Meanwhile, Jossalyn began to make the rounds through the camp, seeing to its residents, doling out herbs and roots and introducing herself. Though she was often met with surprised stares when she opened her mouth and spoke for the first time—her English accent no doubt jarring in this setting—most people she encountered were quick to welcome her, especially when she was able to help with a persistent cough or an achy joint. A few of those she met remained reserved or even openly suspicious of her, but she didn’t try to push them too hard into trusting her. She would just have to let her work speak for itself.
She grew more comfortable after the first week in the camp, not only with being surrounded almost entirely by giant, burly warriors in kilts, but also in her role as the camp’s healer. She wasn’t afraid to gather medicinal plants in the thinner parts of the surrounding forest, for she knew her brother wasn’t going to catch her at any moment and strike her for her disobedience. She was sometimes aware of the scouts around the outskirts of the camp, but quickly realized they were protecting her and the others in the area, not trying to prevent her from practicing her healing.
The only time she felt the itch of discomfort was when she would be crouched to gather some flower or root, or in conversation with a warrior who needed a new poultice for a minor cut, or just wandering through the mazelike camp, and then suddenly, she would catch a glimpse of Finn watching her. He didn’t try to hide, but he kept his distance, staring silently at her from several dozen yards away. Though his dark eyes were unreadable, his gaze would often send a shiver through her, for she felt his suspicion and distrust of her palpably.
When she would catch him watching her, she would level her chin and go about her business, though her internal impulse would be to scurry away under his sharp eye. She didn’t mention it to Garrick; she figured she was just being overly sensitive, and she didn’t want to behave like a worrywart. Nevertheless, the sight of Finn lurking nearby always sent the hairs on the back of her neck up.
On a particularly warm late-summer day nearly two weeks after they had arrived at the camp, Jossalyn was in need of more dandelion and decided to stroll toward the practice field to gather some. One of the older soldiers was complaining of gallstones, so Jossalyn had suggested a dandelion tea to ease the discomfort and help dissolve the stones. The glen where the men often practiced and trained with Garrick was one of the few grassy areas nearby, and she thought she remembered seeing some of the cheery yellow flowers there.
As she approached the field, she noticed that while a group of more than a dozen men were practicing their aim with bows and arrows, another group of a similar size stood waiting for their turn on the outskirts of the glen. She recognized Colin and Angus among those standing along the edge of the field and approached.
When Colin noticed her, he waved her over to them. “Fine day, isn’t it, lass?”
The warm weather had caused many of the men to shed their shirts and practice only in their kilts. She blushed as she took in the sight. She wasn’t quite used to so much male flesh on display.
Then she caught sight of Garrick, and suddenly, she was grateful for the hot sun overhead. Like many of the others, he had stripped to the waist, and sweat glistened off the hard planes of his torso. Though all the men present were warriors, his physique seemed especially honed and magnificent—at least to her eyes, she thought with another blush.
Garrick hadn’t noticed her standing on the outside of the glen yet, and she relished the opportunity to watch him work. He was explaining to the group of men on the field how English bowmen would normally make a long line and fire a round or two of arrows to create cover for foot soldiers to move forward.
“This is incredibly ineffective and inaccurate, though,” he said as he strolled around the group of men. “And even when they are lucky enough to hit something, why would we simply stand there and make their job easier for them?” The men rumbled their agreement.
“So instead of standing around like a bunch of scarecrows waiting to let an Englishman get lucky”—at this the men chuckled—“we’re going to make their target smaller, harder to spot, and harder to hit. We’ll learn how to shoot from a crouch.”
Those on the practice field remained silent, but several of them shot skeptical glances at one another.
“You should all be able to hit the same target standing up—” Garrick snatched his bow and an arrow off the ground and stood, firing smoothly at a target on the far side of the field, hitting it dead in the center “—as you can from a crouch.” He knelt down, one knee on the ground and the other bent at ninety degrees. He took another arrow into his bow, aimed, and let it fly. It thunked into the center of the target, nearly overlapping with the first arrow. The men murmured their approval.
“We will begin practicing shooting from a crouch tomorrow at the same time,” Garrick said, dismissing the group on the field and turning to the waiting men.
Just then, he spotted Jossalyn, and she felt warmth suffuse her whole body—and it wasn’t from the sun. He strode over to her, his eyes locked on her and a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He had shaved a few days ago, but dark stubble already dusted his handsome face, which was made more enticing by the quirk of his lips. She watched him approach, letting her eyes drop from his face to his bare torso, mesmerized by the movements of the muscles.
“What brings you to the practice field today, lass?” Then he leaned in and whispered just for her “Couldn’t wait for the sun to go down to see me nearly naked again?”
She was sure that none of the other men around her, including Colin and Angus standing right next to her, had heard his suggestive tease. Nevertheless, she had to repress the desire to gasp in shock and swat him for the comment.
“I’m only gathering dandelions for a tea,” she said instead.
“But I have something for you in the tent.”
This time she did swipe his shoulder, but it only made him chuckle. “I mean it, lass. I have something I wish to give you that I think you’ll enjoy greatly.”
The men heard that well enough, and several of them chortled or murmured a bawdy response.
Turning to the group, Garrick said in an authoritative voice, “I’ll return in fifteen minutes. I expect you all to have run twenty laps around the field by that time as a warm-up to our training session.”
There was a collective groan from the men.
“Fifteen minutes sounds like an awfully long time, Garrick. Are you sure you’ll take that long?” Colin’s ribbing remark drew more chuckles from the men.
“Make that thirty laps, then,” Garrick replied with a lifted eyebrow, not taking Colin’s teasing bait.
There were more lighthearted grumbles from the group, but they started trotting around the field. He slid into his shirt, which had been tossed on the ground nearby, then took Jossalyn’s hand and led her back into the camp.
Jossalyn shot a wide-eyed look at Garrick as he led the way back to their tent.
Catching her stare, he smiled. “Don’t believe the filthy minds of that lot, lass,” he said. “I merely want to give you something. A…present.”
“A present?” She could feel a smile spreading across her face to match his. What a decadent thing to receive a gift from her lover. She had begun to allow herself to mentally use that word to describe Garrick, for what else was he? It felt very wanton of her to have a lover, but she also relished the thought that she had chosen him of her own free will and shared her body and her passion with him willingly. Not many women—especially ladies—had that kind of freedom.
But the word wasn’t the perfect fit—or maybe it was just that she would like another word even more. Husband.
She was completely content with their arrangement as it was now. She was savoring her newfound confidence and the freedom to openly practice her healing art. Their hungry desire for each other only seemed to grow with time, no matter how much they sated their passionate appetites, she thought with an internal thrill. She wa
s coming to care for and respect him more and more, and she sensed his growing and deepening affection as well. Then why did she want to introduce the idea of marriage into their lives?
She knew Garrick had once thought himself incapable of marriage, or perhaps more accurately, incapable of predicting the future to know if he would ever be settled sufficiently to have a family. She also knew he feared that she wouldn’t accept him as he was, though her affection these last few weeks should show him otherwise. She supposed she was greedy, but she wanted more with him—she wanted his love, for she now realized that she loved him.
Though she had never loved a man as a woman before, she knew with certainty that this was it. She simply couldn’t imagine life without him. The mere sight of him simultaneously set her at ease and sparked something inside her that made her want more of his company. She admired his kindness and thoughtfulness toward her, his command and confidence with the men, and his deep sense of honor. He had already given her the one thing she had longed for her entire life—freedom. And at the same time, her freedom would mean little to her without him in her life.
She knew she could be content with life the way it was. She could keep working as a healer, and they could keep enjoying each other’s company. But a small part of her—which was admittedly growing by the day—longed to publicly proclaim to all who would listen that they were committed to each other. Of course, the future could not be known, but she hoped to always face it with him—together.
She would never pressure him into it, though, so she brushed the thoughts—which were become increasingly frequent—aside as they arrived at their tent. He held back the flap for her to enter, and he joined her in the dim interior. Sitting on the bed was a package wrapped in canvas. She eyed him for a moment, but when he gave her a little nod toward the package, she pulled the canvas back.
Sitting in front of her were the finest leather boots she had ever seen. She gasped as her fingers brushed against the leather. It was soft, yet thick, perfect for moving around in the outdoors—which was the only place she went anymore. There were ties running up the front of them, and they looked like they would rise to mid-calf.
“Try them on, lass,” Garrick said over her shoulder.
She sat on the bed and kicked off her tattered, threadbare house slippers, then slid one of the boots onto her foot. She sighed at the feel of the soft leather as it encased her foot and ankle perfectly. He knelt in front of her, taking the other boot in his hand. He lifted the hem of her skirt up to her knees, then slowly slid the other boot onto her foot. The sensation sent little tendrils of heat up her legs.
“How did you manage to get these?” she said, her voice filled with awe.
“After I saw what a sorry condition your slippers were in, I had a chat with the camp’s tanner. He has spent the last week on these.”
She stared at him for a moment. His gray eyes, normally hard and sharp, were gazing at her with a mixture of anticipation and—was that worry?
“Do you like them, lass?”
Without speaking, she launched herself into his arms, sending them both toppling backward onto the floor of their tent. “I love—” She stopped herself just in time. She didn’t want to potentially spoil the moment and make him uncomfortable if he didn’t feel the same as she did. She didn’t doubt his affection, but also didn’t want to push him. “I love them.”
Though she thought she had caught herself in time, he had clearly heard the declaration she had almost made, for he rolled over so that she was lying on her back and he was leaning over her. He pinned her with an intense gaze.
“Good, because I love you and want you to be happy.”
She felt all the air gust out of her in a whoosh. “W-What did you just say?”
He smiled down at her but took a breath that hinted at his nervousness. “I love you. I want you to be happy. I’ll bring you a thousand pairs of boots if that’s what it takes.”
A wild giggle escaped her. She felt like she was going to burst with joyous energy. “I love you too. Even without the boots.”
A rumble of laughter shook his chest. But then his face went serious, and he pulled her upright and placed her on the edge of the cot. He remained kneeling on the floor in front of her. He took both of her hands in his and met her eyes.
“Marry me, Jossalyn.”
If she had thought she would explode with excitement and happiness before, then now she was bursting into a thousand pieces of pure elation.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded distant and garbled to her ears, and she realized that tears of joy had formed in her eyes and were blurring her vision of his handsome face. It didn’t matter, though, because the next moment he had closed the distance between them and was capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.
Before she registered how or when they had moved, they were lying next to each other on the narrow cot, mouths locked together. One of her legs rose up to wrap around his hip, and she used it to pull their bodies even closer, pressing their hips together. His hands skimmed over her hips and bottom, her waist, her breasts, her hair. She had already undone the tie holding his hair in its dark queue, and her fingers tangled in it, holding his mouth to hers as their tongues teased each other.
A distant thought tugged at the back of her mind, and she pulled her lips back a little. “What about your men? They are waiting for you.”
“Let them wait,” he breathed, rejoining their lips. One of his hands was working on the ties at the back of her dress, and she arched to give him more access.
In short order, they had stripped each other of their clothes, except for Jossalyn’s new boots. Jossalyn didn’t think she would ever grow tired of the intoxicating feel of their bare skin pressed together. Just as Garrick was rolling on top of her, the cot screeched loudly. They froze, staring at each other, then simultaneously burst into laughter.
“Perhaps my next gift to you will be a new bed,” Garrick said play-sourly. Then his eyes lit with an idea, and before she knew what was happening, he had scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his hips and hoisting her into the air. She shrieked and giggled.
“You’re louder than the cot, lass,” he said as he carried her from the bed to the wooden table with the pitcher and basin for water. “Hold on.”
She entwined her arms around his neck, squeezed her legs against his hips, and locked her booted ankles behind his back. He kept one arm under her but used his free hand to move the pitcher and basin off the table. Then he set her down on the table so that her bottom rested on the wooden surface but her legs were still wrapped around his hips. He pulled back a little, then guided his swollen, hard manhood inside her.
She shivered and gasped at the feeling of his cock filling her. He took hold of her hips and began moving in and out, building the slow, achingly torturous pleasure for both of them. Her breathing increased despite his steady pace, which was driving her mad as the pressure grew.
She released her arms from his neck and leaned back, placing her hands on the table. His eyes followed her, devouring her hungrily. She watched him drink in the sight of her breasts, bobbing in rhythm with his thrusts, and noticed that a muscle in his jaw was clenched and twitching. The sight of him straining so hard to maintain control sent her hitching even higher.
She moaned and moved her hips, wordlessly begging him to go faster. He obliged, thrusting into her harder and more rapidly. With just a few more strokes, she was sent careening over the edge into pure ecstasy. She tried to muffle her cries of pleasure but didn’t care if she succeeded or not. He followed her almost immediately, groaning out his release and grinding into her.
As they both came back down to earth, he leaned forward and claimed her mouth in another heated kiss. They disentangled themselves slowly, and his eyes lingered on her as she went about picking up her clothes, which were strewn all over the inside of the tent. Reluctantly, he reached for his shirt and kilt, donning both.
“I had better go see about that training session,” he said
grudgingly.
“They might tease you to death if you don’t return soon,” she replied, her merriment barely contained.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you mocking me, my bonnie bride?”
She wished she could come up with some clever retort, but the way he called her his bride overwhelmed her. Instead, she threw her arms around him again and buried her face in his shoulder.
“I’ll be back this evening, lass. I’ll talk to the Bruce tonight, and then we will be able to truly celebrate.” His words held a promise, not only of their pleasure to come, but of everything that awaited them in the future—together, just as she had dreamed.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Garrick strode out of the tent toward the practice field, but he might as well have been walking on air.
He hadn’t planned on proclaiming his love for Jossalyn or asking her to marry him. Yet the way she had almost let her words of love slip out, and then tried to cover them up, had made him realize he was being a damn fool for not speaking his mind. What a rare gift and treasure the love of such a woman was. He didn’t want to wait a second longer to let his feelings for her be known, else he lose the opportunity, as Burke had warned him.
And now he was to be a married man. The thought was strange, but pleasantly so. He thought back to his last visit with his older brother Robert. He had always assumed Robert would marry, since he was the Laird of the Sinclair clan and it was his responsibility to produce legitimate heirs. But he had known his brother for so long as a single man, a warrior and leader, that it had been strange to suddenly see him completely entwining his life with a woman.
Garrick had thought Robert was daft at first, given the way his eyes followed Lady Alwin and how aware he seemed to be of her. But now, Garrick realized that he, too, had become like that with Jossalyn. Like his brother, he had fallen in love. And now he would marry—against all odds—the woman who both humbled him and filled him with pride to have her at his side.
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