Unable to state bluntly what she wanted him to do, she tried to coax him into doing it. She caressed his back, trailing her fingers down his spine until she reached his taut buttocks. Feeling incredibly daring and wanton, Brona stroked his backside and got exactly what she wanted. Heming groaned out a curse and said something that sounded like he hoped she was not in pain anymore and then he began to move with a force and speed that had her clinging to him and crying out for more.
Brona soon felt an aching knot form in her lower belly, one that grew tighter and more urgent with each thrust of Heming’s body. Just as she started to fear that something was wrong, that knot snapped apart and sent a shimmering ecstasy throughout her body. She heard herself yell out his name and then lost herself in the pleasure sweeping through her, only faintly aware of how Heming drove himself in deep, stilled, and shuddered, her name a hoarse cry upon his lips.
Heming sprawled on top of a still trembling Brona and marveled that he was still alive and breathing. He was not as promiscuous as many in his clan, but he had had some experience in lovemaking, had even thought himself in love once. Never before had he felt anything like this, as if every part of him had been left sated yet knowing that he wanted more, just as soon as he could move. Hearing Brona call out his name as her body clenched around his had been intoxicating and he knew he would never get tired of the feeling it gave him.
When he was finally able to move, he staggered over to where the bowl of washing water had been set. After washing himself clean, he rinsed out the square of linen and returned to the bed. Ignoring Brona’s deep blushes and muttered protests, he cleaned her off, washing away all signs of her lost maidenhead. Tossing the cloth in the general direction of the bowl, he crawled back into bed and pulled her into his arms, smiling faintly when she pressed her face hard against his chest.
Heming kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her hair. “I wish I had the words to describe the delight ye just gifted me with, loving. I have ne’er tasted anything so hot and sweet. If we didnae have to leave soon, I would be tasting it again and again until neither of us could move a finger.”
They were not pretty words or even words of love, but Brona felt moved by them. She could sense that he spoke the truth and she found a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that her lack of experience had not dimmed the enjoyment of their lovemaking for him. Hearing him swear undying love would be even more satisfying, but she was not fool enough to think one time in her arms would win his love forever. They were obviously well matched in passion, but it would take some work to make him see that they were well matched in many other ways.
Brona admitted to herself that she did not want to lose him, did not want to lose the fire that flared between them. It was not a good time to fall in love and she deeply feared she had chosen the wrong man, but she was pretty sure that was what she had done. All she could hope for was that somehow she could make him see that she was perfect for him despite all she lacked and all of her faults. If sharing passion as they just had would help accomplish that, then she was going to learn how to be the best lover he had ever had. There was no promise that that would work but at least she could comfort herself later with the knowledge that she had done all she could to win his heart.
Heming held her close as they both dozed while waiting for the sun to get low in the sky. It felt good to hold her like this, his body still warm with satisfaction. This was how he wished to spend the rest of his nights. His only concern about mating with Brona was that she was a full Outsider. There could be a way to make sure she lived nearly as long as he did, but there was no real proof yet that it would work. Unfortunately, he was probably far beyond the point where he might have been able to let her go.
When they finally left the bed and began to dress, Brona said quietly, “I wish we could stay here longer.” She suddenly blushed, fearing she had been too bold but her embarrassment and concern faded quickly when Heming grinned and kissed her.
“So do I, loving, but when one is being hunted ‘tis ne’er wise to linger too long in one place,” Heming said as he picked up her sack of belongings. “We can have the comfort of a bed once again when we reach Cambrun.”
Brona had no chance to say anything about that, not even that she thought it a very poor idea to take a leman into his parents’ home, for he grabbed her hand and started to lead her down the stairs to where the others would be waiting. Thor greeted her the moment she stepped off the last stair. Laughing at his effusive greeting, she took him outside to let him have a brief run.
Heming watched her go, savoring a rather primitive sense of possession, then turned around to find all three men scowling at him. “No need to look so fierce, my friends.”
“Nay? Ye just spent most of the day locked in a room with the lass,” said Colin.
“Nay. I just spent most of the day locked in a room with my mate. She just doesnae ken that fact yet.” He winked at the men and they slowly began to smile at him in complete male understanding.
Seven
The sun was just setting when Heming dragged himself out of the small cave he had spent most of the day in. Since they did most of their traveling at night the others also sought their rest during the day, but they rose a lot earlier than he did. As he stretched he watched Colin and Fergus cook two rabbits someone had caught while Peter and Brona played with Thor.
Although he had held Brona in his arms for the last two days, there had not been enough privacy for them to make love and he was aching for her. Even telling himself that there was only one more night of travel before he reached Cambrun, where he could find that privacy he craved, did not dim his aching by much. Heming also cursed all the time he was losing in making her see how well matched they were. He knew a shared passion was not enough to build a good marriage on but he was sure it would help in winning her. Instead all he had been able to do was hold her and steal a few kisses.
“Ah, there ye are,” said Colin. “I had me some good luck and caught a few rabbits. They are nearly ready for the eating.”
“Good,” said Heming as he walked up to the fire and took a deep breath of the welcome scent of meat cooking. One thing he was grateful for was that he could eat and appreciate all sorts of food, unlike his father. “I will just go and wash and then join ye for this feast.”
“Wash?” Brona asked as she moved to stand next to him. “Is there a place to wash near here?”
Heming grinned and nodded. “It will be cold, for the water comes down from the mountains.”
“Weel, cold water to wash in is better than no water at all.”
“Come with me then, but dinnae say I didnae warn ye.”
After Brona grabbed a clean shift, they walked through the thick wood to a small, rapidly flowing burn. She took off her boots and hose and tested the water with her toes, grimacing at the bite of the cold water. There would be no welcoming bath in this water but she felt sure she could endure it long enough to wash off the dust of travel.
Just as she started to unlace her gown, Heming walked by her and jumped into the water. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts back together, for the man had been completely naked. Brona suspected any woman would be stunned witless by the sight of a beautiful man like Heming walking around naked. She was surprised, however, that he had not made any loud protest as all of that bare flesh had hit the very cold water; he seemed totally unaffected by it.
“I cannae believe ye just leapt right in,” she said, as once she had stripped down to her shift she carefully stepped into the water and crouched down to begin to wash herself. “‘Tis but one step from being ice.”
“Och, aye, it is cold, but I am nay so bothered by that. I willnae be staying in it for verra long, however. This type of cold will eventually bother e’en me.”
“Does that come from your mother or your father?” she asked, used to how he would attribute each skill or gift he had to one or the other parent.
“Father. Remember, my mother is descended from a
cat.” He grinned. “I believe cats dinnae like water.”
Brona laughed even as she hurried back onto the shore to strip off her wet shift and rub herself dry with the old blanket Heming had brought with him. Keeping her back to the burn and wondering why she would blush so in front of the man who had so vigorously bedded her only two nights ago Brona donned her clean, dry shift. She shook out her gown and was just tugging it on when Heming stepped up next to her and dried himself off. She tried not to look at him and failed miserably.
“Ye seem to lack modesty, Sir Heming,” she murmured, finally forcing her gaze back to the matter of lacing up her gown.
He chuckled and kissed her cheek before starting to dress. “Mayhap, but I do have admirable restraint.”
“Oh, aye?”
“Aye. Here we are all alone and out of sight of the others, I am naked and ye were wearing only your shift, yet I havenae thrown ye to the ground and had my wicked way with ye.”
She had to bite back a laugh. Part of her sudden good humor was caused by the proof that he did still want her. Brona knew they had had little chance to make love since leaving the inn, but she had not been able to stop herself from worrying that once had been enough for Sir Heming. A man like him had to have had plenty of lovers in his life and ones who were far more experienced and skillful than she was.
There had been several times during the past two nights she had heartily wished Colin, Fergus, and Peter gone so that she could test Heming’s desire for her. While she would prefer a big soft bed, the thought of Heming having his wicked way with her right there on the bank of the burn was enough to have her aching with need. She wondered exactly when she had become a wanton.
When Heming stepped up behind her to finish lacing up her gown for her, she smiled to herself. The moment he finished, he pulled her back against him and licked the side of her neck. That sent a delicious shiver down her spine, followed by a much stronger one when he scraped his very sharp teeth over the same spot. When she wondered if he was in need of more blood, Brona was surprised that the thought of letting him take hers again did not cause her even a twinge of unease. In fact it made her shiver inside with a sudden spear of wanton heat.
“Heming?” She was not really surprised to hear that deep husky tone in her voice, for the way he was nibbling on her neck was making her feel very warm and needy. “Is the taking of someone’s blood supposed to make one feel, weel, needy?”
Heming pulled away from her neck a little so that she could not see him grin. Feeding could be a very sensuous experience, but he had rarely shared more than blood with the women he had fed from in the past. When there was no true feeling for the person one fed from, it was easy to turn away after one was finished. But if one cared for the person that sensual feeling swiftly flared into hot need. The fact that it had in Brona pleased him a great deal. The fact that she asked such a question with no more than simple curiosity, with no hint of unease or disgust, pleased him even more.
Not all Halflings felt the urge to give their mate a marking, that bite that left a mark all other MacNachtons could clearly read, but he had felt it the moment he had held her in his arms and known that they would soon be making love. Brona’s apparent ease with the fact that he drank blood meant that he might actually get to give her one and satisfy the craving he had felt since that night at the inn. He knew she would not hesitate to let him feed from her and that was half the battle.
“It can be a very sensuous thing but it doesnae have to leave one feeling needy,” he said. “To me it has always been a matter of necessity.”
“Ye said ye dinnae have to drink blood unless ye are ill or hurt or the like.”
“True, but it keeps me strong if I have some every fortnight or so.”
“Oh.” The idea of him drinking the blood of some other woman, of holding her close and rubbing her back, made Brona clench her teeth against a wave of jealousy.
This time Heming did not even try to hide his grin as he nibbled on her ear, enjoying the little shivers that went through her. “I too felt needy that time ye let me taste the essence of ye, Brona Kerr. E’en though I was near death, I felt verra needy indeed.”
Brona could hear the hint of laughter in his voice but did not feel that he was making fun of her. She suspected she had revealed her discomfort with the thought of him doing that with some other woman and his male pride was rearing up. When he turned her around and pulled her into his arms, she pressed her cheek against his chest and fought to control the urge to blush. If she acted embarrassed or annoyed, it would probably only feed his arrogance.
Heming kissed the top of her head. “I have ne’er tasted anything as sweet, my Brona.”
She thought that she must be rather pathetic since she found that a heady compliment, but then shook aside that thought and asked the question she had been planning to ask. “Do ye need some now?”
“Ah, Brona love, I would like nothing more than to taste ye whilst I am hale and strong, to feel your life’s blood warming my insides and making me strong, but I fear I best nay do that right now.”
She smiled faintly against his chest. “Because it will make ye feel needy?”
“Aye, ye wretch. Verra needy.”
“And ye might toss me to the ground and have your wicked way with me?”
“In a heartbeat.” He tilted her face up to his and kissed her, making no effort to hide the desire for her that was always there.
Breathless from his kiss, Brona stared at him when he finally ended it. He was looking at her in a way that made her want to toss him on the ground, but she fought to rein in the need he stirred within her. With Colin, Peter, and Fergus but a few yards away, it was not a good time to be rolling about in the heather. For all she was worried about being seen as no more than his leman once they reached Cambrun, she had the feeling she would allow him to take her right to his bed the minute they stepped inside the gates of his home.
“Rabbit’s ready!” bellowed Colin.
Heming laughed softly and pulled away from her. “I think Colin needs a few lessons on how to slink away from one’s enemy.” He took Brona by the hand and led her back to their camp.
“Do ye think Hervey is anywhere near us?” Brona asked, unable to fully smother a stab of fear. The more she thought about how Hervey would react to what she had done, the more she was terrified of being caught by him.
“I have seen no sign of him, but I fear that doesnae necessarily mean he isnae near. We travel at night and he and his men wouldnae do that, so I feel we are safe. I will feel e’en better when we reach Cambrun on the morrow.”
She took a deep breath to calm herself and push aside her fear. “He went in the opposite direction, so it isnae as if he will pass by us as he rides back to Rosscurrach.”
Heming was tempted to let her think that, to comfort herself with that thought, but he had always felt that, when it came to danger, it was always best to know the full truth no matter how bad it was. “He may nay have gone all the way to Carbonnel and he may have stayed a verra short time. We are walking and he is on horseback. I dinnae think he can be close by but I willnae lessen my guard.”
“Nay, that is probably wise. Nay verra comforting, but verra wise.”
Reaching the camp, Brona sat down and accepted a hearty serving of rabbit. Colin was very good at cooking game and she knew she would enjoy every bite. He also tended to give her very large servings and she had the feeling he felt she needed to put some more meat on her bones. The faint hint of amusement she saw glittering in Heming’s golden eyes told her he thought the same and she gave him a brief scowl before starting to eat. She knew she needed the sustenance for the journey still ahead of them.
It was several hours and several miles later that Heming suddenly grabbed her by the arm and halted her. He hissed an order to stop at their three companions, who hastily obeyed him. Brona had noticed how quickly her men had accepted Heming as their leader and she had the sinking feeling that whatever had caused Heming to stop
and silence them would show her exactly why her men felt Heming was a leader.
She tried to listen as he did, but could hear nothing. The growing blackness of his scowl told her that he could, however. When he suddenly shoved her into a thick stand of shrubbery, she yelped softly as the thorns cut through her clothing and stabbed her skin.
“Stay there, Brona,” ordered Heming. “If aught happens to us try to get away and continue on to Cambrun but remember to stay hidden as much as possible.”
Struggling to free her clothes of the brambles as silently as she could, Brona whispered, “Is it Hervey?”
“Aye,” he whispered back as he silently drew his sword, the other men doing the same. “He must have run a few horses to death.”
“He heads toward Cambrun hoping to find ye,” said Peter in an equally soft voice.
“I believe so and he must be feeling verra desperate to come so close to a place he feels houses demons.” Heming cursed under his breath as he thought of how close he had gotten to the safety of his home, but not close enough. He looked toward the place he had sent Brona to hide and inwardly grimaced when he saw that there were a lot of bramble bushes in the thicket. “Dinnae move from there, love, unless ye have no other choice.”
“I willnae.”
The very last thing Brona wished to happen to her was to be caught in Hervey’s hands. Right beside her cousin would be Angus, who was anxious to get his hands on her, too. An icy shiver went down her spine and she prayed it was not an omen of some kind. Not only was she terrified of being caught but she was sick at the thought of watching Heming, Fergus, Colin, or Peter being hurt in the battle that she felt sure was looming over their heads.
Highland Thirst Page 8
