Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides)

by Lynsay Sands

Geordie stared at her silently, not nearly as stunned by her honesty as by his mind’s rebellion at the thought of her leaving Buchanan and returning to Innes without him. He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want the laughter and talking to end. He certainly didn’t want the kissing to end either. In fact, he wanted more kisses, and he wanted more than kisses. He wanted Dwyn. He wanted her in his bed, naked and laughing until he turned that laughter to moans, and sweet groans and pleas as he loved her with his body and planted a bairn in her. He hoped it was a lass with the same honesty, and quiet beauty, he saw in Dwyn. But he’d be pleased with a lad too.

  Dear God, he wanted to marry Dwyn, Geordie realized with amazement, but supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. His interest in drinking and wenching had fled quickly after meeting her. He certainly hadn’t taken the opportunity to find a willing woman last night, or even the night before when he’d been hard and hurting after sending her back to the keep. The thought of other women simply hadn’t appealed to him. How was he to wench if the only woman he wanted to bed was the one sitting before him?

  “M’laird? Ye’ve gone oddly quiet. Is aught amiss?” Dwyn asked with sudden concern.

  Geordie dragged his attention from his thoughts to peer at her, letting his gaze drift over her blue eyes, and soft lips, then to the long plait her hair was in today. It was thick, and beautiful and well done as it had been the day before, but he wished her hair was undone and flowing around her as it had been the night she’d been injured. He wanted her naked here on his plaid, with her hair free and the sun shining down on her pale skin and light gold hair.

  With that in his mind, Geordie shifted closer to her and caught the end of the plait where it lay on the plaid beside her hip.

  Chapter 7

  Dwyn stilled in surprise when Geordie suddenly plucked the end of her braid off the plaid and removed the thong at the end of the plaiting. But she laughed nervously and grabbed for his hands to stop him when he began to unravel the plaiting her sister Aileen had spent so much time on that morning.

  “M’laird, what—?” she began with confusion, trying to catch his hands to stop him, but Geordie caught her hands instead and lifted his face to kiss her. He did not start out with gentle teasing caresses as he had when kissing her before; this time he went straight to the devouring kisses, his tongue thrusting out almost before his mouth had fully covered hers.

  Dwyn opened for him without protest, her tongue meeting his, and then she moaned and slid her arms around his chest as he made love to her with lips and tongue. She felt his arms go around her as he kissed her, and knew his hands were in her hair, but didn’t care so long as his tongue was thrusting and filling her as it was. When he broke the kiss and trailed his lips to her neck and she felt him tugging at the laces of her gown, she opened her eyes and then closed them again and took a relieved breath when he got them undone and her breasts spilled out, their constriction ended. That breath then came out on a startled gasp though when he suddenly pulled back to peer at her.

  This was not like the night before. Then she’d had the darkness cloaking her in shadows. Now it was broad daylight, the sun shining down on what he’d revealed, but Dwyn remained still, allowing him to look. It seemed silly to cover them now. Besides, her breasts were constantly climbing out of her gown anyway. He’d surely caught peeks of what he was looking at now, so the only difference was he was getting a full unencumbered view.

  “I want to see ye naked with nothing but yer hair fer cover,” he confessed in a broken growl that had her heart hammering in her chest.

  Dwyn hesitated. What he was asking for was more than he should of a lady. On the other hand, she knew she wasn’t likely to get the request again from another. She didn’t even want the request from another. She wanted Geordie. She wanted to give him whatever he desired, and she wanted him to give her the pleasure she’d already experienced with him. She wanted his kisses, and caresses, and she wanted him to suckle her breasts, and she wanted those memories to carry away with her.

  Lifting her chin, Dwyn tugged her open gown off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms until she could draw her hands free of the material. Then she sat, uncertain what to do next. She could not stand and remove the gown altogether with her cut feet. Dwyn wasn’t even sure she wished to go that far, so she simply met his gaze and waited, naked from the waist up and her hair loose about her shoulders and around her breasts.

  Geordie stared at her for the longest time, as if he too wanted to hold these memories for later, and then he reached out and brushed his knuckles gently over one nipple. Dwyn gasped and stiffened, her back arching slightly, unconsciously offering her breasts to him, but she didn’t close her eyes. She watched as his other hand rose and he palmed her breasts in each hand, squeezing and kneading the tender flesh briefly before his head bowed so that he could take one into his mouth. Dwyn’s eyes did close then, and she moaned as he lathed and suckled at the hard bud, his mouth seeming to pull on an invisible thread that ran straight down to the spot between her thighs. When he switched to her other breast, she found there was another invisible string there that took the same path, and Dwyn squirmed on the plaid as her hands reached up to glide into his hair.

  “I want more,” Geordie groaned around her nipple, and she felt his hand release the breast he was suckling, but didn’t realize where it was headed until she felt it against her calf under her skirt.

  Dwyn gasped, and arched her back harder, pushing her breast farther into his mouth as his hand glided up along her leg to her knee. Geordie accepted the invitation, taking as much as he could of her breast into his mouth and suckling almost painfully before suddenly releasing it to raise his head and peer at her as his hand slid around to the inside of her knee and continued up her thigh, urging her leg to the side and spreading her for his pleasure.

  “Are ye wet fer me, lass?” he asked, his voice rough and almost pained.

  “I do no’ ken,” Dwyn whispered uncertainly. There was a strange liquid sensation in her lower belly as if small elves were inside there pouring molten gold down to a spot between her thighs, but she was experiencing so many different sensations just then, Dwyn wasn’t sure what was going on. And then his hand pressed against the spot between her legs, and she gasped and jerked slightly under his hand at the sharp achy need his touch sent through her. She jerked again and cried out this time when one of his fingers slid between her slick folds to brush over the center of her building excitement.

  “Aye, ye’re wet,” Geordie breathed, seeming pleased. Watching her face, he let his fingers dance over her moist flesh. His fingers were moving and sliding, rubbing and gliding, circling the tightening nub that was aching for his touch, but never giving it the direct contact her body seemed to be crying out for. Dwyn withstood it as long as she could, but then dug her nails into his shoulders, and gasped, “Geordie, please.”

  “Please what, lass?” he growled, leaning forward to nip at her raised chin with his teeth. “What do ye want? Do ye like this?”

  “Aye,” she groaned, lowering her head and turning her face against his in search of his mouth. Much to her relief, he kissed her then, his other hand releasing her breast to clasp the back of her head and move it as he willed. As his tongue thrust into her mouth, Geordie’s fingers finally pressed against the bud they’d been avoiding.

  Dwyn cried out into his mouth at the contact. She also clutched him closer, pressing her breasts against his plaid and rubbing them frantically against him as her body began to shake violently. Much to her dismay, Geordie withdrew his hand, his kiss suddenly becoming gentler, almost soothing, and then he broke it altogether and pressed a kiss just below her ear as he murmured, “I want to taste ye, lass.”

  “Taste me?” she whispered uncertainly, not sure what he was talking about.

  “Aye, I want to see if yer as luscious as a peach like I imagined,” Geordie breathed, his hand squeezing her hip under her skirts.

  “Oh,” she breathed, not sure what he was ta
lking about, but hoping she was as luscious as a peach for him.

  Dwyn didn’t realize she’d spoken that hope aloud until he pulled back with a lazy chuckle and smiled at her as he said, “I love yer honesty, lass. And I’m sure ye are.”

  He kissed her again, urging her to lie back on the plaid as he did, and then he broke the kiss to shift lower and trail more kisses down her throat and collar. He paused to pay homage briefly to her breasts. Despite the excitement this caused in her, Dwyn felt her skirts sliding up her legs as he suckled briefly at her breasts, and then the material was gathered up around her waist and he left her breasts to shift between her thighs. Staring up at the tree overhead and panting, she let her legs fall open when he urged them wider, still unsure what he was up to until she felt him press his mouth to her core.

  Dwyn’s eyes widened with shock, her upper body rising half up off the plaid at the first lash of his tongue across her sensitive skin, and then she dropped back with a gasping grunt as he settled in to what he was doing. This was beyond anything Dwyn had ever experienced or even imagined, and she was quickly a trembling mass of sensation, her body jerking and hips thrusting under his mouth. She wanted to press her feet flat to the ground, and push up into his mouth as she’d done with her breasts when he’d been suckling there, and she wanted to scramble away and make him stop this mad torment. But she could do neither. Geordie had her pinned to the ground, her legs held open by his hands as his mouth drove her to the edge of her endurance and then pushed her over, casting her into a chaos that had her shuddering and convulsing, her eyes closed and mind completely unaware of anything but the sweet release that washed over her.

  When the madness finally passed, Dwyn found herself cushioned in Geordie’s arms, his hands moving soothingly over her back as he held her close against his chest and pressed kisses to the top of her head. She lay still against him for a moment as her breathing and the pounding of her heart slowed, and then cleared her throat, and whispered, “That was . . .”

  She shook her head, unable to put into words what she’d just experienced.

  “Ye liked it, did ye?” he asked, and she could hear gentle amusement in his voice.

  “Aye,” Dwyn breathed, and then tipped her head back to peer up at him. “Can we do it again?”

  That brought an abrupt laugh from Geordie, and he hugged her tighter to him, and shook his head. “Nay, lass. No’ now. I have to go talk to me brother.”

  “Oh,” she sighed with disappointment, but when he didn’t release her, she relaxed against him, and brushed her fingers over his chest. After a moment she became aware of a hardness pressing against her stomach, and glanced down to see the long column under his plaid. Dwyn may not have understood what he’d meant by tasting her, but she did know what she was looking at, and asked with awe, “Is that fer me?”

  She glanced up in time to see him grimace, and then he offered her a weak smile and said, “Aye. I’m trying to make it go away so I can go speak to me brother.”

  “Oh,” Dwyn said with understanding, and then asked tentatively, “Can I help?”

  Geordie groaned at that, and rested his chin on her forehead as his arms tightened around her. “Ach, lass, ye’re killing me here. Pray thee, just stop wiggling and asking questions and— Mayhap would help if we put yer dress back on properly,” he decided suddenly, and sat up, taking her with him. Once he had her sitting upright, he reached toward the gown tangled around her waist, and then paused, a helpless expression crossing his face as his gaze slid over her naked breasts and then to her legs, bare all the way to perhaps an inch below the apex of her thighs, where her skirt now rested.

  “Ye’ll have to dress yerself, lass. I canno’ do it. Do I touch ye . . .” Geordie shook his head woefully.

  Dwyn’s eyes widened at that, but she was already reaching for the top of her dress. She hadn’t expected he would dress her; she’d expected to do it herself. But not with him watching, his hungry eyes roving over her breasts and making them tighten and harden with excitement as she recalled his kisses and caresses. Struggling to get her sleeves turned right side out, she glanced up at him to see that his gaze had dropped to her lap and her barely covered womanhood that he’d so recently kissed too, and Dwyn paused and scowled.

  “M’laird, pray stop looking at me like I’m a peach ye wish to eat. Ye’re oversetting me nerves and making me long to rip me gown off and climb in yer lap.”

  Geordie blinked, and then raised his eyes to her face. “Lass,” he countered quietly, “while I most oft love yer honesty, this is no’ a good time fer it. I am a hairsbreadth away from losing me control, pushing ye to yer back, tossing yer skirts up over yer head and thrusting into ye right here in the orchard like a lightskirt. I do no’ want to take yer maiden’s veil that way, and beg o’ ye, please, just dress.”

  Dwyn hesitated, tempted to ignore his plea and reach for him, but his “like a lightskirt” comment held her back. She suspected her behavior here today already was no better than a lightskirt’s. But he didn’t seem to think so. She feared though that did she push him to the point of taking her here in the orchard, he would think her no better than one, and she didn’t want that. The things he’d done to her, and the pleasure he’d shown her, had been glorious. Special. Like a gift. She didn’t want it all tarnished and turning to dust in her mouth by going too far.

  Sighing, Dwyn shifted on the blanket until her back was to him, and quickly untangled and donned the top of her gown. Her hands were still shaking from what she’d experienced, but she managed to tie her lacings despite that, and then she ran her unsteady hands through her loose hair. She was about to turn back to him when he was suddenly standing beside her and bending to pick her up.

  Dwyn eyed his face solemnly as he straightened with her in his arms. “I thought ye wished to speak to yer brother?”

  “I do. But I’ll no’ leave ye out here on yer own when ye canno’ even walk,” he said, turning toward the gardens.

  “I could—” Dwyn paused and glanced around as the sound of a twig snapping caught her ear.

  Geordie stopped as well, and they both stared along the trees, waiting for whoever had made the sound to appear. Instead, they heard the sound of someone moving quickly away.

  “Ye do no’ think someone saw—?” she began with concern.

  “It does no’ matter,” Geordie said grimly, and began to walk swiftly through the trees to the path through the garden. And then he forced a smile and assured her, “All will be well as soon as I speak to me brother.”

  Dwyn nodded for his benefit, but didn’t really believe it. If someone had seen what they’d got up to in the orchard . . . Well, she could be ruined, she supposed, but that troubled her little. She never left Innes as a rule, and they rarely had visitors, so she wasn’t likely to be faced with her ruin there among the people who loved her. What bothered her more was that Geordie might be forced to marry her. To her mind that would be a terrible punishment for a man who had done nothing but show her the pleasure to be found between a man and woman. It was something she probably wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.

  Nay, whatever happened, she would ensure he was not forced to marry her, Dwyn decided firmly. She knew he didn’t want to marry. She’d heard his brother Aulay telling his wife, Jetta, that the first afternoon when the laird had returned ahead of his brother and uncle from swimming in the loch. They hadn’t realized she heard it. Dwyn had been approaching where they sat at the table to ask if she might borrow the book of crusader poetry when she’d overheard their conversation. She’d moved away then until they finished talking before approaching again to make her request. When Geordie had begun hovering over her and keeping her company after she was injured, she’d assumed his desire not to marry was why. She’d thought he was doing so to avoid the other women who were hunting for a husband. Dwyn was sure he’d felt comfortable keeping company with her because she’d already admitted she didn’t expect him or his brothers to choose her, so he needn’t fear he
r expecting anything of him.

  Nay, Dwyn thought. She would not see him punished for being kind to her. If word got out of what they’d done this afternoon, and her father, or Geordie’s brother Aulay, tried to force him to marry her, she’d refuse . . . she would protect Geordie Buchanan.

  “Geordie!”

  Feet slowing as he carried Dwyn around the front of the keep, Geordie glanced around at that call, relaxing when he spotted Alick ambling toward him, a wry smile on his youngest brother’s maturing face. Geordie had seen Alick as a stripling for so long, it was surprising to note that his face had hardened with age, and his body had filled out, gaining muscle that matched his own. How had he missed this? he wondered, and then forced himself to concentrate as his brother began to speak.

  “Rory sent me out to fetch ye back.”

  “Why?” Geordie asked with a frown. “Did ye run into trouble on yer journey?”

  “Nay,” Alick assured him quickly. “’Tis just that Jetta told him about a certain beautiful young lass who had a mishap with glass in the upper hall and asked him to look at her injuries to be sure they were healing well.” His gaze drifted over Dwyn then, alighting on her bountiful breasts and pausing there briefly, before sliding on to the tops of her bare feet. Offering her a charming grin, he added, “Pray tell me ye’re no’ the lovely lass who suffered so. Me heart breaks at the mere thought o’ ye enduring such pain.”

  Geordie noted the way Dwyn smiled at the flowery words, and found himself scowling at his brother. Turning abruptly away from him without even introducing her, he started toward the keep doors, growling, “Aye, this is the lass, and her name is Dwyn Innes. Lady Dwyn Innes, so stop ogling her like a pudding ye plan on eating and run ahead to get the door fer me, little brother.”

  “My, someone is grumpy today,” Alick said with amusement as he moved past at a leisurely pace to mount the steps before him.

  Geordie merely glowered at him in passing as Alick opened one of the keep doors for him to carry Dwyn inside. Pausing a couple feet inside the door though, he glanced around, frowning when he didn’t see Rory or Jetta anywhere. “Where is he?”