The Highlander's Excellent Adventure (Survivors, #8)

by Galen, Shana

  The sound of a shoe crunching on a leaf made him turn. “Go back inside, Ines.”

  “I think you should not be alone now.”

  “I want tae be alone.” He turned away from her, but she came to stand beside him anyway.

  “I do not think so. I am sorry my story brought up such painful memories. I meant—”

  “I ken what ye meant. It’s nae yer fault. Ye dinnae ken.”

  Her hand was tentative on his arm. He knew he should push it away, but he wanted her touch right now.

  “Why did you not tell me? I knew there was something wrong after you saved me from the reivers, but I thought I had done something. Said something.”

  He looked at her. He should send her inside, shouldn’t say anything more. But he was raw now and vulnerable, and he couldn’t seem to stop the words from gushing forth. “Ye did do something. Ye made me realize how much I cared for ye, and ye had almost been taken from me, lass. I cannae let that happen again.”

  “Let what happen again?” she asked, looking up at him. Her expression was so kind, her eyes so understanding.

  “I cannae lose someone else I love,” he said, his voice low and harsh.

  She nodded. “Now I know why you joined Benedict in the war. You wanted to die.”

  Duncan did not speak, only stared at her.

  “Because if you are not willing to risk losing what you love then you are not really living.”

  He hadn’t been living for a long time. He had just been pretending to live. During the war, he’d taken every risk. He’d taken a good deal after the war too, but it seemed pointless. If God had wanted him dead, Duncan would be dead. There had been more than enough opportunities to strike Duncan down. But God wanted him alive, wanted him to continue to suffer. Yes, he’d gone to London, as his mother had commanded, and searched for a bride, but he hadn’t really tried. He’d scowled and stomped around so that every lady who met him would be scared away.

  Every lady but one.

  Duncan looked at Ines. “Go inside,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I have words, Duncan, but my words are not any you have not heard before. I am sure you tell them to yourself. The death of your father was not your fault.”

  Duncan took a shaky breath. How many people had said that to him? His mother? His uncle? His sister. Even James. But Duncan had never said it to himself. Could never believe it.

  “But you need to say the words,” Ines said. “And believe them in here.” She lifted a hand and tapped his chest. Her touch seemed to burn through the layers of his clothing. “Only then will you be willing to risk the hurt again.”

  “And when did ye become so wise, lass?”

  “I have lost too. When I left with Catarina, I lost my mother and sisters and friends—the village full of people I had known all of my life. I lost my father, though he was not a good man. I still miss them, but I have met others who I have come to care about—friends in Lisbon and Barcelona.” She tapped his chest again. “Friends in London. There has been pain but also joy.”

  Duncan understood what she meant. The men of Draven’s troop had become like his brothers. Losing many of them had caused him pain but knowing them had also given him joy.

  He hadn’t cared for any of them like he cared for Ines. He hadn’t risked getting too close to any of them, knowing anyone he cared for could be snatched away with the flick of a blade or the firing of a pistol.

  “I love you, Duncan,” Ines said, and her words were like that pistol ball slamming into his heart. “And if you do not love me back, then that will hurt. I have been hurting for the past few days, afraid you did not care.”

  Duncan hated to hear that he’d hurt her. He hadn’t considered that while he was trying to protect his own heart, he had caused her pain.

  “I do care,” he said. He put his arm about her waist and pulled her to him. He couldn’t seem to resist the pull of her, the warmth of her body and the softness of it against his. He needed her touch, had missed it so much.

  “Show me,” she said. “I want to love you. I want to feel what it is to really live. If only for one night.”

  Her words robbed him of breath. Desire slammed through him so hard, he had to close his eyes to maintain control. And then he wondered why he was fighting it. He wanted her. Almost from the first time they’d met, their joining had been inevitable, and now it would be so much more than an act of lust. For once he wanted to risk something more than his body. He wanted to risk his heart.

  Duncan pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear, feeling her tremble as he touched her. “Are ye sure, lass?”

  She smiled. “With you, I am always sure.”

  He bent and swept her into his arms, causing her to gasp then giggle. “What are you doing, senhor?”

  “Sweeping ye off yer feet.”

  He carried her to the side of the house, used his toe to open a back door, and started up the rarely used staircase. Ines was no great weight in his arms, and still his heart pounded as though he carried a load of bricks. He was not afraid of making love to her. He’d been with other women. But he had never given any of them his heart, and he had known since the first time he kissed Ines that if—no, when, it had always been a matter of when—their bodies came together it would be a melding of not only flesh but also hearts and souls.

  He did not know if his heart was strong enough to risk loving her back. But he didn’t know if it was strong enough not to love her either.

  He reached the top of the stairs and turned to the first door on his right. He’d often used these stairs to sneak out at night when he’d been a boy as they had been so close to his room. Now he shoved a foot against his door, and it flung open. He kicked it closed behind him then walked to his bed and laid Ines on the coverlet.

  His impulse was to fall down beside her, strip her, and take her then. He made himself slow down. He needed a moment to slow the pounding of his heart and the shaking of his hands. Duncan went to the lamp, feeling for the tinderbox beside it and lighting a match before touching it to the wick inside the lamp. He opened the shutter further and turned to Ines. He wanted to see her, and he was not disappointed. She was beautiful—lying on the bed, her hair half falling out of the simple style she’d worn, her cheeks pink, and her eyes dark with anticipation. Duncan went to her, kneeling on the bed and looking down at her. She lifted her arms to him, and he went into them willingly.

  She was small, but she held him so tightly, so fiercely. His mouth found hers, teasing her lips until she opened for him and he could stroke inside, tasting her. Her smell, her taste, the feel of her was intoxicating, but it was also right. It was as though he was meant to kiss this woman, to touch this woman. As though he had been waiting all of his life to find her.

  With a low growl, he rose to his knees and looked down at her, her dark eyes, her red cheeks, her now-swollen lips. His gaze drifted to her dress. He was uncharacteristically nervous. His hands fumbled at her bodice, searching for pins or tapes or whatever the hell women used to keep their underthings from showing, but Ines shooed his hands away.

  “Let me.” She sat, and he groaned. She had that look in her eye that told him she would happily torture him. Slowly, she drew the first dress pin out, placed it on the table next to his bed, then smiled up at him. Oh, this was sweet torture.

  “Dinnae stop now, lass.”

  She reached for another, drew that one out, and placed it neatly beside the last.

  “Ines,” Duncan said. “Do ye mean tae kill me? My heart is racing like a horse after a long run.”

  “Sim. It is for all the times you teased me.” Her voice, low and husky, caused heat to surge through his loins.

  Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps I can persuade ye tae hurry up a bit.” He might not know much about how a dress was put together, but he knew what was under one. He sat back, took one of her feet and made short work of her boot. He dropped it on the floor then discarded the second boot. Ines set another pin beside the first t
wo.

  Duncan reached under her skirts, found her garters, and loosened one. He tried not to feel how soft her skin was, how silky and tempting. Gritting his teeth, he rolled her stocking down. Ines had paused, with her hand over her heart to watch him. He slid the stocking over her foot, but instead of reaching for the other, he held her foot. Her foot was small in his big hand, and he imagined if she felt anything like him, her feet ached from all the walking they’d done. Lightly, he pushed a thumb into the pad of her foot, and she moaned. The sound of her pleasure almost undid him. It was an addictive sound. He wanted more and more. He continued massaging, working his way over her foot, and watching the way her eyes closed and her shoulders drooped with relaxation.

  “Lass, yer supposed tae be removing those pins.”

  “This feels too good.”

  As impatient as he was to have her naked, he moved to her heel and pressed his thumb into it. Her head fell back as she moaned again. Christ but she was a sensual creature.

  He reached for the other leg, pulled the stocking down, and began to massage that foot. With one leg on either side of him, he was in exactly the position he wanted. He was still massaging, when she finally opened her eyes and plucked at the bodice of her gown. The materials fell away, and she lifted her shoulders and removed the rest. Next she reached for her skirts, but she couldn’t drop those with him between her legs.

  With a curse, he stood and pulled off his coat and loosened his neckcloth, while she squirmed out of her skirt. He’d just finished with his boots when he looked up and saw her standing only in her shift. She was shivering. Of course, she was. He’d banked the fire and it gave off little to no heat. He pulled her close and kissed her. He could feel her slim body under the thin linen. His hands began to roam, but she kissed him and then moved away. “Take off your shirt,” she said.

  His brows rose even as his blood pumped harder. “Ye think ye can tell me what tae do now?”

  She nodded. “Take it off.”

  Christ and all the saints, but he liked it when she gave him an order. He was so hard now, it was painful. In a hurry, he pulled the tail from his trousers, unfastened the sleeves, and yanked the linen over his head. Before he could grab her, she held out a hand to still him.

  “Wait.”

  Now he was the one to groan as her hands went to his shoulders, then ran down his arms. Her touch was like liquid fire, making all of his senses come alive. When her fingers slid over to his chest and down to his belly, he inhaled sharply. Her skillful fingers toyed with his waistband. “What is under here?”

  “For a virgin, ye arenae verra demure.” His voice was a low growl, and he felt like a caged beast, ready to pounce at the first chance of freedom.

  She frowned. “What is the demure?”

  “Nothing I want, lass. Loosen the placket and see what’s there.” Please. He needed her to touch him.

  Bold as ever, she didn’t hesitate. She’d told Duncan she wanted him almost from the start, and even though he’d been a complete arse, she hadn’t changed her mind. She unfastened the trousers and he sprang free, hard and hot against her small hand. He had to bite his cheek to keep control as his head went dizzy with arousal. She murmured something in Portuguese.

  “I hope that was a compliment,” he said.

  She gave him an enigmatic smile then moved her hands to his hips and slid the trousers down. When his trousers were on the floor, she moved around him, running her hands over his bottom then giving it a squeeze. His entire body quivered at her touch, and though Duncan liked a forward woman as much as any man, he’d been pushed to his limit. When she moved to his side, he grasped her hands and yanked her to him. “Like what ye see?”

  “Very much.” Her voice was breathless and her eyes hazy with desire.

  “My turn.” Releasing her hands, he grasped her shift in both hands and pulled it up and over her head. He thought she might try and cover herself, but she stood straight in the flickering lamplight. Her skin was smooth and olive, her breasts small and tilted upward, the nipples dusky and hard. The small triangle of dark hair between her legs beckoned him. “Let me worship ye, lass.”

  He dropped to his knees and kissed her belly, drawing her close with one hand on her round bottom. He left that hand there, kneading that ripe flesh while his mouth trailed lower, his tongue darting out to learn the feel of her and licking at her sensitive skin. Finally he was between her legs. She smelled of soap and the hint of vanilla that he always associated with her. And when his mouth found her lips, parted them, and then his tongue explored until it came upon that sensitive nub, he tasted her. Her body went rigid as he laved and suckled. He put both hands on her hips to hold her steady as she was shaking. Her hips began to move in an instinctual rhythm he knew well, and she moaned in that way that made him all but come just at the sound.

  He could have done this all night. He loved the way she felt in his arms and the sounds she made. He’d never known what it was to be wanted this much.

  She gasped and her body arched, and he knew if he hadn’t been holding her, she would have collapsed. Instead she wantonly pushed her sex against his mouth, and he felt the way she tightened and then exploded with release. Feeling pleased with himself, he grinned and decided to do it all over again. But she went limp. He let her fall over his shoulder then stood, her bottom in the perfect spot for his hand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked dreamily.

  “Putting ye in bed.” He dumped her onto the soft mattress, and she looked up at him in a tangle of limbs.

  “That was much more romantic in my mind.”

  “Imagined me doing that, did ye?”

  “I imagined you doing many things.”

  He wedged a knee between her legs, opening them, enjoying the view of her glistening pink sex. “Ye dinnae need tae imagine any more.” He kissed her, and she wrapped herself around him. Her skin slid against his skin, her flesh warm against his. His cock knew exactly where it wanted to be, and he pushed the head against her warm, wet entrance.

  “Sim,” she said, her voice filled with desire.

  “I dinnae want tae hurt ye, lass.”

  She pushed his hair back from his face. “My sister says the pain is worth the pleasure. Can you make it worth the pleasure?”

  It sounded like a challenge, and Duncan was always ready for a challenge. He kissed her again, entered her slightly. She was so tight and felt so good as she closed around him. At her moan he had to restrain himself from plunging in. Instead, his fingers found that tight, swollen nub and stroked it. He thought it might take time for her to react. After all, she’d just orgasmed, but a moment later, she was breathing heavily and moving her hips in an undisguised invitation. He slid in deeper, pausing when her channel was too tight, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him and allowing himself to catch his breath.

  His lips found her breast, closing in on the nipple and suckling as his fingers danced against her. Her hips arched, and it took all he had not to thrust inside her. He slid just a bit deeper, and Christ but he wanted to sheath himself in her. “Am I hurting ye, lass?” he murmured between teeth gritted against the growing pleasure.

  “Sim. Não. Duncan!”

  He knew what she wanted, knew he could give it to her. He pressed his thumb against her throbbing clitoris, and she cried out and stiffened. Duncan squeezed his eyes shut at the feel of her muscles clenching around him, and then as soon as they began to loosen, as she began to come down, he slid deeper. He expected her to cry out in protest at the discomfort, but she clawed at his back, urging him closer. He moved slowly until he was buried inside her, his face in her neck, her legs wrapped around him.

  This. Yes, this. He had lived all of his life to be here with this woman, in this moment.

  He looked down at her, and her dark eyes met his. “Show me,” she said.

  He moved inside her, watched her wince slightly, then relax. He was careful, gentle, and gradually, she moved with him, learning his rhythm, her breath be
ginning to hitch when he pressed in just the right places. He might have been able to pleasure her again, but he had restrained himself too long. His own need crested, and he swore. “I cannae wait, lass.” With a feral growl, he gave himself to the pleasure, pulling out and spilling his seed on garments scattered beside them. And then he collapsed beside her, gathering her close, needing her near him. His hands roved her body, her hair, her lips. He did not know how he had survived without touching her, without having her scent surround him.

  She moved in his arms, rolling to face him. Her leg slid up his body, making his senses wake again even as she kissed him. The kiss was as sweet and seductive as any he’d ever experienced. Her hand cupped his cheek, and the tenderness with which she touched him made his heart constrict. He knew what was coming next. Knew what she would say, and he wanted to hear it. He needed to hear those words from her.

  “Duncan.” She kissed his cheek, his temple, his nose. “That was...how do I say...amazing?”

  “Ye are amazing,” he murmured, turning his face to kiss the palm of her hand.

  She laughed and kissed his eyelid then his brow and finally his lips. “Eu te amo.”

  Duncan held her closer. “Did ye just say what I think ye did, lass?”

  “Do you think I said...what is the English word?”

  She was teasing him. He loved that she was teasing him, and he was also incredibly annoyed. He didn’t realize how much he wanted to hear that she loved him, wanted her to say it now, when they were close and naked and both still reeling from the pleasure of their lovemaking.

  “Say it, lass,” he urged, nuzzling her neck.

  She giggled. “How can I think when you do that?”

  “Then I should stop?” He pulled back, and she squealed.

  “Do not stop.” She pulled him back.

  He nuzzled her again, this time behind the ear. “Say it, lass,” he whispered into her ear. She shivered.

  “I love you, Duncan.”

  Christ but his heart hurt. He thought it might burst from happiness and fulfillment and desire. She moved her head so that their eyes locked. “I love you,” she said again.