Mad for the Plaid

by Karen Hawkins

  She was unique. Unpredictable. Often annoyingly right. And so sensual, she made him ache with want.

  She tilted her head back, the sun warming her dark blond braid where it hung over her shoulder, highlighting the bright gold that mingled with other colors—the darker gold of an antique coin, the lighter brown of a brand-new saddle. There were even some strands the color of the peat beneath their feet. The hues mixed together in a delicious silken tangle that begged to be touched. Bozhy moj, but he longed to undo her strict braid and sink his hand into that rich mass of hair. He’d tilt her face to his and kiss those soft lips, which she was biting in such a beguiling fashion.

  Somehow, he found himself standing before her.

  She looked up, caution deepening the color of her eyes.

  “You said we should pack our things, nyet?” He held out a hand to assist her to her feet. “We will do it together.”

  She placed her hand in his.

  He pulled her up, careful not to strain his bad shoulder. But as soon as she was standing, he took her place on the log and, in a lightning-quick move, tugged her firmly into his lap. “There,” he said, wrapping his arm about her as he pressed a warm kiss to her temple. “Finally, you are where you belong.”

  Chapter 18

  “You tricked me.”

  “A little.” Nik nuzzled her ear—her hair was scented of lavender and honey. “You’ve but to say the word and I’ll release you.”

  She didn’t move, her thick lashes resting on the crests of her cheeks. “I’m thinking aboot it.”

  “We’ve been thinking too much, you and I.” He traced his lips from her ear to her neck. She was slightly turned toward him, one hand flat on his bare chest.

  “Aye, but”—she shivered as he brushed a kiss over her earlobe—“this is a mistake. I should nae—”

  “Ow!”

  Her gaze flew to his, a horrified look on her face. “Your shoulder?”

  “Nyet, my pride.” He sighed. “I’m not used to women questioning everything I say, especially while I’m kissing them.”

  Her lips quirked. “It’s nae what you’re saying, but what you’re doing.”

  He slid his hand to her hip and pulled her closer. “I’m only doing what we’ve both been thinking about all day.” God, but she had the most delicate neck. It begged for kisses, and he bent to oblige.

  She shivered, closing her eyes. “This is . . . verrah pleasant. But . . .” She sighed and pulled away. “Won’t this make our situation worse?”

  “The situation where we cannot look at one another without imagining doing this?” He slid his hand over her hip to her waist, savoring the way she arched, her breasts pushing toward his chest. “And this?” He cupped his other hand behind her head and covered her mouth with a hard, long kiss.

  She opened to him and he slid his tongue between her lips, filling her until she moaned. She gripped his coat lapel, though it was only hanging from his shoulder and did nothing to bring them closer. And yet there was no need, for he was already holding her as tightly as he dared, her full, soft curves delightfully gratifying against his body.

  She gasped against his mouth, pulling back as she fought for breath.

  He reluctantly stopped the kiss, though his body ached. “I burn for you.” Never had he felt such desire. It crackled along his senses everytime she was near.

  She leaned against him, her gray eyes smoky. “You are making it difficult to think.”

  “Then don’t think at all. Just do. We are alone, in the middle of a beautiful forest, and we cannot go anywhere. Why shouldn’t we share a kiss or ten?”

  Her gaze dropped to where her palm lay flat against his skin. “I suppose it would nae hurt to have a kiss—”

  “—or ten,” he insisted.

  She laughed softly, her voice husky. “Or ten,” she conceded. “You tempt me.” She leaned up to brush her lips across his cheek. It was feather-soft, like a butterfly’s wing on his bare skin.

  The innocent touch ignited the fires deep in his soul and with a huge sigh, he gathered her to him and buried his face in her neck, soaking in the lush feel of her, the scent of her skin and hair. “I would have you, krasavitsa.”

  “And I, you.” She slid her hands down his chest to his stomach and then back up. Seeking, touching, her breath harsh and quick.

  Her thick lashes trembled on his cheeks as he bent to taste her lips. Gently at first, but soon he forgot his own attempt at caution as the raging heat that had been simmering under his skin since he’d first met her flared into life. He plundered her mouth, and devoured her ravenously. God, he’d wanted this, wanted it since the first time he’d seen her standing in the window at Castle Leod, proud and intractable.

  He tugged at her jacket. “Remove this.”

  She pulled off her coat and dropped it, leaving nothing but her thin shirt between him and her breasts. All day, he’d been tormented by those full, round globes, how they pressed against her shirt when she moved, her nipples thrust so wantonly against the thin muslin.

  He cupped her breast through the thin material, loving how the mound filled his palms with a gratifying weight. He flicked his thumb over her nipple, bringing it to a peak. She gave a soft cry and arched against him, tilting back her head and closing her eyes.

  He flicked her nipple again and again, watching as she gasped and writhed with pleasure. He then bent to press his lips over her puckered nipple, swirling his tongue over the wet material so that it clung to the sensitive nub.

  She buried her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, pressing her breast into his mouth until he could take no more.

  She is, for this moment, mine.

  The words echoed in his head—mine, mine, mine. He couldn’t think the word enough.

  He lifted his mouth from her breast and trailed kisses up to where her shirt parted at her neck. “Undo your braid,” he whispered against her skin. “I would see your hair loose.”

  She lifted her arms, her wet shirt clinging to her breasts as she untied the braid. With hands that shook, she tossed aside the ribbon and began to untwine her braid.

  Impatient, he speared his hands into her hair and dragged free the silken strands, spreading them in shiny waves over her shoulders. Mingled golds and browns met his gaze, like the beauty of a field of golden grain lit by the sun and furrowed in rich peaty soil, as pure and perfect as she.

  Ailsa barely noticed the weight of her hair on her shoulders. Her body hummed from his touch, and with every breath she took, her nipples scraped the wet muslin of her shirt. Her legs were restless, her heart thudding wildly, her lips tender from his kisses. Desire as she’d never known it flooded through her.

  And all she could think was that she wanted more. Needed more.

  Now.

  She gasped as Nik slid his hands from her hair to frame her face. He kissed her again, filling her mouth with his tongue, tasting and testing. She shed her final lingering doubts and gave herself to the passion between them, kissing him with heated fervor.

  Never had she given herself to such wildness, and she reveled in it, in the freedom of releasing her feelings completely.

  He moved his warm, seeking lips to her ear, nipping and teasing, leaving a damp trail that his warm breath turned into a torment.

  She caught her breath as he nuzzled the crook of her neck, her hands splayed over his broad chest, his skin hot under her fingertips. She slipped her hands across him, threading her fingers through his crisp hair, savoring his rippling muscles as they warmed her palms. She was enthralled, captured, her imagination roaring ahead of her hands.

  She wanted more of this. More of him.

  And then more. And more again.

  It was as if she’d been starved and hadn’t realized it. As if deep inside, she’d longed for this but had been afraid to admit it. And now here he was, temptation embodied, and she couldn’t kiss him enough, touch him enough, feel him enough.

  She moaned as his hands ran down her back and then cup
ped her bottom in a deliciously firm grip.

  She swung one leg over his knees and sat facing him, her legs parted over his muscular thighs. She slipped her arm over his good shoulder and pressed against him, and this time she was the one doing the kissing, the stroking, the touching. And did it, she did.

  Nik was enthralled. Just when he thought his passion was at its height, she proved him wrong. He tugged her shirt free of her breeches, sliding his hand underneath, savoring her soft, warm skin. He loved her curves, and the luscious softness filled his hands and made him ache to dive into her.

  He ran his hands higher, tugging her shirt up. Finally, he lifted her arms and pulled the shirt free. Enthralled, Nik’s gaze locked on her creamy skin, roaming over her soft shoulders, down to the delicate shadows of her dimpled arms, and on to her full breasts. Plump, with large, blush-pink areolas that made his mouth water, they were perfection. And now they were bared to him, moving with her every breath, tempting him beyond thought.

  God, he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He pulled her closer and rubbed his chest against hers, knowing his hair would abrade her delicate nipples to new sensual heights.

  She gasped and gripped his arms, throwing her head back and baring her neck for his kisses.

  He kissed a heated trail to her ear as he slid a hand over one breast and rolled her nipple under his palm. Gasping wildly, she arched against him, her lips parting as he leaned forward to capture her lips and—

  “Nik!”

  She’d gone completely still, her eyes wide.

  It took all his concentration to regain the ability to think. After a moment, he was able to say in a hoarse voice, “Yes?”

  “Did you hear that?” she whispered. “Toward the stream.”

  He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, his groin aching with the heat growing between them. “I didn’t hear a thing; my blood is thundering in my ears. I—”

  She stood, giving him an agonizingly beautiful eye-level view of her breasts.

  But only for a second.

  “There! I heard it again.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stared into the woods.

  D’yoval suddenly raised his head, his ears flicking forward as he stared into the woods in the same direction as Ailsa.

  Nik frowned. Bozhy moj, someone is coming.

  As if in answer, a twig snapped in the distance.

  Ailsa scooped up her shirt and yanked it over her head, and then reached beside the cave and found her pistol.

  Still hard with lust, Nik swallowed a bitter curse, and came to stand beside her. “My rifle?”

  She jerked her head toward the cave. “Beside the opening.”

  He ducked into the cave and returned with his weapon. He checked that his weapon was loaded, and then stood beside Ailsa, listening intently.

  Silence met them, the only sound their still-rapid breathing.

  “No birds are chirping,” she whispered.

  He nodded, his attention finally on something other than the woman beside him.

  The silence lengthened and grew. Finally, Nik lowered his weapon. “An animal, perhaps. Or a—”

  The shrubs rustled and a man appeared, the sunlight glinting on the barrel of his pistol.

  “Rurik!” Relief swept Nik. “I was beginning to wonder where you were.” He’d started toward Rurik but Ailsa stepped in front of him, her gaze locked on the guard.

  “If you wish to speak with him, then put doon your weapon,” she told his guard.

  Nik chuckled. “Krasavitsa, it is Rurik. He comes to escort us to Greer’s camp.”

  She didn’t look the least convinced. “Then why has he drawn his pistol?”

  “Because he . . .” Nik turned to Rurik. “Why do you have your pistol drawn?”

  The guard’s thick black brows rose, but the pistol remained where it was, level and pointing at Nik’s chest.

  Nik’s smile faded. “Rurik, what is this?”

  Rurik’s gaze flickered to the woods, an almost regretful look entering his gaze before he lowered the pistol and tucked it into his waistband. “The brigands.”

  Nik looked around, instantly on alert. “Did you see sign of them on your way here?”

  “Da. It’s good you’re armed. But what happened to you? You’ve a bandage.”

  “A minor wound, nothing more. Lady Ailsa says it’s only a—”

  “Ailsa!” The yell echoed loudly.

  Everyone looked in the direction of the voice.

  “Ailsa, where are you?”

  “Gregor?” Ailsa called out.

  “You brought the whelp with you?” Nik asked Rurik.

  “Not by choice.” The broad-shouldered guard shook his head ruefully. “You can hear that man a mile away—he crashes through the bushes like a drunk deer. That was why I had my pistol drawn. With him thrashing through the woods the way he does, I was certain the thieves would find us all.”

  Ailsa said, “But you’re nae traveling with him. You came from one direction; he’s approaching from another.”

  The guard’s gaze flickered to Ailsa. “Your cousin has been most annoying since you disappeared. Talking, talking, demanding we do something, but having no idea what. It was decided I should be the one to find you and escort you to where Greer and the others wait, but your cousin decided to strike out on his own.”

  “He can be verrah insistent.”

  The brush moved and then Gregor appeared, leading his horse, his pistol at the ready just as Rurik’s had been. On seeing Ailsa, his eyes lit. “Good God, cousin, where have you been?” He replaced his weapon in its holder and tied his horse to a shrub. “Never disappear on me again! I’ve been so worried, I can’t even—” Gregor had walked toward them, but now he stopped, his gaze going over Ailsa’s loose hair, her untucked shirt. He turned to Nik, his eyes widening at the bare chest that met his gaze. “Bloody hell! What’s going on here?”

  Ailsa sighed. “Can you nae see the bandages, Gregor?”

  “Oh. That. I didn’t— And I should have— I’m sorry. That must be why— And then Ailsa helped— There’s lace on that bandage, so I’ll assume it’s—”

  “Gregor, please.” Ailsa, holding back a quiver of a smile, held up a hand. “Enough!”

  Rurik crossed his arms over his chest. “You see what I mean, nyet?”

  Gregor’s face was so red it appeared he might burst into flames. “I hope you weren’t— Not that it would be any of my business if you did, but—”

  “Careful, Gregor!” Ailsa sent him a warning look as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “As you noted already, he’s been injured. The bandage is too thick for him to wear his shirt over it.”

  Gregor brightened. “Ah! Good, then!”

  “I’m glad you’re so pleased,” Nik said tersely.

  Rurik came to stand with Nik, his brows lowered. “I found where D’yoval slid off the trail. It’s a wonder your arm isn’t all you injured.”

  “I didn’t hurt my arm from the fall. I was shot.”

  Gregor, who’d been walking toward them, came to an abrupt halt. “What?”

  “You heard what I said.”

  “I know, but . . . I knew something had happened. You ran into the brigands after the storm, didn’t you? And with only one horse between you. I was worried sick about you, and with reason.”

  “You should nae have been,” Ailsa answered. “Nik was shot during the storm. Someone fired under cover of the thunder, for I never heard it and I was looking right at him when it happened.”

  “Bloody hell.” Gregor looked contrite as he turned to Nik. “Are you able to travel?”

  Nik gave a dismissive wave. “Perfectly able. We would have already joined you, but your cousin was worried my wound might reopen.”

  “Ah. She’s been babying you, has she? She does that.”

  Ailsa scowled at her cousin. “Only when ’tis warranted. I take it you found Greer, and all is well?”

  “Aye. He’s waiting with the others at the
inn in Ullapool.” Gregor gave the guard a hard look. “Hello, Rurik. Surprised to see me?”

  “Nyet. I’ve heard you these last two miles, if not more.”

  Gregor’s mouth thinned. “You should have waited for me.”

  “There was no need.” Rurik grinned, his teeth gleaming in his bearded face. “I thought it best to find our lost members quickly. Traveling with you might be noisy, but it is not quick.”

  “I wouldn’t have slowed you—”

  “You would have. We both know it.” Rurik turned to Nik. “We must reach the main road before nightfall. We can travel much quicker then.”

  “Let us go, then,” Nik said. But inwardly, he sighed in disappointment. Ten minutes ago, he’d thought the world fit into the palm of his hand—or at least a delicious bit of it.

  Ailsa frowned. “But your shoulder—”

  “—is fine.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “It is well enough, as you have seen.”

  Her face pinkened, but she gave a short nod, and then went to collect their things.

  Nik was surprised at the wistfulness that pressed upon him as he watched her disappear into the cave. This had been their little oasis away from their quest, and he would miss it.

  Stifling a sigh, he went to saddle D’yoval.

  Chapter 19

  Ailsa took a sip of her whisky. The smoky gold flavor slid over her tongue and warmed her throat. She smiled and stretched her booted feet toward the fireplace. The inn in Ullapool was small but comfortable. She was sitting in an overstuffed chair in the common room, a toasty fire at her toes, a glass of good whisky in her hand—and she sighed with pleasure.

  After Rurik and Gregor had appeared, she and Nik had followed them out of the forest to the main road. With only three horses among them, Nik had insisted she ride before him. Her cousin had protested, but Nik had put an end to it by pointing out D’yoval’s superior strength. It had been pleasant, riding tucked against Nik’s broad chest, his heart in beat with her own.