Part 1 (2/2)
”Aye, boys.” She gave his shoulder a shove, attempting to slide from the saddle again.
Suddenly, he imprisoned her, her body flush to his. The iron hardness of his thighs flexed beneath her bottom, the band of his arm about her waist unyielding, yet gentle. This close she couldn't help notice his face, carved and hewed with a lifetime of war, square along his jaw, high upon his cheeks and framed in flowing ribbons of dark hair. Unduly handsome, if she had to admit. Which she did not. He bore a scar across his left brow, a thin break in the dark wings hovering over eyes the hue of freshly tilled earth. Gazing into them, Siobhan felt her heart skip. 'Twas as if the man could reach into her soul and cradle it in his palm if he desired.
Codswallop.
Yet his face neared, the scent of leather and man surrounding her.
She jerked her head back. ”Do not dare further, sir knight.”
He winced at the p.r.i.c.king in his side and lowered his gaze to the blade tucked neatly beneath his breastplate. His gaze returned to hers and he arched a dark brow. ”What plan you with that, la.s.s?”
She scoffed. 'Twas not clear enough?
”And after I've stolen you from harm?” He tisked softly.
”Hah. I was never in peril, English, and me pet is protection enough.”
”I saw no pet.” Yet as he spoke, out of the corner of his sight a furry white creature leapt from the treeline, stalking them. Grayfalk sidestepped, threatening to bolt.
The jostling pressed their bodies more tightly and Siobhan felt more than his hard thighs beneath her as he controlled the mount. A swift, nearly violent ache shot through her, quickening her heart, yet she refused to break her gaze from the Englishman's. He stared back through unreadable dark eyes, only the lines bracketing his mouth growing a wee bit deeper. 'Twere not real, she thought, those feelings.
The dog hopped, the horse s.h.i.+fted and the knight cursed.
”Culhainn, be still,” she said in Gaelic and her rescuer frowned, confused. Good. Her English was, at best, disjointed. ”I pray your detainment was worth a fortnight of my herbs?”
Gaelan's eyes flared as the red-eared beast barked in response. What folly this?
”This giant”-she said with a thorough study of the knight-”might have slaughtered the lads, as well as me.” She spared a quick glance over her shoulder, her tone chiding. ”How like you that on your n.o.ble conscience?”
Again the animal responded, but this time with a bow of his great head, an infantile whimper.
”And ashamed you should be,” she said in English, yet the woman did not take her gaze from his face.
Gaelan could feel it, moving over his features, probing and intent, though he'd little trouble feeling everything about this woman. Her hills and curves were burning into his body. His groin thickened as she s.h.i.+fted on his lap and he let her wiggle, enjoying it. A lovely piece she was, generously shaped, her face holding the blush of excitement and as comely as any one he'd seen. Her garments were stained with dirt and berry nectar, frayed at the hem and sleeves, and idly he wondered from which village she'd come and if she could lead him out of the forest. But most, he wondered what that ripe wet mouth would feel like beneath his own.
”Would you stab me for a kiss, la.s.s?”
”Aye.” She p.r.i.c.ked his side to demonstrate.
His lips quirked, his face nearing, and heedless of her threat, Gaelan let his hand slide up her back to cup her head. ”Such sa.s.s and spice,” he whispered, his gaze flicking between her mouth and her eyes.
Culhainn growled, low and deadly.
”Do you not fear death?”
He shrugged ever so slightly, his intent clear, and Siobhan swallowed. He was going to kiss her. Or at least attempt it. Perhaps a kiss would suffice him and gain her freedom, she considered briefly. Nay. Would she let him do more, she'd find herself flat on her back and likely ripped clean in half by this giant. She dug the blade a wee bit deeper.
He didn't flinch, his fingers moving luxuriously in her hair and tipping her head. Bells chimed from the end of a dozen thin braids, singing to him.
”Slay me”-he breathed against her lips-”after I drink of you.”
His mouth slanted over hers, the hot jolt making her flinch. He tasted of wine, and where she expected brutality, she received a slow rolling deliberation that was already difficult to fight. Siobhan's temper fizzled like a tallow flame snuffed out. Yet with her bloodlines, a defiant flicker refused to die and she shoved uselessly at his chest, her hand splayed over cold armor as his lips twisted insistently over hers, begging a response.
He held her prisoner, yet she did not struggle.
He took, but she did not give.
His mouth soothed and nurtured, catching her lower lip and pulling softly before his velvety tongue lushly outlined its shape. A soft, helpless shudder spilled from her lips and he drank it.
'Twas so distant from anything she'd experienced before, so unlike Tigheran's harsh grindings that offered more of a taste of blood than desire. 'Twas a magic he gave and the brewing heat ignited in her belly, curling about her waist and sliding warmly downward to settle between her thighs. Ah G.o.ddess, 'tis unfair. You offer me this-and make him my enemy!
Yet without the scrutiny of her people, away from the rules of society and her place in it, Siobhan sorted the harm from the exquisite indulgence and dared to explore him. A wildness in her urged, for aside from the man and his misguided heroics, his touch, his mouth made her feel like a woman again. Selfishly, she wished it to persevere and with the dirk still at his ribs, her free hand moved hesitantly up his enormous chest, touching his cheek. He rumbled with satisfaction and his kiss grew harder, deeper, his desire breathing life into her. 'Twas savage and greedy, this kiss, yet mysteriously fragile. And the threads of her restraint broke.
She wrapped both arms around his neck, fingers pus.h.i.+ng deep into his hair, and he moaned his pleasure, his embracing arm tightening, bringing her off his lap and higher against his chest. His hand rode down over her waist, her thigh, sliding around to cup and knead her b.u.t.tocks, and the blaze in Siobhan raged along her blood, grew heavy between her thighs. Her body quickened with her heartbeat, and clutching the dirk in her fist behind his head, her unenc.u.mbered hand sought the feel of his skin.
Please, she thought frantically. One touch is all.
Gaelan's greediness was unstoppable and he enfolded her breast, waiting for the slap, the shriek, yet knew even before he caught her whimper of excitement that she would give him more. And like a thief, he took, his thumb brus.h.i.+ng heavily over her nipple, feeling her arch into the pressure, the tender bud peaking sweetly for him through the layers of cloth. That she allowed him such liberties gave Gaelan reason to believe she was familiar to a man's exploring. So be it. For he was wanting to explore her, thoroughly.
He tasted the line of her mouth and she opened wide for him, her tongue plunging between his lips and dueling his for victory. He groaned at the sheer torture of her closeness, his hand busy after the hem of her skirt as her delicate fingers feathered over the sh.e.l.l of his ear, driving a s.h.i.+ver down to the very core of him before gliding over his bare throat to taunt him further. When her fingertips met armor, by G.o.d, he wanted to rip it off to give her better access. He wanted to take her to the ground and push his throbbing body deep inside her and a.s.suage this fire she created. When her incredibly warm hand found an opening, pus.h.i.+ng beneath his hauberk and mail to stroke his shoulders, Gaelan frantically searched for a way to have her. Now. In the saddle.
The horse stirred restlessly beneath them, scenting their desire. The wolf remained in the clearing, its head tilted, ice blue eyes watching. Morning mist faded, swept away by the heat of their pa.s.sion. His hand touched the bare skin of her calf and she flinched.
Suddenly he tore his mouth from hers, their breathing matched, harsh and quick as he gazed into her unusual eyes. A flush of embarra.s.sment spread across her lovely face.
”I need more of you, la.s.s.” His coa.r.s.e fingers slid higher, seeking tender skin, her thigh. ”Now.” A touch of alarm skated across her features and Gaelan smiled tightly, his body prepared for a fulfillment he would not receive. Forcing women was not his way.
Still holding her close, he suddenly twisted a look at the forest, scowling, all tenderness vanis.h.i.+ng from his features.
”M'lord?” Siobhan glanced about for Culhainn, but the craven beast had vanished.
He turned his dark gaze on her, even as he secured his ax and unsheathed his sword. ”Who are you, la.s.s, that brigands make duty in chasing you?”
”Me? I am inconsequential.” She waved loftily, then stretched her neck to look around him. ”Think not 'tis you they seek, invader?” Her gaze moved past his shoulder to the land beyond and her eyes flared. ”Sweet G.o.ddess.”
”'Twill be safer behind me,” he said and without preamble, grasped her about the waist and s.h.i.+fted to deposit her on the horse's rump. Siobhan blinked, clinging for balance as he neatly spun the steed about. His destrier pranced as nearly a dozen men in a.s.sorted tartans, their faces wrapped in soiled rags, rode murderously toward them. From three directions.
Yet he did not ride.
”Flee!” She jerked impatiently on his hauberk. ”'Tis impossible odds!”
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