Rising up on her knees, she reached behind him to wash his back. He took quick advantage of her position, lathing and suckling her breasts as he freely caressed her. With unsteady hands she made swift work of that chore and quickly returned to crouching in front of him.
Deciding he needed a taste of the torment he so gleefully meted out, she started by washing his arms. She used the same tantalizing methods he had as she bathed his broad chest, then his strong legs. All the while she meticulously avoided his groin. Finally she smiled at him, watching him closely as she soaped her hands. She lightly brushed her lips over his as she curled her fingers around his erection. The way he groaned, trembled, and closed his eyes told her clearly how he enjoyed her slow stroking touch. She found his delight exciting, increasing her own desire.
She leaned forward to press soft, lingering kisses against his throat and chest. He made a low rumbling sound as he threaded his fingers through her hair. His agitated movements told her that he was struggling to hold back, to control his desire. Tess hoped he would lose that control soon, for she had none left.
Just as she began to wonder if she imagined his hunger for her, he grabbed her by the waist. She gasped as, in a few short moves, he joined their bodies together. Tess sat still, surprised at this new way of uniting their bodies, and savored how good it felt. After he cupped her face in his hands and gave her a slow, searing kiss, she met his gaze. Dazedly she noticed how passion caused the gray to overwhelm the blue in his fine eyes, turning them a dark, turbulent color.
“Ah, sweet lass,” he murmured, sliding his hands down her sides until he clasped her by her slender hips. “Ye fit so well. Like a finely made glove—soft, warm, tight yet supple.”
“A glove, eh? There is something I can do that no glove can, Sir Halyard.”
“Aye? And what is that?”
Touching her mouth to his, she whispered, “Move.”
Tess relished the soft groan that escaped him when she began to move. Their kiss was an imitation of their intimate movement, echoing the growing ferocity of their lovemaking. As the gratification of her hunger swept over her, he tightened his grip upon her hips. She greedily pressed down as he bucked upward in response to his own release. As she struggled to recover, she clung to him, her cheek against his shoulder.
Revan idly caressed her back. “I believe I can rightly say that ye have never had a bath like this before.”
“Nay, that is true enough. I usually wash my hair.” She smiled against his skin when he laughed.
“Wretch. I dangle for flattery and ye give me impertinence,” he murmured and subtly eased the rich intimacy of their embrace. When she sat looking at him with a quizzical expression, he warily asked, “What is it?”
“I was but puzzling over how pleased ye are to be the first man to do this for me.”
“Well, ’tis pleasing. ’Twould please any man.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why would it? I doubt many women are the first. In truth, by the time some men wed, I doubt there is much left they havna done—in this matter at least. Yet, a man finds great pleasure in learning that he is the first for his woman. Aye, most times he demands to be and faults her if he isna. Indeed, men try to cast aside all chastity as soon as they are able, dinna like any woman to ken that she is the first. So why do men find it such a source of pleasure to be the first for a woman?”
“ ’Tis a fair question,” he managed to say after a long moment of silence.
Silence resumed and, after a minute or two she drawled, “Aye—fair, yet one ye seem most reluctant to answer.”
“Mayhaps that is because I have no answer. Turn round and I will wash your hair.”
She turned so that her back was toward him, quickly deciding that she liked the arrangement as he began to massage the soap into her hair. “So, are ye saying that ’tis one of those facts, indisputable and unalterable, that actually has no reason to be?”
He gave her hair a brief tug and grinned at her soft curse. “Though I am loath to admit it—aye, ’tis probably so. But we Scotsmen are far less particular than many another such as the English or the Italians. Mayhaps ’tis best compared to a man’s feelings in battle. Most men take great pride in being the first to breach an enemy’s defense, yet, more often than not, the price he pays for that privilege is a swift and bloody death.” He began to slowly rinse the lather from her hair.
“Ah, now there is a thought to warm a lass’s heart. ’Tis wondrous fine to be compared to a suicidal charge.”
Revan laughed, then grew serious again. “Ye ask me to answer a puzzle I have never given a thought to—simply accepted as truth. Mayhaps later, after I have thought it over for a while, I can give you a better reply. Now ’tis your turn to wash my hair, and then we may have our supper.”
Since the bathwater was growing cool, Tess readily did as he asked. They used their clothes to dry themselves off, then wrapped themselves in blankets. Tess quickly scrubbed out their clothes before helping Revan empty the water, using buckets at first but then dragging the vat to the doorway to tip the remainder out. Revan set the vat near the fire, and Tess draped their clothing over the rim so that the heat of the flames could dry them.
Their supper consisted of porridge supplemented by a little of the cheese Simon had given them. It was a poor meal and one Tess was finding tiresome, but she knew it would do no good to complain. At the first opportunity she vowed to have a meal fit for a king.
Outside the storm grew fiercer. Soon the howling wind and driving rain chilled the small cottage until the only real warmth was close to the fire. As she washed out their bowls, Revan dragged the straw mattress from the cot and set it before the fire. She eyed it warily as he spread a blanket over it.
“Are ye certain that it is free of vermin?” she asked even as she cautiously sat down on it.
“Aye.” He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. “As certain as one can be. When I slept on it before, I gained no new companions. I believe it is still free of such wildlife. In truth, I dinna think anyone has been here since I was as everything is just as I left it.” He picked up his wineskin, took a drink, and passed it over to her.
After helping herself to a drink of the warm, sweet wine, Tess gave it back to him. “Do ye think the storm will end by the morning?”
“The fiercest storms are ofttimes the shortest. I hope ’tis true this time.” He frowned, hoping they wouldn’t lose time.
“It could bring our enemies closer to us?”
“Nay, if the storm is so fierce that it binds us to this place, ’twill also force them to seek shelter and stay there. This storm could even be to our benefit, as it will surely wash away any trail we may have left for them to follow.”
“Then why did ye frown so when ye mentioned the possibility of being stuck here?”
He rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand as he stared into the fire. “ ’Twould be precious time lost.”
“Ah—time. If the information ye gathered is correct, then we still have six weeks, mayhaps longer.” She could tell by his face that he did not find that comforting.
“Aye. If we have six weeks. If our information is correct. Even if it is, ’tis still important to get our news to the king as soon as we can. One needs to prepare for battle. True, the king works to gather an army, and all ken that this confrontation is past due, but they canna say just when. A man willna put aside his planting on a guess. No man will risk his family starving come winter because the king ‘thinks’ there will be a battle.”
“Nay, of course not.” She took his hand between her own. “Well, ye have Simon. Ye did feel he would get word to the king.”
His expression lightened slightly. “Aye, he can. ’Tis but difficult to ignore one simple fact. He is in the heart of the Douglas lands and will be riding toward the king. Anyone doing that will be suspect. The Douglases willna let anyone do that if they can stop it.”
“He is but one man. In this w
ild country that can be a great advantage. There are many places for him to hide.”
“Ye seek to ease my worries.” He smiled down at her. Tess kissed his cheek. “Aye, I do, and ye shouldna cast aside my efforts so quickly. ’Tis a dark time we are caught in. Worrying will do no good. Ye said Simon was clever. Remember that and set aside the matter. I believe we ourselves have more than enough to prey upon our minds. Why add to it by fretting over something ye can do naught about?”
“How very sensible.”
“I thought so.”
Revan chuckled. “By needing to huddle here for a while, I have been given time to think too much.”
“Then mayhaps the answer is to distract you.” She nibbled gently at his earlobe.
“ ’Tis a possibility.”
“If ye prefer sitting and fretting, ye need just say so.” She began to cover his strong throat with soft heated kisses, and the arm he had draped about her shoulders tightened slightly.
“Nay, I believe I should prefer being distracted.”
His hand on the back of her head, he turned her mouth toward his. The hunger behind the kiss they shared startled him a little. After two days and nights in the cave where they did little more than make love, he had expected that hunger to wane some by now. Instead, it was richer, deeper. Knowing the pleasure he could find in her arms only made him want more. It worried him, for he could foresee no future for them, yet the need she infected him with seemed to demand one. Good sense told him to distance himself from her before it got worse, but he could not, would not heed it. Instead, he began to consider glutting himself, of taking all he could before it had to end.
Tess moved her soft, small hands down his body, easing off the loosely secured blanket he wore. He trembled beneath her touch and wished she would be bolder, yet enjoyed her lingering innocence. Revan continued to kiss her, to sit still as she tested her skills, until his desire demanded more. He eased her down onto her back and crouched over her as he opened her blanket wrap. Lowering himself down into her welcoming arms, he began to kiss her throat as he ran his hands over her slim body.
“Was I not supposed to distract you?” Tess found speech a little difficult as he leisurely toyed with her breasts using his hands, his lips, and his tongue to send her passions soaring.
“Oh, ye are, lass. There has never been a woman so sweetly distracting.”
“Well, that was easily done. It appears I but needed to say ‘aye.’ ”
Revan smiled briefly against the warm silken skin of her midriff. “Actually, ye but need to say ‘mayhaps.’ ”
That flattery, spoken in his passion-roughened voice, combined with his caresses to finally rob her of the power of coherent speech. She curled her fingers in his thick fair hair and gave herself over completely to his lovemaking. The only sounds she made were soft, mostly mumbled assertions of how much delight he gave her. Even that died, choked off by shock, when the hot touch of his lips and tongue slid upward from her inner thighs.
She bucked in rejection of the deeply personal caress only once. He grasped her by the hips to hold her still, and an instant later she had no wish to retreat from the intimacy. Tess melted to his will, opening to his intimate kiss and arching greedily as her passion grew. When she felt her release draw near, she called to him, crying out with pleasure as he swiftly united their bodies. She clung tightly to him as he drove them both to the full gratification of their needs.
It was not long after Revan had briefly left the bed to wash himself, then return to gently bathe her that Tess began to feel embarrassed. He took her into his arms, and she kept her cheek pressed against his broad chest, unable to look at him. It was difficult to meet the gaze of a man who had just seen her behave with such a lack of restraint and, she feared, perhaps even in a manner better fitted to a common whore.
As he combed his fingers through her thick, lightly tangled hair, Revan frowned. Tess was holding herself a little tensely. He hoped he had not shocked her too badly. The last thing he wished to do was chill the heat of her passion by expecting too much of her too quickly. Her desires matched his in strength, and he had trouble recalling that he still needed to go slowly with her.
“Is that a whore’s trick?” Tess whispered, finally pushed to voice her greatest fear.
“Nay. In truth, any man with sense would hesitate to give one of those wenches such loving.” He grasped her by the chin and turned her face up to his, smiling faintly at her blush. “Ah, but ye, wee Tessa, are very sweet.” He grinned when she blushed even more, then brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Ye tempt a man to be very creative.”
She shook her head before resting it against his chest again as she tried to smother a yawn. “Creative, is it? I had meant to distract you.”
“Ye did that very well, lass.” He saw her try to hide another yawn and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Get some rest, loving. Dawn isna so very far away.”
Tess groaned and ignored his soft chuckle. “That is the second thing I promise to myself,” she muttered. “As soon as we are safe, I shall sleep late for a week. In fact, I believe I will simply stay abed.”
“Aye, that does sound a fine idea.” He gently smoothed his hands up and down her slim back. “But ye said that was the second thing ye promise to yourself. What is the first?”
“Ah, the first.” She curled herself more comfortably around him, yawned, and closed her eyes. “The first is a sumptuous feast, and I shall eat so much that they shall need to carry me to my bed. I shall have fruit and cream and cheese and meat. Aye—a great deal of meat.”
“Well, porridge does grow a bit tedious.”
“I meant no criticism.”
“I ken it. But I may be able to satisfy at least one of your wishes. If we wake early enough and the storm has cleared, I shall go hunting.”
“Would that be wise? Or safe?”
“As wise or safe as it will ever be until we reach the king. Our enemies hadna found us ere this storm descended, and it has washed away our scent. I will get us some small fowl or meat, and we can prepare it for cooking ere we ride away.”
“I can wait until we are with the king.”
“Aye, but I can see no true harm in pausing a moment to supplement our meager fare. ’Twill do us good, give us some needed strength, and”—he grinned—“I ken that ye will be most grateful to me.”
She briefly looked at him with mock disgust before closing her eyes again. “Aye, I would be grateful, but how grateful shall depend upon the fare.”
“How grateful would ye be for a nice plump grouse?”
The mere thought of it made her mouth water. “Very grateful, indeed. So much so that I need to think long and hard on a suitable reward.”
“Ye mean to go to sleep.”
“Aye, but if ye bring me back something heartier than porridge, ye will soon see that I can think whilst asleep. I need not stay awake all night to decide upon a reward.”
“Intriguing. Sleep well, then. I may bring back a full brace of birds.”
“One will do. And pray that ye dinna bring back any two-legged carrion trailing at your heels.”
“Dinna worry. For a wee while I mean to be the hunter, not the hunted.”
CHAPTER 8
After setting the saddle packs by the doorway, Tess frowned and hooked up the stiffened hide that served as a door. She stood on the worn threshold stone and stared out toward the wood encircling the small cottage. What fields may have once been cleared had become badly overgrown. But she was only partly aware of the rain-washed beauty around her. It had been hours since Revan had left.
Revan had set off when the sky was only faintly lightened by the coming dawn. The moment he had left her sight, she had wanted him back. She was unable to think of anything but the dangers he might face. Although they had seen no sign of their pursuers, even Revan had been unable to say that they were safe. Suddenly she wanted to be gone from the cottage, wanted to be fleeing toward the king again.
Sighing, sh
e went and sat by the fire. She had dressed, packed up their meager supplies, and now could only wait. After yanking off her cap, she finger-combed her hair and began to braid it. It would probably not fit her cap and have to be undone, but she badly needed something to keep herself busy.
When she was only halfway done with her braid, she tensed. A soft sound like a boot scraping across stone distracted her. Even as she looked up, she knew it was not Revan. He would have announced himself in some way. She was not surprised to see her uncle’s man, Thomas, but alarm quickly seized her.
Tess cursed and leapt to her feet, but she was a moment too slow. Thomas, followed by Donald, swiftly crossed the room. She eluded them, but when she turned to bolt for the door, she found her way blocked by two more of her uncle’s men-at-arms. There was no chance of escape. Her only clear thought was to delay until Revan returned. Although she was not sure what Revan could do against such odds, it was her only plan.
Thomas lunged for her again. She ducked out of his reach. There was not much in the tiny poor cottage, but she grabbed what little she could and hurled it at them, including the peat and wood Revan had brought in for the fire. It kept Thomas and Donald at a distance as she pelted them with all she could put her hands on, but it afforded her no opportunity to flee. The two men swore and called for their companions in the doorway to aid them. That pair answered with hoots of derision and laughter.
The moment she ran out of things to throw at them, both Donald and Thomas charged her. Tess danced out of Thomas’s reach, but Donald was able to trip her. She hit the packed earthen floor hard, and before she could catch her breath and scramble to her feet, the bulky Donald sat on her. It took her a moment to catch hold of enough breath to speak.
“Get off of me, ye great hulking oaf,” she snapped.
“Ye stay right there, Donald,” ordered Thomas as he crouched before Tess and grabbed hold of her wrists, yanking her arms in front of her.
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