Kissing the Highlander

by Terry Spear

  Curling up in his arms had not been her intention. In fact, when she’d fallen asleep, there had been a good foot of distance between them, but it appeared that one or both of them had unconsciously pushed past the invisible boundary she’d set until they were so close they touched—and then his arm had wrapped around her middle. Her behind was pressed tight to the front of his body and she could feel every, single, inch of him. Thighs to thighs. Back to chest. Even their breathing had been in unison.

  And just as she’d realized exactly how they were positioned, he’d yanked his arm out and her head had hit the ground. Thank goodness it hadn’t hit that hard, else she’d still have a headache from it.

  She could feel her face heating again, but she pushed past her embarrassment and smiled warmly. “Aye, Sassenach. There is a warm spring here at Handsel Gleann that is calling to me.”

  Samuel still looked skeptical. He kept raking his gaze over her as if trying to read her mind. “I’ve heard of such a thing, but never seen one with my own eyes.”

  Catriona kept her face purposely blank of any emotion or reaction—at least that was what she hoped. “’Tis magical.”

  “So you do know where you’re going,” he murmured, followed by a short laugh.

  “Did ye think I was leading ye on a merry jaunt with no end?”

  He shrugged. “I admit to the thought crossing my mind.”

  “For shame, English, ye should have a little faith.”

  “But as we discussed before, I trust no one.”

  Catriona pursed her lips. “Aye, and neither do I.” She glanced over at him, saw that Samuel was studying her, and felt her face heat all the more. Why was it this man made her feel this way? Made her think thoughts that had no place in her mind? She was already a ruined woman—not that anyone knew, but she and her brother. Gregor had promised to keep the knowledge from anyone else. “Do ye trust me enough to follow me up the hill and see if the hot spring truly exists? We can see the sontes and Fairy Tree from there.”

  “As cold as my toes are, I’d be willing to follow you if you said there was a fire lit by a dragon.”

  Catriona let out a little laugh. “We have only fairies here, ye can keep your dragons.”

  Samuel winked. “Which is mightier?”

  “I’m surprised ye wouldn’t think a dragon, sir,” she said, steering her horse around the tall stones feeling the magic course through her, and then up the slippery slope behind them.

  “Fairies have magic.”

  “And dragons have fire.” Her horse slipped on the slushy hill and she gripped tight to the reins. “Might be better to walk them up.” She dismounted and started to climb, leading the horse, with Samuel doing the same behind her.

  “Fire is not always more potent than magic,” Samuel called.

  “True. If the two were to mix, then we’d have real trouble.”

  “I’ve seen it mix before.” Samuel was walking beside her now, staring at her the way he had that morning, when her body had stirred molten hot and she’d felt the evidence of his arousal against her back.

  “When?”

  They crested the hill and for a moment they both stilled in silence at the sight of the steaming pool set in the icy backdrop. A wall of rock rose up behind the pool, and trees surrounded them like a wall, as though nature wished for whoever would enjoy this spot to have privacy.

  “Saints,” Samuel breathed out.

  “Aye, English.” Catriona tied her horse loosely to a tree so it could nuzzle its way through the snow to grass.

  “Will we not freeze to death?” he asked.

  “Nay. Ye dinna wear your clothes into the pool.” Oh, lord, but she hadn’t thought about the fact that she’d have to get naked to enjoy the spring. When she’d been before, the women had stripped down to their chemises while the men turned their backs, but it had also been the middle of summer and so a little wet undergarment hadn’t bothered them at all. In the middle of winter, ’twould be another story. “We can just dip our toes in.” Letting him see her bare feet, ankles and calves wouldn’t be the end of the world, especially not after the way he’d touched her that morning. In fact, a spark of something hot whizzed its way through her veins.

  “Ah, yes, we’ll not submerge fully.”

  “Right,” she said.

  Catriona approached the pool, found a smooth rock and used the back of her cloak to dust off the snow that sat atop it, then she took a seat, and started to unlace her boots.

  “Will ye not join me?” she asked, flicking her gaze back at Samuel who simply stared at her.

  Hunger flared momentarily in his eyes. “’Haps I should keep watch while ye warm your feet.”

  Catriona cocked her head and listened to the sounds around them. Nothing. She beckoned him forward. “Nonsense. I hear no one nearby. Come dip your toes and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Samuel stared at her a moment longer, indecision in his stance and expression. But as she slipped off her second boot, he tied his horse to a tree near hers then approached.

  Catriona let out a moan as she slipped her frozen toes into the pool. The pleasure and pain of the hot liquid against her cold skin was enough to catch her breath. It felt so damn good.

  “Hurry, Samuel, this is decadent,” she murmured, eyes closed and head bent backward, arms bracing her against the cool rock.

  Opening her eyes, she saw him standing over her, looking down with amusement.

  “That good?” he asked.

  Catriona laughed. “Aye.”

  She patted the space on the rock beside her and he took a seat—close enough that his hip touched hers and a shiver of another kind wound its way through her. Every time he was near her, her body reacted with need. She tried to ignore it. Tried to push it away. But it always found its way back, winding around her spine and making her limbs sing.

  Samuel made quick work of removing his boots and hose, then he too let out a moan as the warmth of the spring slid over his skin.

  “That is truly magnificent,” he said.

  “Are ye not glad I said we should stop?”

  “Eternally,” he said, leaning over a moment to bump his shoulder against hers.

  She wiggled her toes beneath the water and slowly glided her legs back and forth, wishing she could just jump right in and dunk all the way under. As she brought her foot back toward her, her heel bumped against Samuel’s toes.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, turning to look at him sheepishly.

  “Nothing to apologize for.” His gaze locked on hers as his toes skimmed slowly up the side of her foot.

  The move was deliberate.

  Warmth cascaded over her as though she had jumped into the pool. What they were doing was reckless. But at that moment, she didn’t care. Catriona slid her own foot against his, and then he did the same, until their feet were tangled and tickling against one another.

  “My lady,” Samuel started, his voice gruff.

  “Aye?” she asked, though she was completely distracted by his lips and how much she wished to kiss him.

  “May I…” He glanced away and his feet stilled.

  “May ye what?” she asked.

  Samuel blew out a harsh breath, and drew closer to her, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking her jaw. “What is it about you, Catriona?” He spoke whisper-soft and it felt like each syllable caressed every part of her.

  “I dinna know what ye mean,” she said, but she did know. She had a very good idea because she felt the same thing. A confusing need to be with him, for him to like her, for him to touch her and kiss her. "'Haps 'tis the magic of Handsel Gleann."

  Samuel shook his head. “From the moment I saw you standing tall before Geoffrey and his crew, not allowing the man to browbeat you as he wanted, I was… intrigued." Her cheek burned where his hand rested, where his thumb stroked. “And every moment that has passed since, my curiosity has only grown. You fascinate me.”

  “Aye,” she murmured, having had much the same problem.<
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  And then his lips were brushing over hers. Catriona’s eyes slid shut. She breathed in his woodsy, spicy scent. Melted against the warmth of his mouth. Sank against him. She caught his tunic in her hand, holding on for dear life as her body seemed to float to some other part of the magical glen or sky, she wasn’t sure.

  She sighed and kissed him back. The first to touch the tip of her tongue to his lips, she smiled when Samuel let out an oath under his breath. Her one timid act was enough to unleash something within him, as he clasped the other side of her face, thumbs at her temples as he tipped her head and deepened their kiss. Beneath the water their feet tangled. On the rock their hips and thighs were crushed side by side. Her breasts pushed against his hard chest. Tongues twined. Soft moans escaped. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight to the onslaught of sensations.

  Samuel’s hand slid from her face to her ribs, his fingers gently caressing just beneath her breasts. Her nipples tightened and fire ignited in her core. Was this what he meant when he was talking of magic and fire all in one?

  Saints bones, she’d never been kissed like this before.

  Aye, she’d done her share of kissing the stable hands and warriors before the one incident that changed her life—the seduction of the Campbell heir. Kissing came naturally to her. ’Twas an act she quite enjoyed, but never had she enjoyed it as much as she did now. And mayhap she should have been scared, given the way kissing in the past had turned out, but she wasn’t. Not with Samuel. He made her feel safe. With him, she felt she could be herself, that she could let down her guard.

  And, like a thunderclap, she realized that she trusted Samuel. Trusted him with every fiber of her being.

  How long had it been since she’d trusted someone? Too long.

  Did the fairy stones work their magicz? Was it a trick? A trick of her mind because he kissed so well? Because he could command her body with a gaze? The most terrifying part of it all was she didn’t think that was it. There was something deeper, something that struck a chord in her soul. She wasn’t ready for that.

  Catriona pressed her hands against the hardened, sculpted muscles of his chest and gave a little push. Samuel halted their kiss at once, his forehead pressed to hers for a moment as their rapid breaths mingled, and then he pulled away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should not have taken such liberties with you.”

  Catriona smiled, though inside, her mind was at war with her feelings and desires. “Ye dinna need to be sorry. I wanted to kiss ye as much as ye wanted to kiss me.”

  Samuel shook his head. “I should not have. I promised at your castle that I would never do such a thing.”

  She locked her gaze on his, studying the way the icy blue color had warmed, reminding her of the pool beside them. “Unless I wanted ye to.”

  Samuel’s eyes widened. “And did you?”

  Slowly, Catriona nodded. “Aye. But now we must be away.”

  “Indeed, before we are come upon by fairies.” Samuel’s melodic voice had deepened, and was gravelly with some emotion that played right along the edges of her desire, tugging at some untamed part inside her.

  “There is that.” Catriona regrettably pulled her feet from the water and dried them on the hem of her gown before slipping on her hose and boots.

  Samuel pulled on his hose and boots beside her in silence.

  “What have we here? A Sassenach bastard and a traitor Scots bitch?”

  Catriona whirled around to see three rough looking Highlanders standing between her and Samuel and their horses near the stones. There was nowhere to go. They had their swords drawn, and leering smiles upon their hungry lips that made her skin crawl. She and Samuel had not heard the men approach. Too distracted by each other. This was all her fault. Why had she ever asked him to stop? They should have just kept on going and bypassed the outlaws altogether. The three miscreants took the few steps up the hill.

  Samuel stiffened beside her. How good was he at fighting? She had no clue. He must have some skill to have survived this far into his military career, and yet, was he skilled enough to thwart one or two Highlanders? She could take on one, perhaps the scrawniest, but at least it was something.

  “Let me speak,” she whispered to Samuel then turned to the threatening men. “We have no quarrel with ye,” she started, holding her hands out to the side to show she was unarmed. “We’ll just be on our way.”

  The men laughed, but the one in the middle, clearly the leader, stepped forward and said. “Unfortunately, we’ve a quarrel with ye, lass, and that stinking pile of shite standing beside ye.”

  She was afraid that would be their response. In this area, the people were bound to have been attacked by the English more than once, and there was no way they were going to let Samuel go, nor her, whom they believed to be a traitor. If the men had it their way, they’d see Samuel’s throat slit, but they’d make her suffer. Rape her, beat her.

  She shivered, her knees starting to knock, but she couldn’t let her fears, or these men, take away her sense of power. Her sense of self.

  “That is unfortunate, indeed,” Catriona started, feigning bravery. She wasn’t going down without a fight. “For ye’ll have to dismiss any violent thoughts from your mind. We’ll not be your prey today.”

  Chapter 10

  SAMUEL groaned inside. The lady was only goading the three brutes.

  He’d known men like them before, having crossed paths with many in France, England and even a few in Scotland before they’d arrived at Buchanan. They wouldn’t back down from a fight, not when a prize was within sight. Two horses, the chance to kill an Englishman and the opportunity to spread the thighs of one so delicious as Catriona was enough to make these men fight to the death.

  Taking a deep breath, Samuel stepped in front of Catriona. “Your quarrel is not with the lady, but with me,” he said, chest out, shoulders squared.

  The men laughed, the leader going so far as to slap at his knee. “Ye’re right, Sassenach, we’re itching to slit your throat.”

  The way this man said Sassenach was infinitely less appealing than when Catriona said it. With her, it was almost a term of endearment.

  A grin split Samuel’s face. “Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say the feeling is mutual.”

  Catriona gasped. “What are ye doing?” she whispered under her breath. “Dinna goad them!”

  Samuel didn’t respond to her. These men didn’t need to know how much he cared about her welfare in the outcome of this fight. This would not be a fair fight. Their weapons were crude, as were their manners. He’d taken on three skilled fighters in the past. Three dismal men would be exhausting but not too difficult. He slid his sword from his scabbard, the metal glinting in the sun that filtered through the trees. If there was any magic to the stones beyond, he prayed it was on the side of innocents.

  “Who will be the first among you to die?” He smiled with dangerous intent at his enemies.

  “Samuel, nay,” Catriona said beside him, placing a hand on his arm as though to stop him.

  Without taking his eyes from the men who would likely strike if he did, Samuel said, “Step back toward the stones, lass. I’ll not let them lay a finger on you. I promised to keep you safe if you helped me and I intend to honor that vow.”

  “But ye canna—” she started, then stopped when Samuel did look at her for a fleeting moment.

  “Go,” he said, his eyes pleading.

  She nodded resolutely, and if he had more time to think on it, he might try to guess what the pinched turn of her lips meant, but as she backed away, the brutes surrounded him, circling with their weapons drawn. Two men held swords and the third brandished a long dagger in each of his meaty fists. From the looks of it, they intended to fight him off at once. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

  Samuel took a deep breath and bent his head from side to side, cracking the tension from his muscles.

  He kept his eyes on the leader, though keen to the movements of the men wh
o flanked him.

  “Anytime now,” he goaded.

  Sword up, he grabbed a dagger from his hip since he was without his shield which was inconveniently still upon his horse with his helmet.

  The leader lashed forward, his sword coming close, but not close enough before Samuel blocked with a strike of his own. This man may be a decent fighter, but not more so than himself. The leader launched an attack again, which Samuel checked. His two men each leapt forward when their leader jumped back, but Samuel was ready for them. He ducked down, and swiveled on his heel slicing first one and then the second across the backs of their knees with his dagger, then whirled again and sliced across the tops of their thighs.

  The two men howled, limping back a safe distance from Samuel’s sword. Before he could stand, their leader was pouncing on him again, giving him a kick in the chest, which shook off his balance and nearly had him on his arse, except he’d practiced this many times with his men, and bending backward slightly, he pushed himself up with his palm. Without missing a breath, he parried against the leader, pushing him back and back until he was teetering near the edge of the hot spring.

  “Have you had enough?” Samuel asked.

  “I’ll not have enough until your blood drenches the ground.”

  “You’ll not be having it your way, today,” Samuel said.

  They continued to swing their swords, clashing in the quiet glen save for the sounds of their curses and the whimpers of the injured attackers.

  Heavens above, he hoped that Catriona was safely hidden behind one of the standing stones—or better yet, upon her horse—and not seeing any of this. She seemed to be a tough woman, but women were so much gentler than men and should be protected.

  A guttural growl from one of the thugs several feet away showed one of the attackers face down and a pretty dagger in his back. Catriona still stood slightly behind the standing stone, but her stance looked as though she’d just thrown the dagger.

  “Your bitch will pay for killing my man,” the leader said, pushing harder with his sword, swinging haphazardly and violently.