“No,” she answered, with a shake of her head. “There is no one.”
Perhaps she should have lied, and told him there was. But she did not want to lie to him anymore than she already had.
He nodded slowly, a half-grin turning his lips. “Well, good. There is that.” He turned his head to peer at her. “But you are innocent?” He spoke the words softly. “A virgin?”
“Aye, Cull,” she whispered, heat rising into her cheeks. “I am that.”
He looked away then, his arms behind his head, to again stare at the ceiling above. “Then you are right to have stopped this. I am not the man you should give your innocence to. A woman’s innocence is something worth protecting, and I will protect you, even from myself.”
Her gaze swept over his muscled shoulders. The long, rigid line of his torso. If he only knew how much she wanted to make love to him.
“I think it is best that you go to sleep,” he said.
“Aye,” she whispered, her heart heavy with regret. “Good night.”
Shivering from the cold of the night air, she moved to leave his bed for her pallet.
He rolled toward her, and caught her wrist. “I meant here with me.”
Again, his eyes stared into hers, renewing the connection between them, just as certainly as any kiss. He released her. He drew back the furs, and slipped his legs beneath but continued holding them up in invitation to her.
“We have already passed one night together, side by side,” he said. “What is one more?”
Without hesitation, she joined him, and sighed with conflicted contentment when he pulled her close … and bent his head to kiss her again, softly … sweetly, his tongue tracing her lips and teeth, as his fingertips caressed her jaw, urging her mouth wider as the kiss grew deeper and more urgent.
He growled low, in his throat, and ended the kiss … but he did not release her.
“Close your eyes, and go to sleep.”
Derryth savored the sound of his voice, and the vibration of his chest beneath her hand as he spoke. Though she wanted more of his kisses, she understood why he’d stopped.
Held in his arms, his hard body pressed against hers, she rested her cheek against his shoulder. Though she closed her eyes, she prayed the night would never end.
* * *
Cull awakened to darkness, and the sound of men’s muffled voices, quietly speaking nearby. Feet trodding heavily through mud. They were the sounds of the encampment awakening. Despite the thoughts that had troubled him deep into the night, it was the first night he could remember that his sleep had gone uninterrupted by dreams of smothering darkness. Of fear. Of a dank, stinking ship.
It was no small thing. Indeed, nothing short of a miracle, and he could not help but believe it had something to do with the woman sleeping in his arms.
She did not snore now. Nay, he had learned from two nights passed in a shared bed that she only did that in the moments after drifting off to sleep. Since she still slept, he could examine her face unobserved, without her seeing his fascination with her. He memorized everything … her long lashes … her small nose, and her lips, pink and swollen from his kisses the night before. And ears, so perfectly shaped.
Unable to resist, he placed a single kiss there, just behind the lobe, thinking that after he would slip from the bed.
But she stirred against him, her bare legs aligning against his … her bottom nestling warm and soft against his groin. Her innocent movement was all it took—
He closed his eyes, and clenched his teeth, as his cock stiffened deliciously against her. When he opened his eyes again, she was looking up at him through sleep-hazed eyes.
“’Tis morning,” he muttered gruffly. “I must go.”
“Not yet,” she whispered, rolling onto her back to look up at him.
With sleep still clouding his brain, and darkness all around, it was all the encouragement he needed. He rolled onto his back, dragging her atop him. Framing her face, spearing his fingers into her hair, he pulled her down for a kiss, one that became instantly hungry and ruled by passion, his tongue thrusting inside, to be met by hers.
Atop him, her body melded to his, her breasts brushing heavily against his chest, her nipples hard and apparent. Her thighs parted and she settled naturally … perfectly against him. God, she was soft, and lush. A fantasy in the shadows. Only the trousers he still wore protected her from his arousal.
Her arms came round his shoulders. His hands slipped underneath her léine, to her bare bottom. He kissed her mouth as he squeezed her there, savoring the smooth, warm skin, against his palms. He inhaled her breath, and moved … lifting his hips beneath her, pressing his sex against the luxurious, soft heat of her body. She moaned. The sound was enough to shatter him inside, and take him to the edge of something dangerous.
He let out a groan of agony, into her mouth. Not daring to tempt himself a moment more, he turned, rolling her onto her back. She peered up at him, her breasts rising and falling with her deep breaths, looking as unfinished and tortured as he did.
“I cannot stay with you here in this bed a moment more.” He pressed one more kiss to her mouth, before slipping out of the bed. “Not without being inside you.”
The brazier glowed warmly, which mean Effric had entered as they slept. In the dim light, his swollen arousal was more than apparent against the garment that constrained it. She pushed up from the bed, and stared at him there, her cheeks deeply flushed.
“I am sorry,” she said earnestly.
“Don’t be.”
“But I am. I did not intend to … inflame you, or myself…”
“I know you did not,” he replied, looking over his shoulder, his eyes burning on her. He could not help but smile at her innocent words. “It just something that happens very easily between you and me, that I should have known better than to have allowed. But damn Derryth, you tempt me.”
“You tempt me too,” she said softly.
He pulled a tunic over his head and shoulders. “It is a wonderful thing to experience with another person. A rare thing, if you must know. And ’tis nothing to be ashamed of, as long as it stops there, before something else happens that we can’t take back.”
She sighed miserably, and burrowed into the pillows, which pleased him, because he was miserable too. Aye, he had enjoyed awakening in such a way. He’d enjoyed it immensely. But he wanted more, and he couldn’t have it. He’d meant it when he said he’d protect her from himself. One day, she’d find a man she loved, and he cared for her enough to make sure she arrived at that day without regrets.
“Go back to sleep.”
But Derryth did not go back to bed. Instead, she arose and helped him dress … lifting his hauberk onto his shoulders and kneeling to bind his boots. But strangely, as the moments passed, he sensed a darkness falling over her, and a paleness to her skin. Her hands shook as she helped him fastened his sword.
“What is wrong?” he asked, his hand encircling her wrist.
She peered up at him in silence. Tears gathered against her lashes.
“Derryth?” He frowned.
She pulled away, turning from him.
“’Tis not an easy thing,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Thinking of you going off to fight. To possibly be killed.”
His chest clenched. Just like last night, her words struck him deep. No doubt there were many who would grieve his loss if he fell in battle—but because he was a valuable fighter for powerful men, and would be difficult to replace among the leadership of the king’s warriors. But no woman had ever cried out of fear he might come to harm.
Lust was a much easier emotion to manage. He did not want to care. Too bad he already did.
“It is all I know,” he said. “It is the life I prefer.” He smiled rakishly. “And if you didn’t already realize, I’m very good at what I do, so do not fear for me.”
She threw a glare at him, as if his attempt at humor offended her. “But I do fear for you.”
“
Because you are a good person,” he said, moving to stand behind her. “With a good heart.”
Pulling her near, and turning her toward him, he bent … kissing her eyes … her lashes … her soft, parted lips. Thinking to banish her tears. Her emotion unnerved him. What could he do to reassure her? Nothing. His loyalty was sworn to the king—and to his own ambitions. Though she had made no demands, he could make no such vows to her. Certainly, he had made that clear.
He kissed her once more, hard on the mouth, and backed away feeling shaken.
“I have already tarried too long, and must go,” he said, pulling away, hardening his heart … and speaking to her much as he had before. Brusquely, as he turned to take up his leather gloves. “Today you will ride in the wagon with Effric. I’m afraid it won’t be comfortable, but you will stay dry and warm.”
“One step closer to Inverhaven,” she said pensively.
Aye, he thought as he left her without looking back, a shadow darkening his heart. And one step closer to their good-bye.
* * *
When Cull left the tent, Derryth shed more tears, but quickly recovered her determination. She had kissed Cull, yes, but neither of them had made any promises to each other, and for that she was thankful. She had not asked to be put in this terrible situation, where she must make terrible choices, but she would do whatever she must to protect those whom she loved—
And she did not love Cull.
Though her conscience lingered over that silent declaration, she refused to ponder why. When Effric came for her an hour later, Derryth was ready. Ready to move on to the next stage of … whatever was to come.
“Put on your cloak, lass,” the old man instructed. “Where is yer trunk? Give it to me. It is time for ye to go to the wagon.”
From there, wrapped in her cloak, and furs, she watched as he instructed a group of soldiers in packing Cull’s belongings and tent onto another wagon. She could not help but feel as though the memory of their time together was being dismantled as well. No, she did regret having passed the night in Cull’s arms. But she knew she must not repeat the same intimacy with him again, at the risk of her heart.
One day soon, he would know she was a Kincaid. There was no way to avoid that inevitability. The deeper she allowed her feelings to grow for him, the more the pain of that moment would hurt. But Cull would respect her decision, once he knew. She knew that he would. Somehow that made her secrets all the more painful to bear.
Before long, the wagon lurched to a start, with Effric urging the animals on. Derryth looked back at the line of men and wagons and the rutted, muddied earth they left behind. In the distance, she saw a smaller traveling caravan—Buchan’s, departing in the opposite direction. Eventually, she turned around to look with dread toward Inverhaven.
Hours passed. The travel was excruciatingly slow, giving her plenty of time to replay the most meaningful moments of the night before in her head. She felt certain she would live the rest of her life regretting that she and Cull had not met each other under different circumstances … in another life.
But they had met in this life, and there was no way to avoid what would come. With each moment that passed taking them closer to Kincaid lands, her agitation and fears grew. More than once she caught sight of Cull, though he never rode close. He remained always at a distance, and flanked by men. She also spied Deargh and the other Kincaid men working as a team to drag a great sled stacked with wood.
Then suddenly, Cull was there, riding alongside the wagon, ordering Effric to halt. When the wheels rolled to a stop, he guided his animal to the back where she sat.
“Ride with me?” he said, though his expression revealed nothing of his intentions.
Despite all of her morning resolutions to hold herself distant from him, she stood, and climbed onto the back of his horse and held tight as together they rode away from the rest of the army, skimming around the bottoms of several hillocks, before coming to a stop beside a narrow river, amidst a cluster of trees. It was a beautiful place. A place she had never visited before.
He swung his leg over and dismounted first. Reaching up, he helped her down, and in the process, held her close, lowering her against him, her softness against his muscled brawn. Instantly, a fire lit inside her, a passion for him so strong, she feared it might never be extinguished—not by time, or distance … or death.
Before her feet even touched the ground, his mouth was on hers, demanding and hot, leaving her dizzied and equally wanting. With the hard trunk of a tree at her back, he tilted his face, kissing her again, before his lips left a scalding trail down her cheek and her neck.
He stopped, holding her tight against him, breathing deeply near her ear.
“I am in command of an army,” he growled. “And yet for the last hour, all I’ve thought of is you.”
His words filled her with guilty pleasure. She loved hearing that he had been thinking of her, just as she’d been thinking of him, but their whole reason for being here, in this beautiful place together, was wrong.
He kissed her mouth once more before backing away, unsmiling, his eyes descending the length of her body, bold and admiring. There was an air of tension about him that made the air feel charged.
“But I did not bring you here to ravish you,” he said. “I have food.”
She let out a small sigh of relief, for if he had intended to ravish her, she did not know if she had the willpower to stop him. Turning back to his destrier, he removed a rolled blanket and a small leather pack. “We can’t stay for long.”
He spread the blanket, and together they sat very close together—he with his long booted legs crossed before them, and she with her legs curled beneath her gathered skirts—sharing bread, cheese, and wine. Though he did not touch her, his eyes continually fell on her lips … and her breasts, and she perceived in him the same longing she felt. Heat warmed her cheeks, and a feeling of agitation rose within her, shortening her breaths. She remembered his lips on her skin. The way his strong body felt against hers. She barely tasted the wine, for the unspoken desire between them.
But then he glanced at her with a certain darkness in his eyes, and pressed his lips together, as if there was something he felt reluctant to say.
“What is it?” she asked.
He held silent for a long moment before speaking. “I … wanted to apologize to you for this morning. For being cold to you before I left my quarters. You … expressed your fears for me, and I can only confess that I did not know what to do or say.” His jaw drew tight, as if the mere speaking of the words made him uncomfortable. “I am … not accustomed to someone caring for me in that way.”
She inhaled, breathing past the sudden pain in her heart. “I do care. And I wish, more than anything, that you were not here on Buchan’s behalf.”
“Because you are a Highlander, and that puts me on the wrong side. The side of the enemy, in your eyes. An unforgiveable side.”
She nodded. “Buchan is—”
“I know what he is, Derryth,” he replied solemnly, looking away, over the surface of the water. With his hands, he snagged a few sprigs of grass, and tugged them from the ground. “But … I owe him my life, and for that reason, I am here.”
“Your life?”
“I am … Cull the Nameless.” He looked at her directly, and she saw blackness in his eyes. “Orphan. Slave.”
“Slave,” she repeated, her breath stalling in her throat. “Do you mean … he paid your man-rent?” She did not understand. She imagined him to simply be a hired soldier, obligated to take up arms on Buchan’s behalf whenever called upon.
“Nay, Derryth,” he replied, his voice gone flat. “Nothing so civilized as that. He found me among the Moors and Slavs on a Venetian slaver’s ship, anchored off the coast, and he purchased me. And he set me free.”
“A slaver’s ship? H-How did you come to be there?”
“I … don’t know. I have no memory of anything before that. I do not even know my true name—if I ever had
one.”
Derryth’s heart shattered, hearing the words. She could only imagine Cull as a small boy, on that horrible ship. Alone and afraid. Receiving lashes and who knew what other punishments instead of warm hugs and kisses from someone who loved him.
She stared at him in stunned silence, emotion weighing her chest, and tears rising in her eyes.
“The scars on your back—” she choked out.
“Are from when I was a boy,” he supplied. “I was … twelve or thirteen when he found me. He asked if I would like to fight for Scotland. After that, he took me to a castle near Holyrood, where I trained with a weapons master for years with other boys, before being summoned to Edinburgh.”
“And now he uses you to carry out attacks on his enemies,” she said.
“No, Derryth.” A quiet laugh broke from his lips. “For a time, I served the king’s household, at Scone or Edinburgh, or wherever he traveled, but mostly I have spent my years on the border with England, skirmishing … negotiating … warring, there. I have escorted emissaries to London to discuss treaties, and other matters. I’ve seen Buchan only rarely, although I know he has watched my progress from afar. It is by my own efforts alone, I became a King’s Guard, and a knight. Buchan has never asked me for anything.”
She whispered, “Until now.”
Chapter 12
“Until now,” he repeated.
Derryth did not speak. She did not know what to say. She could summon no argument to disarm him. No reason to dissuade.
Cull’s eyes burned with intensity. “Not only that, but he has given me a chance to rise above a past that would otherwise still chain me. A chance to have property, and a castle of my own. But more important, a name to give daughters and sons.” He paused. “It is all I have ever wanted. It is all I’ve ever striven for. I will not allow the chance to slip away.”
Something else occurred to her then. “Like other men of such position, you will marry a noblewoman, to strengthen your position.”
“That is … the expectation,” he replied softly.
“Why have you told me all of this?” she asked, forcing a brave smile, though tears stung her eyes. “You could have just gone on as before, until you let me go.”
The Warrior of Clan Kincaid Page 13
