He was rewarded with a gasp from her as the cool, fresh night air hit her heated skin. He tried but failed to suppress a growl at the sight that met his hungry eyes. Her skin was nearly as pale and silky white as the material of her chemise. He let his eyes devour the swells of her pert breasts, each one tipped with a pink, hard nipple.
She writhed under him, reminding him that she still wanted more. He longed to give her everything she desired, but he also wanted her to be near mad with wanting, just as he was. He let his hand inch farther up her thigh, and her bent knee fell open slightly. He trailed his fingertips along the inside of her leg, leaning his head closer to her breasts. When he blew his hot breath against one of her nipples, she shuddered and arched, a moan slipping from her lips. He moved torturously slow, his own cock throbbing with need, but forced himself to let the pleasure build even higher in both of them.
Right as his fingertips brushed the damp crux of her legs, he brought his mouth down to capture one of her nipples. She inhales sharply, jerking and twisting under both his hand and his mouth. He let his tongue swirl and tease her nipple, just as he had with their kiss. Meanwhile, he drew one finger over her damp folds, then slipped it inside to glide and press against that button of a woman’s pleasure. What he wouldn’t give to taste and caress her there with his tongue, just as he was doing now to her nipple, then sink his aching cock all the way into her.
Just as he was about to come undone at the thought, he felt her hand brush against the front of his kilt, where his cock was pressed against her. He jerked his head up and locked eyes with her. She was panting through parted lips, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure as his finger continued to caress her.
“Do you feel it too?” she said breathily, gliding her hand gently over the swell in his kilt.
“Aye, lass,” he managed through gritted teeth. If he had been about to come undone just at the feel of her wetness and the thought of sinking into her, he surely wasn’t going to last under her tentative but curious touch.
He brought his hand out from under her skirts and took her wrist, gently guiding it underneath his kilt. He let her take her time brushing her fingers over his upper legs, but he jerked uncontrollably when she came into contact with his bollocks. Then her fingertips were exploring his shaft, and he nearly cursed.
When he couldn’t take any more of her feathery touches, he took her hand in his and wrapped it around his length, moving both their hands up and down. In a moment, she caught on to the motion, and he let go of her hand, seeking her warm wetness once again.
They groaned in unison as they each stroked and teased the other. He lowered his head to her breast once more, capturing a nipple in his mouth and laving it before switching to the other to give it the same treatment. He could hear her breath coming even faster now, and he hitched up the rhythm of his stroke against her clitoris. She seemed to unconsciously do the same, pumping her hand faster around his cock. He was ready to explode, but he wanted her to join him.
He let one finger slip inside her opening while his thumb resumed the caress of that pleasurable spot just above. This must have sent her into another plane of sensation, for she called out his name and arched against his mouth.
Suddenly, she shuddered and cried out again, and he could feel her convulsing against his hand. It only took one more pulse of her hand around his cock to send him over the edge after her. He groaned and thrust into her hand, making the contact deeper as he spilled his seed.
He forced his eyes open despite the fact that he was spiraling down from his own ecstasy, wanting to drink in the sight of her. Her skin and hair were luminous in the moonlight, her breasts and cheeks faintly flushed from his kisses and her release. He could feel her bent leg quivering as he eased his hand from her and out from under her skirts.
Her eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. “That was…” She gave up searching for words and instead withdrew her hand from under his kilt, but quickly threw both arms around his neck, dragging him down to lie next to her on his plaid. She tossed a leg over one of his languidly, all traces of tension and shyness gone.
For some reason, though, her relaxation sent a thread of apprehension through him. He tried to push away the voice that shouted admonishments inside his head, but he couldn’t quite silence it. What was the harm in their sharing some pleasure while they could? It wasn’t as if he had taken her virginity. They had merely scratched the itch that they clearly both had. But the voice wouldn’t be silenced, for even though they hadn’t done anything physically irreversible or permanent, he couldn’t say the same for his growing and undeniable feelings for her.
Yes, he had come to care for the lass. It had started innocently enough when he thought her a simple but suspiciously evasive healer back at Dunbraes. But now that he saw her true character—her strength in the face of the hell she must have endured with a brother like Raef Warren, her genuine kindheartedness, and the ocean of passion within her just below the surface—he was becoming too attached.
Nothing could come of this, he told himself as she nestled her head against his shoulder, her hair smelling of sunshine and wildflowers.
Nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jossalyn felt the pull of sleep but resisted for a few seconds. She wanted to savor this moment—it might be the only one like it with Garrick. She still needed to tell him that she wanted not only to stay in Scotland, but also wanted to become directly involved in their fight for freedom. She hoped that after everything they had shared, he would understand and be willing to help her. But even if he wasn’t, she wouldn’t be deterred.
She would have to cross that bridge when she came to it, but for now, she wanted to soak in this moment, her head nestled against his shoulder, her body still humming from his touch. She’d had no idea what she had just experienced was possible—the aching need, the building pressure, and the flood of ecstasy that left her weak and limp like a milk-drunk kitten.
She let a smile creep to her lips at the thought that she had given the same experience to Garrick, both of them striving for and finding that tidal wave of pleasure with each other. She had always been told by her nursemaids and instructors on a lady’s behavior that being intimate with a man—with her husband, only ever her husband—was her duty. They had always made it seem like it was something to be endured, that men would want it from her, but that she herself would never desire or enjoy it.
How wrong they were.
Was it always like this? She doubted very much that whichever old widower her brother would have selected for her could make her feel the way she did in Garrick’s embrace. And she didn’t want to find out. She would never again let someone else make decisions for her, especially when it came to finding a mate for life. She knew she shouldn’t let herself indulge in girlish fantasies, but after all she and Garrick had shared, she suddenly saw the dim promise of a new path ahead of her. Though hazy, she could imagine a future filled with the kind of passion she had just discovered in herself—and maybe more.
Was it foolish of her to think she could share a love with someone who accepted her for who she was? Perhaps. But she had also once believed the kind of sensual fire she had just experienced didn’t exist.
And was it foolish of her to think Garrick could be part of that future? She had tried before to push down her feelings for him, to not let herself grow too attached to him, and that was before she knew he was a Scottish freedom fighter and a deadly shot with a bow. She shouldn’t let herself indulge in such sentimental wishing when she now knew he was a warrior, not likely to be tied down to one place—or one woman, for that matter.
But the truth was, she did wish, in her heart of hearts, that she would never have to say goodbye to Garrick again, that they could talk and touch and perhaps even laugh together—forever.
He would say it was too dangerous, that he was a warrior and she a healer, a masochistic match if there ever was one.
He would say he had his missions, that she would b
e at risk if she knew anything more.
But his words and his reasons rang hollow to her, and she had seen the look in his eyes as they brought each other pleasure. He was possessive of her, and protective. He hungered for her just as much as she hungered for him, but it was more than that.
The memory of his rage at the sight of the bruises her brother had inflicted, his words that her healing gift was valuable and special, his trust in her to heal Burke—he cared for her. And she couldn’t deny that she cared for him too. Now she would just have to come up with a plan so that she could not only offer her healing skills to the Scottish rebellion, but also stay near Garrick—at least long enough for them to explore whatever was growing between them.
With this thought swirling through her mind, she finally succumbed to the pull of sleep within the warm embrace of Garrick’s strong arms.
The cool morning air was tickling her neck, so Jossalyn hunkered down deeper into the warmth of the plaid covering her and the heat of Garrick’s skin. She jerked a little as she realized she was plastered against the wickedly handsome man with whom she had shared her body and her passion last night. One of her legs was thrown over his, and her head and arm rested on his chest. A powerful arm was wrapped around her, his hand absently stroking the curve of her waist.
“You’re awake,” he said into her hair.
She craned her neck so she could catch a glimpse of his face, but it was unreadable. “Have you been up long?”
“I didn’t sleep much,” he responded, more flatly than she had hoped after their night together.
“We have much to discuss,” he went on.
“Yes, I have some things I wish to say,” she said, trying to steel herself against both his apparent distance and the task of telling him her plan.
“We’d better get back to camp in case Burke needs you,” he said, sitting up a little and forcing her to move her head.
She watched him closely as he stood and straightened his kilt. His mouth was in a firm line, the edges slightly downturned. He also seemed to be focusing on anything but her.
She sat up and reached behind her, trying to refasten the ties at the back of her dress. Sometime in the night, she must have pulled the fabric back over her shoulders for warmth, but the ties were now tangled and loose.
He must have noticed her struggling, for he knelt down behind her and silently helped her retie the ties. Once the task was done, he turned to the creek and splashed water over his hands and face, his back to her.
She stood and straightened out her dress as best as she could, trying not to let his distance get to her. Just as she had let her mind tumble through her thoughts and had come up with a plan that suited her, he had likely been chewing on what their intimate encounter meant and what to do about their uncertain future. She would just have to convince him that her plan would work—assuming that he, too, wanted to stay in her presence for at least a little while longer.
When he turned back to her, she opened her mouth, about to let all of her jumbled thoughts spill out, but he avoided making eye contact, and instead, snatched up the plaid, which they had used both to lie on and cover themselves. He shook it out without a word and turned to walk back toward their makeshift camp. She was left standing there for a moment, mouth still open, before hurrying after him.
He may be confused and worried, she thought, her temper flaring, but he didn’t have to be rude. Just as she was about to cut into him with an accusation of ignoring her and their shared intimacy, he halted, and she nearly bumped into his back. She peered around his shoulder to see what had caused him to stop so abruptly.
Burke was standing in the middle of their camp, and looking right at them with a quizzical expression on his face.
“Burke! You’re up! I mean, you’re awake, and standing!” Even as she rushed to his side, she felt a flush of heat in her cheeks. Could he somehow tell what they had been doing last night? She felt so different in her own skin now that surely it was written plainly on her face.
“How long was I asleep?” he asked, letting her guide him to a nearby rock to sit.
“Two days,” Garrick said flatly.
Burke’s eyes widened at that. “What happened?”
“You passed out on your horse, so we had to stop here for a while. That wound was infected, and you had a fever. You shouldn’t be up and about.” She placed a hand on his forehead, but his skin was a normal, healthy warm.
She turned her attention to his leg and began unwrapping the bandage that covered the wound.
“Warren and his men came through the area while you were out,” Garrick said grimly.
Suddenly, Burke was alert and focused on Garrick despite her handling of his bandages.
“They were looking for us, but they moved on without spotting us,” Garrick went on. “They are cutting an arc back and forth across this entire area, moving northward.”
Burke nodded, and then winced as the last covering of bandage fell away and fresh air hit his leg.
Jossalyn gasped at the sight of the wound.
“What is it? Is it bad?” Suddenly Garrick was kneeling at her side, a crease between his brows.
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s better than fine,” she replied in a rush. “The infection is gone, and the skin is healing nicely. All the stitches are intact, despite Burke standing on it.” She shot a glare up at him, silently admonishing his behavior.
He smiled back widely. “We Sinclair men are harder to kill than that, lass.”
“Sinclair or no, you still need to rest so the wound doesn’t become infected again or you reopen it,” she said sternly.
Burke and Garrick exchanged a dark look that told her they had other plans.
“If we cut due east, we should be able to get out of Warren’s search path,” Garrick said to Burke.
“That will slow us down,” Burke replied.
“Only by a day, two at most. It’s better than running into Warren and more than a dozen of his mounted, armored soldiers.”
Burke nodded, his eyes focusing on the distance as he thought. “If we head due east, then cut north, you and I will both be pointed toward our destinations.”
Both men seemed to remember Jossalyn all of a sudden, who was kneeling between them, looking back and forth as they spoke. They turned their eyes on her, both frowning in thought, and she suddenly felt distinctly like a problem that needed fixing.
“Have you told her about your brother or the Br—”
“Nay,” Garrick interjected quickly.
“Actually,” Jossalyn jumped in, shooting a look at Garrick before turning to Burke, “I know you two work for the Scottish rebellion and that you are on some mission that is likely connected to Robert the Bruce. Also, I know that you two are working in secret against my brother.”
Burke raised an eyebrow at Garrick. “And how do you know all that, lass?”
“Garrick told me some of it, and it wasn’t hard after seeing you two don kilts and wield weapons against the English. Garrick seems to be holding something back, though, because he says it’s too dangerous for me to know everything.”
Garrick gave a slight shake of his head in response to Burke’s questioning look. They seemed to understand their unspoken communication.
Burke turned back to Jossalyn. “And what do you make of all this, my lady healer?”
She chewed her lip for a moment, unsure of how much of her plan she wanted to reveal. She had hoped to explain everything to Garrick in private, since it partially involved their—whatever it was between them. She had also hoped to explain things when he was receptive and open to what she had to say. At the moment, he was alternating between shooting his scowl at Burke and her, his eyes hard and sharp.
She took a breath and dove in. “I know you two are working for Robert the Bruce, but you apparently have different destinations. Based on what Garrick has told me, I’m guessing one of you is going back to the secret headquarters of the rebellion.” She lifted her chin slightly. “And I
’m going with you.”
Both men were suddenly speaking at once, denying her claims and telling her there was no way she was going with them.
“No way in hell,” Garrick said forcefully.
She let them carry on for another moment, and then held up her hand and waited for them to fall silent.
“I’m not asking, I’m telling you what I’m going to do. I decided a long time ago”—it was only a matter of days, but they didn’t need to know that—“that I would escape my brother and live a life of my choosing in Scotland. At first, I thought I could live anonymously in some quiet village, working as a healer and making decisions for myself.”
She sighed, forcing herself to let go of that path. “After overhearing Raef’s words yesterday, though, I realize now that his hatred, his disdain, both for me and for all of Scotland and its people, goes deeper than I ever knew. I will never go back to him, but I can’t be entirely sure that I would be safe from him or someone who would report back to him, even in the most remote of villages.”
Garrick nodded grudgingly at her words. Good. At least he agreed with her on this last point. She went on.
“So, as I’m sure you have both realized, I’m stuck. I can’t go back to the Borderlands or England. I have no family other than my brother, and I doubt I would go unnoticed for long among so many of my brother’s allies. And I can’t simply plop myself down in the middle of Scotland, going about my life, as if a young English healer wouldn’t eventually draw notice.”
“You’ll forgive us, lass, but that pretty much sums up our problem with you,” Burke said apologetically. “I believe you’ve saved my life, and we—along with all those who are depending on us—are grateful to you for that. But we can’t very well take you with us any farther. Garrick is right. You are in danger by being in our presence. We are both needed elsewhere, in places an English lass shouldn’t know about, let alone go.”
“But that’s just it,” she said, her voice straining with excitement. “What better or safer place is there for me than hidden away at the secret headquarters of the Scottish rebellion?”
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