I Left My Heart in Scotland

by Samantha Holt

  “Touch me,” she begged, achingly aware of his hand resting on her ribs, so close to where she needed his touch.

  Blane shifted to one side, giving her the opportunity to feel the flex of a thigh between hers. She arched her hips and he pressed that thigh to the ache that only he could conquer. A hand slipped under her chemise and cupped her breast. He gave a shuddery groan before pushing the garment up and over her head.

  Cool air touched her skin, heated muscle covered it. Wet warmth surrounded her nipple suddenly and she gasped, arching into his mouth while sensations soared through her. Ceana dug her nails into his shoulders and curled her legs around his hips.

  He moved to her other nipple and pushed a rough hand behind her back. Whimpering, she held onto him and rocked her hips against his thigh. He answered with a harsh groan and came back up to take her mouth in a deep, sensual kiss.

  The calluses on his palms chafed deliciously against her skin. He moulded her breast to his palm, skimmed down to clasp her hip and slipped a hand between them to tease her. Bedsheets rasped beneath them and bedropes creaked. The scent of male skin filled her nostrils.

  His kisses grew erratic when he pressed two fingers into her. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like that, since even she had. Her duties had left her wearied and unable to find pleasure in life. Blane had brought pleasure back to her.

  Underneath her fingers, his skin grew slick. Each movement of his body told her of his need but he refused to give into it, instead sliding his fingers in and out, learning the shape of her and what made her thighs tremble. This big, bold warrior—a man whose life had taught him only how to fight and kill—touched her with such care it made her heart full and aching.

  Once the bliss began to sizzle through her, when her breaths grew shallow and rapid, he moved again.

  “Am I crushing you?”

  “Nay.”

  Ceana relished the feel of him atop her. She ran her palms over the tautness of his arms and admired all that withheld power. He could break her, he’d said. Yet she’d never felt more safe.

  Blane eased her legs father apart with his hips and his solid heat touched her. She jolted, desperation rolling through her.

  “Ceana?”

  He must have mistaken her need for fear. She didn’t think she could ever fear this man. Moving her hips in invitation, she kissed his damp neck and gripped his rear. He hissed and forged forward. Bit by bit, inch by inch, he joined them. She released an involuntary moan and urged him on again.

  Blane stopped when they were fully joined. She saw nothing but felt everything. Him solid inside her, hard against her, his muscles quivering with restraint, harsh breaths across her face.

  “Are ye looking at me?”

  “Aye.”

  She’d known somehow. Had felt his gaze upon her. “What do ye see?”

  “’Tis dark, but I see enough. Yer lips beg for my kiss and yer skin glistens under the moonlight that steals into the room. Yer hair...yer hair is wild.”

  She heard the grin in his voice. “’Tis always wild.”

  “I like it. ‘Tis wild like ye.” He punctuated the word with a slight shift of his hips.

  “I am no’ wild. I’m careful, cautious. I have to be.”

  “Aye, but underneath that, I see wildness in ye.”

  Tears brushed the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t sure why his words had touched her but she supposed it was because he’d seen so much more of her than anyone else. Inside there was a girl who longed to run across the Highlands with no fear of tripping. The kind of girl who slipped into a near stranger’s bed simply because she wanted a moment of pleasure.

  “Ye bring the wildness out in me.”

  “Good. But keep yer wildness only for me, Ceana, a ghràdh.” He kissed beneath her ear and gave a tiny thrust again. “Wildness can get ye killed. Save it for me, wildling. Can ye do that?”

  She nodded.

  “Promise me, Ceana.” He took the moment to withdraw and thrust deeply, sending sparks through her body. “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  Blane gave her an unsteady kiss and rocked forward on a groan.

  “I promise,” she whispered, over and over with each movement until her voice vanished. She couldn’t recall ever being called wild and she was happy to save it for him, even if it meant never behaving so again once he was gone.

  His rear flexed under her hands while he pounded into her. The bed creaked anew and each thrust sent her soaring. Harder, faster. She could barely hold on. He made love to her as though fighting a battle—ferociously and without apology.

  Blane scattered kisses across her face and she felt the tightening of his muscles. She felt like an animal waiting to strike, tense and coiled. Ready to shatter. He only needed to move a hand between them and touch her briefly to send her into a trembling mass of pleasure. New colours came across her vision and she saw him, this beautiful highlander, as he gave her this. It didn’t matter how accurate her version of him was, she knew enough of him. She’d felt his scars and heard the softness in his voice. He’d touched more than her body this night.

  A harsh sound rumbled from deep inside him while she gathered her breath and let the contentment roll through her limbs. He withdrew hastily and spilled on her stomach. She somehow regretted that he hadn’t remained inside her, even knowing of the dangers. How could she look after a child anyway?

  His mouth tickled her nose and brushed across her lips before he moved away. She lay there, aware of where he was in the room because of his heavy footsteps. Although a slight sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach as she waited for him to ask her to leave, regret refused to take the place of the gratification warming her body.

  She’d been right. The memories would be well worth giving herself up to him for.

  Something cold touched her belly and she gasped.

  “Forgive me.”

  Blane was cleaning her, she realised. Her heart expanded that little bit further. Then warm legs and strong arms slipped around her and drew her into his hold. He burrowed his face against her hair and drew in a satisfied breath. No words came. Not even a command for her to leave.

  Eventually his breaths deepened and Ceana found herself drifting away into a dream world where men like Blane stayed with women like her and made love to them for the rest of her days. It was a pleasant dream, but one small part of her knew it was just that. Warriors like Blane never remained in one place for long and a near blind woman like herself wouldn’t be enough enticement to keep him here.

  Chapter Seven

  Even the cool water in the bowl couldn’t erase the satisfied grin on Blane’s face. He glanced back at the rumpled sheets and images of soft skin and wild dark hair crashed through his mind. When had he last felt this content after a tumble? Previous conquests had been to gratify a mere itch but not so with Ceana. Her lack of sight made her so tactile. He’d never met a woman like her. Her hands had been everywhere...

  “God’s blood.”

  If he wasn’t careful, he’d be hard as a stone again and who knew where the lass was?

  He smirked. Likely doing some good deed while he’d been sleeping off a night of incredible sex. He’d taken her twice more after sleeping for a while. Where she found the vigour, he knew not, but he wasn’t complaining. For the first time in a long time, he’d woken up feeling less like an old man and more like a warrior again.

  One more night.

  Would she come to his bed again? He pressed open the shutters and let the cool mountain air wash over his damp skin. Dark clouds hung along the ridge of the mountains, but a break in them allowed bright sunlight to dapple down and glint off the loch. He surveyed what he could see of the village from the window.

  No Ceana.

  Mayhap she was at the morning meal. Turning away, he drew on his shirt and plaid and stuffed his feet into his boots. He couldn’t go the day without knowing how she was. She’d enjoyed his company for certain. A woman like Cean
a couldn’t lie, even with her body. But he itched to know if he was going to be able to taste her again this night, to hear her cries of pleasure.

  Blane made his way to the hall to find the morning meal still being laid. Ceana’s mother sat by the fire and grinned when she saw him.

  “Come here, lad.”

  He glanced at the doorway and grieved the time lost but came to a stop in front of her nonetheless.

  “Yer looking after my Ceana well, I hope.”

  “Aye.”

  Her eyes glinted with mischief. “She deserves some happiness in her life. Yer a fine, strong man and she’s a good lass. Ye’ll do well together I think.” Aileen twined her hands together and stared into the flames. “We’ll lose many men in the battle. Who knows if my husband shall return. We’ll need someone like ye.”

  “Aileen, I have my own battles to fight. I’ll no’ be staying.”

  Her grey gaze met his own. “Aye, ye men always have battles to fight. They’ll never end, ye know? There’ll always be another fight over the horizon. Will it make ye happy to fight for the rest of yer life?”

  Blane didn’t know how to answer. He’d only been thinking of one fight—the one where he took revenge against the English for what they’d done to his village. What he was going to do afterward with most of his kind dead, he knew not.

  “Mayhap ye should think not on yer next fight but on yer next victory. Ye could have that here. With my Ceana.”

  He shook his head. As much as he admired her, as much as he desired her, he hardly knew her. And he wasn’t sure he could ever be the man she needed. “I cannae have anything with Ceana. She’s a fine lass. Too fine for me, I fear.”

  “Och, why must men be so mule-headed?”

  Chuckling, he patted the back of her hand. “I know not. ‘Tis the way we are born, I suppose.” He did a quick scan of the room. Still no sign of her. “Where is Ceana?”

  “Down by the stables most likely. She’ll be helping to muck out.”

  “Do ye no’ have stable hands for that?”

  “Aye, a few, but not enough and Ceana has something to prove. A little like ye, Blane.”

  Unwilling to let the woman draw him deeper and dig into his fears more, he bid her good day and made for the stables. A light spatter of rain moved over the land, making his shirt stick to his skin as he walked.

  He had nothing to prove. The day he’d been gone from the village and returned to find most of them dead or dying had taken away any pride he had left. Now it was blood he needed.

  Drips of rain trickled down his face and into his open collar. He pulled his plaid tight around him and ducked into the shadows of the stable. Dalma was stabled at the end. He searched the gloom for Ceana and spotted her not far from his mount, shovelling old straw into a bucket. Fear made his throat squeeze tight.

  Blane strode over. “What are ye doing?” he demanded.

  She jolted and spun in his direction, sending straw everywhere. Dalma skittered a little and the knot in his throat tightened.

  “Blane, ye frightened me.”

  “I thought ye’d hear me.”

  “I couldnae while I was shovelling.” She put down the shovel and rested upon it. A hesitant smile came across her mouth. “I cannae see ye that well in here,” she said.

  “Ye shouldnae be doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “This.” He gestured around and folded his arms again, unsure if she even saw the movement. “Especially by Dalma.” A hand to her arm, he tried to draw her away but she fought him.

  “One of the lads caught the fever and died. They cannae do it all alone so I must help.”

  “Dalma is ornery. Have ye even seen how big she is? She could crush ye in a moment.”

  Her gaze narrowed in his direction. “Aye, I saw well enough how big she is when ye rode in on her. And I’m no’ a fool. I can hear where she is at all times. I have been living without sight my whole life, Blane. It might mean I need yer sword arm but I dinnae need ye to order me about.” Ceana looked over her shoulder in the direction of his mount and reached to rest a hand upon her flank. “She doesnae mind me.”

  His heart bounded in his chest. He waited for Dalma to turn and nip her or worse. The mount remained blessedly still but he knew what that horse was like. She’d been hard to break in and only listened to him. Many a stable hand had received a nip or a shove. But with Ceana, it could be so much worse. Her lack of sight left her so vulnerable.

  Blane snatched the shovel from her, making her gasp. Those dark spots of colour were back on her cheeks. He didn’t care. Let her be angry with him. He’d rather that than see her trampled by his own horse.

  “Go inside and eat. I’ll finish here.”

  “I’m no’ hungry.” She reached for the shovel but he moved it easily out of her way. Ceana released a huff and put both hands to her hips. “Blane, give me that.”

  “Nay. Go eat. Yer too damn scrawny.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Ye had no complaints last eve.”

  Jaw tight, he pushed a breath through his nostrils. He suspected Ceana could be beautiful regardless of her weight but that didn’t mean he enjoyed watching her go without to attend to duties that weren’t even hers. However, the blithe retort sitting on his tongue went unsaid. A blessing, mayhap, as he suspected he’d only rile her further.

  “Och, there’s no pleasing ye.” He dropped the shovel and spun on his heel. Damn lass was getting in his head and he’d had his fill of it. Either she wanted his help or she didn’t. If she didn’t, why was he even here?

  As he stepped out of the stables, she cried out, the sound ripping at his chest. He spun and dashed over to find her on the floor. Blane glared at the horse. He should have made her leave, damn the lass.

  “Ceana.” He kneeled beside her, blood roaring in his ears. Her ankle was at an awkward angle and she whimpered when he tried to move her away from his horse. “Did Dalma hurt ye?”

  “Nay.” She sucked in a breath when he lifted her into his arms and set her down in the doorway, out of the rain but in enough light so he could inspect her. “I tripped over the shovel.”

  “Damnation,” he muttered. “I’m a fool.” He pressed up her skirt and wrapped his fingers around her bony ankle. When he coaxed her to move it, she released a sound of pain that had him cursing himself anew. “’Tis no broken. Just sprained. Ye’ll need to stay off it.”

  “How can I? I’ve too much to do.”

  “Put Kate to work. Mayhap it will stop her visiting that lad if she’s busy and tired.”

  Ceana stared at him and he knew she could see him now—or at least the outline of him. Her eyes changed when she was focusing on someone.

  “Mayhap,” she muttered.

  “There’s no harm in letting people help, Ceana.”

  “Says ye.”

  “Aye, says I. I’m only here for one more day but I’d at least be of some use to ye if ye’ll let me.”

  “I dinnae have much choice now, do I?”

  “’Tis no’ a bad sprain. Ye’ll be walking again and causing trouble in no time.”

  “Am I trouble?” she asked as he lifted her into his arms.

  “Aye, a little, wildling.” He couldn’t help grin at her sweet expression of concern. “Yer the kind of trouble I dinnae mind though.” He carried her through the rain to the entrance hall and paused to take a breath. “I hope yer mamaidh isnae still there. She’ll have my head.”

  “Nonsense, she’s half in love with ye already.”

  Love. Blane’s heart did a little uncomfortable spasm in his chest. His parents had loved him, aye, but they’d passed several summers ago within sennights of each other. And he’d never really considered he’d have time to find the sort of love they’d shared. It was something that took time and patience. Two things of which he had little.

  Aileen had moved from her spot by the fire but Kate was eating her morning meal. She stood sharply and thrust her hands onto her hips when they entered. Bla
ne groaned and braced himself for a tirade.

  Ceana’s lips quirked. “Kate?” she asked him.

  “Aye,” he replied.

  The young lass stalked over and thrust a finger at him. “What have ye done to her now?”

  “Kate, ‘twas no’ his—”

  “’Twas my fault,” he interjected, “but I’ll make this right. Will ye have some food brought up for her, yer sister’s not eaten this morn, and ye’ll need to send someone to finish cleaning out the stables.” He turned his attention to Ceana. “What else did ye need to do this day?”

  “The meals need planning and the scraps need to be taken to the pigs. Oh, and the hall is due to be cleaned today.” He turned and paused when she held up a hand. “Dinnae forget to have Claire hang out the sheets from yesterday and make some more bread.”

  Kate gaped at them for many moments. Blane waited for the inevitable eruption but instead she pointed at one of the servants and began ordering a tray of food ready for Ceana. He chuckled to himself.

  “Seems ye have a way with my sister,” Ceana said quietly.

  “I wouldnae say that.”

  Blane carried Ceana up to her bedchamber. He stepped across the threshold and in spite of everything they’d shared the previous eve, he felt as though he was setting foot on sacred ground. He hadn’t seen the inside of her bedchamber and the bold colours everywhere surprised him. Bright tapestries covered one wall but the rest were painted with swirling flowers.

  “The colours are easier for me to see,” she explained. “At least when ‘tis light in here which is not very often.”

  “Who painted this?”

  “Me.”

  He shook his head as he laid her down. “How?”

  “I told ye I’m no’ useless. ‘Tis how I see the flowers.” She indicated to one of the walls. “They are a blur of a shape on good days, much like those.”

  Unable to resist the tempting picture she made, even while injured, he sunk down onto the bed next to her. With her curls bunched on the pillow and her skirts hitched too high, he couldn’t help desire her.