by Amy Jarecki
Making a snap decision, she drew in a deep breath and launched into a song she loved, You Raise Me Up. Her choir at NYU had sung the modern Irish folksong. She’d even been given the solo, which had been one of the highlights of her year.
She started softly. “When I am down and, oh my soul’s so weary…” Even without a microphone, the acoustics in the cave were surprisingly resonant. Chills spread down the backs of her arms as she looked at the stunned faces of her audience.
Even Robbie and the lads beside him sat perfectly still, their mouths agog.
She sang the second verse mezzo forte, but when Eva hit the refrain, she crescendoed to fortissimo, the sound almost palpable. What a time to realize how much she missed singing.
Filled with the uplifting spirit of the moment, she swayed and lifted her hands, holding them above her head for the ending. “…I am strong when I am on your shoulders…” Eva took in a deep inhale and lowered her arms, emphasizing the retard and decrescendo. “You raise me up to more than I can be.” As the last note echoed, swirling around the cavernous walls and gradually faded, the men sat in complete silence.
Someone sniffed—another rubbed his eyes.
Eva chanced a glance at William. Sitting erect, his dark stare made her stomach totally flip with butterflies. It wasn’t a look of anger, oh no, Eva knew the look well enough. Predator came to mind—a deadly hunter honing in on his prey.
She liked it—craved what she’d seen at the river and more.
But even Eva knew better than to humiliate herself twice in one day. Oh no, besides, this time an audience would watch her every movement.
Before another thought popped into her head, deafening applause filled the chamber. Robbie hopped up and raced beside her. “Bloody oath, ye can sing. Why didna ye tell me ye were good enough to be a king’s minstrel?”
“Och aye,” hollered John Blair from across the fire. “If ye’re intent on having the woman remain in our army, we might be able to make use of her talent to create a diversion. What say ye, William?”
The priest actually had sort of a kind word to say? A lump stuck in Eva’s throat. The dark stare gone, Wallace glanced at her, then to Blair, but his reply was swallowed up by the noise of the crowd.
Her singing probably made him want to be rid of her even more now. She’d drawn too much attention to herself.
Jeez, why do I always have to ruin things?
After bidding goodnight to Robbie, Eva headed for the alcove to hide. Maybe sleep would help her recover from a thoroughly embarrassing day.
***
William watched Eva pick her way to his makeshift bedchamber. He didn’t know if the lass realized she’d taken over the space he’d carved out for himself when he and his band of upstarts had discovered the cave—they’d only been five strong at the time.
Growling under his breath, he looked to young Boyd curling up on his pallet of pelts. So Robbie had told everyone Eva was William’s woman? If only Wallace could have a woman as bonny and spirited as that redheaded lass for his own. And who knew she could sing like an angel? She possessed a voice clear as a flute and still swore she wasn’t a witch? Bloody hell, Eva MacKay meant trouble. Doubtless, by the time she’d finished her tune, she had every man in the cave wanting to bed her—including Wallace. Ballocks, it had taken an iron will not to ravish her by the river earlier in the day as well.
He nursed his tankard of ale and stared at the furs covering the entrance to his place of solace. Had she removed her apron and kirtle? Was she brushing her hair wearing nothing but a thin linen shift? Though only shoulder length, her tresses reminded him of copper shimmering in sunlight.
The hum of the crowd started to ebb as it usually did at this hour. Beside William, Blair held a flask of whisky between his palms, his eyes closed, snoring louder than a builder’s saw.
William sat quietly for a time, pulling on his ale, staring at the furs shrouding the recess. He should be thinking about all the new men and how he’d start training them on the morrow.
She’s probably asleep by now.
Curiosity consumed his mind. His tankard empty, William set it aside and crossed the cavern to her—his alcove. He stood for a moment well aware entering would only serve to make things worse, but now he was there, the men would think him weak if he didn’t slip inside, especially since Robbie told them she was his woman.
Blast Robbie Boyd. This is all his doing.
William ducked under the low ingress and stepped inside. A lone candle had nearly burned to a nub.
Eva sat up, clutching the blanket beneath her chin. “William?”
“Aye.” The word came out thick and raspy.
She sighed. “Thank goodness it’s you.”
Unable to stand upright, he pulled himself alongside her and reclined on his elbow. Thankfully there was ample room for them both, as touching her would drive him over the edge. “Who else did ye expect?”
“Not sure. The men have been respectful—you know—they haven’t tried anything.” By the stars, her scent was more alluring than a field of heather. Bartholomew’s soap had never had him smelling so bonny.
He toyed with a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “Would ye like me to leave?”
“No, not at all.” She placed her palm on his chest. She’d done that by the river, too.
God’s bones, William’s heart thrummed so fast, he gasped.
“I want you—ah—to stay.” Her exhale shuddered. “We—um—don’t have to…” Her gaze trailed down the length of his body as she bit her bottom lip. “…you know.”
God save him, he bloody well knew. His entire lower half ignited into an unquenchable raging fire, he knew so well. And lord knew what it did to his insides to have her eyes upon him—look at him with such unfettered desire. He’d been living like a monk for far too long not to be painfully aware his cods were about to burst with want for her. But doubt crept up his spine. Had she changed her mind since they’d been at the river? He unwound her hair. “Ye dunna want to—ah—with me?”
He’d intended to train his gaze all the way down her body, but he only got as far as her lips. Red, petal-soft lips, slightly parted just as they’d been earlier. He adored the femininity of them—bow shaped, begging to be kissed. Before a rational thought crossed his mind, William’s hand slid behind her neck. Ever so slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. Eva’s sweet, minty breath caressed him, sending a fireball of heat through his chest. When finally their mouths joined, his heart thundered as the floodgates of desire spread through his groin.
Holy Moses, the moist heat of her lips stripped away every ounce of resolve he had left. They were so damned soft—why had he waited? Why didn’t he pull her into his arms at the river and take her? Och aye, by the way her tongue danced with his, the wee whimpers of her voice, she wanted him as much as he craved to have her in his arms.
William’s blood thrummed faster. The woman’s fervent response, her passionate wildness did unholy things to his cock. Lord, he wanted to be inside her—feel the warm wetness milk him—holy hell, he wanted her so badly, he mightn’t be able to wait.
She moaned, her fingers sliding from his chest to his shoulder, showing him her mind hadn’t changed in the slightest.
Thank God.
A fresh spike of heat hit William low in the gut. His body craved friction and he arched his hips toward her. When he finally pressed his cock against her, his entire body shuddered. How long had it been since he’d been this aroused?
Never.
Kissing him as if she’d been starved for days, Eva slipped her leg over his hip. She nestled her crux against his solid erection and rubbed. Holy hell it felt good—too good. All he could do was hold on and try not to come undone. God bless her, this woman proved to be a vixen in every way.
She sighed as their kiss eased. “I didn’t think you wanted me.”
“Ye’re wrong there.” He’d wanted her since he’d discovered she was a woman. How could he have ever thoug
ht her a lad? “I’d be a daft fool if I didna want ye, Eva.”
Sitting up with sultry, half-cast eyes, her fingers fumbled to unbuckle his quilted doublet. William started to help, but she brushed his hands away. “I’ll do it.” God’s teeth, even her voice seduced him.
His desire heightened with her every movement. When the last buckle released, she shoved the doublet from his shoulders. Tugging his shirt up from under his belt, William helped her pull it over his head. His chest heaved while she stared at him—lips parted—taking in quick stuttered breaths.
Her trembling fingers traced a line down the center of his chest. When she passed his navel, gooseflesh sprang across his skin. Willy’s breath caught when she stopped at the belt holding up his chausses—Lord it was only an inch above the tip of his erection. He groaned and pinched his bum cheeks already feeling her hands upon him—Christ, not touching it nearly made him loose his seed.
She pulled the buckle.
In a moment of sanity, he placed his hand atop hers. “Now ye, lass.”
She stopped, her green eyes turning dark as midnight. Rolling to her knees, she allowed him to tug her shift over her head. Bare to him, her breasts formed the most perfect feminine flesh he’d ever seen. Och aye, he’d ached to touch them at the river—had been able to think of nothing else since he’d seen her naked, those delectable rosebuds demanding he taste them. Unable to resist, he cupped them with his hands. God Almighty, her skin was softer than silk—softer than anything his rough fingers had ever caressed. He plied her flesh, aching to taste the tips that had teased him so unashamedly. Slowly he bent his head and captured heaven. Lord, he didn’t think he could grow harder, but the tip of his manhood strained and pushed out the top of his braies.
Eva arched toward him with the moan of a hellcat. As if she could read his mind, she straddled his lap and let him explore her perfection. Her hips rocked against his aching member while he suckled her. God on the cross, it took an iron will to contain his raging desire.
Gradually, her fingers slipped down and released first the belt holding his chausses, bless her—she was not a vixen, but an angel. Then she loosed the rope holding his braies. Unrolling the linen, she exposed all of him. Heaven help him, her fingers touched him—tempting him beyond all imagination. She rose up on her knees and William glanced down.
She wore something pink—something like braies. He slid his fingers down and tugged them out from her body, revealing the perfectly shaped triangle of red curls. Licking his lips, he swallowed his urge to pull them down. “What is this?” The material snapped back in place.
“Panties.”
“Pan—t—ies?” He said, emphasizing the T.
“Um hmm, I wear them for comfort. But right now I want you to tear them off me.”
Oh Lord of lords, his ballocks squeezed with the stretching of his erection. How could she make him spill simply with words? All that separated them was the thin strip of cloth she called panties. William blinked. “I could get ye with child.”
“No.” She leaned forward, growling in his ear, rubbing up and down the length of him.
“Are ye barren?”
“No.” She captured his mouth and kissed. “I have an IUD—a device that prevents pregnancy.” Deepening her kiss, she swirled her hips faster as if she feared her words would give him pause.
But blessed be the saints, “no” was the only thing William needed to hear—at least for now. William tugged the thin strip of cloth. Eva lifted her hips and let him pull the panties free.
She wrapped her hands around him and kneaded, massaging her fingers like nothing he’d ever experienced. “God’s bones.” His voice quavered.
“I want you.”
William couldn’t talk. The seductress had spoken. He could think of nothing but his own deep-seated desire to claim her. Now. He grasped her shoulders to roll her onto her back, but Eva did something completely unexpected. Rising up, she slid over him—took him inside her right there straddling him.
Her molten, soft core milked him. William buried his face in her neck and moaned. She worked her hips up, down, side to side. Eva’s every movement took him soaring to new heights of pleasure. Her breathing sped. Her arms clung tighter around his shoulders. With no choice but to let her dictate the pace, William gave himself over to her wiles.
Och aye, no ordinary woman could fill him with such mind-consuming desire.
A gasp caught in Eva’s throat. She arched back, her breasts heaving. William could withstand no more. He clenched his teeth to keep from bellowing as together they rode the wave of passion.
Chapter Fifteen
Awaking in the dim light, Eva moved ever so slightly, spooning her body tightly into William’s chest.
Did last night really happen?
Her skin sizzled where he pressed against her. Deep inside, her breasts swelled again, just as they had when he’d finally placed his hands on her. If only there could be a future for them. But she couldn’t allow herself to think beyond the present.
She blinked and listened. What time is it?
Sleeping inside the cave, Eva had difficulty discerning the time. Since she’d hidden her phone with her satchel, her internal clock totally twisted around. Normally, she preferred to sleep late. She didn’t know why she’d suddenly started waking early. Her candle had burned out, but a faint glow shone in through a crack in the fur curtain. The lack of voices beyond the shroud indicated that dawn hadn’t yet arrived. William’s inordinately warm body beside her was another clue. In the short time she’d known him, he’d been an early riser—and yet he slept.
Eva’s cheeks grew hot as she rose up on her elbow and studied him. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know he hadn’t accepted her story. Regardless, she’d stand by the truth from here on out. She mightn’t be able to answer his every question, but she’d be honest about that, too.
Ever so peaceful rolling to his back, William’s lips were closed, though they pursed slightly with every exhale. Eva loved his profile. With an angular forehead, his nose slightly bent at the bridge, forming a straight line all the way down to the tip. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. Like most of the statuary and paintings of men she’d seen in this century, he wore his red beard cropped close, not long and bushy like some. He kept it neatly groomed around his mouth, and his masculine lips pursed slightly—as if always waiting for her to kiss him.
In my dreams. This can only be a fleeting liaison.
Eva tried to picture what he’d look like shaved clean. That he had a strong chin beneath those wiry curls was certain and she imagined a dimpled cleft as well.
Mm. No thirteenth century man should be so sexy.
The plaid covered his lower extremities, but his chest remained bare. In slumber, his muscles still looked sculpted like a Greek statue. The curls on his chest, thickest in the middle, were also red. During their frenzied moment of passion the night before, that he’d been red down there hadn’t gone unnoticed. Though the hair atop William’s head was chestnut brown, she loved the fact the rest of him was a ginger just like her.
Did I honestly sleep with him?
From the tingling throughout her entire body, Eva didn’t need to ask. It had been too long since she’d made love with a man. And the rugged Scotsman sleeping beside her could rock her world in ways she’d never dreamed.
She refused to allow her mind to make comparisons, however. Her heart welcomed this new experience as if starting life afresh. No one here knew her. She could be anyone she desired. She could lust after a seven hundred-year-old man if she chose—a least for a little while.
Compelled to make an entry in her journal, she continued to be religious about daily notes. Her leather-bound journal looked adequately dated. Eva opened it and recorded most of the previous day’s events, omitting the details of her blossoming affair. That was private—something she’d never include in an article for any major magazine.
Sucking in a deep, hissing breath, William opened his eyes.
Eva set the pen and journal aside and slid down onto her elbow. “Good morning.”
He swiped a hand over his face. “Good morrow,” he said in an authoritative tone.
“Oops. I beg your pardon.” She giggled. “Good morrow.” She’d been trying to use more medieval words and phrases. Every time she ended up separated from William, she could be in danger if she spoke like a twenty-first century Scot. She swirled her fingers through the hair on his chest. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I have in a long time.” He sat up and scrubbed his knuckles over his thick, shoulder-length hair. “I’ve a great deal to do this day.”
Eva gestured toward her journal. “And I need to get serious about writing your story.”
He knit his brows. “What in the blazes is that?”
She picked it up and turned to her most recent notes. “My chronicler—I use it to jot down notes.” She reached for her pen and underlined the date. “See, I’ve just started today’s entry.”
Frowning, he snatched it from her fingers and thumbed through the pages. “This is not how we keep records.” He held the book closer to his face. “How did ye make the ink so even? I see no light or dark, no splotches. Is this another example of your witchcraft?”
Eva’s face grew hot. “For crying out loud, no.”
He pointed to her notes. “I cannot read these scratchings.”
She rolled her eyes. The man could be like Jekyll and Hyde. “I thought—”
“What? Because ye beguiled me last eve, I would turn a blind eye to your sorcery?”
Her blood pressure skyrocketed so high, Eva’s ears thundered. Snatching the journal from his grasp, she glared at him. “I did no such thing, you heartless brute. You’re the one who came in here after I’d gone to bed.” She tossed the damned thing aside by her pen and grabbed her bra, clasping it and shoving her arms through.
“Ye harness your udders?” The man was insufferable.
“For your information, it’s a bra—short for brassiere, something that wasn’t invented until the twentieth century.” Eva groaned with sarcasm and yanked her shift over her head. “But then you’re so pigheaded, you wouldn’t believe that, either.”