In Love With A Warrior (Gunn Guardsman (Book 4))

by Griffin, Kara

  Emlyn leaned forward and took her pleasure. James enjoyed the sensuality of it, for she made him grit his teeth in sheer torture. He wanted to move and to show her how much she affected him, but he withstood doing so.

  When she slowed, he felt the pulses of her orgasm. He untied her tunic and exposed the sweet mound of her breast. His lips vied for nothing more than to taste her skin. James took the rosy mound into his mouth and thrust hard, meeting her woman’s essence.

  Emlyn tilted her head back and cried her desire to the night sky. He grasped her hair and kept her in that position, kissing her throat, and continued to pump into her until her cries lessened and she became limp in his arms.

  James was beyond pleased with the way she freely gave herself over to the bliss. He could do nothing more than join her. Driving into her, he met his own blissful end and shouted in besotted abandonment. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position, for he wasn’t wont to move ever.

  “God, how you please me, Emlyn.” He lay back on the high, soft grass, taking her with him. She cuddled beside him, her hand played over his chest.

  The night basked them in its obscure protection. He lay back, keeping her tucked securely next to him and watched the sky above. Contentment came over him, and he smiled to himself, for he hadn’t felt such ease for a long time. James realized she’d fallen asleep. He lightly brushed a kiss upon her lips. “And I hope I pleased you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emlyn awoke to a mist enshrouding her. Her garments dampened from the morning dew. When she opened her eyes, she found James staring at her. His dark eyes swept over her and he grinned.

  “You’re lovely when you sleep.”

  “You watched me?” Coyness came over her and she wasn’t used to feeling such a way. Emlyn sat up and noticed the sun fought with the clouds and tried to peek through. It would be of warmer temperature later when the sun won the battle.

  “Aye, and you only snore a wee bit.”

  She elbowed his side to which he grunted. “I do no such thing. We should return.”

  “Aye, we should.” He pulled a horn from his belt and uncapped it, and took a swig. After, he offered her some, and she drank a few sips. The ale was refreshing and tasted crisp on her tongue.

  Emlyn crawled on his lap when he sat up. Before he could speak, she kissed him, and when she pulled back, she looked into his eyes. Being close to him afforded her the opportunity to study him, not just how appealing he was, but gaze into his eyes and to see what kind of man lurked there. She noticed he didn’t look away but watched her in return. He was a mystery, for she couldn’t read anything in his gaze.

  “A truce then, between us? And aye, James, last eve you verily did please me.”

  “I should please ye again this morn, och there’s no time.” James laughed, and she felt the rumble of it through her body. He had a nice deep laugh. Emlyn touched his face, before moving off his lap. He helped her to rise.

  “I never doubted that I pleased ye, for you screamed your pleasure loud enough for all those in camp to hear you.”

  She punched his arm as hard as she could, but he didn’t flinch. “You speak a falsehood, for I did no such thing.” Her breeches lay next to her feet, and she bent to retrieve them and put them on.

  “The men will be waiting.”

  “Do you deem they heard us?” Her face heated.

  “Nay, I jest. We are far enough from camp. Come.” He took her hand and led her back to the encampment where indeed the men awaited them.

  Angry warriors’ stares met them from the laird and his personal guard. All the rest were gone. The army was nowhere to be seen. Emlyn became awkward in their presence, but she needed to put it aside as she’d be in their company for the next few days.

  “As much as it pleases ye to slumber the morn away, we need to be on our way.” Grey sat upon his horse and handed the reins of James’ horse to him. “I take it you made amends?”

  James flashed a grin. “I believe we did. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, Laird.”

  Colm rode forward and handed over the reins to a large brown horse with a white splash on his head. The animal seemed docile enough. Not that she was afeared of riding, but she hadn’t done so in a while. It was one of the things she’d conceded to of her mother’s rules and only rode when necessary.

  Emlyn found her satchel attached to the horse and took the bow from it. She set it over her shoulder and tied the bundle of arrows to the saddle. As an extra precaution, she attached the sheathed short sword to her belt and tucked the dagger Griffen had given her inside her tunic.

  “Are ye ready,” James asked with mirth in his eyes.

  “I am.” She rode next to him and remained silent for a few hours. This was as far from home as she’d ever been. She’d never been allowed to travel from her father’s land.

  The territory they traveled was beyond beautiful and as the golden glow of the sun streamed across the land, it lent a magical aura to it. Emlyn couldn’t believe how affected she was by the sight. They’d stopped only once throughout the day and the late afternoon began to heat the land. Emlyn became heated from the ride and warmth of the sun. She untied her tunic and rolled the sleeves as high as they would go.

  “We approach the border. We’ll need to be on guard.”

  She nodded and remained silent. Emlyn concentrated on the sounds around her, listening for any sign of danger. The closer they came to the border, the more anxious she grew. She hoped and prayed they were wrong and Marshall wouldn’t be waiting for them.

  They approached a thin copse of trees, and she saw light through the trunks. Their laird led the way, followed by Duff, Sean, and Kenneth. James rode behind her along with Colm. When they made it through the high sparse trunks, a whizzing sound came.

  Emlyn looked for the peril. A group of men came at them from the front as they cleared the trees. The guardsmen immediately took defensive positions around her.

  “Stay put. Do not interfere. I don’t want to worry for you,” James said, and dismounted.

  The rest of the men likewise jumped from their steeds and pulled their swords free, all but James and Sean who set their bows with arrows in a matter of seconds. She watched, completely enamored of their skill.

  Emlyn stayed on her horse and notched an arrow in her bow even though she’d likely miss the mark. The fighting began, and she looked on with bated breath. The fray became intense as the clash of their swords rang. James and Sean effectively took down four of the men with their arrows. Only eight more remained. She couldn’t get a target easily with the horse shifting upon its hooves, and she slid from her horse’s back and held the arrow with a tight grip.

  The guardsmen fought valiantly and tirelessly against the band of men. Emlyn wanted to assist and would have, but she would follow James’ order. She verily didn’t want him to be ireful with her again. The clash of their swords made it difficult though, and she wanted with all her heart to aid them. She walked in front of her horse wishing she didn’t have such honor to follow his dictate, for she wanted nothing more than to join the battle.

  Several of the band retreated to the nearby trees, and James turned and was walking toward her. Colm, Duff, Sean, and their laird, were in the midst of combating their foes.

  A man ran at James’ back. Emlyn pulled her bow free and hastily grabbed another arrow. She set it knowing she couldn’t reach James before his attacker did. She yelled to him, but he smiled at her and kept walking forward. Emlyn aimed and pulled the second arrow back as far as she could. She looked into the foe’s bedeviled eyes and saw his dagger move forward. He struck James in the back.

  She held her breath as she watched James fall. The arrow she released pierced the air with its shrill call. She hadn’t even realized she’d released it. The foe walked toward her, taking two steps, when her arrow struck his neck and he fell.

  Emlyn ran at break-neck speed to get to James’ side. He lay face down. She gripped the dagger and pulled it free of h
im and tossed it aside. Blood flowed from the wound and she looked around frantically trying to find something to help him.

  She ran back to her horse and pulled a tunic free and hastened back to him. With as much force as she could muster, she held the tunic against him, trying to stop the blood from seeping out. As she did so, she noticed James didn’t stir. His eyes remained closed.

  “Damn you, James. Don’t you die on me.” Emlyn didn’t know how long she sat there, but the sky dimmed and a quiet stilled everything around her. She looked about and found his comrades kneeling next to her.

  “He’s gone. I know he is,” her voice lowered to a deep pitch.

  Sean moved her out of the way with a gentle hand and lifted the tunic. “It’s not as grave as you deem, milady, for him to die.”

  “He breathes,” Colm said, “for the grass moves beneath his nose.”

  A great relief came over her and rushed out in a sigh. “Who knows how to heal?” Her question went unanswered. “None of you know how to heal?”

  Kenneth touched her shoulder, his voice sympathetic. “He is the healer.”

  Emlyn scowled and shook her head. He’d never mentioned that he knew of such matters or had such skill. “We need to get him away from here.”

  “I agree,” Laird Gunn said. “Kenneth, carry him upon your horse. We’ll find a safe place to camp for the night and tend to James.”

  Emlyn retrieved her horse and held the reins of James’ until Colm came and took them from her. His horse tried to bite her shoulder and was of an ornery nature.

  “He don’t like anyone but James,” he said, with amusement.

  As soon as Kenneth placed James on his horse, they set off. Emlyn trailed behind him and worried the entire way. Colm rode next to her and kept James’ horse on the other side, far enough away from his.

  “Worry not, he’ll be well. James wouldn’t dare die on us.”

  “You speak as though he has a choice in the matter.”

  Their laird led them over an open expanse of a field to a hillier terrain. Once they passed the hills, they reached the woods and night had fallen.

  She sidled next to Kenneth. “How is he?”

  “He groaned a few times. I deem he’ll be well once we can lay him down and tend to the wound. Appears he hit his head when he fell, for there’s a good-sized bump there.” Kenneth continued to keep a hand fastened to James’ tunic so he wouldn’t fall off his horse.

  “How much further?” she asked the laird.

  “Just ahead. There’s a stream. We’ll stop there for the night.”

  Emlyn was ready to fall from her horse as exhaustion began to wear on her. She couldn’t wait until they stopped. Not only to ensure James would be well, but because she needed rest. The sound of water came, and she was happy they’d reached the stream. She slid from her horse and took her satchel. By the time she reached James’ side, he was placed on a tartan, face down. His tunic was ripped away and Kenneth knelt next to him, studying the gash.

  “James, open your eyes. Look at me.” He didn’t respond to her pleas. Emlyn grabbed his tunic and used her dagger to cut it into smaller pieces.

  Sean made a fire and Kenneth set a small cauldron over it. When it was warm enough, she set a piece of the cloth in it and used it to clean James’ wound.

  “What’d you do that for?”

  She glanced at Sean. “I’m cleaning the wound. Is that not what the water is for?”

  “Nay, it’s for our supper. Now I’ll have to start over.” He scoffed and dumped the caldron and set off to refill it.

  When he returned, Emlyn scowled, for they were the least caring men she’d ever met. “How can you be so unfeeling?”

  “Me unfeeling? James knows I follow the directions our cook gave me when I’m making supper. I don’t stray from her instructions. Now I have to start over …”

  Sean baffled her, and she couldn’t help smiling at him.

  “Besides, milady, his injury is not grave. He’ll come to when he’s ready.”

  Emlyn continued to clean the wound and when she finished, she placed one of the dry pieces of the tunic over it. Colm tried to hand her a bowl, but she refused it.

  How they could eat at time like this was beyond her. Emlyn rummaged through her satchel and saw a gown in it, one she hadn’t brought along. She pondered briefly how it had gotten there, but was in a hurry to find her extra tunic to place on James, knowing he would need it. The darker it got, the colder it became.

  She found the small container of Pair Dadeni water and wondered if it would work.

  “What have you there?” Kenneth asked.

  “Water from the cauldron of rebirth. It is known to be healing.” Emlyn poured most of it over James’ wound, but decided he may have a need of it all. She dumped the remaining liquid on the bump on his head, and heard him groan.

  “See, milady, he lives,” Colm said, while continuing to eat.

  Emlyn pulled her cloak around her shoulders and lay next to James. She watched his face for any sign that he’d awakened, but he showed none. He looked beautiful and peaceful in his sleep, and if she didn’t have four hardened warriors staring at her, she would’ve kissed him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  James blinked and tried to remember what happened to him. He felt warm and comfortable. When he was able to focus his eyes, he noticed Emlyn beside him. She slept soundly with her lovely lips parted. How he wanted to kiss her, but she was too far from him and he was hesitant to move. A small pain stitched his back and his head hurt a wee bit, but otherwise, he didn’t notice anything else wrong with him.

  He remembered falling, and something sticking him, but nothing else. He had no idea how he got to where he was, but his comrades lay around him. James realized he wasn’t dead. Someone definitely tried to kill him during the attack, but the last thing he recalled seeing was Emlyn looking oddly at him.

  He rolled on to his side and pulled the cloak off him and set it over Emlyn. He smiled to himself, knowing the cloak was hers.

  “She cares about me.”

  “What did ye say? What has you smiling so early in the morn. You detest the morn.” Kenneth knelt next to him and handed a horn to him.

  “My thanks,” he said and drank down the ale and handed the horn back. “I said … never ye mind. What is on my back?”

  “Milady tried to patch you up. She put a piece of your tunic over the wound.”

  “She cut my tunic? It was my favorite one. Damnation,” he said with disgruntlement. “Remove it, will you?”

  Kenneth did as he bade and pulled it off.

  “She had ye dead and buried for all her worrying,” Colm said.

  “Women are funny that way,” Grey said.

  “She tended ye and even though we told her you would survive, she continued her ministrations,” Kenneth said, and tried to hand him a hunk of bread.

  James refused it. He was surprised to learn of her concern for him. The warrior in her gave over to the tenderness of her feminine side. She was beginning to soften toward him. That made him grin and when his comrades gave him odd looks, he suppressed his smile.

  “She killed the man who struck you,” Duff said.

  “I’m not surprised to hear that.”

  “Surprised to hear what?” Emlyn rolled to her side and watched him.

  “To hear that I was struck.”

  “Are you well enough to ride?” Grey asked.

  “Aye, I deem so.” James stood, and didn’t feel the least bit weakened by the ordeal. He found the tunic he wore a wee bit tight. With a click to his tongue, he called forth his horse.

  The beast came trotting toward him at a break-neck speed. James met him before he trampled near the fire and snatched his reins to get him to stop. He petted him and pulled his bag from the saddle. At the bottom, he found a tunic and he set about the replacing the one he wore. He had a little trouble removing it and Emlyn stepped toward him and assisted.

  Her fingers felt warm and tender against h
is chest as she slid the fabric over his head. She inspected his wound before tugging another tunic over his back. He handed her the tunic she’d lent him.

  “It appears to be healing and is not bleeding. It could use a stitch.”

  “It was but a scratch and nothing to worry over.”

  “It is more than a scratch, James.” She bunched up the old tunic, she’d taken from him and went to retrieve the rest of her belongings from the tartan on the ground.

  James helped his comrades pack up the camp by taking up several tartans, and stood awaiting everyone. As soon as they were ready, he mounted his horse, and they headed toward home.

  He stayed next to Emlyn during the day’s trek. For several hours they all remained quiet, but then James broke the silence. “I need to give you my thanks.”

  She glanced at him and then returned her gaze ahead. “For what?”

  “For tending my wound. It hurts nary as much since you cared for it.”

  “You would’ve done the same for me, for they told me you are a healer.”

  “Aye, I’ve been tending my comrades’ wounds since we were lads.” James didn’t like admitting that, for they were the only people he’d ever ministered. If word got out at home that he had such a skill, his day would be filled with many clansmen and women wanting care. He only dabbled in medicinals and wasn’t wont to spend all day at it, especially given he had guardsman duties to see to.

  “You’ve known each other that long?”

  “Longer. We trained together. Grey hand-picked us to be his guard when he became laird of the clan, but we were close even before then.”

  “It must be reassuring to have such friendships.” She kept her gaze ahead.

  “Aye, we’re more akin to brothers.” James slowed his pace so they lagged behind the others. He rode as close to her as he could get. “Duff is unyielding, but deep inside he has a heart of kindness. Don’t tell him I said as much, for he would grumble about it. He doesn’t take to jesting well.”