Was Rory still by the tree? She twisted around to look at where he sat. Relieved, she saw that he hadn’t moved from his spot. But that relief was short-lived. Just when she was about to shut her eyes again, the howl of a lone wolf rose above the sweeping leaves.
Her eyes popped open.
She pushed herself into a seated position. There would be no sleep tonight. She was well aware that if she slept, she was easy fodder for any wild animal that stumbled upon her. In addition, there were the malicious forest spirits which she needed to guard against. Darra had never met the evil creatures, but she realized that she was trespassing on their domain. She swallowed, and felt a sudden urge to be closer to Rory.
“What is the matter?” he asked, his deep voice carrying over to her.
“I heard a wolf,” she said, tightening her arms around her chest.
“We are in a forest,” he shrugged. “There are bound to be wolves roaming about.”
As if to punctuate the truth of his words, the wolf howled again in the distance, the sound echoing eerily in the night. She swung her head in the direction of the noise. Wolves traveled in packs. What if they decided to come here and attack them?
He stood up and sighed. “Come with me, lass. Ye are shivering.”
As much as she wanted to refuse him, his offer was like a gift. His hand closed around her icy fingers, and she allowed him to lead her to the tree. Settling back down, he pulled her down to sit on his lap.
He took the plaid that was draped over his shoulders, and wrapped it over both of them. His warmth immediately enveloped her.
Suddenly the tiredness and fear that gripped her earlier were gone. Somehow she sensed that he would keep her safe from any wild beast or evil spirit, although now she had a new worry. Rory’s distinct masculine scent encased her, and with her curves pressed intimately against his hard planes, her flesh tingled with heightened awareness.
She started to shift, trying to get away from the strange sensation.
“Would ye cease your squirming,” Rory said, his voice tight.
Darra moved again until she was able to look at him. His features were in shadow, but she could still feel the weight of his stare.
“Tell me, what is the real reason why you have come to England,” she said, wanting to distract herself with conversation rather than think about their close proximity.
He hesitated as if pondering whether or not he would answer her question. And just when she thought that he wouldn’t respond, he said, “Ye are my last resort.”
“Me?” she asked, surprised.
“Aye,” he nodded. “Ye, your mother — whoever has the ability tae heal my da. I dinnae want death tae take him away sae soon.” He paused, his voice sounding far away. “When I was a lad, I was fooling with my brothers. We climbed a tree, swinging and jumping on the branches. In a moment of carelessness, I slipped and fell. I broke all the bones in my legs.” A wry smile appeared on his lips. “Everyone gave up on me, branding me a cripple. But ‘twas my da who believed that I would be whole again. He patiently helped me tae heal, and tae walk again. And so now ‘tis he who has fallen ill. Everyone has given up on him, but nae me. I believe that he will be healed of whatever ails him.”
“You came here out of love for your father,” she said softly.
“Aye,” he said, clearing his throat as if he realized that he had revealed too much. “Time is running out, and we need tae get back tae the highlands. Will ye come with me, and help my da?”
She could hear the appeal in his voice. He would no longer force her, but would ask for her permission. Even though she tried to fight it, sympathy swirled in her heart. Her own father had died, and there wasn’t any way to save him. But with Rory’s father, she could perhaps make a difference.
“All right” she said, “I will go with you.”
He dropped his head and pressed his lips briefly to hers.
Her eyes widened. “Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Tae thank ye of course,” he grinned. Then he grew silent. “Why do ye have tae be English?” he asked, his tone turning serious.
“I am a person, not a country,” she said.
“Aye, ‘tis the truth of it.” Rory let out a long sigh. He reached up and caressed her cheek with a finger and trailed it down to trace over her lips. “Ye sorely tempt me, ye ken. Having tasted these sweet lips once before, I find that I want more.”
His soft words caused a wave of heat to roll down to her core. “Until you, no one has ever kissed me like that,” she admitted.
He tightened his hold on her, drawing her closer. “I’m glad,” he said, his breath hot against her lips. And before she could say anything further, his mouth touched hers, the gesture tender, tentative, as if allowing her to break away if she wanted. But she wished to continue. Her fingers drifted along his muscular forearms, up to his broad shoulders until they finally threaded through his coppery hair.
He lifted her from his lap and positioned her so that her legs were spread on either side of him.
An innate urge to seek his heat caused her to move closer.
He groaned.
“Ye will drive me insane, lass,” he said, breathing harshly. He placed his hands on her hips, and started to gently push her away.
“Please,” she said.
Rory paused at hearing her plea.
She reached up with both hands and cupped his whiskered cheeks. A feeling of recklessness came over her. She took a deep breath and plunged onward. “I have never experienced passion like this before. I want…more…”
“Ye dinnae ken what ye are wanting, lass,” he said slowly.
“But I do know,” she said, licking her lips. His heated gaze fastened onto the quick movement.
Sir Dudley, the lord in the neighboring castle, wanted to marry her. He had wanted to marry her for a long time now. But the thought of kissing the old knight repelled her as much as kissing a toad. And the notion of sleeping in his bed made her shudder. However with Rory, it was different. He made her feel alive, and she desired everything that he had to offer. Without a doubt she knew that he offered a wild love — a love that Sir Dudley could never deliver.
“In my entire existence I have been a careful, dutiful daughter,” she explained. He cocked his head, listening to her speak. “A knight favors my hand in marriage, and I will likely do my part and marry him. But I want to experience the fervor, the kind of ardor the bards sing about. I want to taste it, savor it just this once before I must fulfill my duty, and before I grow old and gray.” She let out a deep breath. “Surely there is no harm in this, is there?”
He stood, pulling her up with him. Looking down at her, a fierce, unreadable expression flitted across his face.
“Are ye certain about this?” he demanded. His fists were resting on his lean hips — a picture of masculine strength and beauty.
“Aye,” she nodded, her heart beginning to thud with excitement and anticipation.
“Very well,” he said, loosening the notch on the belt that held his great kilt together. Taking the material, Rory folded it in half before laying it on the ground.
He straightened, and all that he had on was a leine. The shirt stretched tightly across his massive shoulders and dropped to his mid-thigh. He moved where there was a break in the tree canopy. Then as if he was fully aware that she watched, he lifted his muscular arms, tugged the linen shirt off, and dropped it to the ground.
Her breath caught as she took in his naked form. The soft light reflected off his tawny skin, casting shadows on his torso, and defining the taut ridges along his abdomen. Her curious eyes followed the sculpted ridges of his physique, and widened when she caught sight of his erection. Her cheeks flushed and she averted her face.
“Nay lass, look at me.”
She blinked, and did as he commanded. He was big. She had no idea a man could be that large.
He walked over, and brought her to the break in the trees.
“Now ‘tis my turn tae loo
k at ye,” he said, chuckling.
His hands went down and with expert fingers, he unlaced her gown, revealing her chemise. When she left the castle, Fyfa had dressed her quickly and didn’t bother to put on her corset and outer gown. But now as Darra stood in her undergarment, she felt exposed and vulnerable.
His palms smoothed down the length of her, pausing to cup her breasts before bunching the material in his fists, and dragging the thin chemise over her head. He dropped the shift to the ground.
Reaching for her hand, he held it in the air as he took in a deep, appreciative breath. “My god, ye are a bonny lass,” he murmured. His heated stare took away the chill of the night. Hunger reflected in his eyes as they swept over her naked body, lingering on her chest. Her nipples hardened in response to his intense scrutiny, and her breasts became heavy and swollen with need. A blush rose to her cheeks, and she attempted to cover herself with her hands.
“Nay,” Rory said, gently tugging her hands away. “I want tae see ye — all of ye.”
He drew her toward him, smoothing his large hands over her shoulders. And although his hands only brushed her skin, they felt as hot as burning coals. As their naked bodies touched, she felt molten fire cascading down her entire length and settling at the juncture between her legs. And suddenly she wanted, needed more. At this moment.
Then obeying an innate compulsion, she leaned in and rubbed her sensitive breasts against his hard chest. Her aching nubs raked across the firm flesh of his torso. She wasn’t an innocent maiden; she already knew what was going to happen next. With many years of apprenticeship, and with her mother patiently answering all of her questions, Darra understood about the relations between men and women. And though she was aware of the mechanics of lovemaking, and in producing offspring, it never occurred to her that there was more involved. Now with her curiosity piqued, her body craved that carnal knowledge. And Rory, it seemed, was eager to instruct her.
He wrapped one arm around the upper portion of her back and the other arm under her buttocks, drawing her to him. Almost immediately, she felt the insistent press of his arousal against her stomach.
“Darra,” he groaned. Dipping his head, he captured her lips in a lingering, exquisite kiss. All the while, his hands ran restlessly up and down her back, causing a trail of flames to ignite wherever he touched.
Her eyes closed as the roar of rushing blood filled her ears. She had a vague sense of weightlessness, as if her entire body was being lifted to the clouds.
He ran the tip of his tongue along her lips, urging them to part. And when they did, he slipped his tongue inside, dipping into, and drinking from her as if he discovered sweet ambrosia there.
His breathing became harsh, and he tightened his grip, deepening the kiss. Rory’s wicked tongue tangled with hers, stroking it, sucking it, and acting out the ancient dance between man and woman. She felt a slippery wetness between her thighs, and she wondered about the sensation.
Then almost as if he heard her thoughts, his hand skimmed down her sensitive skin. When he reached the curls that covered her sex, he dipped one finger inside her.
“Ye are wet for me,” he said, groaning.
Bending, he lifted her in his arms, and took her to the plaid that he had set on the ground. He gently placed her at the center of the fabric, and then without breaking contact with her, he settled between her legs. She could feel his velvety hardness nudging against her thighs. Instinctively, she opened her legs wider to accommodate him.
Rory’s hand reached back down to her mound. His finger found her clitoris, teasing, circling it until she was moaning in tortured ecstasy.
He bent his head and began to kiss the side of her neck, moving to the tender spot slightly behind her ear. When he licked her there, her back arched in response. Slowly he moved over her body, showering hot attention over one breast. She sucked in a sharp breath and gripped his head.
When his searing mouth left the swollen breast, the cool air swept over it, leaving her bereft. But before she could object, his scorching lips found the other breast, paying it equal homage. Her fingers laced through his red hair, grabbing it as he flattened his tongue across her flesh and scraped it across the hardened nub. She shuddered under the blissful onslaught.
Rory looked up and caught her watching him. A mischievous smile lit his eyes and pointing his tongue, he flicked it on her distended nipple. Her chest abruptly thrust upward in shock. He chuckled and before she could recover, he bent down again. Hollowing his cheeks, he sucked hard on the puckered tit.
She writhed under his amorous attack. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, he left her breast and trailed a wet path down her torso. Closing her eyes, she surrendered herself to his wicked tongue as it continued to drag across her bared flesh.
But then he stopped.
She opened her eyes and saw that he shifted downward, and was kneeling between her legs.
“I want to taste more of ye,” he said.
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I do not underst —” The last of her words were cancelled out by a gasp. And any further attempts to discern what he meant faded into the nether recess of her mind. His strong fingers dug into her hips, lifting her high. Leaning forward, he gave her a lush open-mouthed kiss on her most intimate place.
She felt a sudden gush release within her, and he began to devour her as if he was a starving man. His tongue moved faster, frantically swiping, stoking at a region that had never known a man’s touch. She lifted her hips higher, crying as she yielded to him. A new pressure built up inside her, growing, expanding until it exploded in a colorful wave of euphoria and bliss.
When he raised his head again, his eyes were gleaming. “I thought that ye would enjoy that,” he said.
She shook her head, unable to speak. Was this something that she would experience if she married Sir Dudley? Somehow she doubted it.
He moved up, allowing his torso to skim across her flesh. “Just sae ye ken,” he said. “We are far from finished.”
He braced his elbows on either side of her while his hard, hot shaft settled on her sex. Then pressing forward slightly, he allowed her to feel the swollen tip of his cock.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought for control. He pushed his hips a little further. “I’m only sorry that this part will hurt ye.”
And then in one smooth motion, he pushed past her maidenly barrier, embedding his entire rod into her.
A sharp gasp escaped from her lips. Her body lurched upward, and her nails dug into his shoulders. He paused, his face twisted in torment and restraint. Little by little, the pain receded, and she wondered at the strange and wonderful fullness that was now in her.
Rory buried his head in her hair briefly before he raised himself onto his hands. Then he looked down at her, and gritted his teeth as if it took momentous effort to keep himself still.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he grounded out.
“Aye,” she said. But she didn’t have a chance to say anything further. The breath hitched in her chest as he began to move — slow at first and then faster. A few seconds more, and she felt the intense, blistering heat swelling between them, could hear the wet, slick sounds as their bodies unified and parted. And as he drove her higher, her breath burst out in jagged pants. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she met his thrust with her own. Her body understood instinctively what it was searching for. As they found their rhythm, a torrid heat amplified within her, the pressure climbing, climbing until finally it erupted into an explosion of energy.
Reaching up, she blindly pulled his lips to hers, wanting him to share in her ecstasy. She found his tongue, drawing it into her mouth, sucking at it. His muscular frame jerked, tensed. Then he began to rock his hips against her as a primal groan rumbled through his powerful chest and he released his seed into her.
Suddenly he fell on to his corded forearms, his weight braced there so that she wouldn’t be crushed.
“That was incredible,” he said in awe.
“Aye, it was incredible,” was all that she managed to say. And it was something that she would never experience again.
Chapter 10
Darra felt a delicious warmth against her cheek, and she wondered whether she was dreaming. Coming slowly into consciousness, she heard the birds twittering overhead. Her fingertips skimmed over smooth skin and hard muscle. Right beneath her ear, she heard a solid, rhythmic heart beating…
Hard muscle? Heart beating?
The questions crashed through her mind like a battering ram at the gates. She jerked back her hand, and became even more alarmed to find herself cradled against Rory’s taut, masculine torso. Her first impulse was to leap off his lap, but then she glanced down and discovered that she was nude. Images from last night flooded her mind. So it wasn’t a dream after all; she really had made love with Rory.
But the pleasant memory soon changed into something more worrisome. Now that it was morning, she was confronted with the cold, hard truth that she was no longer a virgin. She blinked at this startling fact. Her innocence was lost the moment she decided to kiss Rory. But now that she experienced how raw, primal love felt, she desired more — even though this was supposed to be a one-time occurrence. She released a shuddering sigh.
“Ye are awake,” Rory’s deep voice penetrated her thoughts.
“Oh,” she tipped her head back. His expression was impassive, as if he wasn’t fazed that a naked woman slept in his arms. “I thought you were still asleep.”
“Nay, all parts of me are definitely awake,” he said, a sudden mischievous gleam reflecting in his eyes.
A part of him was definitely poking at her hip. She felt fire rush to her face just as a sharp tingle coursed through her, and thrummed between her legs. She came off his lap, found her chemise and quickly put it on.
Spinning around to face him, she declared, “Last night was a mistake.” But the real mistake was to look at him. In the gray light, she was able to see him in all his glory. He remained sitting, a mildly amused expression on his visage. As she wondered at his amusement, a small movement from his hand caught her attention, drawing her scrutiny downward.
The Highland Chief Page 9
