Rory released her and searched her gaze but must have been content with what he saw as he took her mouth again. When she closed her eyes and sank into him, the world tilted suddenly and she found herself lying amongst the soft heather, the fragrance blossoming around her and the flowers tickling her legs. Isla opened her eyes to see Rory looming over her, hands pressed either side of her head.
With his hard body aligned with hers, his weight kept on his hands, it felt as though her chest had deflated. But she didn’t need air. Nay, she only needed Rory and his touch and his lips. One finger urged her head back, allowing him access to her neck. She suddenly felt delicate again but it thrilled her as he traced down from her chin, over the fragile skin above her collarbone before sketching a path across the slight rise of her breasts. Arching her back, Isla pressed into his touch. She’d been yearning for this for so long, she wasn’t going to give Rory a single moment to doubt her.
His fingers landed on the laces at the front of her gown and twined slowly into them as he held her gaze. With deliberate leisure, he drew out each one and she wriggled impatiently as a tilted smile came across his lips.
“Rory!” she cried in frustration.
“Lass, I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, I cannae rush.”
“If ye fear ye’ll frighten me away, ye dinnae need to worry. Besides, we’ve got the rest of our lives together for going slowly. Pray, Rory, touch me before I go out of my wits.”
“Ye make a persuasive argument, Isla.” He chuckled and pressed aside her gown.
Her chemise came next, with less grace than her gown and she was exposed to the open air. Desire and the breeze made her nipples peak but the slight chill only emphasised the sensations rocketing through her. Being bared to Rory and the Highlands made her stomach flip and her limbs quiver.
One large hand covered her breast and she glanced down, mouth drying at the sight and feel of so much heat on her skin. She moaned as he plucked her nipple in between his fingers. Rory’s other hand began creeping up her calf and he shifted slightly to allow him access. It seemed to happen in one swift movement. His mouth came around her pebbled nipple and his fingertips found her wet folds. It was almost too much to think on.
Using a light touch, he circled and toyed with her. She moved with him, rolling her hips in a bid for more as the sweet nips at her breast sent shards of pleasure to her core. Isla tangled her fingers into his long dark hair and smiled at the sight of his weather-beaten features against her skin. Rough against smooth. It signified them so very much yet Rory could be more tender than he realised and she was stronger than she looked.
“I need to feel ye, mo chridhe,” he muttered. “Nay, I need to taste ye.”
Before she could utter a protest or even question his words, he had slipped down between her legs and hitched up her skirts. Eyes wide, she watched as he touched his tongue to her juncture. She jerked. Sweet Mary, he wasn’t really going to—
Rory dipped his head and if she thought the sight of him against her breast was enough, the sight of his dark head between her legs sent jolts through her. He suckled and licked at her, moving in small circles and then thrusting into her opening with his tongue. It felt so very wrong and so deliciously right. He nibbled lightly across her and met her gaze as he pushed one finger gently into her.
Her body clamped down instantly on him, gratified by the invasion. She called his name while he moved lightly within in her. His lips continued to play over her most sensitive part as another finger joined in. With each sound of pleasure she made, he moved quicker. Somehow he read her to perfection, better than even she could. While she was not very knowledgeable of things between men and women, she knew well enough how to bring herself to the peak but Rory made the experience unlike anything she had ever done.
Isla hooked one leg over his shoulder, causing him to groan which in turn amplified the sensations. She closed her eyes and moved in time with his licks and thrusts. In the waning sunlight, bathed in heather, she plummeted over the edge. Her heart pounded as she dragged open her eyes and saw Rory’s self-satisfied grin.
Curling a finger, she beckoned to him. He prowled over her, like some Highland beast and though she was sensitive, she craved her husband again already.
“Do ye believe I am stronger than I look now?” she asked breathily.
“Mayhap.”
“Will ye no’ take me now so I can prove it?”
“I dinnae want to take ye to prove some point, lass. But I will take ye because yer sweet taste is enough to drive a man wild and I need ye…I need ye more than any man has ever needed a woman.”
Isla grinned at the soft words coming out of her hardened warrior’s mouth. How could he have ever thought himself too rough for her? Impatient for him to fulfil his words, she tugged at the pin holding his plaid in place and it sprang open. He helped her discard his plaid and the rest of his garments. The man was incredibly large and strong, but who could not love a man so strong yet so sensitive to her needs?
He came to rest beside her and stroked his hand down her side, taking his time to explore her breasts and bottom before enfolding his plaid around them both and coaxing her on top of him. Isla drew a path across his chest, circled his nipples and indents of his stomach, counting each of the four ridges. She bent over to lick one nipple and he released a surprised curse. She jerked upright, his reaction unexpected.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Nay, ye do everything right, lass. That’s the problem. How am I meant to control myself when ye behave like that?”
“Behave like what?” Realising she was pushing the warrior over the edge, Isla nudged against his manhood, teasing him with her heat. Who could believe a lass like her had such power over a man like Rory?
“Ach, for a sweet wee lass, ye know how to torture a man.”
“It doesnae have to be torture.”
He gripped her hips to still her and his gaze roamed her breasts, stomach and thighs. Then he lifted her easily and positioned her over him. “Ye are in charge now, Isla.” She went to sink onto him but he held her immobile. “Dinnae rush it. I willnae forgive myself if ye get hurt.”
She nodded. As much as she wanted to hurry and have his hard heat buried inside her, Rory was a large man and they’d only made love once before. If she was to show him he couldn’t hurt her, it would not do to act in haste.
She lowered slowly, his hot flesh spearing her. Her earlier climax made him slip in easily. She winced as she sank further and her muscles stretched but soon he was embedded in her, solid and wonderfully invasive. Isla remained like that for a few moments, aware of his glittering gaze burning into her. What must she look like, plaid around her shoulders, breasts bared to the world, his shaft deep inside her? It made her stomach clench in delight.
When the tightness subsided, she moved against him and a fresh surge of gratification struck her. She remembered this now from their first and only time together. How as soon as he’d moved within her, overwhelming feelings had consumed her. But she was ready for it this time and she would not crumble.
Palms flat against his stomach, she rose up until only the tip of him sat inside her and she sank down heavily making them both groan. Rory used his hands to coax a tempo out of her and soon they were working frantically with one another. Isla relished the sounds he made, the way he gasped her name as he speared up into her. Whatever they did, seemed right. Fast and hard or slow and soft, they did it all and soon her body tensed up on the edge once more. Rory’s thumb found her sensitive spot and rubbed against it.
“That’s it, lass. I need to see yer pleasure,” he urged.
His words were enough. Hot, molten gratification pulsed from between her thighs and around him as he continued to thrust and rub. She sagged but remained upright as Rory moved his hips and tiny spirals of warmth threaded through her.
Rory’s face contorted and she observed, enthralled by the satisfaction clearly written on his face as he filled her. Emotion threatene
d to overcome her but she kept the tears at bay as he opened his eyes and grinned.
Hands upon her back, he urged her forward and tugged the plaid further over them both. Unable to hold it back, several tears escaped. Rory must have felt them against his chest and he tilted her chin so he could view her.
“What is this, lass? Have I wronged ye again?”
“Nay,” she released a spluttered giggle. “’Twas too wonderful, ‘tis all. But I am glad ye asked rather than just assuming.”
He chuckled and rubbed the dampness away. “Ah, and here I thought I had me a tough Highland lass.”
“I’m tough enough,” she protested. “But ye cannae give a woman pleasure like that and not expect her to cry.”
Stroking her hair, he urged her to rest against his chest once more and his voice rumbled in her ear. “Ye know how to flatter a man, lass, I’ll give ye that.” His tone softened. “Yer a fine wee one, Isla. So strong and bold yet soft and tender. I hope ye’ll return home with me and take up yer place as my wife once more.”
She smiled against him. “Of course I will. As long as ye take up yer place in bed next to me.”
“Ye can bet on that. I’ll no’ be leaving it again if I’m no’ careful.”
They both laughed and huddled together under the plaid. Isla couldn’t keep the grin from her face. Who would have thought? The English invasion had done some good after all…
***
Instant panic struck Rory when he awoke. Bolting upright, he studied the empty plaid next to him. Hellfire, how could he have fallen asleep while the English were on the rampage? And where was Isla? On his feet, he snatched his sword and scanned the landscape. He must have slept most of the night as the beginning of dawn was trickling across the mountains, turning the heather a deep red. He was lucky it hadn’t been a cold night or he’d have not woken at all.
The sounds of footsteps through the undergrowth caused him to spin wildly and he sagged. “Isla!”
She strolled to his side, a hand across her mouth as she supressed a giggle. “What are ye doing, Rory?”
“I thought ye’d been taken or…” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “or decided ye didnae want me after all.”
Her gaze skimmed over his naked state and she laughed.
Rory scowled. “’Tis no laughing matter, lass. I shouldnae have fallen asleep. Anything could have happened.”
Isla shook her head, her light brown curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Ach, my mighty warrior, ye should see yerself. As much as I appreciate ye without yer plaid, I think ye should dress. ‘Twould not do for ye to give anyone a scare should they come across us.”
He allowed his scowl to deepen while he hurriedly dressed, thrusting his limbs into his garments. He still had not quite got over the fear something had happened to her. And here she was laughing at him! “Are ye saying I’m a terrifying sight?” he asked grumpily.
“Not at all, Rory,” she said softly. She came to his side and helped him pin his plaid.
When he glanced down at her, his heart thudded to a stop and all his ire dissolved. Her deep brown eyes ate into him, so soft and beautiful. Ach, how could he ever stay angry at this lass? The growing sunlight picked out the fair strands scattered amongst the brown in her hair, making them seem almost golden.
Unable to resist, he dropped a light kiss to her lips and was rewarded with her body softening into his. Ach, but he was soft in the head for this lass. “Where were ye?”
She remained huddled against him, just tucked into his side. Where before he thought her too small, now she seemed perfect.
“Looking for firewood. I’d hoped to make ye something to break yer fast. But I didnae find much.”
“Nay, ye willnae find much around here, unless that old cottage has some wood in it but I’d wager it was stripped long ago.”
“I think yer right. We shall have to satisfy ourselves with some bread I fear.”
Rory nodded. “Aye, that we will, but ‘tis no matter. We’ll stop at the village on the way back to the keep and eat there.” He paused. “Ye havenae changed yer mind have ye?”
“About returning home?” She drew back. “Nay, of course not.” Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “Unless…unless ye have.”
Rory laughed. He shouldn’t have done but it was a relief that he wasn’t the only one doubting things. They had a way to go as man and wife, he concluded. They’d both spent too long questioning the other but they had made a start. Without a doubt, he wanted Isla by his side for the rest of his life.
“Forgive me, lass. I didnae mean to laugh. I would fight to my last breath to have ye by my side.”
She released a gentle smile and turned to rummage in his saddle bag. He admired her as she gave his mount a reassuring pat. Even after a night out in the Highlands she remained so beautiful. And such a contradiction. The way she moved and spoke was so at odds with everything he had learned of her. He itched to learn so much more. From now on, he was determined to pay much more attention to his wonderful wife. Rory released a grin. He was a lucky man indeed for how many other men had a sweet, caring wife who could fight off the English?
After they broke their fast, they mounted and made their way back down the valley toward the settlement. Rory had to admit having a wee wife was useful when it came to having her ride with him. His horse barely noticed the additional weight.
He estimated they were not more than a mile away from the village when three riders came over the hill. He braced a hand on his sword. They were highlanders but who knew if they were friend or foe. Isla’s hands tensed on his waist and he swore to himself he’d do whatever he needed to do to protect her.
The leader, a large man in a green plaid waved a hand and slowed as they approached. Rory exhaled slowly when he recognised him as the village leader. And then he stiffened as he noted the riders’ anxious expressions.
“Gregor, is all well?” he called as they brought their mounts up next to his.
“Nay, laird. The English have taken the settlement. They’ve got our women and children and some of the men locked up in the main hall. We couldnae fight them as they took us by surprise. If we raise a hand, they’ll burn them, I’m sure.”
A heavy knot twisted his stomach and he heard Isla release a gasp. “God’s blood,” he murmured. “What do they want? Are they there for supplies?”
Gregor shook his head, his grey hair blowing about his shoulders in the gentle breeze. “Nay, they’re there for ye, my laird. We managed to get away and were coming to find ye and warn ye. We hoped to seek aid in the next village too.”
Rory shook his head. “’Tis a day away, ye’ll no’ get help in time.”
“Aye, but none would give ye up, laird, so we knew not what else to do. There isnae enough of us to fight them. They must have gathered more men since their first attempt at an attack.”
He considered this for a moment. He was no coward. No highlander would flee and let women and children pay for his actions. He’d have to hand himself over. Mayhap he could negotiate with them.
Isla squeezed his waist. “They’ll want yer head,” she said softly. “Ye’ve been a thorn in their side. They’ll take ye to the tower.”
She was right. He’d played a strong role in defeating the English at Stirling. The king would want him dead. Briefly clasping her hand, he dismounted and eyed her gravely. “Ye know I cannae leave the villagers to their fate.”
She nodded, tears shimmering in her gaze. “I know.”
Ach, but he was proud of his brave lass. “I’ll do all I can to negotiate with them,” he assured her. “I’m in no mind to give them my head.” Rory kissed her knuckles. “Stay here. Stay safe.” He turned to Gregor. “Will ye accompany my wife back to the keep should anything happen to me? I’m trusting ye to keep her safe.”
“Aye, laird. Of course.” Gregor dipped his head and Rory’s heart lifted the tiniest bit.
Gregor would ensure her safety and his brother would look after her, he knew that m
uch. But an ache still lingered as he glanced in her eyes. If only they had not wasted so much time on uncertainty. If he had but spoken to her of his concerns, they would have had a happy couple of seasons together. Still, he did not resist offering her a tilted smile as he recalled their passionate lovemaking.
“Look after yerself, lass. I’ll see ye soon.”
Isla offered up a watery smile and nodded. Turning away, Rory motioned to the two other men. “Come with me. I might have need of yer sword arms.”
He left Isla on the horse. If he went in on foot, he would look less threatening. Hopefully he could appease the English into a truce. But he still needed the reassurance of the two warriors either side of him.
Rory did not glance back. He couldn’t. If he did, he might not have the courage to continue on. For what man wanted to leave such a woman knowing he might never hold her again? It wasn’t the first time he’d said farewell to her before going off to fight but he’d always been assured of a victory.
“Wait!”
With heavy legs, he twisted to see Isla leap from his mount and dash toward him. She threw her slight weight against him and wrapped her arms around him. “I love ye, Rory.” She burrowed her face into his neck.
Hands trembling slightly, he stroked her hair and grasped her to him. “I love ye too, lass.”
Before he weakened, he urged her away and she took a step back, mayhap understanding his need for distance. Giving her a final nod, he began his journey to the village, heart weighted with anxiety. He only hoped he could come back to her. He felt her gaze on him, even as they reached the brow of the hill but he refused to look back. Isla was a brave lass, he knew that now, and she didn’t need a prolonged farewell.
When they came to the edge of the village, Rory quickly understood why the villagers had been overcome. Though the English only numbered at about five and ten, they were heavily armed and these peasants were no warriors. Once the English had taken the womenfolk, it would have been easy to subdue the men.
I Left My Heart in Scotland Page 17
