by Jackie Ivie
“So? Are you?”
“Am I . . . what?” she asked.
“Satisfied? Well cared for? Fed. Jesu’.”
“What if I weren’t?” she asked.
He put both hands on where his knees were and leaned back against the wall. Then he puffed out his cheeks before blowing the sigh. It was filled with his disgust. He didn’t have to voice a word.
“I’m to make certain of it, then.”
Juliana giggled. Had him turn his head against the wall to give her a look akin to Aidan’s threatening ones, and that was even more endearing. She tried to prevent her eyes from softening, but knew he’d seen it as his face fell again.
“You’re not fond of the duty, are you?”
“What was your first inclination?”
His voice had a snide undertone that matched the aggressive words. Juliana shook her head. She was close to rolling her own eyes. She hid the urge by lifting her tureen to her lips. “Why didn’t he send Arran?” she asked the broth.
“Because Arran is na’ a man.”
Juliana snorted the soup she’d mistakenly tried to sip, getting a nose full of liquid and suffering the tears that came from choking, while he just sat there and regarded her with a sneer on his upper lip.
“It eats better if you swallow it rather than breathe it in,” he informed her.
“Oh, do tell . . . dear youth,” she replied in the iciest tone possible and watched his eyes narrow.
“I’m nae youth,” he replied, attempting a deadly tone akin to Aidan’s when he was out of patience.
“I’d rather have Arran. Go. Alert Aidan of it.”
“Well, you canna’ have Arran. Na’ tonight.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because Arran is on a short leash right now.”
Juliana gasped. “He tied him?”
“Of course na’. Jesu’! We’re nae barbarians.”
Juliana had to look back out at the crowd before he saw her amusement again. It was too easy to toy with him, and a simple matter to raise his ire. He’d need to learn how to temper it before too much time in her presence.
“So explain. How is he tied?”
“Tavish was assigned a guard on him.”
“Is he in danger?”
“Only from Killoran ale.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding sagely and keeping the effervescent sensation of laughter right at her throat.
“So? Are you?”
“Satisfied with my eve? Settled? Well fed? And enjoying your company?” she asked.
“Aye. All that.”
“Totally, dearest Alpin. Totally.”
“So . . . I can go?” He was already rising, showing the complete lack of manners the lad possessed. But it could be corrected if Aidan kept up the pretense of her status in the MacDonal clan. The introduction as a lady had given her respectability. And position. She might even have a chance at teaching Alpin MacKetryck manners once they reached Castle Ketryck . . . if she had enough patience.
“Can I ask something first?”
His sigh was full of disgust and dismay. He sat back, rocking the stool, which had been his intent. He was much too easy. Obvious. Not at all like Aidan. Alpin was determined to make further contact with him as annoying and frustrating as possible. That way, he’d be released to freedom sooner.
“Are you betrothed?” she asked with as much innocence as she could muster.
A complete look of horror crossed his face. It was enough to send her into more giggles. She settled with tipping her head to the side while she waited for his answer.
“You’re too auld!”
He said it finally with such conviction and aggression that Juliana couldn’t help it. She dissolved into helpless laughter at his side.
Chapter 15
“Juliana?”
At the whisper her head shot up, connecting sharply with what felt like Aidan’s chin. His indrawn breath and hissed curse verified it.
“Aidan?”
“Hush!”
He had a hand atop her mouth, and with his next move she was on her feet, with dizzying speed. If he hadn’t had her clasped fully to him, she’d have probably fallen. She’d have been in even worse straits, if she’d been in a deep sleep rather than lying awake on her specific mat.
“Come.”
He gave the command, but since he had an arm about her waist and lifted her occasionally before she’d have stumbled over a sleeping form, it was a moot order. The air outside in the dark was fresh, chill, and clear, showing a quarter-moon and star-strewn sky, answering another of her ponderings over if Killoran ran his kiln day and night. Remnants of the smoke cloud were still apparent in fingers of haze, lit with moonlight. If one looked close enough for them.
“What . . . are you doing?”
Juliana asked it after he shoved her through the barely open door and then brought it closed behind him as he joined her. Their doors didn’t latch, which was another moot issue. They were fit to the frame and bolted if needed. Aidan was in luck that this one hadn’t been.
Or maybe he’d planned it.
“Kidnapping you,” he answered.
“You can’t kidnap me!”
“Hush!”
She’d added a bit of tone to her whisper. Aidan grabbed her and moved to one side of the croft, standing in the roof overhang shadow with her pressed behind him. Long moments passed with nothing more than the sound of heavy heartbeats in her ear. She couldn’t tell if they were hers or resonating from the back she was pressed to. Through the obstruction that was Aidan she heard a sharp whistle followed by two more, then nothing. Aidan relaxed slightly, moving back muscle against where her nose and cheek were pressed.
“You’ve posted your men?”
“Killoran, too.”
“He posted men, too?”
“Aye.”
“Then . . . why are you here?”
He swiveled his neck and tipped his head to one side, meeting her eyes with a shadowed one, making all the flesh at her nose and cheek undulate, as well as the thick waist of it she had her hands about. The man was easily two of his brother Alpin. And he’d been wearing full attire at sup. She didn’t know why he had to run about shirtless now. Not that she’d complain. She wouldn’t change the contact of her palms to his flesh for much of anything.
“I already said.”
“But—you can’t kidnap me.”
“I’m laird. I can do what I want. Now ready yourself.”
Juliana’s eyebrows rose. “For what?”
“Running.”
“Aidan.” Her whisper was as deadpan as she could make it.
“Now what?” he asked.
“I do not have shoes.”
He cocked the one eyebrow of his, making a larger impression since it was on the moonlit side of his face. “Fair enough,” he answered. “Prepare to be carried then.”
Her eyes went wide. He didn’t give her any time to assimilate it or do more than gasp as his left arm looped about her waist and yanked her around to his front, sliding her shift into a tight wrap about her with the motion. Then she was up in his arms with her arms about his neck and gripped there for one heartbeat. Two. On the third, Aidan ducked his head and started running. Juliana closed her eyes, tucked her nose against his throat, and breathed deeply with him, experiencing a hum of what was probably happiness all over her. Nothing had felt as wonderful.
He’d reached the kiln building, where they dried their sprouted barley prior to grinding it. Aidan hadn’t slowed, but turned so it was his back slamming against the structure as he waited, breathing hard and sending air all over her. And then he caught his breath as a slight coo of sound came.
“Were we spotted?” Juliana asked.
“Aye,” he answered.
Juliana stiffened.
“Doona’ fash, love. ’Tis nae Killoran, but Heck. Or Gregor.”
Love. He called me love. Not lass. Love.
Oh, dear heaven. The storm of reaction floode
d her, sending tears to her eyes and making her nose run, and making everything start shivering.
“Sounds closer to Heck,” he added. “Ready?”
Juliana pressed her nose closer to his throat and nodded. Swallowed. Chastised herself silently for even thinking of crying at such a time, and waited. She knew when he was preparing to run by the harder grip on her thighs and back and how he ducked his head. She clung to him through the turns and twists he made, dodging things, and this time when he turned them about to shove against a wall, she could see they’d made the large thatched roof building. She could smell the slight sour odor of moistened barley grain that was laid out to sprout.
Aidan stayed against the wall in the thatched roof shadow, the same as before, and waited, breathing deeply. This time the sound wasn’t recognizable as a signal. It sounded like the rustle of tree branches. Twice.
“Aidan?” she whispered.
“Aye?”
“If your men know where you are . . . why are we hiding?”
He shoved out his lower lip and blew a sigh that ruffled the loose hair at his forehead. “I already told you. I’m kidnapping you.”
“From who?”
“Oh. Me.”
The last word was accompanied by a tighter grip on her thighs and back. Juliana didn’t have any time to question anything before he’d ducked his head slightly and was running across a span of dirt and shrub that had little for cover. Juliana clung to him, trying to make it easier, and just when she thought he’d run straight into the river, he turned about and slammed up against the wall of the mill.
This time his breathing was so hard, it raised and lowered her with each one. It was also making it difficult to hear any of their signals, especially if it was another subtle one. Juliana pressed against him and tried to listen for any sound.
Nothing. She couldn’t hear anything. Aidan held his breath and Juliana tried to match it, but gave out long before he did. And still there was nothing.
“They don’t give a signal this time?” Juliana whispered.
He grunted.
“Lack of a signal . . . is a signal?”
He nodded.
“Oh my. That’s—”
“Hush!”
Aidan slid along the wall, probably gaining slivers in his flesh since he’d deigned to wear a shirt, as usual, moving toward a darker bit of shadow cast from their ladder. At the same time, the slight rattle of weaponry or other bits of a man’s attire alerted them to the Killoran man’s approach. Juliana’s eyes were wide as she watched him come around the side of the mill where they’d just been. The arm behind her back released, causing Juliana to grip tighter at the loss of support. She could feel Aidan moving about as his shoulder rubbed against her side. She hoped he wasn’t fishing for a skean, but had to swallow the dismay and shock when he brought one from around her.
Oh . . . Aidan.
She didn’t say it aloud, but something must have alerted the man. He looked right at them, opened his mouth, and that was when Aidan’s blade hit him. She hadn’t even felt Aidan move. Juliana watched the Killoran man waver for a moment before sagging into a lump of plaid next to the building.
“You killed him!” It should have been screeched, but was instead a breathless, frightened, horrified whisper.
“Nae.” Aidan looked down at her and grinned. “I’m na’ that dense.”
“You didn’t . . . kill him?”
“Hilt hit.”
“Hilt,” she repeated.
“Handle. Leaves a large bump. When he wakes.”
“Oh . . . dearest God.” She was in luck he’d put his arm back about her as she sagged against him with the relief.
Aidan raised his head and made three odd grunting sounds akin to an animal. If she hadn’t heard it, she wouldn’t have believed it.
“You’re calling . . . Heck?”
“Aye.”
“Why . . . now?”
He gripped her tighter, preparatory to running again.
“Aidan,” she hissed.
“To hide the man and get my blade back. Now, hold the questions.”
“I don’t understand, Aidan. None of this. You’re the laird.”
“Spare my ear until we reach my tent. I’ll answer anything then. Now, hush.”
“You’re staying in the tent?”
He turned to stare down at her and give his threatening look. Juliana’s lips twitched before she put her nose back against his throat, hiding the smile. He was taking her to his tent. She knew only one reason why. Everything on her body knew it as well.
The last bit of her abduction had some sloshing to it as the bridge they’d built to span their river wasn’t above the spring thaw line. Juliana heard it with a portion of her hearing. The rest was impacted by her elevated heartbeat and quicker breaths. Aidan didn’t run across the bridge, although he walked it with a rapid pace. She made guesses as to why. It wasn’t stealth. The sound of rushing water covered over any echo his boots were making on the wooden structure, and the moon sent the tree line shadow onto the water, and that included the bridge. He might be walking because it was too slick to race across it holding her, or perhaps there wasn’t another Killoran man posted beyond the mill.
And then they were amid the trees, passing one of the large tents before reaching his. Aidan didn’t even slow his steps. He ducked his head and used it as leverage for the door slit, and then he was on his knees on the pallet, leaning forward to lay her atop it and then covering her mouth with his own.
Juliana’s arms unlatched from behind his head and started massaging, molding, and caressing his upper back . . . shoulders . . . arms.
“Ah . . . lass. Lass . . .”
Aidan’s murmur accompanied his lips along her jaw to her ear, and that was matched by his hands along her legs, pushing the shift up her thighs. His fingers trailed her skin with the motion . . . to her buttocks.
“I canna’ wait another moment, lass. I canna’ !”
“Oh . . . Aidan.”
Juliana tried to convey her own frustration and need, with the hands she ran all over his chest and belly, before delving beneath his kilt, delineating the massive muscle of his thighs with her fingernails as she trailed them over and over up and down each limb. She was lifted, a hand beneath her buttocks while the other shoved and bunched and pushed the shift out of his way, and all of him began rocking and pulsing and pushing in the primordial rhythm she craved.
“Aidan . . . yea. Oh, Aidan . . . please?”
Juliana tried to wrap a hand about him, before adding the other one, filling her palms with solid, hard, pulsating thickness. Aidan went totally stiff at the first touch. It was her moving, bringing him closer, and shoving her hips down to meet him.
Hard hands grabbed her hips and he rammed in, stopping her cry of ecstasy with his mouth. His kiss deepened, accompanying his movements to pummel into her, denting the mat and her conscience with the glory, expanse, and totality of it. She writhed beneath him, accepting every lunge, every push, every movement, as they got harder and faster and more raw and brutal, grabbing every surge of ecstasy and holding it as long as possible.
Then Aidan was stiffening, pushing into her in little surges that matched the sob vibration running his throat. Juliana pressed a kiss there and experienced his groan with her lips as well as her ears, while he angled up into a full arch of his chest above her, pulsing over and over into her with lunges that raised her hips from the mat. And then it was over.
His collapse this time was onto the pallet beside her, planting his face into it and just lying there twitching and trembling and breathing more heavily than when he’d run with her. The oil bowl he’d left burning showed all of it. In perfect silhouette.
“Aidan?”
He rolled his head toward her, opened his eyes, and met hers. The resultant flash of sensation went all the way through her before rippling to him. The width of her eyes matched his when he’d finished the odd lurch.
He blinked several mor
e times. Licked his lips. Pulled in a huge breath and released it . . . all over her.
“Aye?” he replied finally.
“How can you kidnap me . . . from you?”
His lips went to a slight smile and he rolled his eyes upward, reminiscent of Alpin’s posturing. Juliana waited. She was still waiting for her answer when he looked back at her.
“Lass. I—”
“Promised me answers,” she interrupted.
He puffed his cheeks out with the next breath. “Aye. That I did.”
“Then why? And how?”
“I could na’ sleep,” he admitted. “This entire night. I’ve been beset—bothered—nae. Worse. I was plagued. ’Tis torment . . . and never-ending. That’s what it is. I need . . . your body. What you give. I had to have it. ’Twas a fierce want.”
Each word sent another flash of sensation through her, matching the spurt of her heartbeat.
“So I was rash. Again.”
He rolled from her completely, using his head as a fulcrum, and pulling them apart with the move. He ended up on his side, facing her with his head supported atop an upward flung arm. His kilt went to a puddle about his hips and upper thighs, hiding most of him. Juliana wasn’t as lucky. Her shift was still in a mass of material bunched up past her waist, forcing her into a curve about the wad of it, while her lower limbs and hips were open to the air and his gaze.
She watched him look to her nakedness and then he looked back at her. “And always,” he added.
“Always . . . what?”
“Rash. I am ever rash. And reckless. ’Tis a curse. Look at you.”
Juliana looked down at her nakedness, wantonly displayed for him. Then she returned her gaze to his. She didn’t change a thing.
“I canna’ even wait to unwrap you.”
“Actually . . .” She rolled onto her side, facing him and nearly touching. “I think this was my fault.”
His one eyebrow rose. Juliana moved a finger to trace it, and then moved her vision back to his. “True?” she asked.