by Amy Jarecki
Entering the passageway, he let the lass walk a wee bit in front of him. The intoxicating scent of pure woman laced with wild jasmine made his head swim. Of course, his state of consciousness had nothing to do with the whisky he’d swilled earlier.
Akira had bewitched him body and soul, and she tempted his lust this eve—tempted it to the brink of self-control. His breath grew shallow as they approached the door to her chamber, and his skin tingled with anticipation.
When they stopped, she turned and faced him, her back to the door. “I must thank you for the gown and for the marvelous evening. I feel like a princess from a fairy story.”
He watched her ruby red lips as she spoke.
“I’m glad.” He placed his hand on the doorjamb and let his gaze slip lower. Every inhale made her creamy breasts press against the plunging neckline of her bodice. Christ, his fingers longed to run across her flesh.
She caught his cravat in her hand and tugged until she released the knot. Holy hellfire, did she have any idea how hard that wee tug made him? His breath catching, he met her heavy-lidded gaze. And before he could have another thought, his mouth crushed over hers and his arms wrapped around her, burying those delectable breasts against his chest.
His tongue plunged inside her mouth and swirled with hers as if they were dancing again, but this time, the most seductive, intoxicating flirtation of their lives. With her gasp, his cock lengthened, and he ground himself into her.
His fingers slipped to the door’s latch and together they stumbled inside the dim chamber. The door closed behind them.
Akira stiffened and backed from his arms. “George, we mustn’t.”
He blinked. She’d called him by his given name—the same one that rolled off Elizabeth’s tongue like the shrew had swallowed a bitter tonic. “Please, I prefer Geordie,” he said, sauntering after his newfound rose.
Akira backed into the room, her lips swollen and redder than before. “And you prefer lowborn lassies to women of nobility?” Lord, she was baiting him.
He adored the chase, he adored Akira, and this time there’d be no stopping.
He grabbed her hand and tugged her into his aching body. “I prefer you, lass. Your parentage matters not to me. All that matters is you…and me.” His last words came out with a growl, warning her not to trifle with him. “Let me show you how much you’ve come to mean to me.”
Muffling her rebuke with a kiss, he showed her how much he desired her, how much his body needed her. Slipping his fingers to the top of her bodice, he moaned into her mouth when he finally swirled his fingers across her silken flesh. Dear God, since he’d escorted her to the gathering, he’d wanted to cup her breasts and run his lips across them. Suckle them and brush his aching chest across them skin to skin.
Panting, Akira drew her lips away. “I do not ken what’s come over me. I feel like I’m floating.” She reached to her back. “Mayhap my stays are too tight.”
He ran his hand down her spine and found a lace—one of many he would enjoy removing.
She touched her hand to his chest as if she thought she might reject his advances. “But you mustn’t.”
“Allow me this once.” He tried to focus on her eyes instead of the way her breasts heaved up and down with her breathing. “I promise I will not take your innocence.”
For the first time in his life, he meant those words. Akira needed to be molded and loved, adored and bedded like the queen she was.
And all I have is this night.
No, Geordie wouldn’t defile the lass and leave her without a chance at a better life, but he would show her pleasure.
Trust filled her eyes before she turned and presented her back to him. As he unlaced her, visions of the nymph bathing at the waterfall attacked him. Drawing out the anticipation, he pulled the laces through one loop at a time until her bodice sailed to the floor. He did the same to the stays, and after her petticoats fell away, he slid his hands to the front of her shift and cupped her breasts. Blessed taut nipples bore through the thin fabric, revealing how much Akira responded to his advances.
Pushing her black curls aside, he trailed kisses along her neck. “You are so fine to me.”
“Mm, heaven help me,” she pleaded, resting her back against his chest. “I am too weak to resist you, m’lord.”
“Geordie,” he rasped, tasting clean skin infused with the erotic fragrance that had been driving him mad for sennights.
His fingers slipped to her skirts, slowly drawing them higher.
She leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes. “You mu—You mu…Oh, Lord.”
He grinned. This time she didn’t ask him to stop.
With one more tug of her skirts, his hand slipped beneath the hem and found her thigh. With deft fingers, he kneaded until his fingers toyed with the nest of curls hiding her treasure.
Gasping, Akira pushed her back against him, her hips swirling, moving as only a woman could. “Noooooooooo.”
“Och, but you want me to,” he growled, sliding his finger into hot, moist folds. “And I promise to show you a wee bit of heaven.”
“But—”
“Ride the wave of passion, lass. ’Tis a gift I want to give.” He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “Do you trust me?”
She nodded, turning her head up to him, her eyelids fluttering open long enough to look into his eyes.
He found her tiny button, hot, wet, and slick, and used her moisture to tease her, to rub and swirl while his cock pressed flush against her buttocks. God, if only he could turn her around and take her against the wall. Thrust deep inside her tight quim and take his pleasure.
But dammit, he’d promised.
Her breathing sped while her hips gyrated against his aching cock.
Crying out, Akira went limp in his arms as her body shuddered and swayed with the sensuous movement of his fingertips. When at last she drew in a deep gasp, Geordie covered her cry with his mouth. She whimpered with quick licks of her tongue, and he turned her in to his embrace. He squeezed his eyes closed, memorizing the feel of her body molded to his, memorizing her scent, for he wanted her memory to stay with him through the years until he took his dying breath.
Chapter Seventeen
Geordie awoke to a pounding. Not certain if the sound came from inside his head or the door, he opened his eyes. At least he’d managed to make it to his own chamber last eve.
Holy hell, if the pounding would only stop.
The door flung open and Coll marched inside. “A retinue of miserable, bleeding, bloody redcoats are burning cottages, bellowing your name. Can you tell me what that’s about…m’lord?”
Springing to his feet, Geordie wrapped his plaid around his hips and grabbed his belt. “They must have found my flask, dammit.”
“You left your flask?”
“Aye, fleeing from the battlefield right after Akira carved a musket ball out of my thigh.”
“Christ Almighty, just the thought of it makes my gut turn over.” The redheaded chieftain winced. “You must move quickly. The MacDonells are preparing to stop them.”
Geordie shook his head. “I started this. I must end it.”
“Are you mad? They have nothing on us—we didn’t ride into Hoord Moor. I’ll deal with them, but you must go. Take the escape route to the stables. I’ve sent Freddy to saddle horses for you.”
Geordie shoved his feet into his boots. “How much time?”
“Not long. Ten minutes at the most.”
Pressing the heels of his hands against his temples, he couldn’t forget his promise to his Gypsy rose. “You must take Akira back to Dunkeld.”
Coll guffawed. “Are you daft? If the redcoats find her in Glen Spean, they’ll ken you’ve been here for certain.”
“I’ll stand and fight, damn it all.”
“And then what? What of your children, what of the bonny lass who has cared for you? Are you planning to break her heart as well?” Coll shoved Geordie in the shoulder. “I don’t care i
f you’re a duke, you’re not going to die on my lands.”
He caught the younger man’s wrist and squeezed. Blast it all, he knew Coll was right. His children had already been abandoned by their mother, and if Coll refused to do it, someone needed to spirit Akira away. A tic twitched his jaw. “I will ride, but I am no coward.”
“I never said you were, m’lord.”
“If this doesn’t end, send word and I’ll dispatch five hundred men of Clan Gordon to your aid.”
“It will end. I’ll see to it.” Coll thrust his finger at the door. “Now go.”
“Bloody hell.” Geordie strapped on his sword, shoved his pistol and dirk in his belt, then dashed across the passageway and pounded on the door. “Akira! Make haste.” He burst into the chamber as she shot upright, clutching the bedclothes beneath her chin. “Don your kirtle. Gather only what you can carry.”
“What—?”
“They’ve found us, the bastards.”
With one forlorn look at the blue taffeta strewn over the chair, Akira pulled her kirtle from the peg on the wall. “Give me a moment.”
“I’ll collect your things.” Geordie grabbed the satchel and stuffed her herbs and tinctures inside. She took it from him and shoved in something white and frilly.
“What the blazes is that?”
“There is no chance I’ll leave a new set of stays behind.”
He shook his head and ushered her out the door. “Women.”
“This way.” Coll took the lead. At the end of the passageway, he pulled a panel from the wall. “This takes you straight to the stables.”
Geordie peered through the darkness. “Do you use this often?”
“’Tis a safeguard from MacIntosh attack—and now Government troops as well.”
Clasping the chieftain’s hand, Geordie gave it a firm shake. “I will never forget this.”
“I’ll send word if it escalates.” Coll cuffed his shoulder. “Now go, m’lord, and do not turn back.”
* * *
Akira placed a hand on the pommel and another on the saddle and frowned.
Geordie bent beside her and cupped his hands. “Let me give you a leg up.”
“Riding astride?”
“Quickly.” As soon as she bent her knee, he hoisted her up. He grasped her ankle and slid her foot into one of the iron stirrups. “Do you need me to use a lead line?”
She tugged her skirts down on either side as far as they would go. “I think I can manage.”
He patted her thigh. “I’ll bring a rope just in case. The riding will be strenuous, and there was no spare sidesaddle.”
Freddy strode forward and handed Geordie a water skin. “There’s a bit of bully beef inside the roll of blankets attached to your saddles. Sorry, there was no time to ready a packhorse, sir.”
Geordie climbed on the gelding Akira had purchased in Dunkeld. “My thanks, lad. You’ve done quite enough, and I look forward to returning the favor one day.”
“Thank you, sir.” He pointed out the back. “The trail along the River Spean will take you through the wood skirting Loch Laggan.”
“Aye, I ken it well. A hundred miles and I’ll be sitting before home’s hearth.”
“Go with God.”
“And you.” Geordie tapped his heels and beckoned to Akira. “We’ve no time to waste.”
Before they left the barn, the snare drum from the Government troops sounded in the distance.
Her stomach squeezed as she tapped her heels and the pony beneath her took off with a jolt, his gait nowhere near as smooth as the gelding’s had been. Within minutes, Geordie had pulled so far ahead, she feared she might lose him. She couldn’t yell for him to stop—not with the dragoons so close behind.
She slapped her reins and kicked her heels. “Come, you big mule, go faster.” Sidestepping, the pony didn’t seem to appreciate her candor.
She kicked harder and tightened her reins.
The horse reared.
A squeal erupted from her lips as she squeezed her knees to hold on. Snorting, the pony thrashed his head from side to side as if he knew an inexperienced rider controlled the reins.
Horse hooves pummeled the ground as Geordie circled back. “I kent I should have tied on a lead line.”
He clipped the rope onto the side of her bridle and headed off at a canter. Flopping in the saddle, the inside of her thighs rubbed and chafed, Akira held on as best she could. “How long will we keep up this pace?”
“We need to put a good distance between us and the redcoats.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Push your heels down and rock your hips with the movement of the horse.”
She gathered a bit of mane with her reins and bore down on her heels. Watching Geordie, she rocked as he did. The ride was bumpy at first, but she soon caught on. Moving with the horse’s gait made the ride fluid, almost exhilarating. She smirked. She might even have enjoyed following on a lead line if they hadn’t been running for their lives.
“How long will the journey take?” she asked.
“Two to three days, near enough.”
Akira cringed, imagining that by the end of three days, her legs would be rubbed as raw as a plucked chicken.
“There’s a river crossing ahead. Hold tight.”
Every muscle in her body tensed as the horses plunged into the water. Before she could catch her breath, the pony sank to his shoulders. Everything from Akira’s hips down dragged under the water. She screeched when a splash from Geordie’s horse hit her face. The water crept higher. The horse seemed to lose his footing and drifted down with the current.
Geordie tugged the line close to his body. “Just a moment longer!” he hollered.
Akira squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Hold on, ye wee beastie. As her lips mouthed the words, the pony regained his footing and hastened beside Geordie’s larger mount.
After the river crossing, Geordie slowed the horses to a fast trot and showed her how to post up and down—he said a horse could travel at that pace for hours.
The only problem was, how long could she hold out? Her legs already ached from sitting astride, not to mention the fact that she hadn’t yet broken her fast. But now was not the time to complain.
Akira had been so consumed with fear it wasn’t until much later that the significance of Geordie’s comment about home’s hearth dawned on her. “Holy Moses!”
“What?”
“We’re heading to your lands.”
Chapter Eighteen
Captain Roderick Weaver led his battalion into Glen Spean. At last he had the bastard trapped, and by God, he’d arrest a duke this day.
As they rounded the bend, a regiment of Highland troops stood behind the stone walls of Coll of Keppoch’s lands, their muskets trained on the dragoons.
Roddy raised his hand and gave the command to halt. He looked across the faces of the Jacobite traitors. “Who dares challenge the Queen’s Army?”
“Who puts innocent women and children under fire and sword?” An enormous man clad in a red-and-blue plaid marched forward with two henchmen in his wake. “I’m Coll MacDonell, chieftain of these lands, and I’ve word you’ve set fire to the homes under my care at Spean Bridge.”
“How dare you question one of the queen’s officers with such disrespect?” demanded Corporal Snow.
“I am Captain Weaver. No one else will be harmed if you comply.” Roddy sliced his hand through the air. “I’ve come to arrest the Duke of Gordon for taking up arms against the queen at Hoord Moor.”
“Who?” Coll smirked, looking between his men. “Have either of you seen a duke in Glen Spean in the past fortnight?”
“No, sir,” said one, shaking his head.
“I’m looking for an injured man riding a gelding with a healer. Word has it they passed through this way.” Roddy narrowed his gaze. “And my guess is you’ve been harboring them right here in Glen Spean.”
“Has anyone harbored a fugitive duke on MacDonell lands?” Coll hollered, loud enough to be heard
in Fort William.
No one said a word.
“I think you’re lying.” Roddy leaned forward.
The redheaded chieftain’s eyes filled with hate, and his fingers twitched. “I beg your pardon, captain, but no one calls Coll MacDonell a liar.”
“Then you will submit to a search?”
“And allow your dragoons to plunder my home?”
Roderick eyed his corporal. He didn’t care much for the odds with the Jacobites facing them locked and loaded. God knew, at least two of them had their sights trained on him. Besides, he wanted inside. There wasn’t a need to ransack the man’s house. At least not yet. “Allow me and my corporal to walk through—you can give us the grand tour. That’s all I ask.” He looked to the fire pit and added, “While they’re waiting, I’ll need a meal for my men.”
Coll grinned. “I’ll permit only you inside, Captain Weaver. And the others can eat their fill of bread and cold meat whilst they wait. Let no officer say he wasn’t treated well at the hand of Coll MacDonell of Keppoch.”
Pulling the Duke of Gordon’s silver flask from his lapel pocket and taking a sip of fine whisky, Roderick caught a slight shift of the chieftain’s eyes.
The man is lying. Just what I’d expect from a falsehearted Highlander. Damn their misplaced code of hospitality.
Word must have preceded him. Perhaps Roddy had been a bit cavalier setting the crofts along the River Spean to fire and sword. But he’d find the duke. Christ, he could smell the bastard.
* * *
Dusk had turned the sky violet and pink by the time they rode into the village of Newtonmore. It was the seat of the MacPherson clan, and Geordie said they would be friendly. Akira’s thighs burned from chafing and her stomach growled with hunger. They hadn’t stopped for their nooning. In fact, they hadn’t stopped at all. The horses were spent and so was she.