by Kresley Cole
Her brows drew together in anguish. Though the night was slow to pass, the sun was rising. And he still was missing. What if he was hurt on the road somewhere? Oh God, what if he was lying in a ditch?
She'd go right back the way they came and retrace their steps. She'd browbeat Coachy if she had to, but she was going back.
Resolved, she yanked open the door. A dark figure stood just outside, and she nearly screamed in fright. "MacCarrick!" He looked more exhausted than she'd ever seen him.
He shoved her in, then slammed the door behind them. Without a word, he ran his hands forcefully over her, looking her up and down for injuries, then stumbled away. She knew he hadn't slept since he'd left her, and her heart constricted when she realized he'd returned to her as quickly as he was able.
Still… "You Highland bastard! Don't you ever, ever do that again. Don't you dare leave me!"
He stood his rifle against the wall. Before it had been shining and new. Now it was scratched all over, coated in mud, the handle dented. What had he gone through out there?
He sarcastically mumbled, "I'm alive and well." He lifted a ponderous chair like it was weightless, then wedged it against the door. "Doona worry yourself."
She watched in dismay as he lurched to the pitcher to guzzle water.
"I've been worried. I didn't know if you'd return."
Running his sleeve over his mouth, he turned. His expression revealed obvious irritation. "Have a feelin' you'd be fine without me."
"Likely! But that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you!"
He frowned as if her words had just stunned him, confused him. He stumbled again as he drew his pistol from his trouser waist and placed it on the table beside the bed. "Canna talk. Need tae sleep, woman. Doona leave this room or I'll make you regret it."
He fell to the bed, flat on his face, and passed out at once.
Her eyes widened, and she leapt forward to turn his head so he could breathe. Clearly he needed someone to care for him now. She discarded her shoes and sat, knees to her chest, beside him. The simple act of watching him sleep made the new feelings she'd experienced earlier return multiplied.
She reached toward him and smoothed his hair from his forehead. With a pang, she watched his brows draw together as if he was unused to the touch. Was he?
Of all the women he'd admitted to seducing, did none of them touch him tenderly afterward? She would when she made love to him.
Well! She hadn't realized part of her had had this discussion, much less that she'd decided. Even so, she believed it was a good decision, especially considering the three attacks on her life that would surely be followed by more. She refused to die with regrets. Now that she had a hint, a taste of what it would be like to make love to Courtland MacCarrick, she wanted it all.
After hours of trying to imagine making love to him, her eyes finally slid closed one too many times.
Near nightfall, she woke, still half asleep, remaining in position until she toppled to her side still in a ball. She could have sworn she heard him chuckle from across the room.
She cracked open her eyes and found him with his hair wet, drying off his very naked body beside a tub. He'd lit only one lamp, probably to let her sleep, but she could see his sculpted muscles tensing and flexing as he took the towel and ran it over his neck, chest, and privates. Continuing to feign sleep, she studied him through her eyelashes, until, to her great disappointment, he finally pulled on his trousers.
"I know you're awake," he said.
With an exasperated sigh, she sat up. "If you knew I was awake and watching, then why didn't you turn away instead of continuing directly in front of me?"
"I dinna hear any complaints."
The man didn't have a modest bone in his body! Yet she wouldn't argue with him because complaining had been the farthest thing from her mind. "So how long have you been up?"
"Not long."
She twined her hair, knotting it behind her.
"How many were there?"
"Three."
"You killed them?"
"Aye."
He didn't look proud of the fact. She'd learned after the second attack that MacCarrick wasn't bloodthirsty; he was blood weary. "Why didn't you even duck?"
"Would no' make a difference with them. But you would no' know I dinna duck unless you had no' been down as I told you."
"How could I not look? Please don't leave me like that again. I can help you." This amused him and she bristled. "I do believe I took out one of the two on the road to Toulouse. If you gave me a pistol—"
He froze. "I never want to see you with a gun in your hand, Anna."
"Why not?"
"You were no' meant to," he said simply.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
His gaze caught hers, and she saw his eyes were bleak. "It means people like me were put on the earth so people like you never have to do bad things and suffer from them."
After tense moments, she felt a confusing sadness seeping into her and turned away.
As he finished dressing, she asked, "How long will we stay here?"
"We have to wait till the morning tide to cross, then we'll take the train to London."
A train. She'd always dreamed of riding one, but they were rare in France, impossible in Andorra. Now she would, and she couldn't care less.
"I'll go downstairs and get food for you. And a fresh bath, if you'd like it."
She nodded absently, her mind on other things, such as how reluctant she was to see him go now, and how one might go about seducing a Scottish mercenary. Just like any other man, she supposed, which left her no better off.
Chapter Twenty-three
"I thought you'd be ready by now," Court said as he began forcing himself out of the doorway. The room was darkened but for one flickering lamp, and she was sitting at the headboard of the bed, clad in only her thin shift and a new bandage.
He'd given her plenty of time to bathe and dress, fearing he might see any part of her unclothed, and a glimpse of an ankle at this point would pain him. When he'd been assured she was safe, the memories from the coach began clawing at him. Even as he'd slept, he'd dreamed of a different ending entirely and woke heavy and aching for it. He'd even dreamed she'd said she wanted to be with him, though he'd realized on the ride back to her that she'd never meant to make love to him in the carriage. He'd pushed and had heard and seen what he wanted because he wanted her so badly.
And now to see her in nothing but a sheer piece of material, with her hair loose…
"Wait, MacCarrick. I need to speak with you."
He swallowed hard. "We can once you're dressed."
"Will you please come in?"
Why had he ever wanted her to learn to ask? Probably because he hadn't known it about himself that he couldn't deny her. He shut the door, then sat at the foot of the bed. "What do you need?"
"I've had a lot of time to think," she said softly.
He stared, dumbfounded, as she began crawling toward him.
When her breasts moved with each movement closer, he rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Uh-huh." If he'd known this was what he'd be returning to, he'd have been quicker about his tasks.
"This is a dangerous time for us."
She'd always had that accent that drove him mad, but when she purred the words…Her voice made him hard as hell.
"Aye, it is." Though the urge to pull her to him and get his hands on that body was overwhelming, he remained still, breaths shallow, curious to see what she'd do next.
"And I don't want to wish I'd experienced something. Not when I can. Now. With you."
"With me," he agreed mindlessly. She was in bed with him. She wanted him, a rough Highlander. This was no longer a dream.
Perhaps it should stay that way….
"Anna, if you're doin' this because you were afraid when I was gone or because you feel beholden tae me…then…" Court, what the bloody hell are you saying? He shook his head hard. "As if I give a damn why. Come tae m
e."
She did. When she sat up on her knees before him and her lips were close to his, she whispered, "I'm asking you to make love to me."
He'd been shot. Undoubtedly, they'd gotten him.
Yet he wasted no time rolling her shift up her body and working it off her, fearing she'd change her mind. She followed his rapt gaze, then quickly glanced up. At first she was bold, but as he was unable to stop gaping at her wholly naked body, she brushed her hair forward to spill over her breasts and tugged the cover before her.
He simply shook his head at her, slowly, in warning.
"B-But you're staring."
He pulled the material from her, then drew her down flat on the bed, running his fingers through her hair to skim the soft curls to the side. "I'm starin' because you're more beautiful than I could ever imagine and it gives me pleasure tae look at you, all of you. I'm starin' because I never thought I would." His voice was unrecognizable. He sounded like a beast. With her golden skin and plump breasts and tiny waist, she looked like an offering.
"I've never been unclothed this long outside of a bath."
"You canna be shy with me."
"Why not?"
"Because it's me." He swept another greedy glance down the length of her body and hissed a curse. "Woman, I doona even know where to begin."
She bit her bottom lip. "It'd be easier for me to be unclothed if you were as well."
He didn't say a word, just drew off his boots, then snagged his shirt over his head without unbuttoning it. He stood at the foot of the bed and unfastened his trousers, easing them over his erection before they could drop.
"Oh, my…" she murmured, her eyes bright. She sat up, as she might at a picnic, her legs bent and tucked to her bottom. Still the lady.
He put his knee on the bed, preparing to go to her, nervous that he was about to take this woman.
"Wait."
Of course, wait. He closed his eyes in frustration. What was he doing imagining that he was about to make love to her? He should have known she'd come to her senses. Had to have known his luck had never run this high—
"Will you stay there?"
He opened his eyes to see her coming to him.
"You are completely unclothed, and I want to…" When she was on her knees in front of him, her face still close to his because of the high bed, she leaned in to whisper, "May I just learn you first?"
He tried to keep the disbelief from his face and pulled his knee back to stand fully. "You can do whatever you want tae."
Biting her lip, she put her hands to his face, brushing her thumbs over it, gently tracing the scar at his temple. She ran her soft palms down to his neck and shoulders, then along his arms. She tilted her head at his hands as if she didn't quite know what to do with them, then placed them on her shoulders as if she were putting them away. "Let's keep them there for now."
She was very serious about this. With his arms up, she explored his torso, sometimes lightly scratching, making the muscles contract painfully, though he didn't let her know, and she'd never guess it by the way his cock was responding to her touches.
"Anna," he grated when he saw she'd begun panting her breaths, her breasts rising in time, her nipples hardening to tempt his mouth. With great satisfaction, he realized she'd become aroused by touching him.
Then with one hand, fingers pointing down, she rubbed along his belly. "Every inch of you is hard as rock."
As she was slowly following the trail of hair down from his navel, he could only grunt in answer. Every lingering, teasing inch closer was increased agony. Then a shock of pleasure hammered through him when she grasped his shaft with one hand. Astonishment when she cupped him with the other. He clutched her shoulders and hissed a curse.
"Except here." Her nails lightly scratched the base of his sack, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
He dropped his knee back to the bed, drawing her in by her shoulders. When he kissed her, she gasped and said, "I wasn't finished."
"I was just about tae be."
When she frowned, he took her mouth in a fierce, wet kiss, thrusting his tongue into her, delving it against hers, a kiss more aggressive than the one in the coach. His hands found her backside, squeezing her, kneading her, and he could feel that she rolled her hips toward him even as she grasped his face and met his tongue.
He brushed the curls over her sex, reverently, and rasped against her lips, "Spread your knees for me." When she did, he dipped a finger into her wetness, groaning, "Anna, you feel so damn good."
Her head fell back, and she held on to his shoulders for support as he continued to explore her. He'd felt in the coach that she was tight, but knowing this time he meant to be inside her made him realize she was too tight.
He laid her back on the bed, grasping her by the waist and moving her bodily to the headboard. He took her legs to each side of his and spread her, taking time to kiss her pale inner thigh as he'd wanted to do since he'd met her. The contact was grazing—she probably could feel the heat of his breaths more than his lips—and she shivered.
Once more, his finger inside her, stirring her. She moaned, back arching, and he ran his other hand from her chest down between her breasts as he tried to fit a second finger inside. She was slick, incredibly lush, but she was too small. He could feel how untouched she was, could feel that she was a virgin.
His hands were dark and scarred against her sex, against her thigh. They looked…wrong. He felt big and hulking, and he knew he was about to hurt her. Isn't that the way of it? a part of him asked. But he would hurt her and then he would ruin her. It seemed too much, too great a price.
It wasn't good enough for her.
He leaned forward, careful to keep his shaft from touching her below, and placed his forehead against hers. "I canna do this tae you."
She tensed; he felt it strongly. "You don't find me desirable."
He reared back, shocked that a woman like her could ever draw that conclusion. "That's no' it."
She turned her face away. "I'm waiting to make love to you, we both are unclothed in bed together, and you won't? I think it's because you've decided you don't want me."
He snatched her hand and shoved it against his cock. "Can you no' feel how much I want you?"
The minute she wrapped her fingers around him, her body went languid, and she looked up at him dreamily. "Now you're just trying to distract my thoughts. To pacify me, when we've learned how much I like this."
He struggled for words. Pacify her? His brows drew together. It was important that she realize something…What was it?…Ah! "I vow tae you that I want you—"
"No, I think I understand what you're trying to tell me," she murmured, never taking her eyes from her slow strokes. "You're a big man. You need a woman who is a match to you. Like with horses."
"That's no' the issue—" He couldn't bloody speak when she looked at his cock…longingly, with regret.
She sighed. "I must be like a runt compared to strong Scottish women."
He'd meant to be good. He'd meant to be noble to her.
"I will show you how desirable I find you. How perfect you are tae me…"
With flicks of his tongue, he kissed her neck, down to her breasts, stopping to lavish attention on her nipples. He loved how sensitive she was there, how much she craved that. Another night he would suckle her until she came. He'd fantasized about pressing his fingers into her only to savor her already squeezing.
He moved down her body, kissing her flat belly, forcing himself to pull his shaft out of her hand, though her fingers tightened on him to prevent him, and then her hand reached out, patting blindly for it, a reaction that pleased him mightily.
Finally, he rested his chest on the bed between her legs and cupped her bottom.
"MacCarrick?" she asked nervously.
With the first exquisite taste of her, his hands squeezed too hard. He was starving for her, but didn't want to frighten her. He forced himself to break away, to get control.
"What is t
his?" she cried. "You can't do this!"
She tried to wriggle out of his grip when he lowered his mouth to her once more. A long, leisurely run of his tongue, feeling her soft flesh. His eyes closed in pleasure.
She gasped, outraged. "You must stop at once."
"Anna"—her name came out like a growl—"no force on earth could stop me."
"You," she began with a wavering breath, "you enjoy?…"
"Tasting you?"
She squirmed in embarrassment. "Yes!"
"I could lie between your legs and kiss you all night. But does this please you?" he asked before rubbing his tongue against her once more.
"No!"
He pulled back. "Liar."
"It's wrong."
"But does it please you?"
"It mustn't!"
"Let go. Let me bring you pleasure."
Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. "I can't."
"Then all I ask is for you tae give me one last kiss and then I'll stop."
In a pained voice, she finally said, "Very well."
He bent down to her once more, licking gently, lulling her, before shocking her with the thrust of his tongue inside her. She arched off of the bed, moaning.
"Shall I stop?"
Her eyes still closed, Anna impatiently waved him on with the flick of her small hand.
He grinned smugly, then kissed her once more, sampling her, glancing up, loving her growing response.
It wasn't long before her taste was making him crazed and he was slowly grinding his hips against the bed. He spread her legs wide before him, forcing her to open to everything he wanted to do, and took her thoroughly, unable to get enough. Her head was thrashing, and she was lost now, needing to come.
He knew how much she wanted to, and it made him bear down on her madly, with little more thought than that of an animal. He removed his hands from her thighs and vaguely realized he was reaching for her breasts. With a groan, he put his arms to each side of her and clenched the sheets, head down, taking her with abandon.
She tried to pry them loose.