It was as Elspeth spread a little of her salve on Annie’s arms that she knew Cormac was there watching her. Annie glanced toward the kitchen door, then gave Elspeth a look full of laughter. Elspeth chanced a glance at Cormac and had to bite back a grin. He stood in the rear door of the inn, staring at her in dismay and anger, his fists on his hips. She wondered if he would have the audacity to try to fulfill his plans and almost wanted to dare him to try. Elspeth knew it would serve no purpose, would even make her road harder, but she ached to have a confrontation with him. She turned her attention back to Annie, suggesting yet again that she watch her reaction to things, particularly to several foods that Elspeth knew other people had problems with.
Cormac cursed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Elspeth chat amiably with the tavern maid he had intended to make use of. After the man called Old George had assured him that Annie would soon join him, he had sat drinking his ale and convincing himself, yet again, that this was what he wanted and needed. A quick sighting of the fair-haired, fulsome maid had encouraged Cormac. He felt sure he would have no trouble bedding her. When the woman disappeared and did not return, Cormac’s patience had waned. He could not leave Elspeth waiting for hours. Ignoring Old George’s sputtered protests, Cormac had decided to look for the maid. Never had he thought he would find her visiting with the very woman who tormented him so. It was enough to make a grown man want to scream and bang his head against a hard wall until the confusion passed.
For a brief moment, Cormac contemplated marching over there, grabbing the buxom Annie by the hand, and dragging her off. He even imagined himself haughtily telling Elspeth to wait. If he found an hour or two was not enough, she could get herself a room and he would see her in the morning. It would serve the woman right for daring to interfere in a man’s business, and he felt sure that she had interfered. She might even feel it was such a slap in the face that she would no longer look at him in that longing way that set his blood afire and scattered his wits.
Then he sighed and slumped against the wall. He could not do it. It had felt awkward enough to leave her waiting outside of the tavern with weak, muttered excuses about needing some ale and the tavern being no place for a woman. Cormac had been able to see in her expression that Elspeth had not believed a word he had said. Discretion had not eased his odd sense of guilt and hesitation. He doubted bluntness would, either. And despite the sharp ache in his loins, he really did not want to argue over his right to bed a tavern maid.
Resigning himself to aching with a constantly inspired but never satisfied lust, he straightened up and walked over to Elspeth. There would be other tavern maids between here and the king’s court. But now that he had dragged his wits out of his breeches long enough to think clearly, he recognized that it had been careless to leave Elspeth alone. There had been no sign of Sir Colin, but that did not mean that the man was not pursuing them. Two, possibly three, men had already died because of Sir Colin’s lust for Elspeth. Cormac sincerely doubted that the man had given up.
“Shall we go?” he asked, glancing briefly at the rash on the maid that Elspeth was gently treating and wondering if he had actually been saved by Elspeth’s interference.
“All done drinking your ale?” Elspeth asked sweetly as she placed the pot of salve in Annie’s hand and gathered up the rest of her things.
“Aye.” Cormac did not believe her pose of sweet innocence at all.
“Weel, I am ready to ride on if ye are,” she said, but Cormac was already walking away. “Wheesht, he isnae going to be verra cheerful company for a while,” she muttered, then smiled crookedly when Annie laughed.
“True,” agreed Annie, “but he will be easier to woo into your arms, m’lady. I dinnae think I have e’er seen a mon strung so taut or lusting so bad for a lass.”
“He will have to get o’er his sulk first. I will tell my kinsmen about what a keen eye and ear ye have, Annie, and I think ye will see one soon.”
“Send Sir Payton.”
“Elspeth!” bellowed Cormac.
Although she shook her head and muttered about domineering men, making Annie giggle again, Elspeth hurried to follow Cormac. She had accomplished what she had set out to do. Cormac had not given away what she considered hers. She just wished she could find an easy, painless way to make Cormac see what she did: They were mates. However, if she had to tie up and hide away every whore and less than virtuous woman between them and the court to ensure his fidelity to her until he saw that truth, she would. Isabel was enough of a force to overcome. She needed no other impediments.
Chapter Four
Elspeth rolled her eyes as a grim-faced Cormac strode off to go hunting, and then she grabbed up her clothes. For two days she had endured Cormac’s strange moods and she was weary of them. She would wake up in the morning in his arms, the heat and need between them nearly blinding. He would kiss her and move his strong hands over her all too willing body. Then he would touch a part of her he had not touched before. She would start slightly, mostly from the power of the feeling that would surge through her. That would be just enough to make him shake his head as if to clear it; then he would pull away from her with an alacrity that was positively insulting. And he would stay as far away from her as he could for the rest of the day. She was surprised he still allowed her plea of fearing her nightmares to keep him curled up beside her at night.
It could not go on much longer, she mused as she got a piece of soap out of her bag. There were no more new places for him to touch. All she had to do was try to control her reactions to his intimate touches, to temper them, at least until there was no longer any chance of turning back. If he kept sending her into a fever and then stopping, it would not be him trying to drag some stranger to bed in the next village they reached. It was her maidenhead that truly held him back and she was beginning to think she was going to have to find someone to rid her of it. It was either that or slip into a madness born of continuous aching unfulfillment.
The little brook they had camped by twisted its way through the moors and forest on its slow journey to the next village. Elspeth followed it until she found a sheltered spot where the shrubs and trees gave her some covering to soothe her modesty, but allowed enough of a view that she should be able to see any danger if it approached. The water was probably cold, but she was in dire need of a bath. She also needed to wash most of her clothes.
After a final look around to be sure she was in private, she shed her clothes. The late summer sun was lovely and warm, but it only took one toe dipped into the water to tell her it would not be so pleasant. Elspeth grabbed her soap and one of her stockings to use as a cloth and plunged into the water. Her teeth clenched against a shocked screech as the cold water slapped her warm skin. She kept them clenched to keep them from chattering. Even as she washed her hair, then scrubbed herself, she did not think she had ever taken so swift a bath.
Once out of the unwelcoming water, Elspeth used her clothes to rub her hair dry enough so that it ceased to drip and rubbed her body dry with enough vigor to restore the flow of blood. Slipping on her chemise, she knelt by the water and washed out her clothes, letting the sun finish the work of warming and drying her. By the time she needed her clothes again they would be dry and, if she was very careful, not too badly wrinkled.
They would reach another village on the morrow, Elspeth thought, then cursed. There would probably be an inn or a tavern and another willing maid she would have to threaten. Yesterday had proven even a village was not needed, just a cottage with a lusty widow. That woman had required the glimpse of a knife to keep her roving eye and welcoming smile away from Cormac. It was turning into a strange game. He looked interested, she took away the source of his interest, and they moved on. She knew he was aware that she was doing or saying something to the women, and although he clearly did not like it, they never mentioned the matter.
It was also a hurtful game. There she was, warm and welcoming, all too embarrassingly eager to share his passion, ye
t he kept shoving her aside. Even though she understood what he was doing and why when he gave those women a warm smile, it was painful to watch. Elspeth knew that, at the moment, her greatest fear was that he would give his passion to some other woman before she had even had a chance to taste it.
Cormac stared blindly around the campsite and dropped the two rabbits he had caught and prepared on the ground. Elspeth was gone, but that was not what caused him to feel so panicked. There were many reasons for her to have wandered away from the camp. Her bag was gone as well, however.
Had she finally walked away, decided she would do better on her own? He would not blame her if she had. Traveling with a man who tried to ravish her every morning, then snapped at her or ignored her all day had to be driving her mad. It was certainly doing that to him. She could also have decided that she had had enough of seeing him sniffing after every other woman they met. Being knotted up with lust and unable to sate himself on the one who stirred it up was turning him into a blind, rutting beast. A tavern maid, a milkmaid, a widow—any woman other than a well-bred virgin who gave him the least hint of welcome. Such behavior had to have given Elspeth a complete disgust of him. In fact, the way he seemed so eager to bed down with any woman probably had her believing that the passion he had revealed to her was just common lust. She might even be ashamed of herself for responding to him as she did.
None of that was important, however. At least not as important as the fact that Sir Colin was after her, was even willing to kill to get his hands on her. It was not only Elspeth’s chastity at stake or the threat of a forced marriage to a man she loathed. The moment Sir Colin succeeded in wedding and bedding her against her will, the Murrays would be gathering men and arms. They might already be doing so. Her family and their allies would all be endangered as they fought to rescue her and avenge her as well as the men Sir Colin had murdered. Cormac knew how such a happening could devastate Elspeth, and because of what he owed her and her family, he had to do all in his power to stop it. That meant keeping Elspeth safe and close by his side until Sir Colin gave up or died.
Cormac mentally checked that all of his weapons were where they should be as he located Elspeth’s trail and followed it into the forest. He was not sure what he could do if she was determined to flee him. An apology for his behavior would probably help, but it would not be easy. What could he say? That he did not usually allow himself to be led around by his staff? That he did not usually act like a rutting swine willing to make a wellborn lass wait outside the door while he eased the ache in his groin on any woman willing to lie down for him?
And just what kept happening to those women? he wondered yet again. One minute they were smiling and swishing their hips in blatant invitation; the next they were like ice and a little frightened. Elspeth was doing something to make the women rescind their avid welcomes. Cormac did not like to think Elspeth was threatening the women. Yet one minute, that widow had been so eager she nearly had his breeches off him before he finished greeting her. Then, after he had gone off for a moment of privacy, he came back to utter rejection. Elspeth’s look of innocence might have been convincing if the widow had not kept glancing her way as if she expected to be murdered in her lonely bed. Just perhaps Elspeth owed him an apology as well. Reprehensible as his actions might be, she had no right to interfere.
When he finally saw Elspeth, he stopped short, then took several slow, very deep breaths to calm an instinctive flare of rage. He was out looking for her, worrying about her, and she was sunning herself on the riverbank. A quick glance at the array of clothing carefully hung from the branches told Cormac that she had not planned to flee, had just come to wash her clothes. The recollection of the panic he had felt troubled him. The fact that there had been no need for it annoyed him.
As he stepped closer to her, all his plans for scolding her about her recklessness and thoughlessness fled his mind. She lay on her back, her beautiful thick hair spread out around her to dry in the sun. Her lithe frame was clothed only in a thin linen chemise that reached to just below her knees. Despite his efforts to control himself, his gaze slid from her full breasts to her tiny waist. He paused to stare hungrily at the faintly visible shadow between her long slim legs. Even her feet were pretty, he thought dazedly as he silently knelt by her side.
Elspeth slowly opened her eyes and smiled at him and Cormac knew he had reached the end of his tether. “Ye look like a beautiful nymph who has crawled from the chill depths of the river to honor the sun with her presence.”
Her heart skipped alarmingly at the husky flattery, and she tried to dim the allure of the words by saying, “’Tis barely a brook.”
Cormac grinned as he unbuckled his sword, tossed it aside, then yanked off his boots. “Would ye belittle the first poetry this poor mon has e’er uttered?”
“Nay,” Elspeth whispered, praying that he was not about to give her yet another lesson in the torturous art of being aroused, then left unsatisfied as she welcomed him into her arms. “Was that what that was?”
“Aye, but I think ye may be the potion that can make this mon trill words as bonny as any minstrel has.”
He kissed her and she quickly wrapped her arms around him, wondering if this time she could hold him until they were both beyond reason. His kiss was slow and thorough yet there was a strong hint of desperation behind it. If he left her too soon this time, she was sure she would just roll over and weep.
“My bonny Elspeth,” he murmured against her throat as he unlaced her chemise, “ye should push me away.”
“Why? Ye always seem to manage that all on your own.”
“Nay, not this time.”
“Are ye sure?”
Cormac crouched over her as he eased her thin chemise off her shoulders and tugged it down to her waist. The sight of her full breasts, the rose-hued tips hard and beckoning, had him fighting to catch his breath. Her skin was smooth, unblemished cream and he licked his lips in anticipation of the taste of it. When he curved his hands around her breasts and lightly stroked the puckered nipples with his thumbs, she shuddered, her beautiful eyes darkening with her need.
“Oh, aye my green eyed temptress. This time only ye can stop this.”
Seeing the hungry way he stared at her breasts as he continued to taunt the aching tips with his fingers, she threaded her fingers through his hair and gently tugged him closer. “Then there will be nay stopping this time.”
He groaned with a mixture of resignation and delight as he dragged his tongue over her taut nipple and she caressed his ears with a soft gasp of pleasure. She tasted as sweet as he had known she would. When he drew that tip deep into his mouth and suckled, she cried out and clung to him. Cormac felt her passionate response in his very bones and wondered if he would have the strength to go slowly.
Elspeth was nearly desperate to touch him, to be rid of the clothes that hid his flesh from her hands and lips. She cursed her fingers, which proved strangely clumsy as she struggled to unlace his doublet. A soft sound of relief and encouragement escaped her when Cormac paused in his delicious assault on her breasts to help her.
With so many males in her family, Elspeth was no stranger to what a man’s body looked like. When Cormac shed the last of his clothes, she studied him with eyes gone wide with admiration. He was all lean, hard muscle. Broad shoulders, a flat, hard stomach, trim hips, and long, well-formed legs—all warranted her attention and admiration. His skin was smooth and glowed with health, a creamy, lightly golden tone that begged for her touch. A thin arrow of reddish brown hair began just below his navel, blossomed around his rather impressive endowments, and lightly dusted his strong legs. It was no wonder Isabel clung to him so tenaciously, she thought, shifting her body so that he could finish removing her chemise.
“Ye are so beautiful,” she whispered, reaching out to trail her fingers down his chest and over his stomach.
“Strange lass,” he said, the wonder in his voice making the words an endearment. “’Tis ye who are beautiful.”
As he stared down at the slim beauty exposed to his view, Cormac wondered why he had not yet flung himself on top of her as every muscle in his body demanded. Her waist was so tiny he was not surprised to see that he could nearly span it with his hands. Her hips had a womanly flare to them despite her slender build. Her legs looked surprisingly long with a space at the top of her thighs that begged for a man. Her beautiful skin continued right on down to her adorable little toes. Cormac was not surprised to see his hand shake slightly as he reached out to gently caress the tidy vee of ebony curls that decorated her womanly secrets.
Slowly, he eased his body down on top of hers, echoing the faint shudder that rippled through her as their flesh met. Delight swept through him with such force he rested his forehead against hers as he battled the urge to immediately spill his seed.
“Oh, oh, my,” Elspeth gasped. “That feels so good.”
“Ah, lass, somehow the words are just inadequate. There simply are none to describe this pleasure.”
He slid his hand between her thighs and after just a few strokes of his long fingers, Elspeth doubted she could have found any words at all, even to describe the simplest of things. Cormac kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth even as he slid his finger inside of her body. Elspeth shivered and arched greedily into his hand.
“Cormac,” she said, her voice so thick and husky she was not sure her words were clear. “I ache.”
“Aye, angel, I ken the feeling weel,” he muttered against the hollow at the base of her throat.
“Then why are ye waiting?” She could feel her insides tighten as he continued to stroke her so intimately.
“Ye need to be ready. ’Tis your first time.”
Highland Vow Page 6