by Amy Jarecki
She tightened her arms across her chest, making the mounds of her breasts push together—swells of pure bliss.
She met his gaze with a defiant stare. “Turn your back.”
He froze for an instant. She would deprive him of feasting his eyes on a goddess? Then he gulped. Of course, ye daft duke. “Ah…” He offered a nod and did as she asked, holding the shirt out behind while trying to focus on the chill of the water. Perhaps it might serve to cool his lust.
* * *
Akira shivered, with gooseflesh rippling across her skin as she watched Geordie turn away and hold the shirt out. She shook so violently, she hesitated to reach for it. How on earth had he caught her bathing? He hadn’t been gone for very long. And why hadn’t she kept her shift on? She could have waded into the water to wash the hem.
Overcoming her mortification, she hastily stood, snatched the garment, and pulled it over her head. As she tugged the linen down, the material clung to her wet skin. With every tug, her teeth chattered. What an embarrassing state of affairs.
If only he’d been away a bit longer, she would have slipped her wet shift back over her head and stood in front of the fire.
And the man had brought back a pig? A pig, for goodness’ sakes! She’d hoped for a rabbit or a grouse at best. Holy fairies, Geordie had been knocking on death’s door for two days.
“Do you intend to make me stand here forever?” Geordie asked over his shoulder with a hint of mischief in his voice. “I’ve a spit to prepare and a sow to clean.”
With two last tugs, the shirt managed to cover her thighs but left her calves bare. She shot a panicked glance to her arisaid. There was no way she could reach it without him seeing. “I’m afraid this isn’t long enough. Please avert your eyes whilst I pass.”
“I wa…” Geordie turned, his voice trailing off, his jaw dropping. Those hazel eyes grew as dark as coal as his gaze drifted downward. Akira’s skin warmed when he paused at her breasts, then slowly swept his stare lower until he stopped at her exposed legs. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his face reddened. “Ah…”
Her hand slid over her heart. Dear Lord, she’d never imagined he’d look so…ah…so deliciously braw without his shirt. His arms were thick and sculpted with muscle, his chest, too, like carved marble, and then his abdominals…Oh, heaven save her. Akira’s fingers practically grew a mind of their own, reaching out, craving to rub across the undulating bands of muscle.
In a blink, she snatched her hands away and crossed her arms over her breasts.
Still staring at her legs, Geordie raked his fingers through his wavy chestnut tresses. “Apologies.”
If nothing else, Akira was sorrier. She never should have agreed to don his miserable shirt. Gracious, it even smelled of spicy male, and the scent made her insides ridiculously queasy. She swiped her wet hair away from her face. “I must look a fright.”
His gaze meandered back up to her face, his eyebrows slanting outward, the corners of his mouth twisting up. “Not exactly how I would have worded it.”
Akira glanced down, ankle deep in water—he’d seen her knees now. But that was the least of her woes. Heaven’s stars, the linen clung to her body like a second skin. She tugged it out and gave it a good shake. “I didn’t ken the fabric would be so…so…so sheer.”
His eyes grew even darker, like a starved man staring at a platter of roast mutton that was just beyond his reach. The hunger in his eyes made shivers course across her skin. One part of her begged for her to drop her arms and walk toward him. Begged for her to give in to all the wanton feelings of desire that had spiked through her body over the past few days.
But she couldn’t. She barely knew this man and, furthermore, could have no possible future with him. How many times must she remind herself she was the healer and he the patient?
She swallowed and forced herself to pull her gaze away.
She gave him a wide berth as she headed for the shore. “I think my clothes have started to dry. I’ll just take them behind a clump of broom.”
“Let them dry, else you’ll catch your death,” Geordie grumbled behind her, his footsteps splashing through the water. “Forgive me. I’ll try to keep from ogling you.”
Akira stole a glance at him over the brush. In the time it took Geordie to limp out of the water, his expression had gone from desirous to irritated. He hauled the pig from the horse with a grimace. “You could make yourself useful by stoking the fire and finding a pair of branches sturdy enough to use for a spit.”
Akira slipped her feet into her shoes. “Yes, of course.” Goodness, he sounded so upset, yet at first he’d appeared almost enraptured. Had she disappointed him? Truly she was mortified to her toes when she realized he’d seen her naked, but his reaction was a complete quandary.
Had she misread his initial expression? Why hadn’t he called down from the top of the hill and given her a warning? She could have donned her shift and wrapped her wet arisaid around her shoulders. They would have dried soon enough.
She wrung out the water collected at the bottom of her arisaid and tied the wet woolen garment around her waist for a bit more cover. She wandered away a bit, hiding behind the brush while she collected branches for the fire. Dear Lord, if only she could hide for the rest of her life. But aside from having a duty to perform as a healer, she was starving and lost, with no place to run.
Once out of sight, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.
I am a good healer. I ken my trade, and I refuse to wallow in shame. I have done nothing wrong. Nothing.
Chapter Ten
Thus far, Geordie had kept himself busy rotating the spit and making a pallet of ferns and grass on the sandy bank. Since turning around and seeing Akira wearing nothing but his shirt clinging to her damp body, he’d worked like a badger to do anything to keep from looking at her.
A lot of good that did.
He could no sooner erase those images from his mind than he could forget to breathe. She had the shapeliest calves, and her thighs—oh God, those thighs clearly visible through the linen were what brought him undone. And now, with her arisaid tied around her waist, every now and again he caught a glimpse of a sleek, slender leg. He didn’t dare mention it, lest she traipse behind the broom and don her wet kirtle. Not only would that deprive him of those wee peeks, she might catch her death.
His balls ached every time she moved. And every time, he’d catch himself ogling her like a hungry dog, wishing her leg would slip out just a bit farther. If only he could steal another look at her thighs, or be blessed with a peek at quim. He lengthened at the mere memory of seeing the triangle of black curls that guarded her…
Damnation. He turned the spit faster. He hadn’t come in his breeches since he was a wet-eared lad, and he wasn’t about to do so now.
Och, he was a lecherous beast. But what red-blooded man wouldn’t be drooling for a glimpse at such treasure? He’d swiped his hand across his mouth about fifty times to ensure he wasn’t slavering.
When, finally, the meat was cooked, she sat on the pallet with her legs tucked under and completely covered by the plaid, thank God. Geordie cut off two slices of roast and sat beside her. “’Tis not served up like a feast, but if you’re as hungry as I am, it’ll taste the same.”
She grinned, her blue eyes catching the evening’s firelight. “’Tis a feast to me. My sisters and I rarely have the pleasure of eating meat.” She bit down and ripped into the pork with her teeth.
Although his stomach was growling, Geordie paused and watched her. Must she make everything look sensual? Even the bit of juice running from the corner of her mouth was alluring, as the grease made her lips shine, begging for a kiss. Her eyes rolled back. “Mm.”
Geordie stared. I’m either in heaven or in purgatory.
She glanced his way and stopped mid-chew. “Are you not eating?”
Unable to drag his eyes from her lips, he bit into his portion. A burst of meaty flavor made his mouth water. “Good,” he managed to say
. His mind possessed by a myriad of stimulations, he feasted like a starved fox and Akira joined him.
Licking her fingers, she reached for the flask. “I’ll wager you’d prefer ale or wine.”
He nodded, stuffing his face and rubbing the grease off his hands. “Or whisky.”
She took a drink, her chin tilting up, exposing her long, slender neck. Black hair cascaded in waves down her back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she gave him a look. How everything happened as if a maestro were slowing the tempo, Geordie had no idea, but he savored every moment. The firelight danced across her face with amber tones. If only he could devour her now.
Akira handed him the flask. “Ever since you returned from the hunt, you’ve been looking at me with the most peculiar glint in your eye.”
“Have I?” He took the flask and drank, yet did not shift his gaze. “Apologies.”
“Thank you for lending me your shirt.” Her gaze dipped to his chest and stayed there.
“’Twas the least I could do.” His heart throbbed with the heat of her eyes upon him. Mayhap she liked him, too—not because he was a duke, but she liked him for Geordie, the man he wanted to be.
“You’re not angry with me?”
“Why would I be angry?”
“Ah…” Her tongue tapped her top lip as her gaze drifted up and met his. “You seemed a bit agitated.”
Och aye, he was agitated, all the way down to his aching balls. “Not at all.” He leaned closer, those moist lips beckoning him.
Blushing, Akira glanced down. “Truly, I thought you would be gone longer. I shouldn’t have tried to bathe. But the pool was so inviting.”
A lock of her hair flicked up with the breeze. He couldn’t help but catch it and twist the silkiness around his finger. “No apology needed, lass.”
With a shy smile, she regarded his mouth, her lips parting with a wee gasp. How could a man resist such an invitation? As if pulled by a force outside his body, he scooted closer and cupped her cheek.
Her tongue slipped out and tapped her top lip.
Geordie couldn’t stop his gasp. “I want to kiss you, lass.”
Her chin inched up ever so slightly.
His hand moved back and cradled her head while his mouth inclined toward her rose-petal lips, then lightly brushed his mouth over the most delectable lips in all the world.
Her wee moan made a fire hotter than the flames of Hades burn deep and low inside him. Gradually lowering her to the earth, he reverently savored her. Every fiber of his body stirred to life, the blaze in his loins raging like a fire gone wild.
Dear God, he had to keep himself under control, hold his lust at bay. But all that consumed his mind was kissing Akira while her supple breasts caressed him. Drawing a ragged breath, he groaned and tasted her, threading his fingers through her black tresses. Luxurious hair he’d been longing to rake his fingers through since he’d first laid eyes on her. Hair so soft, it could be mistaken for spun silk. Every beat of his heart hammered, begging him to devour her.
But the woman in his arms was the young maid who’d saved him. The lass who’d cast aside her doubts to help a wounded man she hardly knew flee from a mob of redcoats. Moreover, the lass cared not an iota about Government or Jacobite agendas. She cared about her family and finding the next meal. Akira wasn’t to be taken like a harlot, but to be cherished and savored. He tenderly spread her lips with his tongue, stroking her with soft, unhurried licks, showing her how to kiss a man.
For a moment he opened his eyes and watched her melt, giving way to his kisses, shedding her maidenly unease. Aye, he hadn’t been mistaken. She desired him as much as he wanted her. Sighing, she met him swirl for swirl, little suck for little suck. Clutching him tighter, she kneaded her fingers into the muscles at his nape.
Easing the kiss, he nibbled along her jaw and down her neck while his hand slid over and cupped the supplest breast on earth.
“Stop,” she said with a gasp, her fists shoving up between them. “Why is it I have so much difficulty resisting you?”
“Believe me, lass, I am the one who has been rendered utterly powerless.”
He hoped she would laugh and fling her arms around him, going for another kiss. But not Akira. She eased out from under him and pushed herself to her feet, tugging her damned arisaid closed.
She gave him a pursed-lipped sideways glance. “You mustn’t ever do that again. I’m a healer. Not a harlot.”
He lumbered to his feet. “Of course you’re no harlot. You’re bonny and irresistible.”
Had he misread her? The sensual flick of her tongue, the allure in her eyes?
God’s teeth. She’s an innocent, and I’m a damned cur.
Geordie picked up a rock and threw it into the pond, watching the circle of waves expand.
I mustn’t kiss her. I’m about to explode and still I cannot forget my station.
Under the evening sky, frogs carried on like a pack of windless pipers.
“See, you’re acting angry again.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m not bloody angry.”
Akira moved beside him and threw her own rock into the pool.
Geordie looked her way just at the wrong time. Her arisaid billowed out, giving him the glimpse of sleek calf he’d been aching to see all evening. His heart banged against his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
She faced him, her hands on her hips. “Ma says to stay away from men like you.”
“Like me?”
“Aye. You’ve not given me your real name, nor have you told me where you’re from—even I am educated enough to ken the region of Aberdeen is a vast place, and you could be far more specific. I-I don’t think you trust me at all.”
“’Tis not you who is untrustworthy.”
She tapped her cheeky little foot. “Oh?”
“If the Government troops got hold of you, it would be best if you didn’t know my name or where I’m from.”
“Why? Are you someone important?”
“When you put it like that, aye. I’m someone who should have kent better than to ride into battle with a regiment of Jacobites. It’s just—”
“What?”
He threw his hands to his sides. “After Queen Anne scoffed at Scotland’s Act of Security, I could no longer sit on my laurels. I’ve had a gutful of English superiority, but to protect my children, I had to act anonymously.”
“I wouldn’t ken much about that. ’Tis hard enough worrying about keeping food in my belly and ensuring there’s wood for the fire.”
Geordie couldn’t help his smirk. “Then you are blessed.”
“Indeed I am.” She touched his arm, making gooseflesh spread clear up the back of his neck. “I understand you may not want to give me your family name, but what is your given name—the one your friends call you?”
“Honestly, my closest friends call me Geordie—even my sisters.” He sighed. “If you must know, my name is George, but the only person besides my mother who called me by it was my former wife.”
“Your wife who went to the convent?” she asked.
“Aye, she forced me to pursue divorce proceedings and then set sail for the nunnery in Flanders.”
“How utterly awful. I do not ken of anyone who has obtained a divorce.”
Geordie kicked a rock. “’Tis a rite of humiliation reserved for the upper classes.”
An uncomfortable pause followed until Akira glanced up and twisted her mouth. “To tell the truth, George is nice, but I think Geordie suits you better.”
“My thanks.” His tone sounded gruffer than he intended.
“I still think you’re angry about something.” She wandered over to her clothing and rubbed the corner of her shift between her fingers. “I think this is dry enough to don.”
“Thank God for small mercies.” Geordie didn’t know how much more he could resist of Akira’s bare legs tantalizing him through the gap in her plaid.
* * *
Looking up, she glared at th
e Highlander. “I beg your pardon? You are the one who gave me the shirt.”
He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Truly?” She clutched the arisaid closed around her legs, trying to look anywhere but at Geordie’s well-muscled bare chest. “If you’ll kindly turn your back, my clothes are near enough to dry. I can return your shirt.”
After a long, heated stare, he shrugged and did as she asked.
She plucked her garments from the thorns on the gorse and headed behind the brush, keeping the firelight in view. Goodness, it was dark away from the fire.
She whipped the shirt over her head, pulled on her shift—at least that was dry. She tied her stays loosely in the front, then shrugged into her damp kirtle. It had dried when they’d been caught in the downpour; there was no reason she couldn’t withstand a wee chill while it dried now.
“Is everything all right over there?” Geordie’s voice resounded from the direction of the fire.
She tugged the laces on her kirtle. “Everything is nearly back in order.” Why on earth had she agreed to take his shirt in the first place? Ever since she pulled the blasted thing over her head, she’d been flummoxed. It smelled too much of Geordie—made her think too much of his kiss, made her crave another…and another.
Absolutely not.
She’d been acting irresponsibly and it was time to stand up straight and behave like a healer ought. He was her patient. She was there to help him regain his strength, and if he kept improving, her services wouldn’t be needed by the time they found his allies on the morrow.
This is the last night, and then I shall return home and everything will be back to normal.
She sighed at the thought of home. What she wouldn’t do to be sitting in front of home’s fire, or curled into the box bed she shared with her sisters. Funny, she had always longed for her own bed up until now, but after two nights with very little sleep, she’d pay a whole penny to claim her little corner of the bed.
Besides, Ma was probably growing worried.
After pulling her hair out from under her kirtle and wrapping the arisaid around her shoulders, she picked up Geordie’s shirt and strode back to the fire. The Highlander reclined, his muscles even more defined by the flicker of the fire. She covered her eyes, trying not to stare.