by Rue Allyn
She leaned forward smiling, patting the neck of her mount. “I’d forgotten how beautiful this valley is. Too much time has passed since last I visited here.”
“You could nae speak truer words of the beauty to be seen.”
Facing forward, she didna see the direction of his gaze. “Look!” She pointed at a group of dark animals moving toward the stream. A spot of gray raced back and forth along the near side of the group. “’Tis the MacKai herd. I’m sure of it.”
He tore his gaze from her and searched the horses—now distinct animals instead of a moving mass. “Aye, I believe so. I’ve nae seen them in more than ten years, but no one who’d seen Ceoclis once could mistake that swift, misty hued stud for any other stallion. I dinna see Aingealach Spealp. She was Ceoclis’ favorite mare, if I recall rightly.”
Sorcha’s smile fled and her shoulders slumped. “She was also my mother’s horse. She named her Aingealach Spealp for her white coat and angelic spirit.”
He would have stolen back his words if he could. “Sorry I am for stirring painful memories.”
Sorcha shook her head. “Nae ʼtis past time that I visited those as well as this glen.”
He sidestepped his mount until he was close enough to take Sorcha’s hand and give a gentle squeeze. “I would nae cause you pain, muirnean.”
She squeezed back and kept her hand clasped in his. “You canna. This valley, those horses, even they canna cause me pain if I dinna allow it. ʼTis only Brice and your father who once had that power, and they are both dead. Dead as my parents. Dead as Aingealach Spealp.”
“What happened?”
“I told you what happened to my parents.”
“Was your mother riding Aingealach Spealp that day?”
Sorcha shook her head. “Nae, the mare was in foal and was stolen along with the herd after my parents were killed. She died later giving birth.”
“Come.” He led the way down to the spring. Tethering the horses on the far side of the sheltered space, he left Sorcha mounted while he laid out wood from a pile kept at the other end of the overhang and started a fire. Next he spread a quilt between the fire and the spring then went to help Sorcha dismount.
She sat on the quilt and loosened her dark red cloak. “Ah, ʼtis wonderfully warm. The peace of the valley and the creatures here is like a balm. Thank you for thinking of this.”
“You are most welcome, my lady. I’ve other things I hope will please you.” He went to his saddlebags and withdrew a flagon, a loaf, and a sack. Bringing all back to the quilt, he settled beside her. From the sack he withdrew a trencher of bread, dried fruit, some slivers of ham, a wedge of cheese, a honey pot, and two plain goblets.
“You knew we’d be hungry after that long ride. You’re a canny mon, Colin Marr.” Taking a small slice of dried apple, she dipped it in the honey and popped the tidbit into her mouth.
Nae canny enough for you where my friends are concerned. Today was about peace and escape from care. He’d nae bring discord and distrust into the moment when Sorcha was smiling at him. Colin busied himself with pouring wine from the flagon into one of the goblets and handed it to her.
She raised a brow and eyed the other goblet. “Are you nae thirsty?”
“Aye, verra thirsty.”
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed, then quickly took the goblet and drank deep.
He hoped she could see in his eyes the longing that burned good sense to ash.
Still staring at him, she lifted the goblet away then licked a drop of wine from the edge of the cup. He took it, turned it to the spot still dewy from her tongue and sipped, then sipped again, never taking his gaze from hers.
“Oh my,” she breathed.
“Yes, mine,” he whispered back. One hand set the cup aside, the other grasped her nape and pressed.
She yielded. He brushed his mouth across hers and licked, tasting sweet wine and sweeter woman.
She opened and sucked his tongue inside. He played there teasing and pleasing them both until she moaned and gripped his tunic, pulling it from his belt and tunneling her hands beneath to score his belly and chest with her nails.
He would take every care to cherish her as she should be cherished. To show her pleasure and delight. He didna love her, but he couldna let her go with desire burning beneath his skin day and night. ʼTwas a good thing she didna love him either.
He broke the kiss then knelt before her, stunned by her beauty and her generosity. His hands shook as he loosened the ties of her clothing.
She placed her hands over his, stopping him. “Nae, Colin, nae like this.”
Confused, he fixed his gaze on hers. Tender light gleamed in her gray eyes, but he couldna read her expression. “Then how? Do you nae wish me to look on you? Have you changed your mind?” Something very like fear filled his throat and clutched at his heart. He would stop if she insisted, but surely he would die if she did.
That small smile still on her lips, she shook her head. “I have no changed my mind.”
“What is it then? Why stop?”
She laid a finger on his lips, and he fell silent. Then she placed her hands beneath his elbows and pushed upward. He stood, and she rose with him.
“I want to share this with you. Give myself to you.” With one hand on his chest she gave him a gentle shove, forcing him to step back a pace.
His brow wrinkled. “I dinna understand. You have already given me permission to lay with you.”
“Permission for you to take. However, I wish to give. Here, let me show you.”
She placed her hands on the ties of her kirtle and removed the garment, then gave it to him.
“I want you to know that I come to you freely without doubt or condition.”
“Thank you. I am humbled by your gesture and your generosity.” He folded the kirtle and set it on a corner of the quilt while he watched her remove the next garment. His heart raced as she took off each item until she stood before him unadorned. Her beauty took his breath.
He’d seen breasts and thighs and labia enough to know that other women might be thought lovelier by courtly standards. But for him none could surpass Sorcha’s lean strength, her pale pink nipples, the creamy skin, and those soft lips. Her eyes—like the gray clouds at dawn—regarded him with frankness, welcome, and if he was nae mistaken, a wee bit of worry.
“You are beautiful.”
She bowed her head. “You needna say such things to me.”
A flush rose from her chest to her face.
Was she embarrassed? He prayed nae. He prayed she had as much difficulty controlling her desires as he did. Much as he loved looking at her, his cock was beginning to cause him pain, albeit of the most pleasant kind. ʼTwould be heaven when they joined, but he knew waiting would only make the pleasure better.
He stepped forward, placed a finger beneath her chin, and urged it upward. “But I want to say such things to you, almost as much as I want this.”
He leaned in to brush his lips across hers. Her hands stroked his shoulders, tugging him toward her, but he pulled away.
Questions rose in her eyes.
“I would gift myself to you, muirnean.”
The questions fled, and her eyes went wide, and her smile spread. “I would like that.”
He grinned. “’Twill please us both.”
As she had with him, he took his time, doffing first his tunic then his belt, pants, and hose. He handed her each item, and she folded it, then put it aside.
He delighted in watching her as his body was exposed. He felt no little pride when he removed his pants and she sucked in a breath. He smiled when he took off his hose and saw her fingers twitch. She licked her lips when he at last stood naked before her. He took that as a high compliment.
“Are you thirsty, muirnean?” he teased.
She smiled at him. “You know I am nae. You know I want to taste and touch you.”
He spread his arms. “Please, I will perish a broken man if you dinna.”
She m
oved closer, stroking her hands over his shoulders, down his arms and legs, up again and around his torso. She circled him, caressing his back and buttocks. She kissed his nape, which brought her breasts into contact with his back. As she slid around to his front, the heat of her body melted into him, making his blood roar and his cock pulse. He doubted he could stand much more.
She linked her hands around his neck and let her body slide lightly against his.
He groaned, grasped her waist, and pulled her tightly against him. His cock prodded the soft flesh above her mound. He kissed her, caressing and nibbling at her lips, urging her to open for him.
She lifted on her toes and kissed him back. Her tongue licked at his mouth, and he opened, taking her passion, offering his own until they were both dizzy.
He guided them to the quilt, easing them both down, lowering his body over hers. She spread her legs, and he settled his hips between them, but when she started to move her pelvis, he stopped her.
“Slowly, muirnean. We have all day.”
• • •
The light of the short winter day was fading, and from every hill shadows crept toward the stream dividing the valley. Their tethered mounts exchanged soft whickers with the herd that had come up the glen, seeking the warmth spreading outward from the spring.
Bundled in Colin’s wool wrap, Sorcha propped her head on her arm and watched the man beside her. Who would have thought the man who’d caused her so much pain would bring her such great pleasure? ʼTwould be agony to leave him. ʼTwas her own fault if she suffered, for she’d gone willingly, nae eagerly, to his arms and would again until the day she left Strathtnaver and ne’er saw Colin Marr again.
Her gaze caught in the flames of the dying fire as if she might read the solution to all problems in the coals.
Their loving had been glorious and bittersweet—a blissful moment out of a very troubled time. She could understand what blinded Colin to Ranulf. Aside from the knight’s teasing manner, he represented the family Colin lost when he left Strathnaver, cutting himself off from his father and brother. After that final break, ʼtwas no surprise he looked for others to fill the void. No doubt Ranulf had once deserved Colin’s trust. But now? Why could Colin nae see how Ranulf was trying to sap the shaky bond she and Colin shared? How did the big man ken just what words would cause the most havoc? Either he was unusually perceptive or he kenned more than he let on of her past and Colin’s.
She could nae stay with a man so determined to deceive himself.
“What are you thinking, muirnean?”
She shifted her gaze. “Nothing of import, bramair.” She lowered herself to his chest and took his mouth with hers for a brief kiss.
She pushed herself up and searched out her clothing. “The sun will set soon. We must leave now if we wish to see our way clearly.”
“Aye.” Colin rose to a sitting position, looking about him for his own clothing. She dropped her gown over her head. The skirt fell in a twist about her legs. Her sleeves bunched and bound at her elbows, but she didna care. Colin knelt, facing the back wall of the overhang. Shoulders lowered and bum raised, he reached for his breeches tossed carelessly amongst the rocks tumbled there from some event in the mystical past. Her core grew damp, and her breath hitched. She never got to see him from this angle.
Dusted with dark reddish hair, his lean muscled thighs and taut buttocks flexed and shimmied as he stretched to release the cloth caught on the rough edge of a rock. The sight was verra stimulating and oddly entrancing. Sorcha’s mouth went dry. He stood in one fluid movement, stepped into his breeches and turned to catch her assessing his manly form.
He grinned and paced forward to grab up his tunic, treating her to the familiar but still tantalizing display of his broad chest and the arrow of hair that disappeared beneath the edge of his pants.
She licked her lips and reached to touch as he approached.
Laughter gleaming from his eyes, he took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles before letting it drop. He grasped her hip. Sorcha was ready to lie down and let him swive her all night on the cold rocky ground.
He kissed her lips but stepped back, releasing her before she could embrace him.
Her brow wrinkled. “What ...?”
“Your skirt was askew and your sleeves bunched. “’Twould nae do for the folk of Strathnaver to believe their earl and countess spent a day of loving in the open air, when we are supposed to be angry over your flirting with Robert. Also we need nae have them snickering behind their hands because the earl allows his countess to ride about looking like a slattern from the tabhairn.”
“Oh. Are you ashamed of me?”
He stepped close once more and rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Never, muirnean. But I ken my clan still thinks of you as a MacKai, and in light of the announcement of impending peace between MacKai and Marr, I’ll nae give them cause to insult you.”
“Oh.” He’d been thinking of her needs, despite the problems between them. ʼTwas sweet of him and almost made her regret her decision to leave Strathnaver at the earliest possible moment. With Raeb if he’d allow her to return to Dungarob. The thought snapped her out of her daze. “We’d best be going.”
He helped her to clean up the area and mount before getting into his own saddle. Together they walked their horses through the herd surrounding the space beneath the overhang and into the open area of the valley.
They’d covered about one-third the distance to the forest when a horse screamed behind them. She pulled to a halt beside Colin and turned with him to look.
The herd milled restlessly. Another scream ripped from a maddened horse. Then an arrow sliced the space between their two mounts, and the herd raced as one mass toward the spot where Sorcha and Colin watched in frozen amazement.
“Run for the trees.”
Colin’s shout shook her from her stupor. She wheeled her mount and galloped for safety, Colin unknown paces behind her.
More arrows flew. Time blurred, and she sped away from pursuers intent to kill. But Mother was behind. Sorcha knew she had to help. She reined her mount into a tight turn and felt the earth tremble beneath dashing hooves. Dust rose everywhere. Neighs and frightened whinnies surrounded her. Huge bodies blocked every pathway. She shook her head to clear her sight and circled her mount, praying the steed’s instincts would guide them out of the sea of horseflesh.
• • •
From the far side of the panicked herd, Colin watched in horror as Sorcha guided her mount toward him and straight into the path of the frenzied equines. What is she doing?
Horses were smart and would run around or leap over any obstacle. But if avoidance were impossible, as it was in the center of a tightly packed herd, they would trample anything in their path.
He did the only thing he could and headed for Sorcha. If he could get to her before either of them went down, they could face their horses in the same direction as the fleeing herd and hopefully avoid death and injury by becoming part of the thundering flow.
With agile speed and trust in his destrier, Colin threaded his way into the dust cloud and toward where he remembered Sorcha’s mount spun in a confused circle. The air cleared for a moment, and he spotted her red cloak. Just a few more steps and he’d be close enough to help her.
From the corner of one eye he saw several mounted men chasing the herd. One of the men was very large. But Colin’s focus was all on Sorcha, and he never saw the arrow that struck him. The sudden pain caused him to involuntarily jerk on his destrier’s reins, and the steed stumbled. A small stumble, but enough for the buffeting bodies of the other horses to keep the destrier off balance. Time slowed. Unable to help the steed right himself, they began to fall. He had an eye-blink of time to throw himself from the saddle or be crushed beneath his horse.
He had fallen during a fight often enough to recognize the gut churning sensation of being suspended in air without any support. The breath-stealing crash to the ground would come next. Normally h
e would stand as soon as possible, but now he would curl up and make himself as small as possible in a bid to avoid being trampled. As it was his head hit a rock. Blinding light and pain were the last things he knew.
• • •
“Nae!” Sorcha screamed. She set her horse toward the spot where she saw the other mount go down. She wouldna lose her mother again. Again? She shook her head for the third time. Nae Mother … Colin had fallen. She must get to Colin. The racing herd began to thin out, and the stragglers raced around a heap of horse and man on the ground.
She rode to place her horse between the heap and any threat, then dismounted and ran to Colin. His destrier, its left foreleg twisted at an alarming angle, lay frightened and in pain on the ground. Somehow Colin had been thrown free in such a way that the big horse’s body had sheltered him from the worst of the stampede. He was unconscious, and the broken shaft of an arrow protruded from one shoulder. Blood slowly soaked his tunic and seeped from other minor cuts.
The destrier would have to be slain, but she knew she had neither the strength nor the will for the act. What she could do was move Colin from the reach of his steed’s restless hooves.
She laid a hand on the destrier’s neck and crooned to it as she had to her younger sisters when they were sick or hurt. The horse calmed a small bit. Sorcha eased her way around to where she could grasp Colin beneath his shoulders. Grunting, she lifted and tugged, tugged and lifted in a slow struggle until he lay a full body length beyond his horse. She examined him and decided ʼtwas better to leave the arrow wound untouched until she had the means to clean and staunch the injury. She checked his head and found a sizable lump but no bleeding. Mary, Queen of Heaven, keep him safe. Let these injuries heal easily with nae festering nor fever.
She was alone, and her most urgent need was to get Colin to shelter and care. She could nae lift him onto her mount and she wouldna leave him. He was too heavy to carry back to the overhang and the warm spring. She had nae choice; with night—and wolves—approaching rapidly, she must use what little light was left to build a travois. She took off her cloak and laid it over Colin, tucking it in as best she could to keep him warm. Then she straightened and dusted her hands on her skirt, setting off for the nearest trees.
