked at the time. If you were a gentleman, you’d cover yourself,” she stammered, then lowered he gaze.

  “I never claimed to be a gentleman, and a lady wouldna stare.” He chuckled, then stroked her cheek.

  She trembled at his touch. “I’m not staring.”

  “If you say so. But you are shivering and need to and take off those wet clothes. If you are worried I’ll see more of you than I should, disrobe in the shadows, then wrap yourself in the plaid.”

  She clutched the fabric to her chest, then scurried into a darkened area of the cave.

  Arya returned a few minutes later, handed Garrett her clothes, then returned to the fire, soaking up the warmth. She took a sideways glance when he was not watching, and her breath caught. He looked like a Norse god, with his powerful physique and his long auburn hair hanging freely about his shoulders. His sun-bronzed skin, tightly stretched across a broad muscular chest, glistening in the firelight. Her gaze traveled to his lean waist, firm bottom, and sculpted thighs that looked like they could ride a woman for hours and never tire.

  Garrett may have thought her prudish about his nakedness, but if truth be known, she was actually in awe of his magnificent body, yearned to explore every inch of it.

  “How long do you think it will be before we can leave?” She picked up a twig and tossed it on the fire, trying to get her mind on something other than what it would be like to have him pounding into her as they made love.

  “Hard to say. I looked outside a few minutes ago and the storm hasna let up. If anything, it has gotten worse.” He came up from behind her, encircled her waist, and tugged her against his chest. “Are you warmer now?”

  “A . . . aye.” At this moment, with his strong arms wrapped around her, his pulsing arousal resting against her bottom, and his warm, sweet breath on her cheek, she thought her entire body might burst into flames.

  He swept her hair aside, then nipped the nape of her neck, sending a shiver of ecstasy up her spine. He splayed his fingers across her bare shoulders, then feathered them down her arms. “Your skin is soft. Exactly how I imagined it would be,” he whispered in her ear.

  As if she no longer had a will of her own, Arya turned to face him, then gazed into dark eyes filled with passion, a reflection of her own.

  He remained silent as he carefully unwrapped the plaid from around her body, then let it fall to the ground in a pool of fabric at her feet.

  She swallowed hard, unable to move, to draw breath, to calm her racing heart.

  “Breagha,” he rasped as his gaze skimmed over her body.

  “Beautiful? But I dinna have a curvaceous figure or buxom breasts. I’m thin and pale.” She clutched her hand to her throat.

  “You are perfect in every way, Leannan. I wouldna change a thing.”

  He embraced her, swept his tongue across her lower lip, and she opened her mouth to his sweet invasion. He tasted good, and this felt right. She melted against his chest as one of his hands roamed freely up and down her spine, but tensed when he clasped her wrist, then slowly guided her fingers alon
g the length of his arousal.

  “Can you feel how much I want you?”

  She nodded, their gazes locked. “Aye. Is it always like satin over iron?”

  He grinned. “Only when I am near you, Leannan.”

  She glanced down, wondering how she or any woman could accommodate his length and girth. Her stomach fluttered with excitement and a moist heat pooled between her thighs, at the thought of him inside her.

  “I want you, Arya. More than my next breath if you’ll have me.”

  Arya smiled. “Aye. I’d like that very much.”

  Garrett quickly spread the plaid on the ground and eased her onto it. “You willna regret this, I promise.”

  Maybe she already had. As Arya lay back and Garrett hovered over her, a little voice inside her head warned her to be careful. Had she made a mistake by agreeing to Garrett’s request? She stroked his beard-stubbled chin. Nay, he was so handsome, and she wanted this as much as he did. Maybe even more. It was time she became a woman, found out what it was like to join with a man. There was no guarantee what the future held, and if captured by the Campbell, this might be her only chance to make love to a man she truly cared about.

  The damp cavern air caressed her naked flesh, making her shiver. But when Garrett gently brushed his lips across her cheek, along her jawline, then nibbled his way down her neck, the heat of passion warmed her from head to toe, purging her mind of everything but him.

  “You are beautiful. I canna believe we have waited so long for this,” Garrett muttered and trailed kisses across her shoulder, then moved his mouth over her breast. He drew the nipple between his teeth, teased it with is tongue, licked and sucked until she arched her back and purred with pleasure.

  Arya reveled in the harmonious blend of pain and ecstasy, and didn’t want it to end. And when he moved to her other breast, paying it equal homage, she thought she might perish from pure delight.

  “I want to make you my own. Will you have me?” Garrett asked, his voice thick with passion.

  Unable to speak, Arya nodded her approval.

  “I hoped you’d say that.” Garrett grinned, rolled her beneath him, then slid his hand along her inner thigh until he cupped her sex.

  She spread her legs, her mind filling with decedent thoughts about what was to come. Swamped by an array of sensations she never dreamed existed, she squirmed with anticipation when he fondled the nest of curls guarding her most intimate place. She wasn’t certain what to expect or if she could accommodate a man of his size, but was prepared to try. She closed her eyes, fisted the plaid beneath her, and gritted her teeth.

  “You grimace like you are preparing for execution, not about to make love.” Garrett gently swept a wisp of hair from her brow and replaced it with his lips. “Are you certain you want to do this? Once I start, I willna be able to stop, ma gaol.”

  Did he truly love her? She hesitated for a second, then answered with a smile. “Aye. I have no doubts,” she whispered, then raised her hips, offering him better access. But instead of entering her as she expected, he rolled to his side, feathered kisses down her body, then settled his mouth over the entrance to her core.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked on a strangled breath.

  “Nothing is amiss, sweeting. This is your first time, and I want to be sure you are ready to accept me,” he muttered before his tongue darted between her feminine folds, finding her bud of arousal.

  Arya groaned and arched her back. She was mistaken. There was a higher form of pleasure, and Garrett knew exactly how to elicit it. His tongue circled her center, lapped, then darted in and out, until every nerve tingled and her inner muscles tensed, her entire body crying out for release. He fondled her nipple between his finger and thumb as his tongue stroked her from within, adding to the exquisite torture.

  “Garrett. Please, I want you to feel you inside of me,” she moaned. “Have mercy. Free me from my anguish.”

  “Granting your wish will be my pleasure,” he said, then mounted her. “Look at me Arya.” He gazed into her eyes. “You are more than ready to accept me, and you’re mine. There will be but a second of discomfort, then pure bliss will surely follow” A possessive growl rumbled in his chest as he entered her in one quick thrust.

  Her entire body tensed, then trembled, her core contracting around his girth, fighting the invasion at first, but as he rotated his hips and began to move in a pleasant rhythm, she relaxed and matched his tempo stroke for stroke.

  He picked up the pace, rocking into her with wild abandon, riding her hard, until she was certain she could stand no more. Another deep thrust and he tipped her over the edge, then joined her with an explosive climax of his own.

  When it was over, he collapsed upon her, his sweat soaked chest, heaving, his breath coming in short, sharp pants, while waves of pleasure continued to ripple through her body.

  “That truly was amazing,” she purred in his ear. “Can we do it again?”

  Garrett laughed, then flipped to his back, taking her with him. He tucked her snugly in the crook of his arm, his fingers lightly dancing across her skin. “Perhaps in a bit. I need time to recover, and you should rest.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then stared at the roof of the cave. “The storm sounds like it might be passing.”

  “I hadna noticed.” She curled her fingers in a dusting of auburn hair on his chest.

  He grasped her hand, holding it firmly above his heart. “Try to sleep. I will wake you in a couple of hours and with any luck, we can be on our way,” Garrett said, then covered them both with the other length of plaid. “The last leg of our journey will be challenging, so the storm may have been a blessing. This break gives the horses a chance to rest, and hopefully, we’ll arrive at Scotia’s croft before midday.”

  Arya’s thoughts quickly returned to her mother. “Aye, and pray it is not too late.”

  Chapter 21

  Garrett jumped to his feet when he realized Arya was no longer asleep at his side.

  “I’m sorry if I awakened you. I tried to be as quiet as I could,” Arya said, then tightened the cinch on her saddle. “I’m afraid there was nothing much to eat.” She pulled a small canvas sack from behind her saddle and reached inside. “However, I did find an oatcake and thought we might share it.” She tossed him his half

  Garrett caught the food before it hit the ground, then glared back at her. “What in the name of St. Stephen are you doing up so early? The sun has yet to rise.”

  “True, but you did say we could leave once the storm passed. And it has, the clouds and rain replaced by a clear, star-spattered sky. I figured if I leave now, I can make up for lost time.”

  “And what about me? Did you intended to wake me, or were you going just to slip away and leave me to wonder what happened to you?”

  “You are welcome to join me, of course. But we are more than halfway home, so figured I could make it the rest of the way without help. After last night, I thought you might need to rest.” She flashed him a sheepish grin. “You were sleeping so soundly, I hated to wake you.”

  He closed the gap between them, caught her around the waist, then slammed her against his chest. “I thought you might fancy a repeat joining. You did say you wanted to make love again, and I have many things to teach you.” He nipped at her earlobe.

  “I’m sure you have much to show me. Last night was beyond my expectations. But I must get home to my mother. Right now, I can think of nothing else.” She wriggled in an attempt to break free of his hold.

  Garrett blew out a sigh of frustration, then released her. A few hours ago, she was his for the taking, but his current attempt to seduce her failed miserably. But he really couldn’t blame her for wanting to get home to Scotia.

  “I know you are anxious to be on your way. There is so much you must wish to tell your mam. Once she is well, and we ha
ve put this mess with the Campbell behind us, we can plan our wedding. The sooner, the better.” He tried to sound as optimistic as possible about her mother’s health, even though he held little hope she’d recover. He just prayed the woman managed to hold on to life until Arya got there. It would crush her if her mam passed before she got to say goodbye.

  Arya whipped around to face him. “Our what?”

  “Our wedding. I even thought once we were united, it would be a good idea to move away from Oban, start our life together somewhere new. Do you think Scotia would like that?”

  “I have no idea what you are havering about, Garrett. You know I have no intention of getting married. And you would never be happy living anywhere but Oban, on the land of your ancestors.” She glanced at his groin. “And while I would love to join with you again, we dinna have time. So if you are coming with me, you might want to put on some clothes. Riding naked in that state canna be very pleasant.”

  Garrett grabbed Arya by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Damnation, woman, dinna toy with me. You know as well as I do, the next logical step after we made love was to marry. You’re mine.”

  “I gave you my virtue, not my soul.” Her face flushed red, and she glanced away. “What we shared was beyond my wildest expectations. But marriage was never an option. I’m sorry if you thought it was.”

  “What else was I to think?” Was she daft or playing with his heart? Either way, he was going to marry her. “Why give yourself to me, only to deny me afterward? You will be my wife, Arya.”

  “We have just been through a very trying couple of days, and with the storm raging outside, one thing led to another. We are adults and knew the consequences. I agreed to share an intimate encounter with you, but nothing more.”