by Lynsay Sands
“Here,” Geordie said suddenly when she’d finished. “Give me yer pit and I’ll put the sack in yer hand in its place. Ye can use the sack to mop up the mess.”
“How do ye ken I made a mess?” she asked archly. “Mayhap I managed to not make a mess.”
“Aye, mayhap,” he allowed. “But ye did make a mess, did ye no’?” he asked, and she could hear the grin in his voice.
“Aye,” Dwyn admitted on a sigh, and held out the peach pit. “I think I even got some juice in me hair.”
Chuckling again, Geordie found her hand in the dark, took the peach pit and replaced it with the cloth sack. Dwyn quickly wiped her hands, listening as he tossed the pits the way of the chicken bones and the splashes followed.
“Tell me what it’s like at Innes.” His voice came out of the darkness, deep and soft as the night air.
“Innes,” Dwyn sighed the name, wishing she was there. “’Tis flat compared to your Buchanan, but lovely just the same.”
“What’s lovely about it?”
“The water,” she said at once. “I miss the water when I’m away from Innes.”
“Do ye spend a lot o’ time by the water?”
“Oh, aye, I take Angus and Barra and we walk the beach often.”
“Who are Angus and Barra?” he asked at once, his voice sharp in the night.
“My dogs,” Dwyn explained. “They’re brothers, a mix o’ boarhound and deerhound. They’re both big boys.”
“Boarhound and deerhound?”
She could hear the surprise in his voice and grinned. “Aye. Their mother was a deerhound me father gave me when I was fifteen. I loved her to bits, but so did one o’ me da’s boarhounds,” she said dryly. “She had a litter three years ago and I kept two o’ the boys. Da likes me to keep them with me when I leave the keep. As protection. They’re both quite ferocious and protective o’ me,” she added, and then hesitated before asking, “Yer parents are both passed, are they no’?”
“Aye. Me father died in battle some years back, and me mother o’ illness well before that.” He was silent for a minute, and then added, “Mother’s dying is why Rory became interested in healing. We all felt so helpless watching her ail and unable to help her, but he took it the hardest.”
“He has become well known for his skills,” she said, not hiding her admiration. Dwyn had some skill at healing, but Rory Buchanan was considered almost a miracle healer by many. He was much in demand with lairds from the Highlands to the Lowlands offering him a king’s ransom to tend their ill loved ones. She’d heard even the English were starting to send requests, though he apparently didn’t care to travel that far south. Peering at Geordie’s dark silhouette, she asked, “I suppose that is why he is no’ here?”
“Aye,” he almost snapped, irritated by the admiration he heard in her voice for his brother. Realizing that he was acting like a jealous ass, he added in a more normal tone, “And Alick, our youngest brother, is with him. They should return shortly . . . unless they get word of what awaits them here,” he added dryly. “Then they might find a need to stay away much longer to save themselves.”
“Save themselves?” she asked with amusement. “Do men no’ wish to marry, then? I understood all yer older brothers are married. Are they no’ happy?”
“Aye, they are, and they have fine wives, all of them,” he admitted solemnly, and then grinned and added, “I do no’ think I’ve ever seen me brothers so content as they are now they’ve found their wives. And they are all busy making me nieces and nephews. Me sister, Saidh, has already had two sets o’ twins, the first lasses, and the second a fine pair o’ lads. And then Dougall and Niels each have a bairn and another on the way, and Conran’s wife, Evina, is now with child too.”
“Ah,” Dwyn said, smiling faintly, but said, “And yet it does no’ sound as though ye want marriage and bairns fer yerself.”
“Do you?” Geordie countered.
Dwyn considered that seriously, before saying, “Most women do, I should think. We are raised preparing for the day we marry and have a home o’ our own, a husband to care for and bairns to love and raise as we were raised.”
“So ye do?” he asked.
She grimaced wryly into the darkness, but it was that very darkness that allowed her to answer honestly. “I am no’ sure. I have many fears about that.”
“What kind of fears?” he asked with interest.
“Well, I used to fear the marriage bed,” she admitted, blushing despite the darkness, and then rushed on. “But despite that, I still liked to imagine a life with a husband who cares for me, and a dozen sweet children running about. But me mother and second mother both died giving birth, and I fear dying that way too,” she confessed. “I suppose, sometimes I think mayhap I was lucky me betrothed died and did no’ come to claim me. I might already have died on the birthing bed if he had.”
Geordie was silent for a minute, but then said, “Ye said ye used to fear the marriage bed?”
“Aye, well.” She grimaced. “’Tis said ’tis unpleasant and painful and such. Hardly something a lass would look forward to.”
“But ye said you used to,” he pointed out. “As if ye no longer fear it?”
“Oh.” Blushing, she peered at his dark shape, and then feeling brave in the darkness, she admitted, “Well, yer kisses this morn made me think mayhap the marriage bed could no’ be all bad. Whatever follows the kisses may be a bit o’ a trial, but might be worth it to enjoy the kissing.”
Geordie was silent so long Dwyn began to think she’d angered him with her words, which hadn’t been her intention. In truth, she suspected her honesty had been in hopes that he might want to kiss her again, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. He’d seen how lovely the other women available to him were. Why kiss her when there were so many other, prettier—
Her thoughts died abruptly when his lips suddenly covered hers.
Chapter 4
Dwyn was so surprised that she froze like a hare spotting a hunter when Geordie’s mouth first covered hers. It was so dark now she hadn’t realized he had even moved. But that darkness didn’t prevent his finding her mouth, and after a moment, she breathed out a little sigh against his lips as they moved over hers. It was just a feathering touch he gave her at first, his lips brushing, drifting away and then brushing again. It was quite sweet, and gentle, and Dwyn smiled under his mouth, her eyes closing as she leaned forward to press her mouth more firmly against his. The moment she did, she felt Geordie’s tongue slide along her lower lip. When she parted to allow it entrance, he caught her lower lip between his and sucked gently, then let his tongue glide into her waiting mouth.
Moaning in response, Dwyn twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back, shyly meeting his tongue rather than retreat, and sucking on it as well, inviting it deeper into her mouth. She heard the low growl that came from his throat, and all the gentle teasing stopped abruptly as he tangled his hand in her long hair and used it to shift her head so that his mouth slanted over hers, his tongue now thrusting with demand, conquering rather than exploring.
Dwyn groaned in response. Forgetting they were sitting in a tree, she tightened her arms around his neck, and wiggled forward, trying to get closer. She was reminded of their precarious situation when her behind slid right off the branch and she started to drop. Before she could do more than gasp into his mouth, Geordie curled his arm around her, catching her upper body firmly to his chest, but leaving her hips and legs dangling between his knees as he continued to kiss her.
With her breasts straining against his chest and a cool breeze gliding up her legs under her hanging skirts, Dwyn tightened her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth. The long low sound seemed to invigorate Geordie and she heard him growl deep in his throat as his mouth became more demanding on hers, his tongue thrusting almost violently now.
When he suddenly broke the kiss, Dwyn moaned again, but this time with disappointment. She feared he was about to set her back on her branch an
d leave as he had that morning, but instead he shifted his hands to catch her by the waist and lift her as his mouth settled on her neck and began to nibble and suck the tender flesh. A startled gasp slipping from her lips at the tingling that sent through her, Dwyn tilted her head to give him more room to work, her hands clutching at his shoulders now.
“Put yer knees on either side o’ me, lass.” The words were mumbled against her throat as he nipped and suckled there, and Dwyn obeyed automatically, raising her legs to brace them on the branch on either side of his hips so that she was astride him.
“Aye, that’s it,” he growled against her skin, and she felt one hand clasp her bottom and squeeze as he urged her forward until she could feel something hard pressing against her core. It sent a startling rush of excitement and need pouring through her. They both groaned, and then Geordie used his other hand to urge her upper body back so that he could peer at her.
Feeling his warm breath on her chest, Dwyn glanced down, not terribly surprised to see that her breasts were doing a good job of escaping her dress again. Her white skin seemed almost to glow in the darkness, she noted, and then watched her breasts rise even farther out of her gown as his head bent toward them, drawing a gasp from her. His head blocked her view, but Dwyn felt his mouth move over one breast, nipping, and then sucking eagerly at the top curve, before dropping so that his tongue could run wet and warm along her neckline. It glided over the curve of one round globe, before reaching and pausing on the nipple now just poking over the top.
Dwyn gasped as she felt his teeth gently catch the hardening tip, and then moaned when he tugged, urging it farther out from under the cloth, but she released a long low groan when he began to suckle on it. His mouth drew hungrily on the sensitive nipple, sucking even as his tongue lathed, and Dwyn threw her head back and cried out, her fingers digging into the cloth covering his shoulders as the action sent excitement and pleasure whipping through her.
Geordie let her nipple slip loose then, and raised his head again, one hand moving to tangle in the hair behind her head as he drew her face down for another kiss. Dwyn kissed him back almost desperately, her wet nipple tingling in the cool night air, until his hand covered it, the rough skin of his fingers abrading it and sending more shocks of excitement through her as he palmed and kneaded her eager flesh.
When he broke their kiss again, and growled, “I want to see ye,” she released a small laugh. It was too dark to see much of anything, Dwyn was sure, but didn’t protest when he urged her upper body back until she leaned against the branch she’d been sitting on, her body now splayed before him.
“Beautiful,” Geordie growled, and she glanced down with confusion to see that the moon was up now, lightening the darkness and leaving her pale skin visible where the rose gown didn’t cover her. Both breasts were fully out, the neckline caught beneath them and pushing them together and up as if offering them to him.
When Geordie took up the offer and closed his hands over them both, squeezing and urging them even tighter together, Dwyn let her head fall back. She closed her eyes, only to have them pop open again as she lifted her head with confusion when he pressed a gentle kiss to first one nipple, and then the other, before tugging the cloth up to cover them.
“We should get ye back inside.” The words were a pained growl that sounded almost reluctant, but that didn’t ease her disappointment. Obviously, he hadn’t been enjoying their interlude as much as she had, Dwyn supposed sadly, and then gasped in surprise when he caught her at the waist and set her back on her branch.
“I’ll go first and help ye down,” Geordie said, and suddenly slid out of sight.
Leaning forward, she watched him climb quickly to the ground and then peer back up at her expectantly. Dwyn hesitated, but then sighed and found handholds and started to climb down on her own, reassuring herself that surely it was dark enough he couldn’t really see up her skirt as she feared.
She was halfway down and searching blindly for a lower foothold when she felt his hand on her ankle under her skirts. Dwyn froze briefly, until he shifted her foot to a branch, and then she made herself continue down, her heartbeat tripping when his hand stayed there, moving up the side of her leg as she climbed lower. She stopped again though when his hand reached her outer thigh.
“M’laird?” Dwyn said then, her voice shaky with the queer feelings racing through her.
Dwyn thought he groaned then, but the hand was removed. Releasing a small sigh, she started to move again, only to suck in a quick startled breath when he caught her at the waist and lifted her down. Her feet had barely touched the ground when he spun her around, urged her back against the tree and kissed her again. It was a quick, hard, almost punishing kiss, and Dwyn didn’t even get the chance to recover enough from her surprise to begin to kiss him back when he suddenly ended it and stepped back.
“Ye’d best go in now, lass. They’ll be looking fer ye.” His voice was deep, and rough, and made goose bumps rise on her skin, but she murmured assent and whirled, her long hair flying out. Dwyn felt a brief tug at her head as she started away, as if her hair had caught on something, but then she was free. She didn’t glance back as she hurried through the trees; she wasn’t even really looking forward. Mostly she was looking inward, her mind pulling up his kisses and caresses and the feelings they’d engendered in her. If she’d been looking where she was going, she wouldn’t have crashed into the man on the path.
Gasping, Dwyn stepped back abruptly and would have stumbled over her own feet had Aulay Buchanan not reached out to steady her.
“Careful, lass. ’Tis dark enough to make the uneven path treacherous,” he said gently.
“Aye,” Dwyn breathed, and offered a shaky smile as he released her.
“What were ye running from?” he asked before she could skirt around him and hurry away. “Were those lasses giving ye trouble again?”
Dwyn’s eyes widened at the displeasure on his face, but she shook her head quickly. “Nay, m’laird. I was just . . .” She gestured vaguely behind her, unable to answer. She could hardly tell him what she was running from when she didn’t know herself. There had been no reason to run. Geordie had not given chase or threatened her in any way. But once he’d stopped touching and kissing her and said she should go, she’d hurried away and then broken into a run as if the devil himself was chasing her. That was something she didn’t understand herself. Especially since she’d really rather have stayed there with him. Perhaps if she had he would have kissed her again. Maybe he would have bared and touched her breasts again too, something she’d found incredibly pleasurable, which was rather surprising to her. Dwyn had never thought them useful for anything but feeding a bairn. She was learning a new appreciation for the silly large things, and beginning to understand that perhaps men didn’t like them merely because it meant their bairns would be well fed.
Aware that Aulay was staring down at her, waiting for a response, she sighed and shook her head. “I just thought I should go inside before me father started to worry.”
“Ah. I will no’ keep ye, then.” Nodding, he straightened and stepped to the side, but then added, “Howbeit if those lasses trouble ye again, ye’ve but to tell me. I’ve warned them to behave else I’ll send them on their way, and will no’ hesitate to do so do they bother ye again.”
“Oh.” Dwyn stared up at him wide-eyed. “That’s . . . er . . . Thank ye, m’laird, but ye needn’t . . . I mean, I would no’ want ye sending them away on me account. What if one o’ yer brothers desire them to wife?”
“If they do, they’re no’ the men I think they are,” he assured her. “In fact, I suspect the two women are doing naught but taking up space here. I’d send them away altogether except I did no’ wish to humiliate them that way. But I will if they ignore me warning and continue to harass yerself or any o’ the other women.”
“Thank ye, m’laird.” Tipping her head, she smiled faintly and said, “Ye’re a kind man, m’laird.”
Aulay Buchanan sno
rted at that. “Away with ye, lass. I’m no’ kind. Have ye no’ heard? I’m a monster, more like to make women and children weep and scream than anything else.”
Dwyn’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she recalled the tales she’d heard of the fierce warrior and his ruined face. The tales were all exaggerated, she’d decided when she saw him. While the man had a scar that almost divided his face in half, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d been led to believe, and she thought he was still an attractive man. That being the case, Dwyn snorted right back at his claim, and said, “Oh, aye, m’laird. Why, just look at yer wife. Lady Jetta is obviously terrified o’ ye.”
Aulay grinned at her teasing. “Me wife does no’ have the sense to be afraid.”
“Then we should get along well,” she assured him. “Because I do no’ fear ye either.”
“And I hope ye never have reason to, lass,” he said solemnly, and before she could think too hard on that, he added, “Now, ye’d best go in, Dwyn. Yer father and sisters will be looking fer ye.”
Dwyn clucked with irritation at that, and moved around him muttering, “You Buchanan men, ye do like to order me inside.”
She was so exasperated Dwyn didn’t notice the way his eyebrows rose or that his gaze then slid to search the depths of the gardens as she walked away.
Geordie turned from watching Dwyn disappear down the garden path and let a small sigh slide from his lips. She was a tempting little bundle. He could still see her lying back across the branch, her bare breasts arched upward invitingly, her pale skin glowing in the darkness. He could feel her soft skin under his fingers, taste her on his tongue, and again felt the urge he’d had then to drag her to the ground, throw her skirts up and plant himself in her eager body.