Kiss of a Traitor

by Cat Lindler

  She wiggled her hips in a flurry of impatience. The thought of what they would soon do brought a fresh gush of wetness and drenched his finger in her dew. His finger moved in and out in a slow, careful motion, delving a little deeper each time until he reached the barrier of her virginity. Then he angled his thumb and circled a button of flesh at the entrance to her sheath.

  Willa bucked on the bed, his caress excruciating. As he stroked and circled, flicked and pressed, heat and tension unlike any sensation she’d ever felt built up in her groin. She suddenly found herself clinging by her fingers to the edge of a precipice, afraid to let go. A needy moan rose inside her, and she thrashed her head back and forth.

  Aidan lifted his head from her breast. “Go with it, Willa,” he urged, the specter of his need transparent in his voice. “Let it take you away.” His mouth lowered to her breast once again to suck strongly as he moved his finger more insistently on her flesh.

  The roar of a gale swept her away. Willa flew into a sky bursting with hot light as her inner muscles clamped down on his finger. A loud cry reverberated in her ears. At the same moment, Aidan plunged two fingers deep into her passage and broke through her fragile barrier. Tears of pain sprang to her clenched eyes to squeeze out beneath her lashes, though stars still burst in convulsive waves through the sharp sting.

  When she floated down, Aidan was crouched above her, his legs pressing her trembling thighs apart, his hands raising her knees to place her feet flat on the bedroll. “In some magical way, her trousers had disappeared.” Willa felt pressure, a slow invasion, hot and heavy, sliding into her. Without volition she contracted her hidden flesh and wrung a barely stifled shout from him. The pain ebbed. Now the press of his phallus set up a throbbing that pumped blood into her loins like a rushing river.

  He canted his hips and drove upward, burying his rigid length. Then he began a slow thrusting. Her passage welcomed him and anointed him with slippery heat. He circled and dove, gradually increasing the pace and pressure, moving high against her. Again the taut spiral of desire grabbed hold. As Aidan swung in and out, she rolled up her hips to meet his downward thrust.

  Arching over her, he dropped kisses that felt like tongues of fire on her chest and belly. When he lunged deeper to touch her very center, Willa surrendered. She screamed at the fierce convulsions seizing the muscles in her tensed thighs and speeding down her pulsing sheath.

  Willa opened her eyes and looked up at Aidan. The skin of his face and throat stretched taut over prominent bone and muscle as he shouted and pulled out of her body. She watched in amazement while he strained above her. His face drawn in tense lines, his manhood bucked and pulsed and released a thick, white fluid that spread across her skin like clotted cream. When he collapsed over her, his heart hammering against his chest, it pounded so hard she felt the beating against her breasts as though it were her own, and he sighed in a harsh breath.

  Heaviness in her limbs sapped all her strength and drew Willa downward, as though she were sinking straight through the bed to the floor. With the deadweight of Aidan’s considerable bulk still sprawled atop her, she plummeted into sleep.

  “Up,” a voice said loudly in her ear. Willa pried open her eyes and shot a fulminating glare at the male face looking down at her. Was that any way to speak to your beloved? For by the languor in her limbs and the satisfied aching between her legs, Aidan must surely love her, although she was yet unsure of how she felt about him. Regardless, he would not have made such sweet love to her last night were it not the case. She understood men made love without actually loving. Lust was an overwhelming itch they were obliged to scratch every so often or they would go mad. Jwana had told her so. But Aidan had taken his time with her, introduced her to passion in a way that ensured her own pleasure. Men behaved in such a way only with women they loved. Jwana had also passed on that pearl of wisdom.

  “Begone,” she snarled as she came over onto her side and up on an elbow. He turned his back, walked away, and fitted their possessions into the saddlebags. She smelled the rich tang of the coffee he had found in her saddlebags merging with the odor of wet earth and pine trees blowing in through the open door. Sunlight peeked at the edges of the hide-covered windows and poured through the door in a river of gold. The sharp calls of nuthatches and brown creepers, plying the woods for pine nuts, came from the trees outside.

  Aidan pivoted at the waist and cast a look her way. He poured coffee into a tin cup, strolled over to the bed, and sank down on the edge.

  “Feeling sore this morning, are we?” He sounded amused as his mouth curved in an infuriating smile. After dipping his head to deposit a kiss on her pouting lips, he handed her the cup.

  She sipped the scalding brew and shuddered at its bitter taste.

  His hand smoothed over her hair, his fingers teasing into the tangles and easing them out. “I have no desire to raise your ire, wildcat. But were you to rise and move about, the soreness would soon flee. We have a long ride today. I hoped to get an early start.”

  “A long ride,” she repeated and scrunched her brows together. “Why go to all this bother? I have no doubt we could have reached Willowbend long before now.”

  “Indeed? Well, you are mistaken,” he said, raising himself from the bed. He walked back to the hearth and settled on the bench to slice cornbread and cheese left over from the previous night. He’d been up for some time, it seemed. Fresh-picked blackberries overran another tin cup beside him.

  She glanced around for her clothes, which he had removed during the night—not that she was in any frame of mind to protest at the time. Why did he insist on keeping up the pretense regarding the site of Marion’s camp? He had already told her he was a spy. Why go to such great lengths to drag her halfway across the state and now, she suspected by their path northward, into North Carolina? She snagged her shirt and trousers off the three-legged stool beside the bed. She understood he wished to keep the camp’s precise position a secret for her own safety. Still, she could not help but believe this forced march beyond ridiculous. Bewildered by men in general, she shrugged.

  When she sat on the bed to pull on her trousers, Willa saw pale bloodstains on her inner thighs, as though Aidan had bathed her skin in the dark. His sticky seed had vanished from her belly, too. She rubbed a hand across the taut surface. At the thought of him performing such an intimate duty for her, fire flamed her face and burned her ears. She thrust the discomfiting image aside, jerked the pants up around her waist, and buttoned her shirt, tucking it into the trouser waistband.

  Aidan sent her a sudden grin that warmed her heart. She padded over to the fireplace, retrieved her boots, and hauled them on over her socks. Then she stood and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” he called out before she reached the threshold.

  “Worry not,” she said with a wry smile. “I have no plans to run from you, not now.” After last night, we are bound together, she thought but dared not voice aloud. “I must see to Cherokee.”

  “If Cherokee is the paint’s name, I already fed him.”

  She gaped at him. “Cherokee allows no one to tend to him other than me.”

  “You forget I saw to his needs last night and while in Marion’s camp.” His smile was smug. “He showed his temper, but we managed to come to an understanding.”

  Cold fingers slithered across her skin at what Aidan meant by “understanding.” “Nonetheless, I plan to check on him.” She spun around and stalked from the cabin.

  “Suit yourself, wildcat.” His voice drifted out behind her.

  Cherokee stood next to Aidan’s horse in the lean-to, muzzle buried in a bag of oats lying on the ground in front of him. The paint flicked a lazy ear at her when she squeezed between the two horses. “Traitor,” she muttered, running her hands and eyes over every inch of his body to look for whip marks or God knew what other signs of abuse. Cherokee lifted his head to butt her in the chest. She scratched behind his ears and puzzled over the conundrum that was Aidan.

>   The morning began under a cloud-covered sky but soon flowered into one of those rare winter days that brought to mind memories of the long, hot summer. Contrary to Aidan’s assertion of a “long ride” ahead, he set a leisurely pace. Willa silently thanked him for his consideration, should that be what it truly was. Her sore nether parts sent twinges into her thighs and lower belly whenever the horses broke into a trot. She squirmed around on her saddle to find a more comfortable position.

  Around midafternoon, when her soreness had developed into a plaguing ache, she stood up in her stirrups to prevent further damage to her delicate flesh. Aidan frowned as he twisted around in his saddle to look back. Reining his horse to the side, he waited for her to catch up and pointed at a low rise studded with trees. “I know ‘tis still early, but I recollect a pond beyond that hill. ‘Tis as good a spot as any to make camp, with fresh water and near the forest should we require shelter. And the pond lies beyond sight of the track.”

  Willa voiced no dissent, more than willing to stop, stretch out on the ground, and die. They came upon the pond less than a half-mile distant, out of sight as he had said, and edged with a forest of pine, oak, and hickory. He lifted her from the saddle though she slapped at his hands and spouted she was perfectly capable of dismounting by herself. He paid no heed to her tirade, held her in his arms for a long moment, and kissed her, briefly distracting her from her pain.

  While Aidan set up camp, Willa limped over to the pond. She gazed out over its glassy surface. How lovely the water would feel on her protesting flesh. Squatting down with a groan, she dipped in a hand. It felt warm from soaking up the hot sun.

  With no more hesitation than the time it took to shuck her clothes, Willa dove into the pond.

  Ford heard the splash and whirled around with a rabbit snare in one hand. He laid the snare on the ground and stripped off his shirt. Willa was too tempting as she sported in the water like an otter with afternoon sun gleaming on her shoulders. From the expression on her face earlier, he expected she still ached from their romp the night before. The juices rose high in him nonetheless.

  He kicked off his boots as he made his way to the water’s edge, stopped to peel off his breeches and underclothes, and waded in to join her. When he swam toward the center, she flipped away and ducked beneath the water. He gave chase, following her under and catching her firmly, if not gracefully, around the waist. Once he brought them to the surface, he grasped a handful of dripping hair and tugged back her head to bury his lips in her wet neck. The taste of salt and skin and clean water went straight to his groin. His penis filled with blood, jutting out and upward. He towed her toward shallower water where he could plant his feet on the sandy bottom and pull Willa astride his waist. An erotic shiver buzzed across his skin at the feel of her wet curls tangled in his. He raised and lowered her, sliding her cleft against his belly and groin, slipped his hands downward over her backside, and squeezed and separated the globes. He sought out her heat, glided one hand beneath her buttocks to tease and caress the folds of her opening. A gasp tore from her throat at his fondling, and her eyes glazed over. He kissed her long and sweet, then with savage desire. The ache of his throbbing erection grew urgent.

  Conscious of her newly deflowered state, he clasped her bottom in both hands, lifted her up, and lowered her gently onto his cock. As he rocked her up and down, a pulsing began almost immediately in her soft, sweet canal. Her arms clasped tightly around his neck, and her rapid exhalations warmed the side of his neck.

  Her enthusiastic response burned a path to his groin, tightening his testicles. He was coming too fast, his penis swelling inside her. He had to withdraw but could not. Her grip was like heated steel. Easing one hand between them, he strummed her clitoris with his thumb. She gave a little leap and a hard clasp with her vaginal muscles that nearly unmanned him.

  Pull out, his brain shrieked, but his hips refused to listen. Willa screamed and clamped down on him as she flamed up like a wildfire. He let go and accepted the possible consequences of his action. His pulse escalated into a mad tempo, and fire spurted up from his loins as he poured his red-hot orgasm into her. He rammed himself in once more, right up to the hilt.

  His knees went rubbery, but he managed to remain on his feet and stagger toward shore. Willa’s soft thighs still wrapped about his hips. She moaned, and mortification stabbed him in the heart. He tipped back her head to examine her face. What he saw assuaged his conscience … regarding one worry. Her eyes drooped half-closed with satiation; her mouth was slack with pleasure, not tightened in pain.

  He blew out a sigh and let her slide down his body to her feet. His conscience, however, continued to prick him. Willa may have experienced no physical discomfort from their lovemaking, but he very well could have planted a babe in her womb. Should that be the case, he would be bound to marry her. Why did that prospect not seem so dire a fate? That he was genuinely contemplating marriage to the little wildcat left a sour taste in his mouth. He dropped a hasty kiss on her lips and let her go. Scooping up his clothes, he pulled them on and strode back to the snare, picked it up off the ground, and continued on into the woods. Behind him, he heard a splash as Willa surged back into the water. He refused to look back.

  Willa watched Aidan leave without a word and enter the woods. A frown plucked at her lips. He was so passionate at one moment, making her loins burst once more with exquisite pleasure, then cold as the fish in the pond the next. She dismissed him with a toss of her head. His moodiness would not spoil the remainder of her day. She cupped water in her hand and washed his glistening seed from the insides of her thighs. This time there was no blood, and to her surprise, his impromptu lovemaking resulted in only a bit of discomfort. In fact her muscles were heated and saturated with a languid weakness. Her daylong soreness had nearly vanished. She fell backward into the water, let her body sink to the bottom, and pushed off. When she came to the surface in a burst of sparkling drops, she floated on her back and invited the last of the day’s sun to burn into her body.

  A chill whispered across her breasts and caused her skin to pucker. Willa opened her eyes and permitted her feet to sink. The sun was a burnt-orange glow above the tree-tops as evening stole across the dell. Hunger gnawed at her belly, and she swam to shore with the hope that Aidan had caught rabbits for dinner. As she emerged from the pond, water sluicing down her body and cool air covering her skin in goose bumps, she saw no sign of him. No fire burned in the camp, and the horses stood nearby, still saddled and bridled. Tension coiled in her chest. He would not leave the horses untended for this long. Aidan took better care of them than of her or himself.

  The skin between her eyes crinkled as Willa scanned the edge of the woods and pulled on her clothes. She saw no evidence he had come back to the camp. After tending first to the horses, she hobbled and released them to graze in the meadow. By the time she gathered wood and built a fire, she wore a frown. Where was he? What had he got himself into? The notion of his being hurt or captured prompted her heart to race in a terrifying way.

  Picking up the rifle lying beside his saddlebags, she checked it for powder and ball and entered the shadowy forest. The light was fading fast. She had to find Aidan before she lost his tracks in the darkness. Had he encountered trouble, morning could be too late. Willa followed the trail of trampled underbrush, broken twigs, and the occasional footprint, and smiled. Some spy he made. The path he left was as wide as that of a browsing cow.

  When she neared a rock outcropping, the metallic click of a pistol hammer being cocked passed through her ears. Aidan? Or the gun of a deserter or military picket?

  She brought up the rifle and crept forward, all the while inspecting the ground and trees around her.

  “No closer,” a strained voice called out. “I have you in my sights.”

  Chapter 20

  Willa exhaled the breath lodged in her throat. “Rubbish, Aidan. Had you truly had me in your sights, you would have recognized me.”

  “Willa?”


  She held her retort and hurried toward the sound of his voice. He sat on the ground with his back braced against a hickory tree and the pistol aimed at her chest. His other hand pressed against his outer thigh.

  Willa laid the rifle on the ground, squatted down on her heels, and searched for blood. “What happened to you? Were you shot? I did not hear gunfire.”

  He lowered the pistol slowly, and pain flickered in his eyes. “Snakebite. I was setting the snare by that rock pile. When I stood up, it bit me in the leg.”

  Her stomach clenched. “What kind of snake?”

  “Does it matter?” He gave her a twisted smile.

  “Of course, it does. What did it look like? Was it a rattlesnake?” Shiny sweat covered his ashen face. The pupils of his eyes looked larger than normal, and he struggled for breath. The bite had occurred some time ago. They had no time to argue.

  “Had it been a rattlesnake, I would have heard it.” He raised a trembling arm to point toward the rocks. “If you insist on making its acquaintance, I have a suspicion ‘tis still there.”

  Willa jumped up and raced to the rocks. Sure enough, the grayish heavy-bodied snake with hourglass-shaped copper crossbands still lay coiled on the rock. It had emerged from its den to soak up the last of the sun before winter came in earnest. She let out her breath. This variety of snake was no stranger. The reptile regarded her with unblinking vertical pupils and slithered away to disappear into a crevice.

  She came back to Aidan and settled on the ground beside him. “This is your fortunate day. The snake is a copperhead.”

  He released a weak chuckle. “I confess, I feel less fortunate than foolish. I know to watch for snakes near rocks. I suspect my brain was unhinged after the way you took my virtue in the pond.”