The Rebel Wears Plaid

by Eliza Knight

  Even as he said it there was a commotion at the door. Every man and woman in the great hall reached for some sort of weapon.

  “’Tis MacDonald,” someone called out. “He comes with good news.”

  Jenny perked up at that.

  The men in the corridor shuffled into the great hall so everyone could hear what MacDonald had to say.

  “We are victorious,” he announced, and cheers went up around the room. “General Hawley, coward to King George, ordered his men to retreat to Edinburgh. The prince now resides in the house that Hawley vacated, the remainder of our armies with him. He bids you rest tonight and join him there in the morning.”

  Jenny sagged against Toran. Surely Dirk and the rest of her men would be there. They were resourceful, strong. They’d not have allowed themselves to be taken by King George’s forces.

  “We’ll find them there in the morning. Dirk is a good leader, and I’m certain he’ll have fallen in with the prince’s men when called to do so,” Toran said, echoing her thoughts.

  “Aye,” Jenny said. “I’m sure ye’re right.”

  Bottles of whisky were passed around, but Jenny declined. Even one sip would see her falling asleep in her soup. She was no longer hungry despite having been starving only a moment ago. Instead, she stood from the table.

  “I need to find a bed,” she said.

  “I’ll come with ye—to guard ye,” Toran quickly added.

  Jenny tried to smile, but she was so exhausted she was certain it was more of a grimace. Happy to let Toran choose the accommodations, she followed him blindly through the castle until he opened the door to a small, cozy room where a single cot sat against the wall. There was no light other than the torch from the corridor.

  “I’m so exhausted that if ye’d like the bed, I know I’ll have no problem passing out on the floor,” she said.

  “Och, nay, my colonel. I insist ye take the bed.”

  Jenny fell in a heap upon the dusty mattress and was asleep before she could even say thank ye. But she woke shivering some time later, her teeth chattering in the tiny, cold room. They’d no hearth or even a brazier to keep them warm, and though the window in the chamber was small and shuttered, it was letting in a mighty draft. She searched the cot for a blanket and found one, but even wrapping it around her body thrice did nothing to alleviate the chill that she felt deep in her bones. She glanced down at the floor where she made out Toran’s snoring shape, his teeth not chattering at all. The man had to be a human fire.

  The more she thought about how warm he seemed to be, the more she wanted him up there on the cot to warm her up as well.

  “Toran,” she whispered.

  He muttered something in his sleep.

  “Toran. Come up here. I’m cold.” He murmured something else unintelligible, and she reached out to shake his shoulder. “Please, I’m freezing.”

  “Is that an order, Mistress J?”

  She could hear the laugh in his voice.

  “Aye, an order to warm your leader lest she catch a cold.”

  Toran effortlessly rose from the floor and scooped her up in his arms before tumbling them both back onto the cot, where he cocooned her in a wealth of heat. Her back was to his chest, a heavy arm laid across her waist, and a thick, muscled leg over her own. She was surrounded by Toran and his glorious heat. Even her head was growing warm, tucked against his neck.

  As her body thawed, Jenny fell into a deep sleep. She woke with the rising sun, every muscle feeling as though she’d been trampled by a horse. Toran was still folded around her, and she couldn’t bear to move and feel the cold again. Not when being in his arms felt like heaven.

  She wasn’t certain her muscles had ever ached this much from a fight. Granted, she’d also never fought as hard or as long as she had yesterday. She rubbed at her neck and shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension. From behind her a strong hand clasped over one shoulder, rubbing at the knotted muscles. She bit her lip rather than moan aloud in relief.

  “What ye need is a hot bath,” Toran said.

  “That would be heaven right now. But alas, there are no hot baths to be procured.”

  “Then I suppose ye’ll have to make do with my gentle touch.” He spoke softly beside her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin.

  “There are much worse things,” Jenny mused and then laughed.

  “Och, lass, ye wound me.” His hands stilled, and every fiber of her body screamed out for him to continue touching her. “Should I stop?”

  “Nay. Dinna stop.”

  Twenty-Three

  Toran’s hands were like magic skating over her skin, loosening her aching muscles. Every inch of her tingled from the release of tension and then from the simple act of his touch.

  His lips skimmed the side of her neck as he rubbed his thumbs into her lower back, having lifted her shirt enough to slip his hands beneath to touch her bare skin. One of his large thighs was draped over her legs, trapping her. But she didn’t feel trapped. She was very much where she wanted to be.

  The battle had ended in victory for them. And wasn’t it this moment that she’d promised to herself, to him, if they should win?

  Jenny rolled in his arms, coming face-to-face with him in the near dark. She pressed her lips to his, her breasts to his chest, her hands on his shoulders. Her legs were still trapped between his, and she rocked into him, wanting to feel him flush against her.

  “Jenny,” he groaned against her lips when she teased the corners of his mouth with her tongue. “I want ye.”

  “I need ye,” she answered. “Make love to me, Toran.”

  Rather than answer her, he nimbly rolled her onto her back, covering her body with his. He rested a hand on her hip, tenderly massaging as he deftly shifted his legs between hers. He slid his palm down her thigh, hooking her knee in his grasp and up around his hip. He swayed his pelvis against her.

  Goodness, but that felt good. As if her entire body hadn’t been coming alive before, the press of him so close to the center of her had her back arching so she could get closer to him. His kiss was tender, and his hand rising up her shirt to stroke her breast sent her heart into a tailspin. Her nipples grew into hard, aching points. Jolts of pleasure coursed through her when he brushed the pad of his thumb over one before rolling it between his fingers. Jenny had never believed that a woman’s nipples could be used for anything other than feeding bairns, but Toran was introducing her to something new.

  Oh, what pleasure he was bringing her. She lifted her other leg around his hip, and he shifted, the hardness of his arousal pressed alluringly to the damp folds between her thighs. She wanted to remove her trews, to feel that thickened shaft of male flesh sliding along her naked skin.

  Toran gently swayed his hips back and forth, pressing his erection against her sex and sending sensations spiraling throughout her body, so much so that she was finding it hard to decipher a single thought.

  Toran’s lips slowly drifted lower to her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin where her pulse beat hard. And then lower still, to her collarbone, his teeth scraping gently over the slope of her bone. He lifted her shirt, revealing her breasts to his gaze, and she sat up slightly so he could remove the garment properly. When she fell back against the bed, he was staring down at her in wonder, his hands tracing lines from her collarbone to her breasts and along her ribs.

  “Ye’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

  “Ye imagined me without a shirt on?” she asked, a teasing smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

  “Och, lass, I’ve imagined ye without a stitch of clothing on and lying beneath me as ye are right now.”

  Jenny felt her face flush, heat rising from her chest up over her neck and cheeks.

  “Ye’re so damn gorgeous.” He leaned down to kiss her again, the roughness of his shirt scratching against her sensiti
ve skin.

  Jenny tugged at his shirt too until he practically tore it off, tossing it to join hers on the floor. When his body joined with hers again, she gasped at the feel of his heated flesh on hers and the tickle of the hair on his chest. The feeling was exquisite, sensational, and she never wanted it to end. She pressed her hands to his ribs, letting her palms slide upward, stroking over the contours of his body, delighting in his very male flesh.

  Toran slid lower, his mouth coming to her breast, tongue darting to flick over her nipple. She bucked and gasped, not having expected the incredibly wicked sensation to jar her so much. He swirled his tongue and then sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she thought she might actually float from the pleasure of it.

  Jenny thrust her hands into his hair, arching her back and lifting her hips in time with the sway of his. Everything felt so good she wondered if she were in a dream or truly experiencing all the pleasure that Toran had to give. He kissed between her breasts, sliding his warm velvet lips to her other breast before teasing and toying with her nipple until she was panting, tiny mewls of pleasure escaping her throat.

  But he didn’t stop there. Toran was kissing his way lower, his lips skimming over the quivering flesh of her belly, tongue circling her navel until he came to the ties that held her trews in place. With his teeth, he tugged, and she giggled.

  “What are ye doing?”

  “I am showing ye my skill, my prowess as a lover.”

  “I am impressed.”

  “Ye have no’ seen anything yet.” And then he tugged in earnest, proving to her that her trews could be removed by his teeth alone.

  The cold whisper of air on her bare flesh was quickly replaced by heat as Toran kissed his way up from her bare ankles to her calves, tickling behind her knee with his tongue and then skimming his heated kisses over her inner thigh. Her calf rested on his shoulder, and she felt so incredibly wicked in this position, her sex bared for him to see, the hooded, hungry look in his eyes. He looked as though he wanted to devour her.

  And then he did, taking his wicked mouth from her inner thigh to press a heated kiss to the center of her curls.

  Jenny bucked upward, trying to sit up, to protest, but Toran grunted against her throbbing flesh. His tongue darted out to lick at a certain spot that had her falling backward, even as the flat of his palm pressed between her breasts urging her back onto the cot.

  “Let me kiss ye,” he murmured between her thighs. “Let me love ye.”

  Jenny sighed in answer, finding words too difficult to form, and allowed her brain and body to succumb to the pleasure of his wicked tongue. His tongue dipped between her folds and stroked softly along the length of her. A hand behind her head, she tugged at the railing of the cot to keep herself from bucking completely off the surface. He fluttered over a sensitive knot of flesh that made her cry out, swirling around it and then suckling gently, bringing her just to the brink of rapture before pulling back and starting all over again.

  He tormented her this way, over and over, her thighs shaking, breaths rapid, until finally he didn’t pull back but took her right over the edge. Jenny cried out, hands letting go of the cot and thrusting into his hair as she tugged him closer, then pushed him away, and then tugged him closer again.

  Toran didn’t pause to let her come down from her climax but instead divested himself of his plaid in record time and settled the heat of his body between her thighs. He gripped his shaft, sliding the tip over her still-quivering, wet flesh before notching himself at her entrance. Her knees fell open in response.

  “Are ye certain ye want this?” he said gruffly.

  “Aye. Please.”

  “There is no going back.”

  “I have no intention of going back.”

  Toran groaned and thrust forward. A sharp pain took away the pulses of pleasure, and she stiffened, widened eyes going to his.

  “I’m sorry,” he crooned.

  She tried to shift away, the invasion uncomfortable, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. When she’d touched him before, she’d known there would be no room for him, and here he’d gone and proved it to her.

  Toran leaned down slowly, his body still embedded in hers, and kissed the tears at the corners of her eyes. “I didna want to hurt ye. It will ease soon, I promise, and then I’ll make ye see stars again. I swear it.”

  Jenny nodded, though she wasn’t certain she should believe him. The sting of his entrance made her entire middle feel awkward and achy. He kissed her then, gently at first and then more insistently, his tongue sliding into her mouth to dance with hers. Soon she forgot about the pain, only wanting to kiss him more.

  He stroked her breasts, teasing her nipples, and then he slid a hand between their joined bodies to stroke over that nub of flesh that had come to life when he’d touched it with his tongue. To her surprise and delight, pleasure jolted her again. The ache of him taking her maidenhead was completely gone, and she was instead filled with a heady need for movement. She shifted her hips beneath him, moaning at how good it felt, and so she repeated the motion.

  “Are ye all right?” he murmured against her ear, biting the lobe gently and then kissing his way down her neck to her breast.

  “Aye. Quite.”

  “Good.” He flicked his tongue over her nipple, his hands on her hips, holding her in place as he slowly withdrew and then entered her once more.

  Jenny moaned, her hands stroking over Toran’s chest, his hips, until she reached around boldly to grip his buttocks and tug him closer. Moments ago, she’d not have thought making love could feel so good, but Toran was more than proving her wrong.

  With a slow and measured pace, he withdrew and thrust, his pelvis rocking against hers, his mouth on hers, or her neck or her breasts. He never stayed anywhere too long, and she could barely think because of it. Her body sang with pleasure, erupting in climax once, then twice. He picked up his pace, owning every bit of her body as he drove deep inside her. And Jenny let him, wanted him, reveled in his body plunging into hers and the pleasure coursing through her limbs.

  He let out a roar, his trembling arms braced on either side of her, every muscle tightening, and then he withdrew, warm slickness pooling on her belly rather than inside. She knew that look, that sound, that feeling. He’d taken his pleasure, as surely as she’d given it.

  Jenny cupped his face as he stared down at her. “That was incredible,” she murmured. “Thank ye.”

  “Och, lass, I have only ye to thank.” He leaned over the side of the bed, took up his shirt, and tore off a sleeve, using it to wipe away the pool of seed on her belly and the wetness between her thighs. When she asked why he didn’t spend inside her, he explained that to do so would bring about a child, and now was not the time. “All clean,” he murmured. “For now.”

  She giggled. “I look forward to ye making a mess of me again.”

  * * *

  Jenny woke with a start, having fallen briefly back to sleep after the most incredible experience of her life. Voices outside the chamber caught her attention. Several guards spoke in hushed tones about a regiment of dragoons led by a traitorous Scot headed east of Falkirk.

  Hamish. In her gut she knew it had to be him.

  The dying man had not been speaking in riddles. She’d just refused to believe him.

  She had to leave. Now. Her gaze fell to Toran. She felt no regrets for having shared a bed with him. Would he expect marriage now? She stiffened at the thought. While marriage was something she’d rejected in concept before meeting Toran, being with him had softened the hard lines she’d drawn about such a commitment.

  This war with the English was far from over—as evidenced by what she’d just heard. And after yesterday’s victory she needed to stay the course, not be worried about marriage and children.

  Which meant she couldn’t continue to share his bed. Despite the words she’d sai
d about anticipating the next time they made love, she chalked that up to the emotions running rampant inside her. The pleasure of lovemaking had blocked out the rational side of her brain. The knowledge of what she had to do saddened her, made her heart feel heavy.

  And if Hamish was truly riding on her castle, as her gut bid her believe, she had to go. Surely the prince would understand. She wasn’t abandoning the cause. She would return. Hazy gray light filtered through the small window of the chamber, and judging by the chill and the wet scent in the air, she was certain a storm was brewing. If they didn’t get moving soon, she and her men could be stuck in Falkirk, farther behind her brother, farther away from protecting her people.

  There was no way she was going to leave her mother to fight alone. Hamish had not appeared before her on the field of battle; there was no telling what he had been doing while the rest of them were at war, except for the burning dread in her gut—he was heading back to Cnàmhan Broch. He was going to reclaim the castle. She was certain. Her brother was resourceful, and she was fairly certain that by now he would have gotten wind of her plans, of her alliance with the Jacobites, and likely also her having laid claim to the lairdship.

  She looked at Toran, sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes laid flat against his strong golden cheeks. She’d always thought him striking, but up close he was beautiful, as if sculpted from marble, the stuff of which ballads were sung and works of art created. Enough to take a woman’s breath away. To have stolen hers.

  Regret filled her as she slipped from their little cocoon of pleasure and warmth. She dressed quickly, wincing at the ache between her thighs. While the rest of the rebellion would be meeting up with the prince to celebrate, she needed to gather a few dozen of her men to take them back to her castle to defend it. The prince would understand. And she’d send a missive with Toran to Dirk, giving them both the choice to remain with the prince and await her return or head back to Cnàmhan Broch.

  “Where are ye going?” Toran’s voice was soft and groggy and made her want to turn around and crawl back into bed with him. To ask him to touch her the way he had during the night.