by Caroline Lee
“That’s what ye do, when ye watch us train?”
He’d surprised her, judging from the way she blinked and sat straighter. “Ye knew we were there? I mean, aye, we talk about all sorts of things, men included, but…” She looked at him sidelong. “Ye noticed me—us watching?”
He’d noticed them, aright. They sat up there every few days in nice weather, but she wasn’t always there. It was because she was so devoted to her clan, and was busy spreading joy.
Unconsciously, his hand came up and rested against the scar under his ear. “I notice everything about ye.”
When she tightened her grip on the bread she held, it crumbled, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“I notice everything about ye,” she said. “I didnae ken why, until I had the chance to spend time wi’ ye, Gregor. But I…I like ye.”
She bit her lower lip, as if nervous about his response. Gregor’s gaze rested on her lips, and he remembered how she’d tasted, and thought about how much courage it must’ve taken to confess something like that about someone like him.
“I like ye, too,” he admitted.
“Then can I beg another boon?” She waited for him to drop his chin in agreement. “Will ye stay here wi’ me tonight? Just in the room, I mean.”
His lips tugged down as he considered it. If any one of those people in the dining room knew who she was, it would cause trouble. Touching him the way she did in public was bad enough, but him sleeping in the same room would be even worse.
“Please?” She leaned across the table to rest her fingertips on his arm. “Gregor, we’re sharing a meal in a cozy room. Just let me pretend…”
When he lifted his brow, urging her to continue, she blushed, but didn’t lower her gaze. “Pretend ye like me enough to stay.”
It wasn’t what she’d intended to say, he would bet. But he sighed and nodded in agreement. He would stay, if it meant so much to her. There was an extra blanket at the foot of the bed. The night wasn’t so cold she’d suffer if he took it to wrap around himself on the floor.
“Thank ye,” she whispered so low he barely heard her, and he felt like an arse for not immediately agreeing to her simple request.
They ate in silence for a few more moments, which was normal for him, but he caught her sneaking peeks whenever they passed the trencher back and forth. Finally, whatever she was thinking about, caused a smile to tug at her lips.
“What?” he asked in that harsh tone of his.
“Naught,” she replied. “I was just thinking ye look like ye swallowed a frog, glaring down at the table like that.”
Without thinking, he threw back the first thing he could think of. “No’ like I swallowed a fish? That’s what ye yelled when we pulled ye out o’ the loch.”
She gasped as she remembered the incident from her childhood. “Ye were one of the men who saved me? All I remember is being scared.”
His lips tugged at the memory. “I carried ye to yer Da.”
“I was only twelve! Citrine dared me to swim across to the other side.”
He nodded. “Ye had everyone terrified.” Me included, he silently added.
“Ye really watched out for me, even then?”
I was the Sinclair Hound, wasnae I?
“I told ye, I noticed ye.” Even from that young age, he’d seen it. He’d come to Sinclair lands when he was sixteen, nearly a man. She’d been a wee lass of ten, but he’d seen her light even then. “Ye were…a joy.”
It was the right thing to say, judging from the way her expression softened. He figured it was time to distract her. Searching about, he tossed out another memory of her mischief, and soon had her laughing once more.
And although he teased, he was proud of her, too. Proud of how brave she was, proud of how much she cared for her people, and how much she wanted to help. Proud of her determination to have the future she wanted.
Even if he couldn’t have a place in it.
After their meal, during which Gregor found himself laughing once or twice, which led to even more giggles from her, he stood to offer her some privacy. The sun had set, even though the days were getting longer—and warmer—and they’d lit a candle while they’d eaten.
In the stable, he lingered as long as possible with the mare, although truthfully, he couldn’t fault the care the lad had taken with the animal. The horse was loyal and true, and had carried them through much.
Like me.
This animal was just one of many from the Sinclair’s stables, and although it had devoted its life to the man, the laird had likely never ridden it. Duncan Sinclair knew his Hound existed, aye, but as little more than a guard. And that was as it should be, and it was fooling to wish for aught more.
Sighing, Gregor pressed his forehead against the horse’s, wondering what tomorrow would bring for both of them. For now, though, he had to go fulfill his promise to the lady.
But when he opened the door to her room, he began to regret agreeing to stay with her. Her gown was draped over the chair, and she stood in only her shift between the door and the candle. Which meant when he stepped into the room, her body was outlined perfectly by the light behind her, and the linen seemed to glow.
Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn closer to her, knowing he was damned for doing so. He shut the door and couldn’t draw his gaze away from her perfection. Her hair spread around her shoulders like a honey wave, and he knew it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Up until she smiled.
That’s when he realized he was standing directly in front of her, with no memory of how his feet had carried him that far. All he knew was his palms itched to take her in his arms, and his cock ached to make her his.
“Gregor,” she breathed. “I have a boon to beg of ye.”
Anything.
When she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, his knees went weak.
“I like ye verra much, Gregor. Ye said ye liked me, and dinae regret kissing me. I’m wondering if ye’d mind verra much…”
Her pink tongue darted over her lower lip, and Gregor’s hands curled into fists by his side to keep from pulling her close. But when her gaze dropped to his chin, he knew what she was asking was important.
“Aye, lass?” he managed to rasp.
“I ken there’s more,” she whispered. “I want more. I want it all, and I want ye to be the one to show it to me.”
Holy God in heaven.
Gregor sucked in a breath. She was asking him to…to show her pleasure? He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
He did.
The noise he made when he pulled her against him was somewhere between a hiss and a growl, and wasn’t pretty. But she moaned and allowed her head to fall back, giving him access to the smooth skin of her neck. And even knowing his beard would leave her raw, he lowered his lips to that smooth skin.
Her hand dropped from his cheek to his shoulder, and the other one was at her hip. When she moved, it brushed against him, and without thinking, he pulled it down and pressed it against his kilt, where his cock strained, hard and ready.
“Ye feel that, lass?” he whispered harshly. “Aye, I’ll show ye more.”
Instead of being frightened or intimidated, she smiled. Her pure nature was full of joy, and he was lost.
“Lass?”
“Aye! Gregor, aye.”
She lifted her head and looked him right in his eyes, then squeezed his hand. It was a small pressure, almost hesitant, but it was more than enough. He lifted her and moved the two paces to the bed, where he lowered her gently onto the mattress.
Her hand fell away—thank God, as he was close to spilling already—but she kept her eyes on him, her smile, welcoming.
Sinking beside her, he lowered his lips to hers and closed one large hand around her perfect breast. He ached to pull the material down, to see her bare flesh, but the small thread of control he had left warned him not too fast.
She wiggled under him as he trailed kisses up her jawline. She moaned his name again
, squirming under his touch, and he knew he had to taste her. He shifted his weight on the side of the mattress so he could reach her other breast, and leaned down.
When his mouth closed around her nipple, she damn well almost shot off the bed, and he smiled slightly at her wordless cry. He took pity on her and softened his kiss, instead nipping at the hard bud through the linen wet from his mouth. Still caressing the other breast, he blew across the other one.
“Gregor!” she whimpered, her hips moving. “I need…I need…”
“Aye lass, I ken.”
He switched his attention to her other breast, and his palm smoothed down her flat stomach to the patch of curls between her legs. He pressed the heel of his hand against the sensitive nub at the top of her opening, and she gasped. “Aye!”
He loved that she was so responsive to his touch, so uninhibited. The urge to possess her, to make her his, was damn near overpowering. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
He could do this instead.
He pulled up her shift as she squirmed under him. As the cool night air caught her skin, she shivered. He dropped his hand to her silky thigh, trailing his fingers upward.
She bucked, whispering his name again in a frantic sort of tone. He smiled against her breast once more, then trailed kisses up her linen-clad chest toward her neck.
She was already wet for him.
The realization almost had him spilling against his kilt, and he hissed against her skin, willing himself to hold off as he stroked her. When his thumb found the little nub of pleasure above her slit, she thrashed again.
“Gregor! I want…” she panted. “Please.”
“Aye, my pearl.”
He circled the nub with his thumb, his mouth on her throat once more, and used his other fingers to stroke her wetness. When she lifted her hips off the bed, silently begging for more, he pressed one thick, callused finger inside her.
Her cry of wonder would echo in his ears forever.
He kept his thumb against her as his other hand caressed her breast. Around his finger, her muscles began to tremble, so he coaxed a second finger alongside the first.
As he pushed in, the act a pale comparison to what he wanted to do to her, she went absolutely still. He thought he’d hurt her, and lifted his head to find her eyes.
She stared at him in awe.
He had just opened his mouth to ask what was amiss when he felt her womanhood tighten around his fingers, the beginning of her pleasure making him smile.
This is what she needed.
Holding her gaze, he stroked once, twice more, his thumb making circles, and his cock long and hard against her thigh.
“Come for me, lass,” he whispered.
When her eyes widened and she thrust her hips toward him, he felt her peak. He lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her cry of pleasure as she came apart under him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore how damn good it felt to have her so close. He would’ve given his left arm to be able to claim her then, but he had enough control left to know he couldn’t.
Instead, he vowed to cherish the memory of their intimacy, and the joy in her smile.
After a long moment, her breathing slowed. He gently withdrew his fingers, pulled her shift down, and rolled onto his side. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her, not bothering to tamp down the pride he felt at the sight of her. Her face was flushed, her hair wild around her shoulders, and her skin was red from his kisses.
And she was staring up at him with a smile.
“Thank ye,” she whispered languidly. “That was…more than I imagined.”
“Thank ye for letting me be the one.”
She caressed his cheek. “There’s no one else I would rather have, Gregor.”
Gregor. As always, the sound of his name on her lips sent a bolt of yearning through him. He closed his eyes on the intensity of the emotion, knowing he was barely hanging on to his control as it was.
“Gregor…” Her hand dropped from his cheek to his chest, then trailed down his stomach.
He moved swiftly to trap it, knowing if she touched him the way he’d made her earlier, he’d be undone. “Nay, lass.”
“I…I ken ye didnae…” When she blushed, she looked somehow even more alluring, but she didn’t look away. “Why no’?”
God Almighty, how could she manage to look so sweet and pure, and still meet his eyes when she asked him that?
Because I willnae dishonor ye that way.
Because I willnae dishonor myself.
Because I’ve loved ye for years, and ken ye deserve better.
Instead of telling her the truth, he pulled her hand from his body and lifted it toward his neck. He tucked her palm under his jaw, so her fingers brushed against his ear lobe, and covered it.
“Because of this.”
Chapter Ten
Pearl sucked in a gasp when she realized what he was telling her. “Because of yer scars?”
“Aye.”
Since he’d begun speaking to her, his voice had always been raspy, as if something had hurt it. She supposed that was why he’d preferred not to speak at all, or at least at a whisper. Now, though…now it sounded worse. As if he was holding back some sort of emotion she couldn’t name.
After what he’d just shown her, she couldn’t stand the thought of him being unhappy. The way he’d touched her, the way he’d held her…
“Gregor,” she said softly, staring into his dark eyes, willing him to understand what the last few minutes had meant to her. “Will ye tell me?”
He closed his eyes on a soft hiss, but didn’t let go of her hand. She felt him swallow, and prayed she’d finally learn what made him so hesitant. What he’d just done for her had been wonderful, but he’d had to fight his instincts, she could tell.
When her sisters had whispered about pleasure or the way men’s bodies were built, Pearl hadn’t understood. Oh, certainly, she’d touched herself in private, but this? She’d had no idea she could…could…
Could shatter that way.
And it hadn’t just been his mouth or fingers. She’d come undone because it had been Gregor. This kind, handsome, loyal man had chosen her to be the one to share that with, and even though it had taken her asking, he had.
Sprawled in the bed, her pulse finally slowed and she felt boneless—like liquid. When she’d shattered, she could feel it over every inch of her skin.
She splayed her fingers across her belly, imagining she could still feel her skin humming beneath the linen, and smiled.
When he opened his eyes, he caught her smile. He stared at her lips for a long while, carefully breathing. How close had he come to losing control? Pearl remembered the delicious feel of his hard length under his kilt, and her fingers twitched at the idea that it might still be there. He’d stopped her from offering him pleasure.
For now, she suspected what he would tell her was more important.
“My father was a thief. Like the ones…”
The ones who’d killed their friends. Her smile dropped, and she nodded to let him know she understood.
“I rode wi’ him after Mam died. Was in my blood.”
“Nay.” She lifted her head off the pillow. “Nay, ye’re a good man, Gregor.”
He shook his head and held her palm against his skin as if it was a lifeline. “I was reaving on Sutherland land, an’ he caught me.”
She sucked in a breath. “Laird Sutherland?”
“Aye,” he whispered. “He hanged me for stealing sheep. Yer father was wi’ him.”
Nay.
She shook her head, falling back on the pillow. Her fingers were curled around her linen shift, pulling at the material as if it would make this different.
“Sutherland strung me from a birch,” Gregor said. His eyes were on her, but they were focused many miles away. “It felt like they watched for hours.”
Da did? Her father wouldn’t have allowed that suffering!
But if the punishment
for stealing was death, was the hanging justified? Her fingers curled closer to his skin, imagining Gregor gasping for air, clawing at his throat as he swung.
“How old were ye?” she asked.
“Sixteen, mayhap. Old enough to suffer a man’s punishment.”
“Nay.” She shook her head again, willing him to tell her it was a lie. He was a good man.
His beautiful eyes changed. Now she saw…sorrow? Was he sorry for what he was telling her, or for her reaction?
“I woke up, a surprise to be sure. Yer father had saved me, an’ I’ve been his man since.”
“How long ago?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “More than ten years. I owe him my life, Pearl.”
She was the laird’s daughter, aye, which would’ve made such a match difficult. But no matter what feelings Gregor might or might not have for her, he was loyal to her father first. He’d see what passed between the two of them as a betrayal.
But he’d done it, because she’d asked him to.
Abruptly, her eyes filled with tears as she realized the truth.
He’d given up his honor for her.
This man, this good man, had changed so much in the last decade. He’d gone from a criminal, punished and half-dead, to a well-respected member of a Highland guard. But he still thought he was that boy, the son of a bandit who knew no better.
And when he saw her tears, he misunderstood. “Aye,” he whispered, nodding. “Now ye ken. Why I shouldnae have touched ye.” His gaze was intense. “Or let myself fall—”
When he clamped his lips shut, she wondered what he’d been about to say. Fall?
But it didn’t seem as important as correcting his misinterpretation. She lifted her other hand to cup his cheek, even though it meant rolling halfway over in the small bed. Pressing her palms to his skin—and making sure she could feel his scar under his jaw—she met his gaze, not bothering to hide the tears in hers.
“I am so, so sorry, Gregor. I shouldnae have asked. Ye are a good man, and I took that from ye.”
“Ye took naught,” he said. “I’m not worthy of looking at ye, much less holding ye.”
