by Hazel Hunter
“I like being naked with you.”
“I’ll burn our garments, and spend the winter here.” He stroked her thigh, and shifted his hand to slide between them. “Would you like that?”
“Until we starve,” Rachel murmured and closed her eyes for a moment as he parted her and found her clit. “Or we could move the pantry in here.”
“The heart of your pearl beats for me,” he said and lightly pressed his thumb against her, gently massaging the pulsing nub. “’Tis good when I pet it so?”
“Ah, ’tis great.” Her voice sounded almost ragged as she rubbed back against the pad of his thumb. “But if you keep doing that, I’m going to come, and…I’d like to have you inside me when I do the first time.”
“So you shall,” he murmured.
Rachel caught her breath as he began to move, filling her by slow, gradual degrees. Although his shaft stretched her to the brink of pain, her pussy gloved him with wetness. He kissed her as he made one last, gentle thrust to bury himself inside her, and groaned as she tightened around him.
“’Tis better than any dream,” he said against her lips.
The heat of his mouth and the slow rub of his thumb against her pearl added countless sensations to the intense feeling of being impaled by his long, hard shaft. Need blazed low in her belly like a spreading fever, and then what Evander felt poured into her. Rachel felt the silky clasp of her softness on him, how hard he’d clamped down on his desperate need to thrust into her, and the deep, pounding pulse in his tight balls.
The blend of their needs and pleasures rushed through her like dark light.
“Evander.”
“Yes, my lass, my Rachel,” he crooned. “All of it, all of you, mine now.”
In the space of a heartbeat Rachel felt herself gush around him as a waterfall of bliss poured over her, her body gripping him even tighter as she gave herself over to it. She heard him make a guttural sound, and then he was riding it with her, his cock pumping into the heart of her delight.
The room spun. Rachel felt the linens beneath her shoulders and then Evander atop her, his big body working over and inside her. The bed posts drummed against the wall as he fucked her with long, powerful strokes, her pussy so wet now she could hear the sexy liquid sound of each penetration. Yet when she tried to caress his chest he gripped her wrists and pinned them to the bed.
“I’ll no’ last if you touch me now,” he bit out, his jaw tight and the sinewy muscles in his arms bunching. “I’ll feel your sweetness again before I spill. Give me what I want, Rachel.”
“This?” she asked, and clenched around him as he plowed into her, and felt the aching surge building at the base of his shaft. Her body responded with another cascade of silky, wet heat, and when he felt it Rachel cried out with delight. “Oh, yes.”
“Aye.” He watched her face as he plunged slowly in and out, stoking her climax until she finally shuddered through the last stream of it and went boneless beneath him. “Now for you. Have me, lass.”
He wrapped his arms around her as he buried his cock in her pussy, clutching her against him as he grunted. Inside her his cock swelled, impossibly thick, and then jerked with the force of his ejaculation.
Rachel cried out with every spurt he pumped into her, feeling his masculine pleasure along with her own. He came with all the intensity of a missile, unwavering and powerful, and shook with satisfaction and relief as he flooded her throbbing pussy.
Tucking her hot face against his damp neck, Rachel sighed with utter contentment. When he released her wrists and tried to withdraw from her she shook her head.
“No, please. Stay inside me.”
He looked down at her, and moved enough for her to feel his shaft, which hadn’t gone completely soft.
“If I do, I’ll have you again. ’Tis too much for you.”
She hated to admit it, but he was probably right, and let him go.
“It’s not because of my size. I haven’t done this since I was in college.” She might as well tell him the rest. “David and I never made love.”
“Oh, so he’s a blind, daft fool as well as a filthy back-stabbing arse of a coward, gods rot him.” He propped his head on his hand and studied her face. “Why no’?”
“He said it would be romantic to wait until we were married. I believed him.” She met his gaze. “I’m glad. If we had, I think I’d probably never feel clean again.”
Evander looked uncertain, as if he wanted to tell her something.
“You and Fiona were lovers,” she said.
“Before we came here, aye. After, Fiona didnae want me so much. Near the end, no’ at all.” His mouth flattened. “I didnae understand it, but I let her be.”
Rachel caught a glimpse of a memory of Evander’s lover huddled on the bed and weeping, while he tried in vain to comfort her.
“That was kind of you.”
“I couldnae relieve her terrors, nor remove her guilt. She lived in fear that we would be found.” He moved onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Mayhap she should have left me. I killed her as much as the plague.”
“You can’t blame yourself for her illness,” Rachel told him. “Besides, you took her away from everyone who would have hurt her.” She crawled up onto his chest. “You protected her. You kept her alive.”
“Now you are kind.” He stroked his hand over her hair. “I had never been loved before Fiona. I used her for my pleasure and thought naught of it. Yet when she offered her heart, nothing more mattered to me but that. Now I wish I’d gone to the laird, and asked him to spare her. Had Lachlan been told of how ill she had been used, I think he would have.”
“I should have listened to my father when he warned me about David. He never liked or trusted him, and he was a very good judge of character.” She gave him a wan smile. “I’d never been in love before, though, and I was so sure that David was my future. Every time I looked at him, I felt it.”
Evander reached over to blow out the candle. “And what do you feel now?” he asked as he drew the tartan up over them.
Rachel cuddled closer. “I’m where I should be.”
Chapter Eleven
FROST CRYSTALLIZED THE remains of the garden each morning, until one day when the temperature rose unexpectedly, and a storm rolled over the ridges to soak the highlands. Rachel covered the windows with oiled cloths Evander used to keep out the rain, while he hauled all of the water storage urns out into the deluge to fill them. She grinned as she carried out two empty buckets to add to his urns.
“This definitely beats hauling water from Splang or the river,” she said and eyed the dark clouds billowing over them. “How long will it last?”
“Some hours,” he said and caught her by the waist and dragged her up against him. “You’re all wet, Mistress Ingram.”
“I guess I am,” Rachel said and linked her hands behind his neck. “Maybe you should take me inside and dry me off, Master Talorc.”
Whenever she called him that his eyes darkened with sensual hunger, so it was no surprise when Evander lifted her off her feet and carried her into the cottage. Inside he set her down by the fireplace, and gave her a deep, hungry kiss as he unfastened and stripped off her sodden clothes. When she tried to do the same for him, he shook his head and reached for the shawl she’d left on his chair.
“’Twill be tonight for that, my wee wanton wench,” Evander said as he wrapped her up and deposited her in the chair. “Rain brings the red grouse to shelter in the forest, and I mean to hunt them while they’re yet young and sweet.”
She pretended to glower. “You’re leaving me here naked so you can chase little brown chickens?”
“Stay inside, and keep the hearth hot.” He tucked her shawl up under her neck, and kissed her until she gasped against his mouth. “I’ll fetch in the urns and buckets when I come back.”
Rachel watched him collect his spears and heavy cloak, and sighed a little when he strode out into the rain. He was only going to hunt the game birds b
ecause he knew how much she liked them. Ever since they had become lovers he’d been pampering her that way. She’d caught a glimmer of worry from him, too. Last night he’d barely let her sleep. A lovely wave of sensation spread through her as she stretched her slightly sore body. As long as he kept making love to her like that, she’d be a very happy insomniac.
After she retreated to the bed chamber to put on a dry gown, Rachel went into the cold pantry to survey what she’d need for their evening meal. After she’d described a rotisserie to Evander, he’d chiseled a recess into the tops of two rectangular stones. Using an old spear with an iron shaft, he carved a wooden crank handle and fitted it to turn it into a spit to rest atop the stones. The medieval spit worked so well she didn’t have to stew or braise game anymore.
She wanted to do something special with the red grouse, and thought of her father’s favorite dish: roasted chicken stuffed with golden chanterelles. The last time she had walked through the clearing by Splang she’d noticed the exact same mushrooms growing on the roots of an old oak. With their apricot scent and peppery flavor, they’d make the perfect stuffing.
To get them, she’d have to go to the clearing by herself.
Therein lay the problem. Rachel knew why Evander didn’t want her wandering around on her own. He’d thought about it every time they went gathering. As beautiful as the highlands were, they could also be very dangerous. Sometimes seemingly level ground sheared off and became a cliff with a deadly drop. Sheep, cow and deer herds roamed the slopes, and if spooked could attack or even stampede. She knew from living in SoCal that the rain might cause a flash flood to come out of nowhere. If she was smart, she’d stay in the cottage.
As Rachel brooded over the dilemma, she heard the rain slow to a light drizzle. She’d been to the clearing enough times to know where it was safe to walk. Picking the chanterelles wouldn’t take long, and she knew Evander would appreciate them.
“I’ll be careful,” she muttered under her breath as she grabbed her cloak and a gathering basket.
Outside the air gave Rachel a wet smack in the face, and she tugged the tartan up over her head as she hurried down the stone path and out through the gate. It wouldn’t do for her to slip on the wet grass, fall and break something, so she forced herself to slow down. Somehow the clearing seemed farther away than she remembered, but whenever she went out with Evander she paid more attention to him than anything else.
Because I’m falling in love with him.
It wasn’t just the stunning, wild, magical sex. Rachel loved how beautifully they suited each other, with Evander’s aggressive masculinity meshing perfectly with her compliant feminine nature. In her time she’d often felt embarrassed by her desire to please, but with her highlander it felt completely natural. It also excited her deeply to be so wanted by a man that he would forget to be civilized around her.
Yet while she enjoyed every minute of their love making, her heart reacted just as passionately when Evander said her name or came near or just looked at her. Being alone with him, taking care of the cottage and sharing her days and nights with him had changed her. She would never have thought she’d be content with such a simple life, but it was pure and real. She still had so much to learn, but that made every day seem like an adventure.
She also knew Evander wasn’t perfect. He struggled with his temper, and he carried around a war spirit that could be intimidating, and probably quite lethal. He was still keeping things from her, or thought he was. He’d had serious issues with women until he’d found love with Fiona, and that still worried her. He’d definitely made some terrible mistakes. All the hardship and betrayal and heartbreak he’d suffered should have ruined him.
But it hadn’t.
Rachel knew who Evander was in his heart. She saw the man the rest of the world had never glimpsed. Life may have forged him into a weapon, but the cold, hard warrior was only a façade. Beneath it was a weary man who simply wanted to be loved.
Fack, but she’s a ripe one. I’ll swive her ’til the snows come, and then back to Agna and the bairns.
For the first time since Rachel had crossed over, the voice in her head didn’t belong to Evander. She felt lust and gloating accompanying the words, and looked ahead to see a sizable herd of brown and ivory sheep grazing in the clearing. She’d seen a few of them before in the distance, and had been charmed by their curved horns and dense, wooly coats, but they’d never come close to the cottage.
By season’s end he’ll marry me, a happy female voice said behind her eyes. The master shall give us a cottage, and I can bring Mam to live with us.
Carefully Rachel moved forward until she saw the man and woman taking shelter under the big oak above the clearing. They were embracing beneath the protection of a cloak spread over the lower branches. A shepherd’s crook stood leaning against the tree, and a basket mounded with loose brown wool sat next to it. The man was unlacing the woman’s blouse.
Rachel couldn’t get to the chanterelles without passing within their view. She either had to brazen it out, or go back to the cottage empty-handed.
Taking a firmer grip on her basket, she walked down the last stretch of path to the fallen tree, which now lay covered by dozens of the golden mushrooms. As she picked the smallest of the chanterelles, the thoughts and feelings of the couple under the trees poured into her mind.
Coira, the young shepherdess, was happy her farmer master had sent Parnal, the drover, to help her roo his sheep, which involved plucking the loose wool from their coats. The messy task took a long time, so they could dally a little without raising suspicions. Parnal felt smug over how flattery and a few false promises had gotten him into Coira’s arms.
Rachel tried to ignore their thoughts as she filled the basket, but then the drover began gloating over his immediate future plans. The shepherdess had no idea that once the sheep were brought in from the ridges to spend the winter at the farm, Parnal would be leaving to return to his wife and children, with no intention of returning.
She lifted her head to stare at the couple. The drover thought it funny that he’d duped the shepherdess into believing he’d marry her. He prided himself on how fertile he was, and fully expected to leave her pregnant. He didn’t care that without a husband that would condemn her to an even harder life, trying to raise a child by herself. The worst thought came from Parnal as he began to hike up Coira’s skirts.
Mayhap she’ll die giving birth to the brat. ’Twould serve the little hoor proper.
Rachel stiffened. The drover had the same, smarmy tone to his thoughts as she’d heard in David’s voice when he’d said, Please, just shut up and die. She straightened, grabbed her basket, and marched up the slope until she stood a few feet from the couple.
On some level she knew she was making a mistake, but she didn’t care. She was sick of men who thought the women they used should die horrible deaths. She’d never be able to get back at David for what he’d done, but she wouldn’t let another woman be victimized.
“Excuse me.”
Parnal shot up with a yelp, while Coira yanked down her skirts and bolted to her feet.
“What do ye here, ye nosy cunt?” the drover demanded, hurriedly fastening his pants. “We’re busy now. Go on with ye.”
“You should know that he’s already married,” Rachel told the shepherdess, and had to raise her voice to be heard over Parnal’s subsequent blustering. “His wife’s name is Agna, and she lives with their three children in the lowlands. He’s only here to make enough money to start his own flock. You know, for Agna, and the kids.” She regarded the gaping drover. “Also, he thinks you’re a whore.”
“How could ye ken what I am, what I think?” Parnal demanded.
Coira drew back her arm, and slapped the drover so hard it knocked him on his ass. After she grabbed her crook and her wool, she walked down to Rachel.
“How could ye ken?” she demanded. “Has he swivved ye, too?”
“I was married to someone like him,” she told Coi
ra. “Trust me, you’re better off dumping his ass right now.”
The shepherdess looked back at Parnal as if he were scum, nodded to Rachel, and stalked off.
Parnal scrambled to his feet. “Wait, lass, ’tis naught but lies. I’d never…fack.” He turned on Rachel. “Who told ye about Agna? Elpin? Mathis?” His eyes narrowed. “They dinnae ken about Coira and me. None do.”
“They will now.” Judging by the ferocity of Coira’s thoughts, Rachel suspected that everyone in Scotland would. “Maybe she’ll get word to your wife. Or does Agna know how much of a whore you are? No? She thinks you’re completely devoted to her and the bairns? I see. So you’ve duped her, too. Bravo.”
“No wench could pluck the thoughts from my head as ye do. Ye dinnae even speak like a Scot.” The drover drew a dagger, but backed away from her as if she terrified him. “Ye’re a witch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” The blazing outrage Rachel felt suddenly fizzled out in a wave of cold fear. In this time women believed to be witches were drowned or burned alive. “I’m from the lowlands. I…I know your family.”
“More lies. You’re as much a lowland wench as I’m the king.” Parnal jabbed at the air between them. “Begone with ye, witch, before I cut out yer heart and feed it to the flock.”
Since he looked scared enough to make good on the threat, Rachel turned and hurried down to the trail. The drover didn’t follow her, but Rachel didn’t feel safe until she was back inside the cottage, her shoulders pressed against the door and her basket falling to the matting. Little chanterelles bounced out to scatter around her muddy boots as she pressed a hand to her cold, wet face, and breathed deeply until her heart stopped pounding so fast.
For the rest of the afternoon Rachel kept checking the back windows, but the drover never appeared. Nor did she pick up any more thoughts from him or Coira. But now she felt pretty sure that she could read someone’s mind only when she was in close proximity. That didn’t put her in the clear, and when Evander returned from his hunt she steeled herself to confess what she had done.
