Two Wolves For Lizette

by Jessica Miller

  His death still stung her, but Izzy was surprised to find herself on better terms with Owen than she would have thought possible considering the circumstances. While his friends seemed rough and uncouth and every bit the lawless outlaws the English claimed they were, Owen had never been anything but a complete and total gentleman, and his kindness and respect often left Izzy speechless. She had even heard a rather loud argument between him and one of the other men, where he was accused of having a soft spot for "the wench" as she was called, that resulted in what sounded like a scuffle and the injured party storming out of the house.

  He was terribly handsome as well, Izzy noticed. It wasn't that she hadn't when they first met, but she had been so pre-occupied with what had happened to her and to Alan that she hadn't quite registered just how attractive Owen was. All of her feelings swirled around in her mind until Izzy was hardly sure she could tell the difference between up and down. She was so caught up in him and in trying to make sense of what she was feeling that when the reply to her captors' ransom note finally arrived she was thrown completely off-balance.

  Owen was the one who brought it to her. Izzy would have thought he'd have been happy to get her out of his hair and not have to play the babysitter any longer, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, and his voice was soft when he spoke, handing the letter over for Izzy to read.

  "A meeting place has been set," he said, leaning against the wall by the window. "The ransom will be delivered, and ye'll be safely returned to the arms of the British."

  "You could sound happier," Izzy replied. "Was this not the ultimate goal? To wheedle money out of my family in return for my release so that you might fund further escapades?"

  "Ye could sound happier as well," Owen said. "Or is that reluctance I see in yer eyes?"

  Izzy looked away. She couldn't be sure what she was feeling. The tightness in her chest was something close to anxiety, but should she not be excited? She thought, at first, that perhaps she was simply worried the Scots would not keep their word, but that theory was quickly dismissed. She was just another mouth to feed, and a useless one at that. These men only wanted to get their money and be rid of her. They had nothing to gain from betrayal. So then, what was it? She looked up at Owen, who had turned to gaze out the window, and suddenly it all became clear.

  He was the reason for her reluctance. He, who had murdered her husband but showed remorse and regret for his actions as well as the actions of his companions, whereas the others had only looked at her with scorn and disdain when they looked at her at all. He, who was as handsome and as much of a gentleman as her late husband had always been. Was it possible to fall in love with someone so quickly? Or was it simply guilt that she had been unable to prevent Alan's fall, or attachment to a captor who had made her feel like a person?

  "When is the exchange to happen?" she asked.

  "Tomorrow," Owen said, "at noon. Two men from each side will meet, the money will change hands, and ye'll go back to yer kin."

  "I see," Izzy said. She folded the letter in her hands. "I wish to be alone, please."

  Owen's gaze was laced with concern, but he nodded and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Izzy sighed and sagged, passing a hand over her eyes. A month ago everything had been so simple, and now she didn't know what to do or what to think. She was doubting everything. Had she truly loved Alan, or had she only had affection for him because he was comely and well-off, and a proper gentleman? He had been nice to her, but it was clear that his duty to the regiment came first. Thinking back on what she could remember of their conversations, Izzy was struck with the distinct feeling that he had seen her as nothing more than an ornament and a way to further his line. That did not in any way mean that he had not cared for her in some way, but what had their relationship truly been?

  And what was her relationship with Owen? If they had met under different circumstances, would she still feel the same way? Would she have fallen in love with him? All night she stewed, her dinner going untouched when Owen brought it. He didn't properly return to the room until late in the evening, his shirt untucked and loose and stinking of beer, a small sway in his step. Izzy was already tucked up in bed, but she couldn't sleep. How could she, when her mind was full to bursting?

  Owen must have thought she was sleeping, however, for he tugged his shirt off over his head, and in the light from the candle burning on the window ledge Izzy could see the cut of his muscles and the patch of coarse hair on his chest, and the scars that life had given him. One in particular caught her eye, a fairly narrow but long line that stretched from his ribs down to his navel, curving gently along the shape of his body.

  She squeezed her thighs together against the sudden pressure that bloomed between them. She waited for it to go, like it had her first night with Alan, but it persisted as Owen set about undressing and preparing his bed for the night. With a heavy grunt he lay down and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. Izzy waited to hear him snoring, but instead he kept moving around, sighing and grunting and grumbling under his breath. Izzy had never thought he'd had trouble falling asleep, and perhaps it was just the alcohol, but maybe she had simply fallen asleep too early to notice.

  After a particularly heavy sigh, Izzy felt inclined to speak up. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

  "Floor is damn uncomfortable," Owen growled and shifted about once more, "but I'm not about t' let a lady sleep on it."

  Izzy swallowed hard, words tumbling around in her brain and falling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "There is room up here for us both, I think," she said. "It would be warmer as well, to share. It would not be the first time."

  "That ye've shared yer bed?" Owen asked. "Or shared it with a man, for they are two different creatures."

  "Both," Izzy said. She lifted the blanket and scooted back towards the wall. "There is room for you here, if you would take it."

  She couldn't see Owen but she could feel him looking at her. He sighed again, then grunted as he sat up and crawled onto the mattress. It creaked and sagged under his weight. Izzy pushed herself further back to be sure he would fit, and found herself rather comfortably pinned between him and the wall behind her, the blankets cushioning her against the cool stone.

  Owen let out a deep, content hum. "Oh, aye, tha' is much better. Ye've quite a lot o' warmth for someone so small."

  Izzy made no reply. Owen wriggled about for a few seconds until he was presumably comfortable enough to settle down. Izzy closed her eyes and tried to ignore how every part of her body that touched his burned with more than just body heat.

  "Ye kno'," Owen continued, "I'll be rightly sad t' see ye go. Cannae say why."

  "I will be as well," Izzy said honestly. "And I can't put a reason to it any more than you can." She took a deep breath. "I think, however, that it is you to blame, Mr. Chester."

  "Don' call me tha'," Owen said, not harshly. He moved his shoulders about. "Do ye speak true?"

  "I do," Izzy replied.

  She heard Owen scratch at his beard and wondered what it would feel like to kiss him and have it rub against her jaw, if it would be prickly and unpleasant or a gentle sort of scratching. It seemed Owen could read her mind as well, for he turned onto his side to face her. Izzy's eyes had long adjusted to the darkness, and the candle provided more than enough light for her to see his face. He raised a large hand and touched her cheek.

  "Has anyone ever told ye how beautiful ye are?" he asked.

  Izzy felt her breath leave her lungs. "Perhaps not in the same way you just have," she replied.

  Owen inched closer. He was naked, Izzy realized. Of course he was naked. She herself was only in her shift, and it was so thin she may as well have been wearing nothing. Any other man would have just kissed her, even Alan. Any other man would have simply taken what it was he wanted. But it was growing increasingly clear that Owen was not like any other man. There was almost not an inch of their bodies that wasn't touching, and it would be so ea
sy for him to simply take... but instead he asked.

  "I want t' kiss ye. May I?"

  His thumb touched her chin again, fingers splaying out along her cheek, just as gentle as all the other times he had done so. Far from what she had expected from a rugged Highlander. This time, he didn't move his hand away.

  Izzy nearly melted into him. "Please," she whispered, and was startled by how lost and breathless her voice was.

  Her permission given, Owen wasted no time in covering her mouth with his in a kiss that held more passion than all of her kisses with Alan wrapped up into one. The scratch of his beard against her was yet another reminder, as rough and brusque as she had hoped. Izzy's body arched along his until her front was pressed completely against his chest and legs. Though she and Alan had only coupled a handful of times, she was familiar with the workings of a man's body, yet in spite of what she thought she knew she was surprised to find that he was already hard and ready.

  “You--” she murmured, but her mind seemed far too concerned with driving a deep blush into her cheeks and chest to come up with anything more to say. It was almost embarrassing, but Owen’s lips moved wordlessly, and the heat spread into her stomach as she realized he was just as speechless as her.

  How long had he been wanting this? Wanting her? She leaned up, pressed a timid kiss to the corner of his mouth, and sighed against his cheek. Owen groaned, a husky, animal sound, almost of surrender.

  Any other man would have simply pressed his desire, but it seemed that Owen was more concerned with kissing her senseless than he was actually bedding her. Izzy wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and tugged him closer to her, losing herself in his passion. His hand touched her thigh and slowly dragged upwards, pulling her shift with it until it was bunched up above her hips and her sex was exposed to the heat of his body pressing against it. Together they twisted until she was on her back and Owen was poised above her, strong arms holding him up enough to allow her room to breathe. The aching that had started when she had watched him undress had only intensified. She spread her legs, shyly at first, then with a confidence as the cool air rushed across her centre, blending with the heat of her abundant arousal. How quickly his kisses had roused her passion! No man had ever woken such feelings in her, let alone so swiftly.

  Owen rubbed himself against her, but Izzy was so distracted by his kisses that she gasped in surprise when he easily slid his length inside her, nearly up to the hilt. He groaned, low and long, and immediately began to roll his hips in long, even thrusts with the ease of a man who knew how to properly make love to a woman.

  Izzy clutched at his broad shoulders and kissed wherever she could reach, sighs and moans of her own pleasure working their way out of her throat. It had never been like this with Alan. He would have already finished and rolled over and fallen asleep, leaving Izzy feeling dirty and unsatisfied. Owen was taking her in such a way that she could already feel her pleasure mounting and her peak drawing close, and she was almost embarrassed that she should finish before him, and would have tried to clamp down on it had he not whispered sweet nothings into her ear, gentle compliments and encouragements until there was no possible way that Izzy would be able to hold herself back.

  Her orgasm nearly completely blindsided her, and was so strong that for a few very long seconds she was unable to draw breath into her lungs. Owen thrust deep and stayed there, propped up fully on his arms so he could watch her, and his grey eyes were completely black when Izzy managed to open her own to meet his gaze. He kissed her desperately. She threaded her hands through his thick red hair, body shaking and trembling but still yearning for more. Owen happily obliged, and she peaked once more before Owen finished and slumped atop her in a sweaty heap.

  "Stay with me," he gasped by her ear. "Cannae bear th' though' o' ye leavin'."

  Izzy's heart raced, both from their coupling and from the decision he had suddenly thrust upon her. What would her family say if she decided to run off with a highlander? Would they disown her? Most likely, unless she managed to persuade them otherwise. Of course, they hadn't been overly thrilled about her marrying a military man either, and she had managed to convince them of the positives of that, though now she couldn't think of any. Then, did it truly matter what they thought? Plenty of people made their own way in the world without support from their families. Izzy even knew one such person from her schooldays who was happy as a clam living by the beach with a farmer and no contact with her family whatsoever.

  There would be no going back, no matter what she did, but the answer was clear and right. Izzy nuzzled her cheek against Owen's and brushed her lips over his strong jaw.

  "I will stay," she whispered, "if you give up this life, and come live with me in a house by the sea."

  Owen's answer was immediate. "Aye, I'll do it. For ye. I'll do it."

  Izzy turned his face towards her and kissed him, long and slow. His hips began to move again, his manhood still inside her. A groan slipped past her lips.

  "I must-compose a letter-" she gasped out as Owen roused himself and began kissing along her neck.

  "Time for tha' later," Owen growled with a grin, and Izzy could find no fault in his logic.

  ***

  While Owen prepared what they would need for the journey to Longtown, Izzy wrote out a letter to her parents so long her hand was cramped by the time she was finished. She sprinkled sand across the ink to dry it, then blew gently and carefully folded the paper.

  They left the house by the dawn's light, stopping at the stables to saddle his horse and pack the saddle bags before they trotted towards the mountains. A small note to Owen's companions, written in his own hand, had already been placed in plain sight. Their only other stop before leaving the little hamlet was to give Izzy's letter to a messenger, along with coin, and instructions to deliver it to the ransom spot. He bit the coin then mounted his shaggy pony and headed off, Izzy and Owen on his tail until the trail split and they turned south and east, towards the sea and their new life.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 27 of 40

  Eve’s Pleasure

  Eve heard the shout from the aft deck and looking over her shoulder she saw a man in the water. She pulled the throttle back and cranked the wheel to bring her boat sideways.

  “Keep station until I say otherwise and get the Coast Guard on the line!” she said to her ships mate. She jumped down the stairs from the upper deck and grabbing a life preserver ran to the port side where the client went overboard.

  “I heard a thump and when I turned around he was in the water,” said Mr. Langston.

  Eve made sure the line was coiled right and threw the life preserver out to the man floundering in the water. It landed right next to him and he reached for it and appeared to have it, but lost his grip. The man sank below the surface for a moment and then struggled back up. Eve felt a coldness in her stomach and she had to push back her fear. Then she saw a blood stain on the rail of the boat where he went over.

  “He is injured!” Eve turned back to her mate on the pilot’s deck.

  “Let the Coast Guard know the man in the water is injured!” she shouted. Katy had the radio to her mouth and waved in answer. Eve was wearing a bikini top and cut off shorts so she just climbed up on the railing and dove into the water. She swam quickly to the man as he sank below the surface again. She came up behind him, remembering her training. She lifted his head above water and he sputtered and gasped. She got a secure grip with one arm around his muscled chest. She could see blood in his blond hair along the temple. He began struggling in panic, as most people did in that position.

  “Easy Harden! I got you. Relax and let me get you to the boat!” Eve began back stroking with her free arm as Mr. Harden seemed to relax and she nodded to herself. He had good control. The man coughed and spat out the water he had swallowed, and soon they were at the side of her boat, Eve’s Pleasure. Eve hooked her free arm around a rung on the ladder that had been dropped over.

  “Above ya Capt
ain. Can you get him up higher? The Coast Guard is nearby and on the way,” Katy called down to her

  Eve brought her legs up to her chest so she could put her feet on the bottom rung of the ladder that was in the water. Once she was secure she straightened her legs, affectively picking Mr. Harden up and out of the water. Katy and Mr. Langston were reaching over and managed to get a grip on Harden. Eve had to re-position herself to get out of the way as they hauled the injured man back up to the deck. Eve scrambled up after him. Harden was laid out on the deck and Katy was bending over him. Pushing her long wet hair out of her eyes Eve moved toward them when she heard the blast of a ships horn. She turned and saw the Coast Guard coming near. She waved them in.

  Soon, the Coast Guard had a medic on board and Eve was standing back with Katy, Mr. Langston and the Captain of the Coast Guard cutter, Captain Gerald Manson.

  “Nice work Captain. The man owes you his life. How did he go over?” he asked.

  “I just heard a yell and he was in the water. There is blood on the railing and he has a gash on his head. I am not sure how he managed to hit his head with the railings as high as they are,” Eve told him. As if in answer to his question they heard Mr. Harden talking to the medic.

  “I made the mistake of trying to climb that thing while the boat was moving,” he said pointing to the Flag pole. There were steps on the side of it, but it was not supposed to be climbed when the boat was moving. Eve groaned and closed her eyes rubbing her temple.