Lords of the Kingdom

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Suddenly, she was in his arms. She flung her arms around his neck and slammed into his chest, pressing her face into his shoulder. He nearly toppled backward out of his crouched position but managed to stay upright.

  “And I won’t question your loyalty again, either,” he said into her golden hair. “You’ve more than proved yourself. You saved Burke’s life, and you could have alerted your brother to our location back inside that shelter, but you didn’t. I think I’ve been suspicious of people too long and couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”

  She pulled back a little and looked up into his face with those wide emerald eyes. “And what was in front of you?”

  His chest squeezed in a strange but not entirely painful way. Now was the time to speak the truth of his feelings. He had first tried to deny and downplay them, then ignore them, and finally prayed they wouldn’t leave him a broken man when he thought that he and Jossalyn would be forced to part ways.

  “You are the bravest, strongest, most beautiful lass I have ever known.” He let his hand brush against her strawberries-and-cream cheek, soaking in its velvety softness.

  She closed her eyes for a moment at his touch, and he couldn’t read her for a fraction of a second. A flicker of fear stabbed him. What if she didn’t feel the same way?

  But then her eyes opened again, and he was drowning in their green depths. They shone with emotion, but instead of pain, they radiated deep joy. Then, suddenly, a shy smile crept to her lips.

  “Garrick, I have tried for a while now to…not think about you—about us—but I can’t seem to help it,” she said, lowering her eyes as she struggled to find her words.

  “I have been having the same problem, lass,” he said, capturing her chin in his hand and raising it so her eyes met his again.

  “And have you come to any solutions?” she said with a slightly arched eyebrow.

  He felt the corners of his mouth quirk. “Aye, I have, but they all involve things that are not polite to talk about in front of a lady.”

  Her eyes widened, and a rosy bloom appeared on each of her cheeks. He couldn’t help it. A chuckle rumbled in his chest at how enjoyable it was to get a rise out of her. But he sobered quickly, returning to the problem both of them seemed to be struggling with.

  “I have also thought myself in circles about what might lay ahead for us.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I…enjoy your company greatly. But I also want to go to Robert the Bruce’s camp and work as a healer.”

  For some reason, her words conjured an image of her tucked safely behind some castle’s fortified walls, running a keep and busying herself with needlework or some other occupation for ladies. It was all wrong. She would wither like a plucked wildflower if she were kept inside or forced to abandon her healing practice.

  He suddenly realized that she was warning him. She wouldn’t be happy as a lady-wife inside some fortified castle. He had never let himself go so far as to fantasize that they could be together for life, but now that the thought had entered his mind, he knew that they would never have a traditional union.

  Instead of frightening him, though, he felt a wave of hope at the realization. One of his fears had been that he could never have a wife or family because of his work with the Bruce. But with Jossalyn joining him at the Bruce’s camp…

  “Do we have to choose, lass?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to the Bruce’s camp also. And I greatly enjoy your company as well.” He emphasized his words by letting his thumb brush across her lower lip. She shuddered involuntarily.

  When she could speak, she said, “Are you saying…are we saying that…?”

  “You captivate me, lass. I can’t lie to myself or you any longer. I care about you, and I want to…enjoy your company more.” He let all his shades of meaning come through in his voice with those last words.

  It was clear she understood him, for another blush washed over her face.

  “I want that too.”

  Her words struck him, causing his chest to squeeze again. He couldn’t believe he had been able to speak what had been growing inside of him the entire time he had known her. Even more astonishing, she felt the same way about him.

  Her lips parted again, but he was done talking. He needed to feel her, taste her, communicate to her how much he longed for her in a way that didn’t involve words. Without waiting, he brought his mouth down on hers in a searing kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  If Jossalyn had thought that Garrick’s words would undo her with the flood of emotion they caused, nothing could prepare her for his kiss. It branded her, seared her to her core with its passion and intensity. She let herself be washed away in the torrent of sensation and emotion.

  His hands were everywhere at once—in her hair, on her waist, running up and down her back. She registered vaguely that her hands, too, seemed to have a mind of their own. They gripped his shoulders, circled his neck, tangled in his hair as she pulled herself closer to him. Even pressed fully against his chest, with their mouths locked, she wanted more. She wanted to be completely intertwined with him.

  She had tried to deny how much she longed to be with him, and then tried to live with the thought of only having a short amount of time left to be in his presence. But now that they had spoken honestly with each other about their feelings, she was overwhelmed by the strength of her desire. She was tired of denying her true feelings and tired of forcing herself to settle for what little she could have with him. Now she wanted it all.

  She moaned a little against his mouth, impatiently tugging at the ties at the neck of his shirt. She didn’t know how to voice her longing, so she tried to communicate it to him with her body. He seemed to understand completely, for he deepened their kiss, caressing her tongue with his in a sensual rhythm that sent heat shooting through her limbs.

  Suddenly, though, he broke off their kiss. The air flooding against her damp lips startled her, and she searched his face for an explanation. He seemed to be struggling with something, for his eyes were stormy with passion but his brow was furrowed.

  “Lass, there’s still something…”

  Worry crept in at the edges of her passion-hazed mind. He had said that he accepted her goal of helping the Scottish rebellion with her healing skills, and he had proclaimed that he cared and longed for her, just as she did for him. What else could there be?

  “I’m not some courtly knight,” he said with difficulty. “I have done things that may be hard for you to understand, things you may not be able to accept.”

  She felt like a cold bucket of water had just been dumped over her head. He had alluded to his work as part of the Scottish rebellion several times, and she already knew that he was a warrior. Was there some horrible secret he was keeping?

  “What do you mean?” she said cautiously.

  He scraped a hand through his loose, dark hair. “I mean that I am a killer and you are a healer, lass. I long for you so badly, but I fear my black soul will sully you.” He sat back on his heels, as he spoke, putting space between them.

  “Have you done things like we saw back at that cottage?” Her stomach twisted at the thought, but she tried to keep her voice level. She could indeed never accept such acts, and if he was saying that he was truly as bad as whoever did those things, she would have been sorely mistaken in her impression of him.

  “Nay!” he said quickly. “I would never stoop so low.”

  Relief washed through her. She could trust her intuition about him. But then why was he trying to put distance between them yet again? They had struggled enough just to be able to voice their mutual feelings. What did he think he was saving her from?

  “But I am not so different from the English, or any other soldier. I have killed mercilessly. I’ve shot men in the back, I’ve hunted them like animals, and I’ve done so without regret.” His voice was tight and low, and his face had taken on a hard, defensive look.

  Suddenly, she realized wha
t he was doing. “So you are punishing yourself for the things you’ve done by trying to convince me that you are evil?”

  He struggled for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t think of myself as evil. I believe in the Bruce’s cause, and I would fight to the death for freedom. But I’m not a hero either. And you deserve a hero.”

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t doubt me again.”

  This brought his head up sharply. His gray eyes bore into her, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean, lass?”

  “You said you wouldn’t doubt me, and yet here you are, questioning my feelings for you and my judgment of your character.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Have you ever murdered innocent women and children as part of your missions for the Bruce?”

  “Nay, and I never will,” he said vehemently. The look of disgust twisting his face at the thought confirmed his words.

  “And you have never…used force against a woman?”

  “Nay.”

  “Have you sought out innocent farmers or laymen on your missions?”

  “Nay…usually leaders in the English army, the ones making strategic decisions. But also soldiers sometimes.” The anger and shame were fading from his voice, to be replaced by cautious curiosity at her line of questioning.

  “Have you tortured men, drawn out their suffering, or maimed them intentionally?”

  “Nay.”

  She leaned forward and placed a hand on his forearm. “My brother has done all of those things, and probably more that I don’t know about.” The words were hard to say, for the thought of her only living family member being so horrendous and cruel twisted her stomach, but she had to make him understand. “I have known bad men, Garrick, and you aren’t one of them.”

  He inhaled sharply, his eyes suddenly flooding with pain. “You mean…you don’t care that I’ve killed, and that I’ll keep killing for the Bruce?”

  She paused, choosing her words carefully. “What I truly wish for is peace,” she said finally. “I hope that some day you no longer have to fight for Scotland’s freedom, that you no longer have to carry the burden of taking lives for the cause.”

  He sank his head into his hands, and she couldn’t read his expression for a moment. But then he raised his head again, his eyes searing her with their intensity and depth of emotion. “How is it that you understand me so well, that you accept me and my flaws, and at the same time make me better?”

  His words shattered her. “You deserve forgiveness, Garrick. And happiness.”

  “I don’t think I deserve you at all, lass. But you’re right,” he said ruefully, “I said I wouldn’t doubt your judgment.”

  “And I want to be with you,” she said, emotion tightening her voice. “I am choosing freely, and I choose you.” She had already given him her heart. Now she wanted to share her body and her pleasure with him.

  He seemed to read her mind. “Are you sure? There would be no going back, and nothing is certain about our future. The war could go on, or something could happen…”

  He didn’t have to say it, but he was warning her that he could be hurt or even killed. But she had worked as a healer long enough to know that nothing was ever certain about the future. She had seen healthy, strong men fall ill and die in a matter of days, and she had seen the weak and sickly recover and lead long lives. The only thing she could do was seize happiness when it came. And she was happy with Garrick, despite everything they had been through together.

  “I’m sure.”

  He rose slowly and extended a hand to her to help her off the ground. His eyes were locked on her, their intensity burning into her. Just as he pulled her closer to him, a thought popped into her head.

  “What about Burke? What if he comes back?”

  A little smile played at the corners of his lips. “He does have impeccably bad timing,” he said.

  She didn’t quite manage to suppress a nervous giggle. Everything they had said, everything that had passed between them, and the thought of what was about to happen, were all swirling inside her, creating a heady maelstrom of anticipation.

  He bent and grabbed a stick from the ground, then quickly scrawled out several words in the dirt.

  “Nemo me impune lacessit…that’s Latin for ‘no one attacks me with impunity’ isn’t it?” she said, reading over his shoulder.

  “Aye. It’s a phrase that’s been floating around the Bruce’s camp, and has lately spread to some of the other clans getting involved in the rebellion. It’s a motto of sorts, a reminder that Scotland is like a thistle—you can’t grab us without at least getting a handful of thorns.” He smiled wolfishly at her, and she had to suppress another giggle.

  “If Burke comes back before we do, he’ll know that all is well when he sees this,” Garrick said.

  Suddenly, he seemed to forget all about Burke and his message, for he dropped the stick and turned the full power of his gaze on her. His eyes were hungry, and she abruptly felt like she was his mark, that he was homing in on his target. It thrilled her to be so desired by this hard yet good-hearted man. Reading the heated look she was sending back at him, he took her by the hand and started walking off into the woods.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To find some privacy,” he said. “I want to do this right.”

  Another shiver of anticipation went through her. They were going to make love, to fully sate their desire for each other—if it could be sated. All of their previous kisses and that passionate night by the creek had only increased her hunger for connection with him.

  She tried to ignore the tiny stone of fear sitting in the bottom of her stomach. She had been told she would bleed, at least the first time, and that it would be painful and unpleasant every time. But she reminded herself that no one had ever told her there might also be longing and pleasure involved, only that she shouldn’t want to do it, and that there would be consequences if she did. She was beginning to realize, though, that her nursemaids had hidden much from her. She wished suddenly that her mother were still alive, or at least that she had a close friend to confide in. After her parents’ death, however, her brother had kept her isolated and ignorant. But he was no longer in control of her. She was making her own choices now, and her heart told her that it would be right with Garrick.

  He wove through the forest quickly, and she hurried behind him, her hand in his. His ability to move swiftly and smoothly still caught her off guard, but at the moment, she was grateful for his confidence and speed in traversing the forest. The woods changed slightly as they traveled farther away from the Borderlands. Now the forest surrounding her was comprised more of pine trees rather than oak and yew. The ground had also become rockier and more hilly, reminding her that they were headed toward the more rugged northern regions of Scotland.

  He halted next to a large rock outcropping surrounded by trees. She didn’t see anything particularly noteworthy about this specific rock face, but then he pushed his hand through a clump of shrubs, parting the leafy branches with his arms, and a hollow cavity appeared in the rock. He held back the shrubbery, and she squeezed past him into the cave. He followed her in, and when he let the branches go, they snapped back into place, concealing the opening of the cave.

  It was dim inside despite the bright midday sunlight on the other side of the shrubbery. The temperature was cool, and the smell of stone and dried leaves hung in the air. The top of the cave was high enough for her to stand upright, but Garrick had to stoop slightly, even at the mouth where the ceiling was highest. The little hollow space in the rock only extended a dozen feet or so, narrowing as it went back.

  She turned from her perusal of the cave and nearly bumped into him. He had silently moved in closer to her. Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest, and her skin felt flushed and itchy despite the cool air of the cave.

  Slowly, he reached for her hair, undoing the ribbon at the tail of her braid. Most of her hair had already come loose, but his hands wov
e through the remains of her braid, pulling her tresses free and sending them cascading wildly across her back and shoulders.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured to himself, letting the strands slip through his fingers.

  Then, he turned his gaze on her face, and the rapt hunger in his eyes nearly made her gasp. Before she could, his mouth descended on hers in a penetrating kiss.

  She tried to match his caresses and teases, but he overpowered her, taking control of her lips and tongue. She surrendered to both of their passion, thrilling in the feel of his strength and powerful desire. He slipped a hand around the back of her head, holding her in place and tangling his fingers in her loose hair. He squeezed his hand slightly, tugging on her hair, and she gasped at the tingling sensation that shot from her scalp to the spot between her legs, which was already aching in anticipation.

  He pulled her closer, his other hand reaching behind her to the ties running down the back of her dress. Her breasts felt tight and needy, and their contact against his chest was only making it worse—or better.

  He tugged distractedly at the ties as she rubbed her chest against his with a little moan. That seemed to drive him even wilder, for he ripped his lips from hers so he could grip the material of her dress at the shoulders and tug it down. Her dress passed her breasts, then her hips, and was soon in a puddle on the floor of the cave.

  The combination of her heated skin and the cool air brushing against her thin chemise sent a shiver through her. But it didn’t last long, because he pulled her to him again, and she was enveloped in his warmth and his masculine scent. She could feel the heat of his hands through the material of her chemise as he moved over her waist, back, and eventually to her bottom. He gripped her, pulling her against him, and she could feel his hard length pressing into her stomach.

  He moved his kiss from her mouth to her neck, where he nibbled and teased her sensitive skin. Her breath was coming more quickly now, and her body was taking over. She wasn’t thinking anymore, only feeling and responding. She let her fingers sink into his shoulders, twisting in the material of his shirt.