Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Before he let himself be completely washed away by the torrent of passion coursing between them, he tore his mouth from hers, leaving both of them panting.

  “We can’t do this, lass,” he breathed huskily.

  She blinked at him, the haze of desire clouding her eyes. “Why not?”

  Christ, that wasn’t a question he was prepared to answer at the moment. He forced himself to speak, though. “Because you are innocent, and as much as you may want this now, you will look back and regret it.”

  The words pained him to say, but he had to be an honorable man, at least for once in his life. He had accepted the fact that he was a lone wolf, hunting and killing his prey, but Jossalyn wasn’t just another mark. He could never live with himself if he used her knowing full well they would part ways, probably in a matter of days, and never see each other again. He had to be the one to tell her that she deserved better. A woman of her standing, a lady, couldn’t just give her innocence to a mercenary assassin in the Scottish rebellion.

  “Why would I regret being with you, Garrick?” she said as she pulled back a little, more of the fog clearing from her eyes.

  “Do you know what you’re saying, lass? You’re a virgin. You’ll never be a virgin again if we keep going.”

  She faltered for a moment, her eyes shifting away from his. “I just…I just want…”

  He saw the struggle play out on her moonlit features, and understood exactly how she felt. He, too, wanted something that he shouldn’t or couldn’t have.

  But then she took a steadying breath and went on, more firmly this time. “All my life, I have been told what to do. First, my parents taught me how to act like a lady, telling me I couldn’t run or ride horses too much or look for plants in the forest. Then, my brother took over my life and tried to force me to stop being a healer. He kept me inside whenever he could and was working on a marriage arrangement just before I left that would benefit his position, but would mean all but the end of my life.”

  Garrick’s hands, which had fallen away from Jossalyn as she spoke, clenched in frustration on her behalf.

  She sighed, collecting her thoughts for a moment, then went on. “I’m so tired of everyone telling me what’s best for me or trying to control me. I left Dunbraes with you the first time because I wanted to make my own choices, to start my own life. And I’m glad you took me away the second time, during the attack.”

  She shuddered slightly. He guessed that she was remembering the scene of the battle. His stomach sank, her reaction reminding him that a healer could never be with a warrior, a killer. But then her words surprised him.

  “I’m glad because I have another chance at freedom, at being in control of my own life. I want to stay in Scotland and be a healer.” She paused and bit her lower lip, seeming to hold something back.

  He almost pushed her to tell him what else was lurking behind her deep green eyes, but she spoke before he could.

  “And I want to be here with you, and…kiss you again.”

  Her words sent a jolt through him. He suddenly felt humbled that this lass wanted him in this moment. Who was he to tell her what to do or what she should want—or not want? But he still feared she didn’t know what would come after kissing if they were to give over to their desire. She was innocent, and though she had surely been drilled from the time she could crawl to guard her virginity with her life, she didn’t seem to know what it would mean to let it go—both between them, and after, when she would find some other man to love and marry.

  The thought of another man being the recipient of Jossalyn’s love and passion sent a spike of pain and rage through him. He wanted to be that man. But he never would be, at least not in the long term.

  Yet a voice whispered in the back of his mind that he was here now, and she had made it clear that she wanted him. Even if it couldn’t last, he could have a taste of paradise for a moment. He would be able to hold on to the memory for the rest of his life.

  He wouldn’t take her innocence, however. Though rusty from disuse, his sense of honor was still intact enough to know that he would be responsible if he used her and then left her to deal with the consequences.

  “You know I want you too,” he said. It felt foreign to lay himself bare like that, but for some reason, he was able to speak his heart to her. “There are…things we can do that will still leave you intact,” he said, a strange mix of awkwardness at his words and anticipation of what they meant coursing through him.

  Her eyes widened slightly. “More than kissing?”

  He felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. “Aye, lass, if that’s what you want. More than kissing, but I won’t take your innocence.”

  Even in the dim moonlight, he could see the blush creeping up to her cheeks. “I didn’t know…that is, I didn’t realize that there were things…in-between…”

  He let his fingertips brush against her heated cheeks. His eyes locked on hers, and he moved in slowly, deliberately, for another kiss. Her lips unconsciously parted as he drew closer, hitching his desire higher. This time, he tried to communicate to her through his kiss all the longing he had for her just below the surface, and the dark promise of what they would share.

  Her arms snaked back around his neck, which was all the indication he needed. He scooped her into his arms and stood, catching the plaid he had been using as a blanket as it slid from him. He strode away from their makeshift camp to give them more privacy from Burke’s presence and approached the slow-moving creek several dozen yards ahead through the trees. When he reached a little open area right next to the creek, he set her on her feet but held her close for another promise-laden kiss.

  He broke their contact just long enough to spread his plaid out on the soft ground, and then pulled her down on it next to him. He could hear that her breaths were fast and shallow in anticipation. He kissed her again, this time deeper. Part of him kept thinking she would turn away from him or push him back, changing her mind about wanting to be with him. But instead, she pulled him closer, her hands weaving into his hair, which had come loose from its normally tidy queue at the nape of his neck.

  He leaned toward her so that she reclined down onto his plaid. He pulled his mouth from hers so he could drink in the sight of her. Her pale blonde hair was splayed out across the dark reds of his clan colors, and her lips were swollen and red in the moonlight.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said on an exhale. There was no way he deserved to be here with her now, but he didn’t want to question it. Instead, he rested his weight on one elbow and let his hand skim across the narrow part of her waist and brush over the rise of one of her breasts. She shuddered and inhaled at his touch, and his already hard cock pressed even more firmly into her hip.

  He lowered his mouth to hers yet again and let his tongue caress and tease her while his thumb brushed over the peak of her breast. She arched into his hand, so he made the contact firmer. Through the material of her dress and chemise, he could feel her nipple harden under his touch. He let one of his legs settle between her thighs, and she raised one of her knees, hugging him closer and pressing his thigh into the crux between her legs. She made a little noise that was half-sigh, half-moan against his mouth. He couldn’t believe how much passion she contained within her, how eager and hungry she was for his touch.

  He made a trail of kisses from her mouth, across her cheek, and to her ear. He nibbled the lobe for a moment, his blood firing at her gasp of surprise. Then he drew his lips down the smooth, slim column of her neck. He could feel her rapid pulse beating hard there.

  He moved to her collar bone, and lower still to the slight swell of her breasts at the neckline of her dress. She twisted and clenched her leg around his thigh harder as his lips brushed over the sensitive flesh while his thumb still swirled over the peak of her breast. Her hands clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh, which only made him more ravenous.

  Suddenly impatient to increase both of their pleasure, he pressed his hips into hers
, letting his cock rub just above the junction between her legs. They both breathed heavily at the contact, and he realized he had to stop himself before he did exactly what he said he wouldn’t.

  He rolled back off her slightly but let his hand trail from her breast across her waist, over her hip, and down her bent leg. His fingertips brushed the hem of her dress, and his hand found her ankle. He wrapped his fingers around it easily, enjoying the feel of her delicate bones, and then slid his hand farther up to her calf, which was stocking-free due to the warmth of summer.

  Her breath hitched even more as his hand continued to rise up her leg. His fingers lingered on the back of her knee, causing her to gasp and jerk a little. As he inched one hand higher, he let his other hand slip under her back while still keeping his elbow under him to support his weight. He fumbled for a moment but eventually found the ties running down the back of her dress and tugged them loose.

  He moved his mouth back onto hers even as he continued to loosen the ties of her dress, while his other hand continued to travel up the smooth flesh of her thigh. He had to have more of her skin exposed to his eyes and mouth.

  Finally, he had her dress loosened enough so he could sit up part way and tug gently at the material on her shoulders. She shimmied her shoulders, helping him pull down her dress. Her white chemise glowed in the moonlight as he got her dress past her breasts. Then he went to work on the ties of her chemise, but kept his other hand on her soft thigh. But he was losing patience. He didn’t bother loosening her chemise very much, and instead, pulled it down over first one of her creamy shoulders and then the other.

  He was rewarded with a gasp from her as the cool, fresh night air hit her heated skin. He tried but failed to suppress a growl at the sight that met his hungry eyes. Her skin was nearly as pale and silky white as the material of her chemise. He let his eyes devour the swells of her pert breasts, each one tipped with a pink, hard nipple.

  She writhed under him, reminding him that she still wanted more. He longed to give her everything she desired, but he also wanted her to be near mad with wanting, just as he was. He let his hand inch farther up her thigh, and her bent knee fell open slightly. He trailed his fingertips along the inside of her leg, leaning his head closer to her breasts. When he blew his hot breath against one of her nipples, she shuddered and arched, a moan slipping from her lips. He moved torturously slow, his own cock throbbing with need, but forced himself to let the pleasure build even higher in both of them.

  Right as his fingertips brushed the damp crux of her legs, he brought his mouth down to capture one of her nipples. She inhales sharply, jerking and twisting under both his hand and his mouth. He let his tongue swirl and tease her nipple, just as he had with their kiss. Meanwhile, he drew one finger over her damp folds, then slipped it inside to glide and press against that button of a woman’s pleasure. What he wouldn’t give to taste and caress her there with his tongue, just as he was doing now to her nipple, then sink his aching cock all the way into her.

  Just as he was about to come undone at the thought, he felt her hand brush against the front of his kilt, where his cock was pressed against her. He jerked his head up and locked eyes with her. She was panting through parted lips, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure as his finger continued to caress her.

  “Do you feel it too?” she said breathily, gliding her hand gently over the swell in his kilt.

  “Aye, lass,” he managed through gritted teeth. If he had been about to come undone just at the feel of her wetness and the thought of sinking into her, he surely wasn’t going to last under her tentative but curious touch.

  He brought his hand out from under her skirts and took her wrist, gently guiding it underneath his kilt. He let her take her time brushing her fingers over his upper legs, but he jerked uncontrollably when she came into contact with his bollocks. Then her fingertips were exploring his shaft, and he nearly cursed.

  When he couldn’t take any more of her feathery touches, he took her hand in his and wrapped it around his length, moving both their hands up and down. In a moment, she caught on to the motion, and he let go of her hand, seeking her warm wetness once again.

  They groaned in unison as they each stroked and teased the other. He lowered his head to her breast once more, capturing a nipple in his mouth and laving it before switching to the other to give it the same treatment. He could hear her breath coming even faster now, and he hitched up the rhythm of his stroke against her clitoris. She seemed to unconsciously do the same, pumping her hand faster around his cock. He was ready to explode, but he wanted her to join him.

  He let one finger slip inside her opening while his thumb resumed the caress of that pleasurable spot just above. This must have sent her into another plane of sensation, for she called out his name and arched against his mouth.

  Suddenly, she shuddered and cried out again, and he could feel her convulsing against his hand. It only took one more pulse of her hand around his cock to send him over the edge after her. He groaned and thrust into her hand, making the contact deeper as he spilled his seed.

  He forced his eyes open despite the fact that he was spiraling down from his own ecstasy, wanting to drink in the sight of her. Her skin and hair were luminous in the moonlight, her breasts and cheeks faintly flushed from his kisses and her release. He could feel her bent leg quivering as he eased his hand from her and out from under her skirts.

  Her eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. “That was…” She gave up searching for words and instead withdrew her hand from under his kilt, but quickly threw both arms around his neck, dragging him down to lie next to her on his plaid. She tossed a leg over one of his languidly, all traces of tension and shyness gone.

  For some reason, though, her relaxation sent a thread of apprehension through him. He tried to push away the voice that shouted admonishments inside his head, but he couldn’t quite silence it. What was the harm in their sharing some pleasure while they could? It wasn’t as if he had taken her virginity. They had merely scratched the itch that they clearly both had. But the voice wouldn’t be silenced, for even though they hadn’t done anything physically irreversible or permanent, he couldn’t say the same for his growing and undeniable feelings for her.

  Yes, he had come to care for the lass. It had started innocently enough when he thought her a simple but suspiciously evasive healer back at Dunbraes. But now that he saw her true character—her strength in the face of the hell she must have endured with a brother like Raef Warren, her genuine kindheartedness, and the ocean of passion within her just below the surface—he was becoming too attached.

  Nothing could come of this, he told himself as she nestled her head against his shoulder, her hair smelling of sunshine and wildflowers.

  Nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jossalyn felt the pull of sleep but resisted for a few seconds. She wanted to savor this moment—it might be the only one like it with Garrick. She still needed to tell him that she wanted not only to stay in Scotland, but also wanted to become directly involved in their fight for freedom. She hoped that after everything they had shared, he would understand and be willing to help her. But even if he wasn’t, she wouldn’t be deterred.

  She would have to cross that bridge when she came to it, but for now, she wanted to soak in this moment, her head nestled against his shoulder, her body still humming from his touch. She’d had no idea what she had just experienced was possible—the aching need, the building pressure, and the flood of ecstasy that left her weak and limp like a milk-drunk kitten.

  She let a smile creep to her lips at the thought that she had given the same experience to Garrick, both of them striving for and finding that tidal wave of pleasure with each other. She had always been told by her nursemaids and instructors on a lady’s behavior that being intimate with a man—with her husband, only ever her husband—was her duty. They had always made it seem like it was something to be endured, that men would want it from her, but that she herself would n
ever desire or enjoy it.

  How wrong they were.

  Was it always like this? She doubted very much that whichever old widower her brother would have selected for her could make her feel the way she did in Garrick’s embrace. And she didn’t want to find out. She would never again let someone else make decisions for her, especially when it came to finding a mate for life. She knew she shouldn’t let herself indulge in girlish fantasies, but after all she and Garrick had shared, she suddenly saw the dim promise of a new path ahead of her. Though hazy, she could imagine a future filled with the kind of passion she had just discovered in herself—and maybe more.

  Was it foolish of her to think she could share a love with someone who accepted her for who she was? Perhaps. But she had also once believed the kind of sensual fire she had just experienced didn’t exist.

  And was it foolish of her to think Garrick could be part of that future? She had tried before to push down her feelings for him, to not let herself grow too attached to him, and that was before she knew he was a Scottish freedom fighter and a deadly shot with a bow. She shouldn’t let herself indulge in such sentimental wishing when she now knew he was a warrior, not likely to be tied down to one place—or one woman, for that matter.

  But the truth was, she did wish, in her heart of hearts, that she would never have to say goodbye to Garrick again, that they could talk and touch and perhaps even laugh together—forever.

  He would say it was too dangerous, that he was a warrior and she a healer, a masochistic match if there ever was one.

  He would say he had his missions, that she would be at risk if she knew anything more.

  But his words and his reasons rang hollow to her, and she had seen the look in his eyes as they brought each other pleasure. He was possessive of her, and protective. He hungered for her just as much as she hungered for him, but it was more than that.

  The memory of his rage at the sight of the bruises her brother had inflicted, his words that her healing gift was valuable and special, his trust in her to heal Burke—he cared for her. And she couldn’t deny that she cared for him too. Now she would just have to come up with a plan so that she could not only offer her healing skills to the Scottish rebellion, but also stay near Garrick—at least long enough for them to explore whatever was growing between them.