While there was work to be done, Gavin ignored it in favor of more personal pursuits. Being kept under close watch during his childhood had given him a love for reading that adulthood and his abrupt freedom had failed to oppress. Several cups of tea specially made for him helped to keep his headache at bay. He was in his father's library, his library now, a quarter of the way through an old novel when a bit of servant gossip caught his ear and set his heart to racing.
“-in the town talkin' bout outlaws bein' up round the moors,” came a male voice, slipping through the partly opened door. “'N nae like the good rebel kinds, neither. Some nasty types. Bunch 'o men that got out of prison, been making a menace of themselves down south. Guess they're headin' up here now.”
“So long as they keep away from here, I dinnae give a lick-”
Gavin's gaze darted to the clock on the mantle. It had been hours since the MacGregor's and their accompanying household had left. So long as they kept up a steady pace, and with the weather so fine there was no reason for them not to, they would be deep into the moors now. Their coach, laden as it was with rich clothes and valuable jewels, would make a tempting target for any band of outlaws, especially ones who believed they had the upper hand.
Gavin was out of his seat before he could even fully process what he was doing, running down the halls past startled servants and into the manor's modest armory, a small room near to the cellar where arms and powder were stored. He fetched his musket and sword, and pouch of paper cartridges and slipped out into the kitchens and then through the back door, shouting for someone to bring him a horse. He must have looked a sight, for no one questioned his orders, only hopped to carry them out. Perhaps it was nothing, and there was no true danger, but Gavin would rather look a fool than let any harm befall Reagan and her brother if there was something he could do to prevent it.
“Ye!” he shouted, pointing to one of his servants, Peter, who was a particularly good shot with a musket. “Arm yersel and come with me.”
“Sir?” Peter asked.
“Just get ye going, lad!” Gavin shouted. “Now!”
“Aye, sir!”
By the time Peter came back with his musket and pistol in hand, two horses had been saddled and were ready. Gavin's beast shifted uneasily beneath him, sensing its master's tension. Peter nodded to show he was ready and Gavin put his heels to his horse's flanks, pushing the beast into a canter off towards the moors with Peter riding hard at his back. His head raced with a dozen thoughts, and none of them were pleasant. Reagan may have had her brother, but they had brought only house servants with them, and few at that. While Gavin didn't doubt that Reagan and Isaac could defend themselves, it would only do so much against a group that outnumbered them. There was always a chance that no danger would find them, but Gavin wasn't willing to take that risk.
Soon the moors spread out before them, low and swampy, the road a winding trail through the safest parts to cross. Gavin reined in his mount, giving the horse a much needed minute to catch its breath, while he stood in the stirrups and scanned the area, looking for any sign of the MacGregor's coach or foul play in the form of bandits.
“They must be further along,” he said to Peter.
“Who, sir?” Peter asked. “Ye never told me why we be ridin' like the devil 'imself is chasin' us.”
“Prowling outlaws,” Gavin replied. “This is the road the MacGregor's are taking back tae their home. I must warn them, if naught else.”
“Aye, sir,” Peter replied. “As ye say.”
What Gavin didn't say was that his heart was racing beneath his ribs, his chest tight with anxiety, his stomach feeling almost sick with it. He was almost sure that something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. He clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward again. He heard Peter follow suit. Tension filled Gavin's body from tip to toe. It made his horse skittish, but his expert hands on the reins kept the beast in check. They trotted down the main road, the both of them keeping an eagle eye out for any indication of trouble.
It was the unmistakable crack of a musket discharge that alerted the two men. Peter's horse reared, nearly throwing the poor lad, its alarmed whinny piercing the sky. Gavin whipped his head in the direction the gunshot had come from, wrestling with his startled horse. He could see white smoke curling into the sky over one of the hills. He snatched up his musket from where it was tied to his saddle and wrenched his horse about, forcing the frightened beast off the road and towards the smoke. Peter, struggling to get his horse under control, did not follow.
Riding straight across the moors was a dangerous path. Any number of invisible ditches could lie in Gavin’s way. There was no way to be sure that his horse wouldn’t stumble into one and break its leg, and throw Gavin off in the process. But he wasn’t about to take the long way round when Reagan’s life could be in danger. As frightened as his horse was, it was well-trained, and followed Gavin’s commands with little resistance. He reached the top of the hill and looked down. The road twisted through the valley, and there, at the side of the dirt and cobbles, was the MacGregor’s coach, surrounded by a party of four men. The shot Gavin and Peter had heard must have been a warning, for Gavin could see no signs of injury or any bodies crumpled on the ground.
He vaulted off of his horse and crouched down amidst the tall grasses. His musket had range, but he only had one shot before he lost the advantage of surprise, and he needed to make it count. His sword and dirk clattered softly in their scabbards as he slid down the side of the hill, the grass scratching at his face and legs. He dropped to one knee at the bottom, surveying his targets carefully.
One was by the carriage door, conversing with either Isaac or Reagan in a voice too soft for Gavin to hear. The other three had their guns trained on the servants and driver, their posture cocky and confident. Gavin brought his musket up to bear and aimed the barrel at the man closest to the MacGregor’s.
“God, dinnae let me miss,” he whispered, and pulled the trigger. The butt of the musket pushed hard against his shoulder and a puff of smoke obscured his view for the longest of seconds. He heard the cries of horses and curses of men, and when the smoke cleared Gavin saw he had made his shot. His target had dropped from the saddle, dead, his horse running out into the moors. The remaining three were searching for the source of the shot. Gavin had to act quickly; he wouldn’t remain unnoticed for long. He slipped a cartridge from the pouch hanging at his waist and loaded it as quickly as he was able, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. He heard another crack and glanced up to see that Isaac had leaned out the window and shot one of the outlaws in the shoulder. The man had dropped his gun. Gavin quickly pointed his musket and fired, the bullet taking the man in the stomach. He crumpled forward over his horse and half slipped from the saddle when the beast startled and ran. Gavin reloaded again, making his way towards the carriage.
The last two outlaws had spotted him now, and he needed cover. The bandits shot, releasing a volley of noise and smoke, but they missed Gavin, though barely. He peered through the grasses, looking for where the men had taken shelter. They had the height of their horses to their advantage, and Gavin was all but a sitting duck out in the open.
He aimed again, and two shots echoed across the moors. Gavin felt a firm punch in his shoulder as he saw another man fall dead. When he tried to lift his arm, a hot pain blossomed through what seemed like the whole of his body.
“Gavin!” he heard Reagan call.
The pain was too much for him to do anything more than gasp, and there were spots at the corners of his eyes. He sucked in desperate breaths of the acrid smelling air and dropped his musket, going for the pistol stuffed through his belt. He raised it and shot, but his aim was wide, and the bullet soared harmlessly off into a hillside. It was Isaac who dispatched the last outlaw, and Reagan came running to his side, calling for her brother. Together, the two of them helped Gavin walk to the coach.
There was the tearing of fabric and then pressure on the hole in his shoulder that
made him cry out. Reagan hushed him softly and she and her brother half pushed half lifted him into their coach. Gavin’s breath came in harsh pants. He felt Reagan sit next to him and place her hand on his brow, smoothing his hair back and muttering soft nonsense into his ear. Isaac shouted orders to his men. It must have been five minutes before he felt the carriage turn around and head back the way it had come, back towards Gavin’s estate.
“Stay with us now, love,” Reagan said, but the jolting of the coach was too much for Gavin to bear, and he soon lost consciousness.
*****
When he woke next he was in his own bed, thoroughly naked, with a throbbing in his shoulder and a mouth full of cotton. There wasn’t a bit of his body that didn’t seem to ache, and his arm had the worst of it. An attempt to shift it did nothing but send a lance of pain down to his fingers. He cracked open his eyes. The curtains were drawn and the room was dim, lit only by candles and a small fire burning in the hearth. Even with the windows covered Gavin knew it was dark outside. He must have been out for several hours.
With a grunt, he propped himself up on his good elbow and looked around for a pitcher of water. His blankets covered him from the waist down, and wrapped around his chest was a length of bandage, all meeting at his shoulder. There was a dot of red on the linen. Gavin sighed and rolled his head to the side. A pitcher of water and a basin had been set on his bedside table. Letting his injured arm sag, Gavin used what strength he had to sit and drape his legs over the side of the bed. The blankets tugged at his hips as he reached for the pitcher and gulped down large mouthfuls of cool water. It dripped down onto his chest and stomach, running in little rivulets along the line of his muscles. He was trying to reposition himself when the door opened and Reagan stepped into his room, carrying a small bundle in her arms. Gavin felt his neck grow hot and automatically reached to pull the blankets closer to himself.
“Dinnae be shy,” Reagan said as she closed the door behind her. Gavin could hear the relief in her voice as plain as day. “I’m glad tae see ye awake. We were afraid perhaps ye had lost too much blood.”
“We?” Gavin croaked out.
“Isaac and I,” Reagan replied. She crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed. She found where the end of his bandages had been tucked away and started to unwrap them. Gavin shifted as much as he could to accommodate her. “We’re both verra thankful for yer assistance,” she continued, “but I must admit I’m curious as tae why ye were there at all.”
“Call it a gut feeling,” Gavin replied. “I heard the servants talking in the hall about outlaws in the area, and I just kent I had tae reach ye. I may hae looked a fool were nothing amiss, but ma head would not allow me tae sit idly by and wait.”
The smell of herbs curled into Gavin’s nose. Someone, Reagan he assumed, had pressed a poultice into his wound. His dirty bandages were discarded on the floor, and Reagan prepared the new ones.
“Nae sign of infection,” she said, and raised her blue eyes to his. “Ye are either verra brave, or verra foolish.”
“Can it nae be both?” Gavin asked.
Reagan glanced away, her gentle hands re-bandaging his shoulder with practiced ease. Gavin settled back when she was done, very aware of the closeness of her body and his nakedness, and feeling both thrilled and awkward from the proximity.
“Perhaps it can,” Reagan said. She stood, only to round the edge of the bed and come to Gavin’s uninjured side, standing silhouetted by the fire. Gavin watched her curiously. “I was afraid,” she said, “when I saw ye fall.” Her hands worked in the darkness, pulling at the ties of her bodice. “It felt like someone had reached into the verra heart of me and squeezed. I dinna ken what I would hae done had ye died.”
“Ye needn’t worry,” Gavin replied. “I live, and ye are here with me. There’s nothing on this earth I would trade that for.” Fabric rustled in the quiet and something fell to the floor. “What’re ye doing?”
“I wish tae be with ye,” Reagan replied.
She lifted the blankets, ignoring his startled, strangled protest, and slipped into bed next to him, her body warm and supple through the thin material of her shift. She pillowed her head on his good shoulder and laid a hand on his stomach, rubbing gently. Gavin’s heart was a lump in his throat, and only grew as Reagan’s hand moved down.
“Yer brother-”
“Disnae own me. I am ma own woman, an’ I could hae lost ye today, without e’er having kent what it’s like tae truly be one with ye.”
Her touch was like fire. Gavin groaned despite himself, his eyes sliding shut as Reagan’s hand wrapped around his length. His solitary youth had meant he had been denied the touch of a woman, but now that it was Reagan who was there with him he was glad, for once, for his lack of experience. Reagan’s touch was unsure, but not hesitant. She explored what got the best reaction out of him, her lips leaving little dots of fire on his shoulder and chest. Her breath was hot when she sighed across his skin. He missed her touch the instant she moved her hand, but then she grabbed his and guided it between her legs where she was hot and wet, and made the smallest noise of pleasure in the back of her throat.
“Jaysus,” Gavin sighed, crooking his fingertips to explore her folds. Reagan pressed her face to his shoulder and gently rolled her hips into his touch.
“Will ye, Gavin?” Reagan asked. “Please...”
“Aye,” Gavin said. His voice was as low and rough as Reagan’s. “Aye, only, how-with me arm-”
For a short moment Reagan neither spoke nor moved, then she lifted her head and dislodged Gavin’s hand as she shifted around her body weight until she could lift her underclothes up and off, dropping them over the side of the bed. She pressed her naked flesh to his, and carefully swung one leg over his waist to straddle him. She leaned into his chest, hands grasping his face, and kissed him soundly.
Her buttocks rubbed back against his manhood, creating a friction that was quickly driving him mad. He tried to move his arms to grab her hips, forgetting about his shoulder, only to wince and gasp out in pain when his wound flared. Reagan hushed him and placed one of his hands against her hip before kissing him again.
“Are ye ready?” Reagan asked.
Gavin found he could not speak, and instead nodded, never letting his gaze leave hers. Reagan drew in a deep breath, and began to inch her hips back. Gavin helped as much as he was able, his hand half gripping Reagan’s hip and half her rear to guide her onto his aching manhood. They groaned in unison as she slid easily onto him, her warm walls like velvet encasing him. Gavin only knew what he had heard talk of from servants and family, but his body had been waiting, and Gavin felt his own hips rise up to meet Reagan’s body as she fully settled on him, slipping the last fraction of his erection inside her. Neither of them moved for a long time. Reagan buried her face in Gavin’s neck and left it there, breathing quickly, her hair a dark curtain spreading over both their bodies. Gavin raised his hand to stroke it, inhaling the scent of her.
It was Reagan who moved first, undulating her hips in a slow, even rhythm. “Touch me,” she whispered into Gavin’s skin.
“Where?” Gavin asked in a throaty husk. “How?”
“Here,” Reagan sighed and moved his hand between her legs again.
Gavin rubbed as he had before, with Reagan’s fingertips pressing into his wrist, keeping his hand firmly in place as she rode him, her body moving as if she had done so a hundred times before. It was impossible for Gavin to keep his eyes open, as much as he wanted to watch the pleasure on Reagan’s face. He wished with all his being that he could use his other arm, that he could properly hold her and take her as a man should. Already there was sweat gathering on his skin and a pressure growing at the base of his shaft. Reagan’s moans were soft, unrestrained. To his right the fire crackled away, warming them both as they neared their peak. He heard the change in Reagan’s breathing and felt her grip on his wrist tighten. Her lips crashed into his in a desperate kiss, tongue pressing against his teeth. Gavin ro
lled his hips up, feeling and sensing that she was close to the pinnacle of her pleasure and not wanting to leave her there alone.
“Marry me,” Gavin said, forcing the words out of his mouth. “Tomorrow. I cannae imagine a life without ye in it.”
“Aye,” Reagan replied instantly. “Aye, aye.” She kissed him again and again, moaning against his lips, her body trembling lightly under his touch.
The heat Gavin felt where they joined exploded into a rush of warmth that filled his entire body. He heard himself cry out and held Reagan as close to him as he could, thrusting firmly up into her. She moaned his name, lips by his ear, and joined him in his pleasure. She sagged against him a moment later, panting into his good shoulder, still gently rubbing herself against his fingers. Gavin left his hand where it was until Reagan pushed it away herself, and lifted it to tangle his fingers in her hair. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the musk of their sweat and sex.
“I could die a happy man,” he said with a laugh.
Reagan chuckled weakly. “Dinna ye dare,” she said. She rolled off him, both of them groaning as he slipped out of her, then cuddled up against his side, her legs wrapped around one of his. “Did ye mean it?” she asked, pillowing her head against his chest.
Gavin stroked her hair, feeling his heartbeat slowly return to normal. His shoulder ached like the devil, but it was worth it for what he and Reagan had shared.
“Aye, I mean it,” he said. “Marry me.”
“Then we had best sleep,” Reagan said, already sounding sleepy, “for we shall need all the energy we can muster for tomorrow night.”
Gavin huffed out a short, soft laugh and let his body relax, warm, content and satisfied with Reagan at his side.
***
Gavin wasn't sure if it was possible for his arm to hurt more than it did when he woke up the next morning, but he was in no hurry to test the theory. Reagan had woken before him and dressed, and changed the dressing on his shoulder before she went to tell her brother the news. Gregory entered his room so soon after she had left that it was unlikely the butler was unaware of their shared night, but he said not a word, only helped Gavin from his bed and fetched clothes.
Pregnant to an Alien King Box Set Page 136
