She raised her eyebrows, but took it from his hand. He watched as her small, perfect teeth bit into it, and the rather surprised look crossed her face.
“It’s not bad,” she said, and he let out a bit of a laugh.
“No, not bad at all.”
“Tell me more of your family,” she said, sitting in one of the two roughly hewn wooden chairs around the small table.
“My family? I believe you came to know them fairly well,” he said, taking the chair across from her.
“Yes, but I’m curious of the roles you each have. What do you do most of the day? I know Finlay is the chieftain, but what of Roderick? Your father?”
He nodded contemplatively then told her about the affable Callum, who had traveled and stayed in the Northwest Territories, of Finlay and Kyla’s marriage, which brought the clans together, and of the great Duncan McDougall, who all respected. He told her of Roderick, his charm and free spirit, and what their various roles were in their home and the community.
“It’s changed somewhat, now that we have tourists,” he said. “We never had the Lowlanders or the English on these lands before, but we do what we must to survive.”
“That’s why you begrudge us,” she said. “Because you would prefer we were not here at all. These are your lands, and you invite us here not out of welcome, but desperation.”
“I suppose you could look at it like that,” he replied.
“You’re not at all like I thought you would be,” she said, looking down at her hands, which twisted the plaid she wore round in her fingers.
“Oh? You had thought I would be something else?”
“Not you specifically, but Highlanders in general,” she said. “Scotland is becoming more and more… fashionable, I suppose you could say. In England, what with the Queen’s interest in Balmoral and your traditions. And yet, the Highlanders are still often romanticized, if you will. You are still seen as the people you likely once were centuries ago, and not who you are today. Does that make sense?”
“Indeed it does,” he responded with a sigh. “Some are content with that. But not me. We’re proud of our traditions, but we also want to be recognized for who we truly are.”
“That makes sense to me,” she said, standing and walking over to him, before surprising him by kneeling in front of him.
“I shall forever be glad to have met you and your family,” she said. “I never thought… I never truly understood, I suppose, how a family should and could behave. I will always remember you and your support of one another, and I shall strive to emulate it for as long as I live.”
She looked up at him, her eyes earnest, and he wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. He could see each and every freckle on her nose, and he longed to trace them with his fingertips.
Leave her be, he told himself, and he leaned back, away from her. She persisted, however, and the next thing he knew, she stood up and leaned against him, her lips on his, his hands on her waist, and his thoughts were swept away by the softness of the woman in his arms.
15
Rachel could barely breathe, could hardly think straight, as her senses were so overwhelmed by the man who held her against him. She could feel every inch of hard, thick muscle pressed against her body beneath the fabric of the plaid wrapped around her.
He pulled back from her for a moment, and she felt his absence keenly. He looked at her searchingly, as if trying to read what she was thinking. “You’re not much experienced in the way of kissing, are ye, lass?”
Heat flushed her cheeks as she was overcome by embarrassment, and she tried to pull away, out of his arms.
“I — no, but I thought — I mean, you kissed me before, and I — if it’s not what you want, then… then I—”
“Rachel,” he said softly, putting a hand on her arm gently. “’Tis not it at all. In fact, I rather appreciate you putting so much trust in me. You simply don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
She raised her eyes to his.
“What do you mean?”
“You make me feel things with an intensity that I would not have thought possible with any woman, let alone an Englishwoman,” he said, lifting a palm to gently cup her cheek. “I want to kiss ye again, but I’m afraid to do so.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of what it might lead to. This shouldn’t be. You and I can never be, really. And yet… I dinna want to think of any other man showing you how to kiss.”
He pulled her close once more, his long fingers running up and down her spine, his gaze dropping to her lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward him, her body sinking into his. Her hands moved of their own accord, over his bare biceps and up his shoulders until her fingers were twined in his dark straight locks, as his lips came to rest on hers once again.
Rachel had been raised by governesses who she had nagged to tell her about the workings of love and relations between man and woman, but none had been overly informative. She now realized, however, that words could not accurately describe the desire that coursed through her bones, that made her legs lose their strength, and filled her senses with the masculine scents of pine and wood shavings that radiated off Adam. All she could hear was the slight patter of the rain outside, which seemed to echo the fast beat of her heart, and the fire that coursed over her skin where Adam touched her.
Adam was always so serious, so solemn, which in this moment was a blessing as he held and caressed her in a way that was full of both purpose and passion. His strong hands seemed to engulf her back where they roamed over her, holding her tightly. Somehow this kiss seemed to be much different than the one they had shared earlier.
Adam pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as his lips moved but a breath away. “Rachel, I should not want you, and yet… I canna seem to help myself.”
She could hear the raggedness of his breathing, which now seemed to match her own. “I feel the same,” she whispered back, surprising herself with the words. She knew she shouldn’t say them to him, shouldn’t want him as she did. She didn’t know what was to become of her in the future, but if she were to make her living as a working woman, she may never have the opportunity to find love. Why, then, could she not have this one experience with a man? She was in the middle of the woodland in the Scottish Highlands. No one would ever have to know, except her and Adam.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes darkening yet holding a look of worry as he seemed to search her face to determine what she was feeling. “I refuse to push anything upon you that ye dinna want.”
“I am more sure of this than I have ever been of anything in my life,” she said.
His lips came down on hers again, and this time his tongue met hers in a tangled love play that she felt tingle through her body all the way down to the tips of her toes. He lifted her then, carrying her over to the small cot, where he sat down, pulling her legs around him. He deftly untied the plaid that had taken her so long to correctly fasten, and pushed the material down, exposing her bare skin beneath. She felt rather wicked, not wearing her chemise, but it had been far too soaked to keep on beneath the plaid. Adam certainly didn’t seem to mind, as he ran his calloused hands over the soft skin of her shoulder and collarbone, before trailing them down her chest to cup her breasts.
His lips left her then, coming to the side of her neck, where he began to nibble on one of the most sensitive of areas, one she didn’t even know was there. It was both utter torture yet pure bliss, and she tilted her head to the other side to allow him better access.
As one hand held her upright, the other played with her nipple, and he kissed his way down her neck, her chest, until he came to her exposed breast. His tongue found it, and she heard a moan echo around the room, which she belatedly realized she had emitted herself. As he moved to attend to the other side, she looked down to see one of her hands still gripping tightly to his hair, the other digging into the flesh of his upper back above the plaid. He didn’t seem to mind in the least,
however, though she didn’t feel she could take any more of this. She wanted — needed — more, though she wasn’t sure what it was she was searching for.
“Adam,” she cried out, and he gave a slight growl in return. His hands came to her unbound, wet hair, which now hung loosely around her shoulders. He found her lips again, his tongue plundering her over and over, until she was nearly limp with wanting him.
Adam stood then, shifting her so that she had no choice but to stand on her own two feet for a moment, just long enough for him to undo his kilt and lay it on the small cot. She opened her eyes then, and saw his figure highlighted from the glow cast by the fire. His skin was tanned from all of the time spent outdoors, emphasizing the lean muscles that corded his arms, chest, and abdomen. Before he could move, she was reaching out to feel the hardness of him, until she caught him looking at her with such intensity that she took her hand back.
“No, no,” he said, as sweat formed on his upper lip. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”
She hadn’t looked below his waist — she was nervous, and when she finally steeled her resolve and lowered her eyes, she had to gasp. She was not quite sure how this was going to work, if it would at all. He seemed to read her unease, as he brought a finger to her chin and tilted her face up to look into his eyes.
“What you’re doing to me… rather frightens me, if ye must now the truth,” he said with a bit of a chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I — I’m not sure this is right. You’ve never been with a man, and I—”
“I want nothing more right now than you,” she said with affirmation, and pulled him back toward her, this time being the aggressor, kissing him soundly as she wrapped her arms around him. As she did so, the plaid that had still been loosely surrounding her fell to the floor, and she could feel the length of him against her, pressing against her core.
As he kissed her, he brought her down on the small cot, and his hand roamed between their bodies until he found her center, his thumb rubbing against her, creating sensations she would never have thought possible. She cried out then, arching up toward him, and he accepted her invitation as he slowly sheathed himself inside of her.
She cried out, but then as she adjusted to him, she began to move against him, slowly at first, but then with a quickening pace, and he rocked with her, at first in a disjointed pattern, but they soon found a smoother rhythm. As she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, she was lost in the sensations flooding through her. When he lowered his head to kiss her again, he nibbled on her bottom lip, and it was that action that sent her over the edge. She could no longer think, but felt pressure building up before it burst into vibrations that were sent throughout her body. Together they both cried out, and as she lay back down on the bed, he collapsed against her.
She felt the sweat on her brow, the dampness between her legs, and she knew, with all certainty, that she would never be the same again.
“Are you all right, lass?” came the husky voice above her, one that nearly sent her reeling once more.
“I am more than all right,” she replied, realizing how true her words were. “I have never in my life felt so… alive.”
He chuckled with a grin. “I understand, lass, more than you know.”
“Is this what it’s always like?” she asked, staring up at him, seeing his dark eyes dart from one side of the room to the other.
“I, ah, I wouldn’t know,” he said, pushing himself up from her and covering her with the plaid he lifted from where it fell on the floor.
“What do you mean?” she asked quizzically. “I am wondering — is it different than with… with other women?”
He cleared his throat, seeming somewhat embarrassed. “That’s what I mean,” he said. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh!” she said with a start. “You mean you — that is, I — you…”
“Aye, that was as much my first time as yours, lass,” he said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed and gazing into the flames that licked the small stove.
“But how can that be?” she asked incredulously. “A man like you—”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, turning toward her now.
“I mean, a man that is so….”
“So what?” he asked, and as she took in his slight grin, she realized he was teasing her.
“Umm… good looking. Masculine. Charming — when you want to be,” she said with a smile, though she was still very much surprised. It was not at all what she had expected, and yet Adam seemed the kind of man to think things through, and perhaps he had always just thought too long and never taken the action required.
That he should choose her, though, for his first time, meant a lot to her, more than she could likely ever show or tell him.
“Thank you,” she said, leaning over toward him and holding her palm against his warm cheek. Their eyes met and held, until finally a bird’s call broke the silence around them, and Rachel realized she could no longer hear the pattern of the rain.
Gathering the plaid around her, she ran to the door and took a quick look outside. The storm had passed, and in its place was the gentle stillness that so often followed a rain shower. She looked up and saw color shoot across the sky, and smiled in awe.
“Come, Adam,” she said, turning to see him retying his kilt. “It’s beautiful.”
He came up behind her, his solid body at her back as he took in the scene before him.
“Nearly as beautiful as you,” he said, running his fingers along her arm, and she sighed contentedly as she leaned back into him. This had been the most wonderful afternoon of her entire life, and she vowed she would never, ever forget it.
16
It had been everything he could have wanted and yet nothing he would have ever known to ask for.
After the storm had quieted, they had remained in the cabin for a time, until Rachel’s clothing had dried enough that she could dress. Yet, still, the air had somewhat cooled with the storm, and Adam saw her shiver in spite of the sun that was now visible in the late afternoon sky. After helping her onto her horse, he made sure the plaid was wrapped tightly around her, and with a smile he left her and mounted Sloane.
As they made their way, now at a slow trot, the remaining distance to Darfield, Adam’s thoughts raced. Rachel was such a contradiction. She was small, yet so strong. She loved her pretty dresses and fine things, and yet she wanted to know more about how things worked and seemed to be determined to support herself if she must. She loved the affection of others, and yet seemed to be so alone in her world.
And after everything, he kept asking himself — what was he to do about her now? He had never felt this way about a woman before. There had been women interested in him, of course, from the village or from nearby towns. He had been to some of the big cities, but the women there held no attraction for him. They were too pretentious, too concerned with their place in society. When Adam invested himself in something, be it an invention, a project, or, now, a woman — he did not take it lightly. Everything he did, he put all of his time and effort into, and this was no different.
Except usually he planned so carefully, and with Rachel… with Rachel it had been so unexpected. He had allowed his emotions to control him, from the first time they had met. And without a plan, he now felt somewhat adrift.
“Adam?” he heard Rachel call out to him, and he realized it had been some time since they had spoken, as Darfield was already in sight.
“Aye?” he replied, looking back at her.
“You’ve been… quiet. I mean, I know that is normal for you, but at the same time I just wanted to make sure everything was all right?” She spoke softly, with hesitation, and Adam realized she likely had been questioning herself to the same extent as he was, if not more so. He cursed. He should have been more understanding, more reassuring following their time together in the cabin.
“All is fine,” he said, trying to flash what he hoped was a reassuring smile back at her. “How do you feel? I didna hurt
your leg at all, did I?”
“I feel just fine,” she answered, though he could see the bright blush creep up her cheeks. “Physically, I mean, more than fine. However, I do feel somewhat… confused. What becomes of us now? What happens from here?”
He reined in his horse so that they were side by side, allowing him to look at her, truly look at her, while they spoke. He took in the crystal blue of her eyes, which were now wide and searching, as if she expected him to hold the answers to all of the questions that now plagued her.
“Do you think your father would allow you to stay here? If you should want to, that is? I know you talked about working, and if you stayed here — with us, with me — there would certainly be work, though perhaps not exactly what you had in mind.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, and he swallowed hard. What was he saying? Was he actually asking her to stay here with him — to marry him? For that’s what it would mean, of course, were she to stay in the Highlands because of him.
“I — I suppose I am asking you to—”
“Rachel!” The voice cut through the trees around them, causing them both to jump. They had been so intent on one another and their conversation that they had not heard the horse approaching.
“Darling, I have been ever so worried about you!” It was Vincent Thompson, damn the man. If there were anyone he wanted nowhere near the two of them in this moment, it was this man. And yet, here he was.
“Vincent,” she said, nodding her head at him as he rode up and stopped shortly in front of them. “You needn’t have worried. I was in good hands.” She smiled at Adam, and he thought he felt his heart stop beating for just a moment. What was wrong with him? Never would he have thought that a woman could have this sort of effect on him, especially an Englishwoman. His brother Callum had married an Englishwoman and they had all thought him slightly mad. Now here he was, pining over one himself.
“We knew you were to arrive today, and then the storm blew through. We were worried, and I told your father I would ride out to see to your safety,” he said, as he pulled the reins to lead his horse around so that he came between Adam and Rachel.
Adam's Call (The Victorian Highlanders Book 3) Page 10