Border Lord's Bride

by Gerri Russell

  Since the moment she returned to his life, he'd been assailed by old feelings and emotions. Part of him wanted to hold her and kiss her, while the other part wanted to run as he had before, as far away from her, as fast as he could.

  But he'd tried running away once, and it hadn't banished her from his thoughts. He released a heartfelt sigh. Did that mean he should hold her and kiss her instead? Was that the new memory he wanted to make here this night?

  Lucius's emotions warred inside him. His intention had been merely to spend time with her—to create new memories—and yet the sight of her wild innocence, her sweet scent, the feel of her warmth were almost more than he could bear. He craved her on a level he did not understand. She filled him with more than just lust; she did things to him he'd never been able to comprehend.

  "Lucius?" she asked, with sudden curiosity lighting her wide, brown eyes.

  "Let's go." He reached for her hand, and together they hiked the short distance up the rocky ledge to sit atop a huge outcropping of slate.

  At the top she smiled. "I remember being here as children and thinking this was the farthest I'd ever seen."

  "When it's clear, you can see all the way to England from here." He cleared the ledge of the remaining snow before he set the saddlebag down and gathered wood into the center of the rock.

  It wasn't long before cheery flames glowed and sparks fluttered above the fire. The crackling of the wood as it burned peppered the darkness with noise. The warmth of the bonfire pressed back the chill of the night enough so that Lucius had removed his cloak and set it on the rock beneath them.

  Elizabeth sat a ways from him and reclined on her elbows against the soft fur that lined his cloak. She stared at the star-filled sky, looking as content before the fire's heat as a feline. At the sight of her, a different sort of need he hadn't felt in years suddenly consumed him. He reached for his saddlebag and withdrew a sheaf of linen and a charcoal he'd tossed inside. He spread the paper on the rock beside him. The faint scratching noise of his charcoal filled the silence.

  "What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, turning to face him.

  "Come see for yourself."

  She hesitated for a moment before she stood and moved cautiously to his side. "You can't be drawing the view, because we can't see any—" She gasped and unsteadily sank to her knees beside him. "You're drawing me."

  He kept his gaze fixed on the drawing, unable to see what emotion her eyes might reveal. He'd drawn her as he'd seen her by the fire. Even in only shades of black and grey he'd managed to capture the fire in her gaze, the high color in her cheek, the wild disarray of her hair.

  This was not the woman he remembered from the past. She was an entirely different woman from the one he'd left five years ago.

  Chapter Eight

  Elizabeth stared in wonder at the drawing Lucius had created of her. The image he'd drawn was far more sensual than the painting in his chamber, although this time all her clothes were on. It was the look in her eyes that said it all.

  Her breath hitched. "Lucius…" His name fell from her lips in a breathless whisper of longing.

  His fingers stalled a hairbreadth above the linen. "Do you approve?"

  "Aye." Their gazes met and she was enthralled by the possibilities she saw there. She knew then, as certainly as she'd ever known anything in her life, something had changed. He was no longer the young man who'd run away five years ago. The pain and regret that had been ever present in his eyes since his return was gone.

  He was close enough that she could feel the silken rush of his breath against her cheek. If she leaned forward she could bring her lips into contact with his. And if she did, this time she wouldn't have the power within herself to pull away. Instead of leaning forward she found herself saying, "How do you create such details?"

  He shrugged. "Images linger in my mind."

  His words, however innocent, revealed so much. No wonder he had such a difficult time letting go of his memories. They were etched on his mind in a different fashion than for most people. "You should paint more," she said quietly.

  "Come sit by me." He patted the empty space on the woolen cloak beside him and set his drawing aside. "We must speak."

  Elizabeth's heart faltered. Was she wrong in thinking she'd seen something different in his gaze only moments before? Was that what this outing was all about, one last moment together before they would part forever?

  He moved to face her. "What do you want from this arrangement between our families?"

  "I want to honor the betrothal that has been negotiated. I want to save my father's reputation."

  He turned to face her. "Nay, Elizabeth. That's what your father wants you to say." He frowned. "What do you want?"

  She stared up at him, startled. What did she want? Could he not see that in her eyes? He was the man she'd always dreamed of. She wanted him to love her, dance with her, and laugh with her, and hold her late into the night, to embrace their children, for the two of them to grow old together. But how could she say that to him?

  He reached for her hand. "Answer me, Elizabeth."

  "I want you as my husband."

  Before she could go on, he captured her lips, and she moaned at the taste of him. He tasted like all the things she wanted in this life and had never attained. She wanted him, she'd always wanted him, despite her engagement to another man.

  A catch came to her breath as Lucius reclined into her, easing her back against the fur-lined cloak. His free hand brushed over her back and he deepened his kiss. His hand on her back delved lower, to cup her bottom and press her hips closer to his. She felt the swell of his manhood as he rocked against her.

  Sensations flowed through her as every fiber of her being quivered, came alive. She curled her hand around the nape of his neck and anchored him to her. Her eyes fastened on his and something deep in her soul expanded. I am his. No matter what happened after tonight. In this moment they belonged together as one.

  She knew nothing about joining with a man, but she hoped instinct would guide the way. As if sensing her capitulation, Lucius eased her back against his cloak and unfastened the hook on hers. He set her cloak aside and slowly his fingers slipped behind her to release the ribbons of her gown. A heartbeat later he unfastened her gown and sent it sliding over her head. Her chemise followed, leaving her naked. The warmth of the fire reached around her, banishing the chill.

  He pulled back from her and removed his boots, his scabbard, then his tunic and breeches, until he lay naked beside her once more, his manhood boldly erect. How beautiful he was.

  He gathered her discarded cloak and pulled it over their bodies, shielding them from the cold. In the warmth of the cocoon he'd created, he took her hand and placed her palm against his chest. She could feel the thunder of his heartbeat vibrating through his body and into her own through her palm. Emboldened by the knowledge he was as aroused as she, Elizabeth smoothed her hand down the planes of his chest. She could feel his muscles bunch and release beneath her touch. She delighted in her power over him as she explored the smooth warm flesh over supple muscles and traced the line of dark, wiry hair to where it encircled his manhood.

  "You must cease doing that," he said, the sound guttural. Before she could touch him there, he lifted her palm to his lips and placed a tender kiss against her flesh. "I want us to take our time. If you touch me there, I'll be lost."

  Before she could ask him to explain, he trailed his fingers over her body, and everywhere he touched was blessed with fire—her breasts, her throat, her belly, her thighs. His hands nudged her legs apart and he moved between them. His head bent and he slowly rubbed his cheek back and forth on her belly. The faint abrasion of his stubble against her bare flesh was wildly exciting.

  His teeth nipped gently at her flesh, then his tongue followed to soothe and tease. She could feel his warm breath on her flesh, and the muscles of her belly tightened in response. Every muscle vibrated at an excruciating pitch of anticipation.

  He br
ought his head up and smiled at her, and Elizabeth caught her breath. This is how he should look all the time. Relaxed, with his face alight with laughter and joy. He would have looked that way had the humor not been stolen from him by years of isolation and grief.

  She wanted to give him back those years he'd lost, give him back his joy, with a desire springing as much from protectiveness as it did from passion. Her hand moved up to cup his cheek, then smooth back the hair from the side of his face. "I shall remember this moment always, Lucius."

  "Me too," he said, his voice thick. His finger delved between her thighs, searching the inner warmth of her womanhood. He found the nub for which he searched and began to slowly rotate with his finger.

  She cried out as a searing jolt of need streaked through her.

  His gaze was warm with pleasure as he watched her face. "Does this please you?"

  She curled her fingers in his hair. "Aye." She could scarcely breathe through the glorious haze of pleasure he created inside her.

  "Good." Two fingers plunged inside.

  She cried out into the night air as the intensity of his stroke increased, creating both pleasure and hunger. "Lucius, please."

  He bent his head and claimed her lips, silencing her plea. His fingers left her as he positioned himself over her and slid within her, slowly, letting her become accustomed to him, to his fullness. When he met with resistance, he paused.

  "I'm sorry for this," he said. He tensed before he thrust forward.

  She cried out as pain spasmed through her, then just as suddenly faded away until she was again aware of only the sensations of fullness, of pleasure.

  He began to move, alternating short strokes with long ones, depth with shallowness, swiftness with long, leisurely slowness.

  Elizabeth caressed his back and realized as she did that small scars zigzagged across his left shoulder to his right side. Had a sword inflicted the wound? Her heart clenched. He'd suffered so much pain.

  Slowly, lovingly, she trailed her fingers up and down the scar. She wanted him to know by her touch that regardless, she found him perfect in every way. The scent and feel of him washed over her.

  Love me, Lucius.

  The words were a prayer deep in her soul. He was all she'd ever wanted in this life. He had always been the symbol of everything good to her. He was love. Honor. Passion.

  And as though he'd heard her prayer, he plunged deep, filling her until it was as though they were one. His palms cupped her bottom, lifting her to each thrust until the glory of the moment released in a rapture that shook her to the depths of her soul. She heard Lucius's cry above her as the same wonder claimed him.

  They hung there, in that moment of bliss, where nothing and no one mattered except the delicious enjoyment they'd given each other. Their hearts beat as one. Their breathing mingled until slowly the moment faded and reality returned.

  The crisp air enveloped their cocoon of warmth as he slipped beside her and laid his head against her shoulder. She could feel the vibration of his heart against her own. She reached up and toyed with the ends of his hair as she cradled his body with her own.

  Neither of them spoke in the quietness of the night. Lucius grasped the cloak that she'd worn and pulled it over the two of them. She kissed his brow. "Sleep for a while," she breathed.

  "The sunrise." His words were light and airy and already sleepy.

  "We'll know when it's time." She tightened her arms around him, praying for many more times like this to share with the man she loved. Closing her eyes, she held tight to that hope.

  Lucius's eyes opened at the sound of a rooster crowing in the distance. The sound vibrated through the chilled predawn air. He reached down in the semidarkness and tugged the woolen cloak up tighter against Elizabeth's chin, then took a deep, satisfying breath of the morning air.

  He stretched one arm, then the other. Every muscle in his body shrieked in protest at the movement. He continued to stretch, reveling in the stiffness of his legs and torso, and grinned. He'd earned this pain, not by sleeping in a chair near the hearth, but because he'd slept on a rock alongside the most desirable woman in the world.

  Praise the saints, it felt good!

  "Elizabeth," he whispered as he stroked her cheek, allowing his fingers to tangle in her hair as they had last night. "The sunrise."

  She groaned and her eyes flickered open. "Did we miss it?"

  His smile increased at her disheveled state. She looked as though she'd been thoroughly pleasured. At the thought, his body hardened, wanting to explore her hidden secrets once more.

  The sky turned a pale orangish pink as she sat up. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, and was pleased when she leaned against his shoulder. Her being near him seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

  "Elizabeth," he said softly, trying to find a way to say what was in his heart. In this moment with her, he felt his grief lessen and something new, more hopeful, take a grip on his soul.

  She turned her face up to his and remained silent, though the warmth in her eyes gave him the courage to go on.

  "I'm sorry for how I treated you when you arrived at Midwick. I was afraid to…" He paused, knowing once he said the words he could never take them back. "I was afraid to care about anyone the way I cared about you."

  She smiled up at him. "I understand you were afraid I'd break your heart again."

  He felt the corner of his mouth quirk into a smile as he turned quickly away, staring once again at the slight blossom of orange creeping up from the horizon. "I still have a ways to go to put the past behind me."

  "Everything doesn't have to happen overnight. We have time, Lucius."

  He flashed her a grin. "Aye, we have time." Off in the distance, the sun was coloring the horizon a fiery red. Yet the woman beside him drew his interest far more, and he brought down his head and touched his mouth to hers. He brushed his lips across the softness of hers, and she gave a small gasp. Her taste flowed into him, a familiar honey. A lifetime of wanting clutched his chest, his gut, and he deepened the kiss. He brought his hand to rest against the small of her back, pulling her closer.

  The kiss seemed to go on forever, with neither of them pulling away until a glint of sunlight caressed his closed eyelids, urging him to focus his attention on the reason for this outing. With a groan of remorse he broke the kiss. "Sunrise," he whispered.

  She pressed her cheek against his chest and looked into the distance with a soft gasp.

  His gaze shifted from her to the horizon, and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. It wasn't the cloudless vibrant sky that seemed to start at his toes and reach up endlessly to the heavens above. It wasn't the realization that nothing stood between him and his God except that rising sun.

  It was the flecks of surging brown and gray against a background of white snow that stole the breath from his lungs. Lucius shot to his feet, startling Elizabeth.

  "The English are invading."

  Chapter Nine

  Lucius grabbed his boots and slammed his feet into them. "Elizabeth, we must hurry and alert the others."

  "The girls," Elizabeth whispered.

  Lucius's heart clenched. "We'll reach them in time." They dressed in silence. Once they were done, he took her hand, and together they flew down the outcropping to the horse.

  The MacKinleys were gathered in the hall breaking their fast when Lucius threw the door open with a bang and charged into the suddenly silent room. "The English are attacking!"

  The words had the desired effect, as the MacKinleys surged to life and reached for their weapons.

  "We should send a rider tae alert the clans." Malcolm MacKinley strapped his sword at his hips and grasped his battle-ax.

  Lucius nodded. "Send one of your men to ride for the clans. I want everyone prepared for that raiding party this time."

  Jacob Insley had entered the great hall and joined the men. "The Insleys will assist ye. We're nae many, but those of us who are here will fi
ght the English at yer side. I'll assemble the men."

  Lucius nodded. "My thanks, Jacob."

  Elizabeth drew closer. "What can I do? There must be something."

  Lucius schooled his features to remain blank. He had to hide from Elizabeth the uncertainty he felt. "Go to the girls. Ask Rose to show you where the hidden chamber is in the cellar. All of you stay inside. No matter what happens. You are safer there than anywhere else."

  At her nod, he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "For luck," he said a heartbeat before he left her there.

  They would need all the luck they could get to push back the English with so few men.

  The morning light glinted off the mist that lingered in pockets above the melting snow as the English marched in a column across the open grasslands.

  Lucius gripped his sword in one hand, his dagger in the other. The English had forty men to the Scots' twenty. He forced his mind to clear and tensed for battle. His horse settled, waiting for the command that would launch them forward. Out of the edges of his vision, Lucius could see the MacKinleys and the Insleys prepare themselves for the mounted charge. Amos, Silas, Malcolm, Jacob, Lachlan, and his other clansmen perched behind him, waiting for his command. Every man he could see was focused on the battle ahead.

  Lucius moved the men silently forward. At their approach, one of the Englishmen at the front of the column stiffened like a hound catching the scent of fresh blood. The man twisted toward them. He jerked on the reins of his horse and called an abrupt halt to the forward motion of the column. The man's eyes narrowed. He donned his helmet. A shrill call shattered the sudden silence.

  In response, Lucius's throat vibrated with the roar of a battle cry as old and savage as his Scottish ancestry. His kin flung themselves forward to meet their enemies head-on. The men in the first charge brought their targes up and, with the screech of metal against metal, warded off the first strike of the enemy's swords.