by Jayne Castel
After a moment, Ross moved over to the tray, picked it up, and set it down between them. He then folded his long legs into a cross-legged position and tore off a piece of bread.
Leanna didn’t move. The outlaw woman’s words had upset her. She’d been hungry earlier, but now her appetite had just died.
Tearing her attention from the closed door, Leanna glanced over at Ross to find him watching her. He was chewing a mouthful of bread, his expression guarded.
“Don’t mind her,” he said once he’d swallowed his mouthful. “Bitterness makes a person speak harshly.”
“She lies,” Leanna replied stiffly. “My father would never behave in such a callous manner.”
Ross raised an eyebrow. “I met MacDonald a few times … and would say he possessed a much better character than MacKinnon does. All the same, a man must have an edge of brutality to him if he wishes to rule. He managed a vast tract of land and would have made enemies over the years.”
Leanna’s spine went rigid, and she glared at Ross. “His people loved him!”
Ross inclined his head. “What a short memory ye have. Do ye not recall the sashes worn by those outlaws who attacked yer father’s party?” When Leanna didn’t reply, he continued. “It was MacDonald plaid.”
The truth of his words tasted bitter in Leanna’s mouth, yet she couldn’t argue with him over it. She’d seen their sashes. They were deserters from her father’s guard.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes then, and she lowered her gaze to where her hands clasped before her upon her lap. “I’ve always believed those on MacDonald lands were happy,” she said softly.
Ross didn’t reply, and when Leanna finally glanced up, she saw that he wore a weary expression. “We both have lived in worlds of relative privilege, Leanna,” he said softly. “I might have suffered numerous beatings during my childhood, but I never knew what it was like to go hungry, to go without shoes or a warm cloak in the winter. There are folk upon this isle who have known too much hardship to warm to the likes of us.”
The brutality of his words made Leanna flinch. “Do I really seem so foolish?” she asked after a pause, her throat thickening. “So spoiled?”
“No,” he replied softly. “But ye are part of a class that has made Craeg the Bastard’s band loved throughout southern Skye.”
Leanna cocked her head. “Ye sound as if ye admire them?”
He laughed. “Maybe I do. It takes a brave man to go against those who rule … this band is known for taking MacKinnon’s silver and giving it to those who’d starve otherwise.”
Leanna’s mouth curved. “I’d wager he’s furious about that.”
“Aye … MacKinnon’s face went the color of a turnip when he first discovered that his bastard brother was stealing his supplies and coin, and handing them over to the poor.” Ross halted there, his expression turning thoughtful. “Craeg knows he’s on borrowed time, for the clan-chief will hunt him down one day … but he doesn’t seem to care.”
“Ye respect him, don’t ye?”
Ross shrugged. “Aye … and I envy him a little. He’s free. He serves no man but himself.”
Listening to Ross, Leanna caught the wistful note in his voice. He was a complex individual, she realized. When she’d first met him, she’d thought him ruthless and arrogant, but the past day had revealed that there was far more to Ross Campbell than met the eye. Leaving Dunan had freed something within him, and she got the feeling that he never spoke this frankly to anyone.
Not for the first time, she felt drawn to him. Warmth spread through her abdomen, and her breathing quickened as she watched him under slightly lowered lids. She forgot what Fenella had said about her father. Suddenly, the world shrank to this hut and the man who sat before her.
She wanted to tell him how much he fascinated her, how she longed for him to kiss her again—yet she wisely held her tongue. She was untutored in many things, but she knew when it was wise to avoid a subject.
Instead, Leanna reached for the bread and tore a piece off for herself.
Ross unstoppered the bottle of ale and poured it into two wooden cups. Taking a sip, he found his attention returning—once more—to the comely young woman seated just a few feet away.
The air was now close and stuffy inside the hut, and so she’d shed both cloaks, revealing the dark habit she wore beneath. However, without her wimple and veil, she didn’t appear a nun. The braid that hung down her back was messy, and strands of pale blonde hair had come free, curling prettily around her face.
It was hard not to stare at her, for his gaze not to settle upon her small, lush mouth.
That kiss had been a mistake. He wasn’t sure what madness had taken him to move close to her and cup her face with his hands. He’d been possessed by a need that had consumed him for a short while. Fortunately though, he’d managed to break free from it.
Even so, the memory of how she’d tasted, the tentative exploration of her tongue gliding against his, made Ross’s groin start to ache.
She was so innocent, and yet so beguiling. He wished she hadn’t welcomed his kiss; better that she’d slapped him for his forwardness. Instead, she’d leaned into him, and when she’d let out that soft groan, the beast had stirred within him.
God strike him down; he’d wanted to take her right there.
Ross’s fingers tightened around the cup. What a mess all of this was. Fortune had not been smiling upon him of late, and if he ever ended up back in Dunan, MacKinnon would rip him to pieces.
Ross’s mouth thinned. He wasn’t afraid of the clan-chief, but he feared for Lady Leanna if MacKinnon managed to get her back. His punishment upon her would be terrible, and a chill rippled through him at the thought of the lengths that Duncan MacKinnon might stoop to in order to exact his reckoning.
In stealing Leanna away, he’d possibly just made things worse for her.
And yet, she’d already taken an axe to the tree, so to speak, by attacking the clan-chief. Without his help, she’d have never gotten free of the chamber.
“Ye look as if ye carry the weight of the world upon yer shoulders.” Leanna’s soft voice roused him from his brooding. “Why do ye scowl so?”
Ross glanced up and met her gaze. “Just bitter thoughts that aren’t worth sharing,” he replied.
“Not still blaming yerself are ye?”
Ross shrugged. “And if I am?”
“Ye are wasting yer energy, Ross,” Leanna replied finally. Her voice was soft, yet there was a strength to it. Despite the precariousness of her situation, she wasn’t afraid. “There is little point in brooding over what is done.” Ross stiffened at her bluntness, but Leanna was not yet finished. She brushed crumbs off her habit, her gaze fusing with his. “The last few days have taught me much,” she continued, her tone firm, resolute, “and many things have become clear to me. The first is that I am not suited to be a nun. When we first fled Dunan, I hoped ye would take me back to Kilbride … to a place where I’d always felt safe … but I now realize that whatever happens in the future, I shall never return there.”
Ross’s gaze widened. “Really?”
Leanna nodded. “I made a poor nun. My heart was never really in it. I only agreed to go to Kilbride to save myself from wedding MacKinnon … and to please my father.”
Ross stared at her. God’s bones, this woman fascinated him. She had such a soft, feminine appearance, and yet a will of iron lay beneath it. No wonder Leanna had chafed at the restrictions of a religious life.
Leanna drew herself up, although at the same time, her face grew strained. She glanced away, suddenly nervous. “We can’t stay here forever,” she murmured, still not meeting his eye. “Sooner or later we’ll have to move on … and MacKinnon will be waiting for us.”
Ross nodded, a weary sensation settling over him. Of course, she was right.
Leanna’s chin snapped up then, her eyes gleaming. She had the look of a woman who’d just made an important decision. “I want to forget MacKinnon’s touch.
Life is so short, Ross … I want to know what it’s like to give myself to a man I desire.” She broke off there, her breast heaving with the force of the emotions roiling within her. However, when she finished speaking, her voice was steady. “I want to lie with ye.”
22
What Ye Wish
ROSS STARED AT Leanna. There were few moments in life when he was lost for words—but now was one of them. He couldn’t believe that this young woman, this lady, had just told him that she wished to give her maidenhead to him.
“Lady Leanna,” he began, the huskiness in his voice betraying his shock. He needed to step back from Leanna. The connection between them was strong, and had been growing ever since their departure from Dunan, but he had to put a stop to things before they spiraled out of control. “Ye don’t know what ye ask.”
“Please call me ‘Leanna’,” she replied, lifting her chin. “I haven’t been a ‘lady’ for a while now … I forfeited that title when I entered Kilbride, and I don’t want it back.”
Ross frowned. “But ye are a lady … and I won’t take advantage of ye.”
Leanna gave a huff of frustration. She then picked up the tray and shoved it to one side, shifting closer to him. A faint flush now stained her cheeks. To Ross, she’d never looked so alluring, but he still fought the urge to reach for her.
“Ye wouldn’t be taking advantage, if I give myself to ye willingly,” she pointed out. “I’m tired of letting other people dictate my behavior. All my life I’ve done as I’ve been told … and look where it’s gotten me? Today, just once, I want to be in control of what happens to me.” She broke off there, her hazel eyes luminous as she stared at him. “Do ye not want me, Ross?”
Satan’s cod’s—he couldn’t believe she’d asked him that.
“Of course, I want ye,” he growled. “What man wouldn’t? Ye are lovely.”
“Then lie with me.”
Ross muttered a curse before dragging a hand over his face. “There are some things ye can never take back, Leanna. Yer maidenhead is one of them.”
“And what do I care about that?” she snapped, her ire rising now. “Would ye prefer I gave it to MacKinnon … is he more worthy than ye?”
Ross went still. Of course he didn’t want MacKinnon to have her—he’d made his opinion on that very clear. Even so, after everything that had transpired this felt wrong. “I’m not a humble man,” he said, his voice hardening as he made one last attempt to keep Leanna at arm’s length, “but even I know when I’m not worthy of something. After what I did … I don’t deserve to lie with ye.”
Leanna moved closer to him, one small hand resting upon his knee. “Let me decide that.” Her breathing caught then, her fingers tentatively sliding up his thigh. “Cast yer conscience aside, Ross. Just like my maidenhead, it is meaningless now.”
Heart pounding, Ross caught her hand just as it neared his aching groin. “Ye don’t know what ye ask,” he repeated, a rasp to his voice.
“I do.”
He stared into her eyes and realized that despite her innocence, there was a wisdom in Leanna that transcended age and experience. She didn’t know how to behave, or what to expect from coupling with a man, yet she was honest in her desire for him.
He could see it in the way her pupils dilated at his nearness, and the sharp rise and fall of her chest.
Suddenly, Ross was tired of fighting this, tired of punishing himself for all the mistakes he’d made.
Leanna spoke the truth—neither of them knew what the coming days would bring. These moments alone might be all they’d have.
His pulse was racing so fast now that Ross was starting to feel a little sick. Still grasping Leanna’s hand, he reached forward with his free one and traced his fingers down her cheek.
It was no good—he wasn’t made of stone. A man could only deny himself up to a certain point.
“Ye are the bonniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, “and I will give ye all of me this night … I will worship yer body with my own if that is what ye wish.”
He watched Leanna swallow, her lips parting.
Ross’s hand slid down from her cheek, following the graceful line of her neck. He then reached behind her, gently taking hold of her braid. In a deft movement he removed the leather strip binding it, before he gently unwound the plait, weaving his fingers sensually into the fine softness of her hair.
He heard her breathing quicken further, and then he leaned forward, tracing his lips down her cheek to her neck. There, he inhaled the sweetness of her skin. Leanna’s answering sigh made his already aching shaft stiffen to the point of pain. Did she have any idea what she did to him? His hand released hers and delved into her pale-blonde mane, his fingers spanning across the back of her scalp.
And then he tore his lips from her neck and covered her mouth with his.
Earlier, when he’d kissed her, Ross had gone gently. He knew what she’d narrowly avoided at MacKinnon’s hands and hadn’t wanted to frighten her. She responded eagerly to his kiss now, but even so, he still held back. He wanted to ravage her mouth with his, yet he kept the kiss tender and achingly sensual.
However, when Leanna’s tongue tangled with his and she let out a soft moan, he had to keep a tight leash on his self-control.
Take it slowly … don’t frighten her.
He felt her hands upon his chest then, exploring its breadth. He wore a leather vest with a black léine underneath, and when one of her hands passed over his heart, he was sure she’d be able to feel it pounding against her palm.
Gently, Leanna bit his bottom lip.
Lust slammed into Ross, hot and aching, and with a moan of his own, he hauled her onto his lap, so that she now sat astride him. It was no good—when she did things like that, he couldn’t think straight.
His kisses deepened now, as his hands slid down her back to her buttocks. It was difficult to feel her contours under all the layers of clothing she wore. It appeared that the habit was merely the top layer—and underneath there were other skirts and tunics—all designed to protect a nun’s modesty no doubt.
But there was no modesty to this lass. She pressed her high, round breasts against the wall of his chest and wriggled against his groin, her moans of pleasure intensifying as the kissing drew out.
And then she began to unlace his vest.
Breathing hard, Ross broke off the kiss and leaned back, allowing her to complete her task. He then raised his arms so that she could strip off his léine.
Naked to the waist, he closed his eyes as her hands explored the planes of his chest. He could hear the excited catch of her breath, and felt the slight tremble in the fingers that slid over his skin.
He could hardly bear it.
And yet, he didn’t open his eyes—he merely let her touch him.
Moments later her touch drew back, and Ross’s eyes flickered open to see that Leanna was untying her belt. She tossed it away before grasping the heavy material of her habit and pulling it over her head. Underneath, she wore another tunic and an overskirt, as well as a long linen léine. Leanna started to tug at them, a soft cry of frustration issuing from her.
Ross’s mouth curved. He liked to see her so eager, so instinctive.
“Here,” he murmured, stilling her struggles with his hand. “Let me help.”
Taking her gently by the hips, he slid her back off his lap before stripping off her skirt. An instant later he took the hem of her léine and slowly drew it up, over the supple length of her body.
And as, inch by inch, her smooth, creamy skin revealed itself to him, his groin started to throb.
He’d never seen anything lovelier.
She was slender, yet her body was soft, with just enough curve to give her a womanly rather than girlish appearance. Her breasts were small, round, and high, yet with large rose-pink nipples that made Ross’s mouth water.
Without thinking upon his actions, he drew her toward him on her knees, his mouth feasting upon her nipples.
Leanna�
��s soft answering cry, and the way she dug her fingers into his scalp, urging him on, dissolved the last of Ross’s self-restraint.
He knew he should leave this young woman be, but he was acting on instinct now. He couldn’t stop touching her. His hands squeezed her pert bottom before traveling up her smooth back. Her nakedness excited him to the point of madness.
The beast rose within him once more, yet he shoved it down. He couldn’t lose control, or he might frighten her. He wanted this to be a good experience for Leanna. After everything she’d been through of late, and everything that waited in the days to come, she deserved a night of tenderness.
But it cost him to hold back.
His breathing came in ragged gasps as he lay her down on her back upon the fur. Lord, his heart was beating so fast, it felt as if it would break free of his chest.
Leanna gazed up at him, her hazel eyes wide and trusting. Her lush lips were parted, her breasts heaving. Their swollen tips thrust up toward him, tempting him further.
With a soft curse, Ross leaned over her, covering Leanna’s mouth with his. She reached up, her small hands grasping his shoulders while their kiss deepened. Pulse thundering in his ears now, Ross then kissed his way down her neck and began a slow exploration of her body.
He’d promised Leanna that he’d worship her body with his, and he wanted to make good on one vow at least. He wanted to make them both forget, for just one night, everything that threatened them.
He loved how responsive she was, how she arched against his seeking mouth, how she made soft mewing sounds of pleasure when his tongue explored her—and how she shuddered and gasped as time drew out. A fine mist of sweat covered her bare skin, and she was panting when he finally rose above her once more and positioned himself between her parted thighs.
Pale hair fanned about her, Leanna stared up at Ross. The look upon her face was so raw, her gaze dark with lust, that he bit back a growl. Her gaze slid down his naked midriff, to where he now unlaced his braies.
And when he took his shaft in hand, her eyes grew wide, and she stifled a shocked gasp. Ross knew he was well-endowed, and glancing down at his swollen rod, he realized that the sight possibly intimidated her.