Logan tucked his hands behind his head and peered up at the canopy above him. The days had been a whirl. Lorna’s brother and cousin had returned with many men and had greeted him like a brother. He liked their company and had joined them for ale for the past three nights but he still felt an outsider. They told tales of their adventures, some of which he’d been a part of, but he had no role here. To go from being in charge of a whole castle to being nothing more than an extra hand frustrated him to no end.
Luckily Lorna knew well how to deal with his frustration. He grinned again and studied her. She’d seen him at his worst and nothing seemed to daunt the lass. Not even his foul moods.
Swinging his legs over the bed, he tiptoed over to the chair in one corner and fumbled to pull his shirt and garments on. Logan slipped on his boots and eased open the door, stealing a quick peek at Ewan before he left. The babe slept on and the sight made his heart squeeze. But he needed a few moments alone. The past days had been about preparing for battle and trying to understand his past. He needed time to gather his thoughts and understand his feelings for Lorna. Did some part of him remember everything he felt for her? Because at times if felt deeper than he could comprehend.
He took the spiral steps down and paused in the Great Hall. Only a few servants could be heard in the kitchen and most were still abed. He stood in the centre of the room near the fire pit and gazed about. What to do? Energy burned through him. Mayhap he should have stayed in bed and awoken Lorna by stroking that beautiful body until she cried her pleasure out against his skin. But Ewan should be awake soon, meaning an early morning session of lovemaking was out of the question.
Instead of returning to his bedroom, he strode to the armoury. As he took the stairs down to the corridor, he savoured the scent of metal and smoke. He ducked under the beam and into the room to find it empty. Swords and daggers were laid out on the table and the torchlight glinted off the metal. Logan picked up his weapon and handled the hilt, giving it an experimental swing. Mayhap he should have killed Gillean when he had the chance. Killing a man when he was on his knees was not to his taste but might it have saved them from battle?
He laid the sword down on a table in the corner and snatched an old swatch of mail. Raking it up and down the blade, he sharpened it until sweat dripped from his brow and down the back of his shirt.
“Logan?”
He turned hastily, blade in hand, only to see Finn’s grinning face. Logan lowered the blade. “Forgive me, ye caught me unawares.”
“Aye, I can see that. What are ye doing up at this early hour?”
“I couldnae sleep. What of ye?”
“The same. I went for a ride.” The grin dropped from the fair-haired man’s face, and Logan’s stomach grew heavy.
“What is it?”
“Gillean and the Norse army will be here before nightfall. I saw them some two miles away from my position. They bring much weaponry so will be slow, but battle is upon us.”
“Hell fire, I should have killed Gillean when I had the chance.”
“Do ye believe that would have stopped the Norse army?”
“Nay. I do not.” He let his shoulders sag.
“I have regrets too. He tried to kill my wife and then my sister. I thought he had killed ye. I look forward to being able to meet him in battle and rectify that mistake, but I regret the battle should be brought to our walls.”
“As do I. I cannae help but think I should have done something sooner...”
Finn shook his head and clapped his hand to his shoulder. “And here I am regretting ever leaving ye at Kilcree. For being fool enough to believe ye dead. I should have known it would take more than a blow to the neck to cut down a warrior such as ye. Ye must forgive me, Logan.”
Logan eyed the man and though he still barely knew him, he felt their friendship must have been a strong one. “There is naught to forgive.”
“There is no point looking back,” Finn said. “Ye taught me that. Were it not for ye, I would never have realised what I had in front of me.”
Logan scowled.
“Catriona,” he clarified.
“I dinnae see—”
“Ye never gave up on my sister.” His gaze darkened and he took a step back. “I hope ye willnae give up on her now.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Ye are in her bed every night. My sister is a proud woman and willnae ask for anything, but I have never seen her as shattered as when we thought ye dead. I hope ye willnae hurt her by yer own doing this time.”
“I willnae. I swear it.” Logan laid his sword down on the table. He’d been struggling to find his place. Mayhap it would take him some time. But the deep ache that throbbed in his chest when he considered Lorna upset or hurt in any way told him he was certain of one thing. He lifted his head and locked gazes with Finn. “I'll ask her to marry me. Should we survive this. I'll ask her.”
***
Torch light glinted across the hills, like little golden stars. A song tumbled through the air, a raucous foot-stomping song that Lorna recognised as one about bonny lasses and their endowments. A shiver crawled over her and she wrapped her arms about her waist. The pretty sight and the jovial song could not cover the tension in the air that hung over the hills like thick morning fog. This was the eve of battle and no songs would change that. Gillean’s army had arrived shortly before dusk and made camp just out of range of the keep.
A hand to her shoulder made her jolt but before she turned, another hand slipped around her waist and drew her into him. The fresh scent of soap and the brush of a rough jaw against her hair told her it was Logan, but her body recognised him before her mind did. Her pulse skipped and bounded, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and a delicious tingle whipped through her.
But no exquisite sensation could change the fact that on the morrow, they faced death. Even Logan’s comforting presence did not lift the deep weight in her heart. She had faced death before—several times now—but never had there been so much at stake. The fate of her son, her family, her friends and her lover would be decided by this battle. She lifted her gaze to the sky and uttered a silent plea for triumph over their enemies.
Unfortunately the odds were not in their favour. The Norse were brutal and with their numbers added to Gillean’s army, they were heavily outnumbered. The weight in her heart pulled it lower and she failed to prevent a powerful tremor.
“Dinnae be afeared,” Logan whispered against her ear. He wrapped his arms around her waist, encasing her in the solid defence of his muscles. “I’ll no’ let anything happen to ye. Nor to Ewan. Dinnae be afeared,” he repeated.
“I am no’ afeared.” The stutter to the words gave away her lie, but she suspected he saw through it anyway. He might not remember their precious friendship but he always knew her better than anyone. And he had seen her weakest moments since his memory loss. Logan understood her need to appear strong. Which was mayhap why he did not question her falsehood.
“We are ready for battle. Yer kin will fight hard for ye. I dinnae envy Gillean, going up against such men. They are fine warriors.”
Lorna pictured her cousin and brother, ready for battle, and a tingle started behind her eyes and in her nose. They were strong and skilled. Morgann with his brutal strength, and Finn with his height and talent with a blade. And now they had wives to fight for and Finn had a child on the way. They had so very much to lose and that scared her to her bones. She could not help feel she had brought this upon them all.
“We shall prevail,” he pressed again.
She flattened her hands over the top of his arms and felt the powerful muscle and sinew there. Cocooned in his embrace, listening to his determined words, she almost believed him.
“I shouldnae have left.” Her throat remained tight and the words a strangled whisper. “I should have done something. Followed through on my plan to kill Gillean.”
“Ye did try, remember? I only wish I had listened to ye sooner.”
She
rotated then, lifting her gaze to his. His dark eyes were soft under the meagre torchlight. Lorna pressed her hands around the back of his neck and fingered the thick length of his hair.
“So many regrets,” she said softly, allowing a smile to tilt her lips.
“Aye, but I cannae regret any of my recent decisions.” He dropped his forehead to hers.
Releasing a sigh, she stroked her fingers through his hair and relished the soft brush of his breath across her face. For several heartbeats, they remained. The moment—were it not for the army waiting outside the castle—was perfect. Their son slept soundly under the care of the nursemaid, safe in his bed, and they had one another. The lies and secrets had fallen away and it was just them. No pretences, no uncertainty.
It was, she realised, what she’d always longed for but had never been brave enough to reach out for.
“No regrets,” he murmured.
How did he read her so well? She blew out a long breath—an attempt to release the doubt twisting inside her. If all went well on the morrow and they were victorious, she would not have any regrets, but if it went badly...
Logan stroked his hands over her bodice and up to cup her face. Coarse warmth encased her cheeks offering protection and reassurance. He lifted his head and dropped his thumb to press against her bottom lip. She parted her lips instinctively and saw shadows darken his gaze. Her breaths quickened and her pulse tried to outrace them. Molten lust stirred in her veins. How was it possible such a small touch could erase her fears and turn her brain to mush?
Heat licked through her veins, centring low in her belly. “Logan...”
He groaned. She wasn’t sure she’d communicated her need with that one word until he grasped her bottom and pressed her back against the crenellation. Cold stone met her back but it did nothing to cool the desire that made her want to crawl out of her skin and fling herself into the nearest loch. Though, if she did that, she would not be here, in Logan’s arms. For though the need drove her to lunacy, to be without him was worse. She knew that much to be true.
Logan put his lips to her ear, sending a bolt of sensation down one side of her. He pulled her lobe between his teeth and nipped lightly.
“Logan, I need...”
“I know.” The words puffed in her ear, made the tingles increase. “Ye’ll have it all, Lorna. Patience.”
Patience, he said! On the eve of the battle, when her body felt as though it might explode if he did not end her torment, he asked for patience?
“I have none!” she declared.
“That I well know.” But his admission didn’t speed up his movements. He seemed determined to kiss every part of her, slowly, surely, deliberately.
She glanced around the empty rooftop. Did he intend to take her here, under the stars? Or torture her until she could bear no more, then drag her to their chamber? Either way, she was boneless and out of control. She had done the one thing she could never bring herself to do before—and had offered it all to Logan. Her decisions, her will, they were all in his palm now.
A kiss just behind her ear. Then to the pulse flickering in her neck. Lower, lower, bristle and warm lips skimmed her neck and she drew in a shuddering breath. Logan peppered kisses along her jaw. He even nipped her chin and licked the corner of her mouth. Lorna leaned her head back against the stone and gazed up at the inky sky as he continued his leisurely journey down the arch of her neck.
Hair bunched in his hand, he lifted it away to lean around and lay his mouth on the other side of her neck. Every part of her responded to him, from her toes which curled into her slippers to the hair on her head which made her feel as though she were in the middle of a tempest being buffeted by wind and surrounded by bolts of lightning.
She pressed her nails into his back like talons, needing to hold onto something. How had she managed to resist him for so many years? It had been hard but if she’d ever known it would be like this, she would never have had the strength of will.
“Logan,” she begged again, her voice lost to night air, any strength in her plea sapped by a particularly hot, open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone.
He moved too slowly, too gently. It was delicious and divine but it would drive her to the edge of madness if he continued. She arched, rubbed her chest against him in a bid to ease the ache of her hard nipples and in the hopes of persuading him to lose the tenderness and take her as she needed.
Hard and fast.
Mayhap he longed to savour this, mayhap he had the right idea, but the knowledge they had only this night together before battle forged impatience in her heart. The distant sound of male laughter broke through and ramped up her eagerness. She moved against him and felt the hard ridge of his arousal. If the size and hardness of it was anything to go by, he could not keep this up much longer.
“Take me, Logan.”
“I will,” he assured her and kissed the top of a breast that peeked out above her gown.
“Now,” she demanded and reached down to cradle his shaft through the fabric of his garments.
He groaned. With his damaged voice, it came out an urgent, animalistic sound. “Can ye no’ see I’m trying to seduce ye here?”
“Ye dinnae need to seduce me. I’m yers. Just take me.”
He eyed her, his lips twisting into a smirk. Once that smirk might have annoyed her but now it only made her want to trace the line with her fingers and feel the heat of his tongue against her fingertips.
“I thought ye might...”
“What? Want ye to torture me until I explode?”
He chuckled. “Nay, I was trying to be...” He blew out a breath. “The way I handled ye angered ye many times, if ye remember?”
Ah. His words sank in. He was trying to prove to her he could be gentle. But she didn’t need proof. Any doubts she had about who this man was had been erased the moment she saw him holding their son.
“I dinnae know what the future holds for us, Logan. I dinnae know if yer memory will ever return, but I know yer a good man.”
“I treated ye—”
She laid a hand to his arm. “I know. But I treated ye abominably for years. I denied ye at every turn. We both made mistakes. Can we no’ forget them?”
His gaze searched hers. What would happen on the morrow still terrified her, and the years after—if they survived—held so much uncertainty, but with Logan at her side she felt stronger than ever. He did not sap her strength and make her vulnerable as she had always feared. He empowered her.
Logan nodded slowly and dropped an even slower kiss to her lips. She clasped his face as he moved his mouth over hers. Just as a sound of frustration threatened to break to the surface from her, he deepened the kiss and his tongue met hers. Fresh need rushed through her and made her knees tremble. He crushed her back against the stone, propping her up so that she barely needed to worry about the way he turned her to jelly.
She twisted her fingers in his hair so as to hold him as close as possible for fear he might break away again, but he did not. His tongue explored her mouth and their breaths grew frantic. Lorna moved mindlessly against him, heat rolling through her body. The wonderful rub of his hard chest against her aching breasts and his manhood against her tender flesh made her cry out against his mouth. His kisses drowned the sound but he answered with a moan of his own.
“Hell’s teeth,” he muttered and drew back to heft her skirts up.
A warm hand clasped her thigh and worked higher to grip her rear. The sensation of his fingers gripping her cool flesh made her head spin and when she glanced at the skies, the stars all seemed to blend into one. Only Logan’s face commanded her focus. He broke away for a moment but it gave her enough time to imprint his expression in her memory—his eyes hooded and intense, his mouth open slightly to draw in deep breaths, the dark dusting of hair across his jaw and the crease of his scar. His strong features and the way his brows dipped as if concentrating on marking her in his memory too. It all imprinted in her mind.
When he brought his
mouth down on hers in a possessive, passionate kiss, he lifted her leg and hooked it over his hip. It left her open to him and he slipped his fingers around her thigh to find her sex. With skilled fingers, he parted her folds and skimmed a thumb over her nub. Sizzling pleasure made her buck against the confines of his body and she gasped against his mouth.
“So wet,” he murmured. “God’s teeth.”
Without warning, he plunged his fingers into her. He was right. She was wet. and so ready. He slammed two fingers into her and her body took them easily, needing them so badly. She had to be filled, craved that sensation so badly that all she could do was remain pinned against that wall and take whatever he gave her.
He pumped his fingers in and out, and though she tried to work him deeper, the wall of stone behind and the wall of muscle in front constricted her movements. She scrabbled her nails across his back in a silent plea for more.
Logan answered it by withdrawing his hand, gripping her other leg and lifting her clean from the ground. Her back scraped across the stone until he found the dip in the wall and rested her on it. The drop behind her might have scared her, the thought of all the men somewhere in the darkness waiting for the moment to strike, should have horrified her, but nothing existed apart from Logan and this night.
One arm around her back, he lifted her skirts again. A rip sounded as his impatient movements rent one of the layers but all Lorna cared about was having Logan between her thighs. She urged him forward with her legs around his hips while he bundled the fabric as high as possible. She reached around to free him from his clothing and his solid heat filled her hand.
They both groaned and the hand on her back pressed up to support the back of her head while the other landed on her hip. He needed no encouragement. As soon as his arousal met her heat, he thrust—a swift, searing thrust that left her unsure where he ended and she began.
“Oh, Lord...”
To Avenge Her Highland Warrior Page 15
