In her mind she sat near the water’s edge, laughing with her cousins as they raced their tiny, self-built watercrafts down the current. But suddenly Shona’s vessel tipped and spilled out the figures of mud she had fashioned into people. Barefoot and laughing, she leaped into the water to save them, but when she glanced up into the sun, a shadow blocked the sunlight.
A man took her hand, and suddenly she was no longer a child, but a woman. She smiled as Dugald’s fingers closed over hers and said not a word to her cousins as he led her from the water to the woods beside the burn. The maples here grew stout and lovely, with silvery trucks kissed with moss that traveled down their elegant lengths onto the floor of the forest.
On that nature-soft bed they lay down together and twas there that he kissed her. The caress was sweet and lingering, filled with hope and promise. But in a moment it changed. Passion built like a stoked flame. Desire flared between them, igniting them body and soul until they were straining against each other with unrestrained desire, stroking and…
Shona awoke with a start. Breathless and disoriented, she sat up and silently chastised herself.
What the devil was wrong with her? She had just broken off an engagement, and now here she was, lusting after another. Had she no shame? No pride? No sense? Dugald was a scoundrel, a womanizer.
Maybe. In truth, she no longer knew what he was, but that was because he refused to tell the truth.
That couldn’t be a good sign. Still, whatever he was, she was not in love with him. She merely desired him—the touch of his hand, the sound of his voice, the— Heaven’s wrath! She was on her feet in an instant.
One glance about told her that Kelvin and Rachel were still fast asleep and undisturbed by dreams of any kind. All was quiet, safe and peaceful.
Outside the tent, not a breath of air stirred. Cloud-soft mists muffled her exit. Every tent was as quiet as darkness. Indeed, all the world seemed to be asleep—all the world except for herself. From the entrance of her tent, she could not even see a guard. It was as if she were the only person in a magical world.
Not far from camp, a burn rumbled along its shallow course. Barefoot and silent, Shona walked to its edge where she dipped her toes into its hustling waves. The water was cold, awakening her even more. Her thoughts strayed.
They would soon reach Blackburn Castle. But she would not stay long. Soon she would leave there and return to her home. But what then?
Obviously she would not marry William. And indeed, she had found none other who held her interest. None except…
“Why do you delight so in taking risks?”
Shona pivoted toward the voice, but even in the darkness, she could not help but identify the speaker.
“What are ye doing here?”
Dugald stepped toward her. “I believe twas the contented snoring of the others that kept me from sleep.” He fell silent for a moment, and when he next spoke, his tone was deep and quiet. “Either that, or twas thoughts of you that disturbed me.”
Shona felt her pulse leap then silently scolded herself. He was a womanizer, she reminded herself, a scoundrel. She would not let such thoughts scramble her thinking. She would not. “Or thoughts of Mavis,” she said.
She could see the flash of his grin even in the darkness.
“Are you jealous, Damsel?”
“Jealous?” It came out as a soft gasp of sound. “Of what?”
“Of me with another.”
“Hardly!”
“Of thinking of me kissing another.” He stepped closer. “Touching another. Lying with another.”
He was directly in front of her now. And yet somehow this seemed no more real than her dreams of only moments before. There was an unearthly quality about the night, a rare, pristine beauty, for even in the darkness, it seemed she could see the splendor of every emerald frond, every dewy droplet.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I am not jealous.”
“Truly?” The word was little more than a thought, it was so quiet and so close. “Then you have me at a grave disadvantage, lass, for when I think of you with another, tis as if my very heart has been torn from my chest.”
Shona held her breath and turned her head sharply to catch his gaze, certain she would see laughter in his eyes. But there was none. Even in the darkness, she was certain of that.
“Ye are jealous?” she whispered. “Of me?”
“Believe me, lass, if I could have it another way, I would. Twould be better to have the flesh flailed from my back than to be enamored with you.”
She opened her mouth to object, but suddenly his lips touched her neck. Every thought flew from her mind as her eyes fell closed and her head dropped back to appreciate the glory of his caress.
“Mother of God, I cannot think when you are near.” His right hand slipped behind her back, drawing her closer. Sparks soared. His eyes fell closed. “And when I touch you…” His fingers tightened upon her waist as he fell silent.
But to her shame, she wanted to hear his words. “What?”
“I no longer care what you have done.”
“What I have—” she began, but he kissed her lips.
The caress was not gentle, but fierce and possessive and searing.
She tried to think, to tell him this was wrong, that there were a hundred reasons it was not to be, but for the life of her she could think of none, and suddenly she was kissing him back.
He crushed her to him. Passion ripped free of its bonds.
Beside the burn there was a bed of moss. It was as soft as thistledown and as thick as carpet against her back. The mists rolled around them like a curtain of silver velvet, hiding them away, sheltering them from reality.
All the world was a dream, his hands magic, his voice ecstasy. Their clothes slipped away in that same dreamlike state, and suddenly there were no boundaries. His hands were everywhere, hot and strong as they slid down her arms, warm and tender as they touched her breasts, her abdomen and her thighs. She writhed beneath him, needing his touch and more. Much more—his heart, his love.
The realization terrified her, but still she could not stop.
“I want ye,” she said softly, and though she knew he did not understand the full meaning of her words, neither would she explain just now.
Instead, she rolled onto her side and kissed him long and hard. Then, aching with a need as primitive as time, she pressed him onto his back. Knees bent and cushioned by the moss, she straddled him.
He lay propped on his elbows, watching her.
Above them the moon found its way through the silvery veil of fog and shone on him. In the magical light of the three quarters moon, he looked like a bronze statue. Or mayhap twas not the light at all.
Silent and awed, Shona slipped her hand across his chest. She could feel his heart beat with a mystical power, and she was drawn to it. Leaning down, she kissed the spot where it pounded the strongest. His eyes fell closed. Muscles taut, he shivered beneath her caress. The gossamer feelings tingled through his body to hers, making them tremble in unison. But the feelings were too fresh, too strong to quit, so she kissed him again, then again, first his throat, then his shoulders, then his nipples.
His breath came hard and fast, but hers ran along in time, and she could not quit. She smoothed her hands downward, absorbing each feeling, memorizing each moment. Her fingers skimmed across his pectorals, then over the undulating plane of his abdomen. He inhaled sharply, the sound a hiss of hot pleasure as he arched into her hands.
She moved downward still more, transfixed by his masculine beauty, overcome by desire. Her fingers brushed his erection. His every muscle leaped at the contact.
Shona snapped her gaze to his face, but his eyes were still closed, his expression rapt. Intense heat flooded her, and suddenly there was nothing she could do but slip her hands around the strength of his desire.
Dugald sucked air through his teeth and went still beneath her. Primitive need consumed her like a well-stoked fire. Between their bodi
es, Dragonheart swung like a magic pendulum, winking red fire in the moonlight.
Shona slipped one hand lower, over the soft sacks between Dugald’s legs.
He rasped out a breath and came to life like a springing beast. Suddenly he was on top, kissing her with a wild passion.
There was no longer any question of stopping. Not if the world came to an end could they be parted.
She cradled him between her legs and welcomed him inside. Twas now her turn to go perfectly still. Feelings, new and hot and frightening, surged through her.
Dugald forced himself to go still, to wait, to let her adjust. He concentrated on her face, on her thoughts, so clear suddenly in her eyes. The moonlight, soft as a velvet robe, shone on her, turning her eyes to emerald and her hair to sparkling rubies. God, she was beautiful, clever, proud, and a thousand other things that made him love her.
He closed his eyes to the thought. But there was no hope of denying the truth. Against all good sense, he loved her, he thought, and slowly, gently, he rocked into her.
Pleasure, sweet as old wine. But he would not drink it too fast, would not take too much at once, lest he could not enjoy it completely. Instead, he would sip slowly and appreciate every piquant flavor, every erotic scent.
He moved again, pressing them together for a moment, and he noticed now that her eyes were closed and her head pressed back into the moss beneath them.
The first glow of euphoria shone on her face. Twas the sight of that which nearly made him lose control. But he held onto it with awful patience, and leaning down, kissed her shoulder, her throat and her lips.
She moaned into his caress and pressed against him. Her taut body contracted around him. He tensed, fighting to retain the discipline he’d been taught since birth. But there were no guidelines here, for he was beyond the boundaries of everything he had experienced in the past.
Pressing his palms into their mossy bed, he arched away, gritting his teeth and grasping the reins of control once again.
She moaned again and pressed against him, beginning a steady rhythm.
He tried to fight it, tried to be gentle with her, to bring her the full cup of pleasure, but suddenly she wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in even deeper.
There was nothing he could do. Pleasure drowned him. Ecstasy called. With a feral growl of feeling, he buried himself to the hilt.
She gasped beneath him, but did not stop the rhythm. Instead, she pressed harder, faster, and suddenly it was a race of pleasure into pleasure. All thought was lost, all logic abandoned. They were one body, one soul, one being, reaching for euphoria.
Dugald felt her tension increase, felt her pleasure build then heard her gasp of surprise as orgasm took her.
He watched her as she found Utopia, watched her eyes fill with wonder, felt her body tighten with consuming pleasure. He could not stop his own release, but neither could he risk her. With a Herculean effort, he drew out and let himself erupt.
Sated and heavy, he rolled onto his side in the moss and cradled her in his arms.
Their breath melded, their hearts beat in unison. Peace stole over him. He stroked her hair, breathing in her scent, memorizing the feel of her skin, the sound of her breath.
Long ago, in another world, Dugald had been told there was no crime so heinous as to fail to appreciate the joy one is given.
He lay in silence and let the moment fill his soul. For this instant perfect peace was his. Soon that peace would be shattered, and he would be forced to fight. Then he would do what he must. But for this night he would hold her.
Yet the night lasted only for a moment.
“Dugald.” She broke the silence with nothing more than his name, but even in that moment, he felt her fear.
“What is it?”
“The camp!” She scrambled to her feet, pulling on her nightrail as she did so.
The peace was shattered like a crystal goblet.
He was beside her in an instant, his tunic already snatched over his head. His course was set.
Where she went, he went.
“What is it?” he asked.
“There is someone in the camp,” she rasped, and lunged in that direction, but suddenly a dark figure appeared beside her.
Shona gasped and stumbled to a halt.
“You are right,” said the man, his voice deeper than sin. “And there is someone here.”
Chapter 24
“WiIliam!” Shona felt her body grow cold.Night seemed suddenly torn away like a curtain at dawn, and by the light of the rising sun she could see the sword in his hand. “What are ye doing here?”
“I believe the question is, what are ye doing here, my love?”
A scream sounded from camp.
Terror ripped a hole in Shona’s heart. “Nay!” she shrieked, and lunged off, but in that instant, William grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to a halt.
She struggled wildly, trying to break free. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lift his hand.
Still, she was unprepared for the blow across her cheek.
It echoed in her head. She reeled backward, trying to think. From the left, she heard a noise and tried to turn toward it. But suddenly William’s arm was crushing the breath from her throat. Her back was pressed against his chest, and she could feel the sharp point of a knife just below her jaw.
She froze, fighting for breath, for thought, but suddenly he swung about, dragging her with him.
“Halt!” William ordered.
Five yards away, Dugald skidded to a stop.
“There’s a good lad,” William crooned. He turned his head slowly and kissed her ear. “That’s right. Stay just where ye are, or your love will not be so bonny.” Lifting his hand, he scraped his knife slowly along her healing wound and smiled. “But then, perhaps ye like them scarred.”
A muscle jumped in Dugald’s jaw, but in a heartbeat his expression went blank and he spread his hands peaceably out at his sides.
From camp, Shona heard the sharp sound of steel against steel. Another man screamed.
Instinct made her jerk toward the noise. Her movement dragged William to the left a few inches. In that moment, Dugald lunged toward them.
But William crushed her back to him with a curse and pressed the blade back against her throat.
“Move another inch,” he growled, “and I’ll slit her throat like a Christmas hog’s.”
Dugald froze, but his face was not so stoic. For a moment Shona saw wild lightning flash in his eyes. William laughed.
“So I was right,” he murmured. “Ye do care for the little bitch. But who does not? Even Hadwin turned against me in the end. He had nothing against a few practical jokes, a cut girth, a bit of a brawl to make the others look like fools. But he would not hurt the lady.” He nuzzled her neck with his cheek. “Poor fool. Another who thought ye might actually care for him. But tell me, Shona love, do ye return Kinnaird’s feeling, or is it no more than lust?”
She didn’t answer. From camp, a cry was cut short. She whimpered in terror. Where was Kelvin? And what of Rachel?
“Are ye worried for your little friends?” he asked. His lips grazed her ear as he spoke. She shivered at the touch. “If so, perhaps you should have stayed with them instead of creeping out here to meet your lover.”
Someone yelled a curse.
“What do you want with her, William?” Dugald asked. His voice was even, rational, the tone calming, somehow.
“What do I want with her?” William laughed. “I want what any man would want with a haughty bitch like her. I want to teach her humility. She could have avoided all this and taken my suit.”
Shona gritted her teeth against the acid taste of terror as his knife bit into her throat.
“But she thought herself too good. Too good for me" William growled. “Ye think I did not see how ye two stared at each other. Like animals in rut. But tis not too late for her to pay for her mistakes. And maybe…” He ground his crotch against her buttocks. “Maybe if you�
�re good, Dugald the Dragon, I’ll let ye watch. Unfortunately, there won’t be much left of her when I’m through. Some think my amorous techniques a bit rough. My lovely Deirdra, God rest her, thought it better to throw herself from the turrets than to return to my bed once the child was born. But what can ye expect? I have been patient. So patient, I need to expend my frustration somewhere.”
Shona gasped at the ugliness of his words. Panic threatened. But that was what he wanted. He wanted her afraid and terrified, blubbering for mercy. That much she knew, and that she would not give him. But mayhap, if she were lucky, if she were smart, if she’d not misjudged Dugald…she forced down the fear, jerked her head to the right, and yelled, “Nay, Kelvin!”
William twisted to the right, and in that second Dugald threw his knife. It hissed through the air and sliced into William’s shoulder. He staggered back with a rasp of pain.
Shona jerked away. William reached for her. His fingers snapped her sleeve, but she lurched forward.
From behind her, she could hear the sound of running feet.
“Lord William?” someone cried.
“Get her, damn ye!” he roared.
Shona pivoted about to look, but suddenly a hand grabbed hers. She turned to fight then realized it was Dugald who was dragging her along. Relief washed through her. She spurted after him, running, bent and wild, through the woods away from camp.
Someone approached from their right. Shona felt his evil presence before she saw him. She screamed to Dugald. He dropped her hand, slammed to a halt, and spun toward the intruder.
There was a moment of silence as he leapt then the sharp crack of bone.
In a heartbeat Dugald was up beside her again, grasping her hand and urging her on. She tried to see over her shoulder, to search for others. But branches and bracken blocked her view. Still, no matter how far they ran, she knew they were pursued, could hear men scrambling after them.
“How many are coming?” Dugald asked.
She had no way of knowing, and yet she did. “Three,” she gasped. “Maybe four.”
He pulled her sharply to the left. She stumbled and fell to her knees in the bracken. In a moment he was down beside her.
Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) Page 29