by Alisa Adams
“I sensed it when we kissed this afternoon…”
Mary felt the heat rush up to her face. She had somehow forgotten all about that in her urgency to escape. Hearing about it again, the memory came crashing back down on her. “How could you tell from a kiss?”
Alastair smiled at her. “It felt so final… like ye were saying goodbye. Don’t get me wrong; it was magical.”
“Yes,” she said dreamily. Mary felt as if she was about to melt onto the saddle. She felt the same weakness in her legs that she had experienced when she was in his arms.
“Would ye like to do it again?”
Mary giggled. “I knew there was a reason you were here. You followed me, didn’t you?”
“Aye, I did. I wanted to talk to ye about the kiss. That was when I saw ye head for the stables. It did not take me long to put two and two together. So, I decided to join ye…” He jiggled his shoulders. “Make sure ye make it alright. Many unsavory types are lurking about on the roads. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to ye.”
“Well, it appears we are travel companions of sorts.”
“Aye, that we are. Also, I will have plenty of time to talk to ye now.”
“Wouldn’t I be holding you back from your little plan this evening?” Mary blushed again.
“What plan? Oh. That.” He took a deep breath. “I had to tell them something, ye ken. I can’t have the clan thinking that I am not a man.”
“Alastair, they would never think that. You are one of the bravest men I have ever seen.”
“Ye don’t ken them, Sassenach. A man who does not bed his woman is no man. I would have been forced to do it. I have been avoiding the issue since the banquet when my betrothal was announced. The game is up now.”
“Does that mean you haven’t… well… I mean…” Mary stuttered as she tried to find the right words.
“Coupled with her.”
“Yes, that’s it. I-I wanted to know whether you…”
“Did it with Aila… Nah. Couldn’t.”
Mary felt like she could jump up off the saddle and scream. “That’s good,” she muttered into the ermine fur around her neck.”
“What was that?”
“Oh, I said that it must be hard for her. Aila obviously has feelings for you.”
“I suppose. But ye of all people must ken what it is like to be promised to someone ye don’t love. And besides, my heart is for another. It took me a while to allow myself to believe it.”
Mary flinched. “Who’s the lucky girl?” She gulped as she watched his frame in the darkness.
“Ye are, Sassenach. It is ye who has stolen my heart.”
Alastair brought his horse close to Mary’s until he could pull on her reins, stopping their advance. Before she could take another breath, he covered her mouth with his. Her mind shouted at her to push him away, but she couldn’t. Primal instincts took over, urging, and coaxing Mary toward the bliss she so wanted. She hungrily tried to respond to his ardor, but a small part of her held her back. It reminded her of their situation: she was a Sassenach in his view and he a clansman – where would this joining take them other than to sadness.
Before her mind could drag her to far places, places far from him, a spot where reason ruled, his strong arms were around her, pulling her closer. She felt a rush of helplessness, the sinking, yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left her limp. Her worries became blurred, jarringly persistent at first, until they could do no more and drowned into nothingness.
Alastair bent back her head across his arm and kissed her, softly at first, and then with a swift progression of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. His unrelenting mouth parted her quivering lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she knew that she was kissing him back.
“Let me help ye off yer horse, Sassenach. I need to hold ye proper,” he whispered into her mouth as she gasped and begged for more.
Alastair did not wait for a reply. With a swift, athletic motion, he jumped off his horse’s back. It took him barely a heartbeat to stand right beside her. He would give her no time to think lest she changes her mind like earlier that day. Mary was his now, and he would never let her get away.
The current of relief that washed over him at that moment told him the story of what had plagued him since he met her on the King’s Road to Carlisle. Never had he felt such conflicting emotions. They had been like the tide in the sea. One moment it pulled him that way and the very next the other. He had been a lost message in a bottle floating on the waves in search of someone to read him. He found her now. It had been a futile struggle to resist what he had felt. To fight against a power that could only be love was a battle lost before it had even begun.
Fate was inexorable, and it placed Mary Leighton on his path.
He helped her off her horse until she stood a hand’s breath away from him. He towered above her as he looked down into her eyes. Alastair bent down, pressing his lips against her cheek, brushing it lightly – that light touch sent shivers through her nerves, shivers that made her whole body quake.
“If you want me to stop, tell me now," he whispered. When she said nothing, he brushed his mouth against the hollow of her temple. “Or now.” He traced the line of her cheekbone. “Or now.” His lips were against hers. “Or…”
But she had reached up and pulled him down to her, and the rest of his words were lost against her mouth. He kissed her gently, carefully, but it wasn’t tenderness she wanted, not now, not after all this time, not after the kiss after the boar hunt. She knotted her fists in his plaid, pulling him harder against her. He groaned softly, low in his throat. His arms circled her, gathering her against him. Slowly, they bent lower, lost in their embrace. In moments, they rolled over on the grass, tangled together, still kissing.
Neither of them felt the cold surface of the blades – too sizzling and all-consuming was the contact. It was like a force of energy the both of them had harbored for far too long and now had finally set free.
They kissed like crazy. Like their lives depended on it. Mary basked in the way his tongue slipped around inside of her mouth, gentle but demanding. Their first kiss had been good, but this was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Mary suddenly understood why so many people, including the troubadour at the feast, described kissing as melting because every square inch of her body dissolved into his. Her fingers gripped his hair, pulling him closer. Her veins throbbed and her heart pounded so hard, she felt as if it was about to explode.
Mary had never wanted anyone like this before. She had no experience about wanting any man, but now she knew why. God had brought her here… to a place where she never thought she would be… to a man she never thought she would meet. Alastair was hers now. She felt it in the way he held her, strongly and intrepid.
They continued with unrestraint. Thoughts of their recent departure from the clan and their proximity to the town tried to overwhelm her consciousness. But they couldn’t – she didn’t care, she didn’t care about any of that anymore. As far as Mary was concerned, they could capture them and take them back. As long as he was with her and this kiss a part of her, everything would be all right,
All she wanted was Alastair. To feel the weight of his body on top of hers… It was extraordinary. She felt him – all of him – pressed against her. She inhaled his scent, the whiskey on his breath, all that there was until she got lost in that extra fragrance that was just… him. The most delicious smell she could ever imagine. She wanted to breathe him, lick him, eat him, and drink him. His lips tasted like honey or maybe fruit, no, it was too special – they tasted of Alastair.
His face had the slightest bit of stubble and it rubbed her skin but she didn’t care, she didn’t care at all. He felt wonderful. His hands were everywhere, and it didn’t matter.
His heart beat faster and faster the close
r he got to her lips. Feeling her underneath him made it all the more intense. Kissing this girl was all her had ever wanted since the fist day he had met her. He remembered her touch from after the boar hunt as if it was tattooed onto his heart – it was good but this was better. Alastair needed this woman and all of her. Her scent was everywhere, clouding his mind with a desirous vapour that he only imagined could exist in heaven. She smelled so fresh, strong to the point that it bordered on the saccharine. His nostrils were so overcome with womanly musk that he had trouble controlling his bodily urges.
He groaned into her mouth when she pulled him closer still. Her eagerness astounded him. He had never expected Mary to be so voracious and in need of him. Alastair knew they had been kidding themselves since the day they met. Yet, somehow, that circumstance only made what happened now all the more special. His feelings for this woman had burst out of him like a torrent of water held back by a dam. At last, the flow rushed forth in the direction it was supposed to go. As nature intended, some things cannot be held in captivity. Especially not the feelings shared between man and woman when they were in love.
“Sassenach, we must continue our voyage,” said Alastair, pulling away reluctantly.
Mary breathed heavily. She stared into his eyes, as if begging him to resume the kiss. “I know.” She bit her lower lip. “That was nice,” she said hesitantly.
Alastair chuckled. “Aye, lass, that it was. I could do that to ye all night. Pray we get as far away from the borough so that I can get ye wrapped up in my plaid.”
She giggled. “Is that what you have planned, you rogue. I will have you know that I am a virtuous woman and you are almost married.”
A shadow passed over Alastair’s face when he thought of Aila and his father’s order that he marry her. Even though he was not bound to her for they were in a trial marriage, he knew the Laird would never free him from that obligation. The alliance with Aila’s family was too important for the clan to pass up. “I am not married, Sassenach,” he said somewhat too harshly.
She stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry. I only spoke in jest.”
“What, the bit about ye being virtuous? Yer a tempest set loose, lass. All heart and spirit. I swear to ye that I will be kissing ye again before the sun rises.” Alastair kissed her briefly on the lips before he hoisted her up onto her horse. “I suppose I couldn’t wait that long. That was just a small reminder of what’s to come when I have ye all to myself.”
“Do tell. I would love to know what is on your mind.”
8
THE VOYAGE HOME
* * *
The Highlands and beyond
* * *
“Did ye sleep well, Sassenach?” Alastair’s voice was muffled for he had his face buried in Mary’s dark tresses. He greedily inhaled the scent radiating from her body. His arms were wrapped around her. Despite the cold, the temperature under the plaid was hot as the heat of their bodies joined to become as one.
Mary mewed mellifluously. She had never felt better. They did not get much sleep because of their need to place as many miles as possible between them and the borough. Yet, it felt as if she had slept twelve hours instead of the paltry four. Energy and a desire to seize the day coursed through her, reminding Mary of when she was little. It was only children and people in love who felt this force. “I did, thank you, despite the circumstances of our current predicament. Only I can feel something hard prodding against my lower back. Alastair, have you taken a rock to bed?”
He chuckled into her ear and began to nibble on her neck. “That is no rock, and it prods not at yer lower back but at yer bahookie.”
“My bah-what?”
“Yer bahookie. Yer firm bahookie.” He groaned as she wiggled her body to turn and face him.
“I am assuming this has something to do with my ‘thòns’ again, right?”
“Aye. Yer thòns are a part of yer bahookie.”
“I see. I can never quite get over your obsession with bottoms. I don’t know how often Murtagh mentioned it during the ride north from England.”
“Well, lass, that’s the curse yer going to have to live with. God made ye beautiful as a spring morning. And he gave ye a…”
“A fine pair of thòns. Yes, I gathered that, thank you very much.” Mary wiggled closer still, tentatively placing a kiss on his lips. It was new to her to feel so familiar with a man. But it felt right. “So, now you have tried to distract from that hard thing you have concealed under this plaid, I would like to get back to the point.”
She reached down with her hand until she held Alastair’s arousal. At first, Mary didn’t know what she was dealing with. But the sounds coming from Alastair’s mouth told her he liked feeling her there. Her eyes snapped wide open. The thing in her hand was large, larger than she expected. She held on to it for a moment longer before pulling away.
“Found what ye were looking for, Sassenach?” He had a wolfish glint in his eye, making Mary blush.
Mary could barely make out his features in the twilight. “You are a scoundrel to assault me with that… thing… without asking.” To her great astonishment, holding it had done something to her body she had never before encountered. She felt drawn to it in a way she never thought possible. It took all of her restraint not to reach down and touch it again.
“Me assault ye? First of all, I can’t help it. It sort of happens at this time of day – ye ken, when ye wake up. And it wasn’t me fumbling about under my kilt.”
Mary’s blush had become a constant resident on her cheeks. “It always does that?” she asked. She knew nothing of men and their workings. All she knew was that they would kill, steal and lie to put it inside of a woman. She was dying to know what all of the fuss was about. The women in the kitchen back at castle Diabaig, where she’d sometimes helped out, spent most of their time talking about it – sex and the size of a man’s reproductive organs.
“Aye, every morning. But today was extra special because it was because of ye.” Alastair winked. “Now, enough about that. Come here and snuggle up next to me. We have quite a show for us before we continue the journey.”
Mary frowned. She had never expected him to have so much restraint. Part of her was disappointed. A part of her wanted him to grab her and show her what he could so with the thing under his kilt. Holding the silky soft but hard protrusion had elicited strange sensations, welling from deep inside of her. She barely recognized them from dreams. Maybe the connection they were building was right. It couldn’t be wrong if her body craved every part of him so much. She felt that she wanted to be a part of him – to merge until they became as one.
“What show?” she asked as she forced the heat that had blossomed in her nether regions and currently circled there persistently to the back of her mind.
“A Scottish sunrise when yer a lying wrapped snuggly in a plaid with the most beautiful woman. And in yer case, the most handsome man.”
Mary giggled. “No one could accuse you of being modest.”
“When we traveled to my home after yer abduction, it was cloudy in the mornings. But today, I can see it is going to be a beautiful day. Let’s lie back and enjoy the start of it, blossom.”
Mary felt a smile mushroom on her face. It was unstoppable. She never felt better in her life. Alastair had just called her blossom. It sure was better than lass or that ghastly Sassenach. When he said that to her, she felt like she was some kind of disease or something.
Under the plaid, she slipped her hand in his. He automatically took it and held it tightly in his. Mary rested her head on his shoulder and looked at the horizon. Gradually, a panorama of mountains, forests, rivers, hills, and lochs formed. Some of it was in her mind, and the rest was there for her to behold with increasing intensity. While she lay there gazing, awe-struck, on the silent, majestic scene as it lay motionless in the gray light of the morning, a golden streak spread along the eastern horizon. Brighter and brighter it grew until the snow peak closest to them caught the same fiery glow, and stood
tipped with the flame over the world below.
Then another peak flashed up beside it, and then another, and another until the entire range combing the land like a row of teeth stood a deep rose against the ever-increasing blue sky. Mary lay bewildered and amazed, gazing at the magnificent vista. It was as if a deity had thrown the robe of his glory over the land on purpose to see how it became lovelier. Gradually, everything paled away as the blazing fiery ball rolled over into view and poured a flood of light on the entire spectacle, waking the landscape into sudden life and beauty. It was nearly impossible to describe. There was no parallel in the world – everything changed from ghostly white, even black, to a transparent red, fading gradually away into a delicate rose-color.
It was impossible to seize any one thing, which would give specialty to the whole. Mary had never felt such utter powerlessness of words and feebleness of comparisons. Her eyes passed on over the glorious panorama that changed from grand to beautiful and back again until her heart staggered under the emotions that crowded it, asking in vain to be able to flue an utterance. But her eye turned again and again until everything was white and pure, resting so clear against the morning sky. Her lips murmured, “Alastair, this is the most magical morning in my life. Thank you.”
“Aye, blossom. It is. But not as beautiful as ye.”
She looked beautiful. It was a sight he would never want to miss. Looking at her lying next to him was more important than the majesty taking place before him. The sun’s rays did magical things to her face. It glowed under its light. Her small nose cast a shadow on her cheeks as the ever-increasing force of the sun stroked her skin with timid lashes. Her hair, although unruly, burnished obsidian like the coat of a red cat. Alastair felt the power of that birthing morning in the way she pressed her frame against his. He did not want it to end, but it must.
Not too far to the west, his father would soon be assembling the men of the clan for the pursuit. Alastair knew that he would send Mungo and Murtagh, for both of them knew how he thought. He and Mary still had time. Alastair only hoped that Aila would not leave their chamber too early. The longer she stayed gave off the impression that they were fictitiously reengaged in the act of coitus.
