by Eliza Knight
“I will be thanking ye every day for the rest of my life.” And then she rolled herself up, turning away from him.
Roderick knew what she meant. That she would be grateful for a lifetime to him for saving her on the beach. But the part of him that felt that yearning, the empty part that begged to be filled, saw it another way. As in, him and her together for a lifetime.
He grimaced. What the bloody hell? How dare the inner part of himself even wish for such a thing? Marriage was not in the cards for him. Not now. If he couldn’t protect his sister, how was he to protect a wife? And one like Greer would be likely to put herself in danger daily.
He would not be the first laird to never marry. Would his clan understand that? That he was their leader, their protector, but that Jon would produce any heirs. Would they accept that? Could he?
Jon had loudly protested he didn’t want to be Roderick’s heir. Was it selfish of Roderick to even think of pushing something on his brother that he didn’t want? Roderick stomped to his post, relieving one of his men who reported that all was quiet. The others on duty were also released. He watched his men shifting around, those who’d been sleeping woke to take their positions, and those who’d been on watch settled on the ground to sleep until the next shift.
Guilt riddled Roderick. Neither he, nor Jon, had expected to become Laird MacCulloch. Roderick had hardly been a man when his father had had to forcefully take the position from his own brother. And his father had been in such fine health and vigor that Roderick had not expected to take up his own title for many years—possibly even when he was an old man himself.
At the sudden loss of his father, he’d barely been prepared for his new role. Aye, the men followed him because his father had allowed him to help in their training. But training men for defense was not the same as being a laird. A laird had to be diplomatic. A laird had to communicate with allies and enemies alike. A laird had to care for his clan, making certain all their basic needs were being met, in addition to protecting them from their enemies. He had to pass judgment on those who committed crimes, and do so in a way that did not alienate anyone. All through that, he was supposed to also wed, produce heirs, and protect his wife and children. He was supposed to mold his children into future warriors and caretakers, so that the MacCulloch line his father had fought to take would live on.
It was a lot for one man—and even more so to push it onto his brother, who adamantly didn’t want it.
Aye, he was being selfish where his brother was concerned. Roderick glanced toward the small lump on the ground that was Greer. Curled up on her side, her hair covered her face. Was she the answer to that? He’d thought she was years before. So, what if she’d thrown a spear at him? It had been an accident.
As if to remind him, the pain in his leg was suddenly sharp, and he rubbed it away.
Would she make a good wife? He was attracted to her, no doubt, but she was a troublemaker, too. Could he trust her to be the Lady of MacCulloch, mistress to his people? Was she ready to take on the responsibility of putting others first before her impulses?
That was a question he didn’t know the answer to. Greer was reckless, fearless. She’d leapt into a boat right before a storm. On one hand, he could see that being a good quality to have in a lady who would lead beside him. One had to be willing to take risks and show no fear. She’d throw her whole heart into protecting her people and make certain they were all well cared for. On the other hand, if she decided she wanted to toss herself off a cliff to see if she could fly, that would not be good for him or his people.
Reminding himself that Greer was not his sister was something he’d have to do often. She did not seem to have the tormented soul his sister had, but from what he’d learned in his thirty odd years of living was that those candles that burn the brightest often burned the fastest, leaving those who’d followed their light in the dark.
Gritting his teeth, Roderick turned away from her. His watch shift was going to be one hell of a long one if he kept his thoughts going on that course. He scanned the trees, searching for anything out of place.
Throughout the evening, the scouts had been going out one by one, returning with no news of anyone following, which was a surprise.
He felt for certain there would be an encounter with Ina Ross’s men. Either they truly weren’t being followed, or the Ross warriors were being very careful to remain hidden. With not having been hostile in over a decade, the Ross men had to be rusty, which made Roderick think maybe they just weren’t following.
That notion, of course, worried him more, because it meant that Ina might have issued an order for her men to attack more of his crofters, or even the castle itself now that he was gone.
Whenever he left his lands, he was agitated, antsy, and eager to return. He didn’t like leaving his brother, wanted to be there in case something happened. All the same, returning the lass did do away with two tasks at once, for he desperately needed to speak to the Sutherland.
Unintentionally, he glanced behind him where she slept. He was supposed to be ignoring her. She’d rolled over and was facing him now, though her eyes were closed. Moths flew over the light of the fire, one landing on the tip of Greer’s nose before she batted it away. The flames had gone low, and he wasn’t planning to rekindle it. The scent of smoke and the light put off by the fire were a dead giveaway to where they were, and in the dark, his enemies didn’t need the extra help.
If the night got a wee bit chillier than it was now, which was very likely, he’d have to make certain his charge was warm enough. It hadn’t been too long since she’d been near death, and with how exhausted she must be from their travels today, he imagined her body might rebel at having to warm itself up again so quickly.
Of course, his mind went immediately to warming her up with his body, and with that came many reminders of her silky skin, the roundness of her hips, the softness of her buttocks. So different from himself. The lass was exquisite, and he’d never even seen her naked, only felt. But he was certain if she were to stand before him right then and there in the moonlight without a stitch on, he’d know every dip and curve already.
Mo chreach! He was growing hard.
What he needed was a good fight to expend the energy that had been building since he’d lifted her up at the beach.
Roderick regarded the forest surroundings, forcing himself to discount the sounds of his men shifting about, the horses stomping or puffing their breath. In the woods, he made out the constant crackling sound of the grasshoppers, the chirping of bats, and the occasional sound of a fox pouncing on its prey. Occasionally, he could hear the smaller scurry of mice and squirrels, and the larger steps of game. Not once did he hear anything remotely human.
When his shift was up, he unpinned his plaid and rolled the extra long piece around himself to keep warm, and lay right beside Greer. He made sure not to get too close, but not be too far away, either. There was a hand’s breadth between them. Good enough. His job was to protect her, and maybe just being in proximity to her would help lend her some warmth.
Some time in the night, he woke to find her rear pressed hotly to his groin, and himself raging hard. His arm was draped over her waist, and hers was on top of that. Their legs entwined. As if in sleep, they couldn’t help but join together, their bodies fighting against what his mind had determined must be so.
Ballocks!
Carefully, he removed her arm from his, pulled away from her waist, and then worked to untangle their legs. She didn’t make a sound at first, but then she mumbled her protest. He stilled, waiting for her to wake, but she fell right back to sleep. Holding his breath, he went to work again until he was free. He shifted away from her and put two hands’ breadth between them. But to his surprise, she only came closer. Then he saw her teeth were chattering. Bloody hell, the sweet lass was freezing. He’d willingly provided her warmth in his sleep, only to shove her away when he woke.
Blast it, he was between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to war
m her, felt the inane urge to do so. To protect her. And yet at the same time, doing so made him want to bury himself deep inside her.
“Roll over,” he whispered to her.
At least if she were facing him, he wouldn’t have her lush arse against his cock.
Greer obeyed, rolling over to face him, and he pulled her against him and wrapped the blanket around them both. To keep her away from the turgid part of himself that threatened to ruin both their reputations, he bent a knee slightly over the other and tucked her legs overtop of his. As much as it helped, she was still close enough for it to be torture.
The lass sighed and snuggled closer, burying her frozen nose in the crook of his neck. Her hands were tucked up near her throat, thank goodness, for the last thing he needed was her roving to any of his warmer spots.
Roderick rubbed her back swiftly and with purpose until her teeth stopped chattering and it seemed she’d fallen back to into a deeper sleep. Well, at least one of them was going to get sleep this night. It wasn’t going to be him. Instead, he would be up all night thinking about the various ways he could make love to her.
Alas, sleep did eventually come to him, and when he woke with the dawn, he found her arse once more against his arousal.
Mo chreach…
He was a saint. He was pretty certain of it.
Before the lass woke to feel him hard against her, he climbed to his feet, glaring around the camp in hopes that no one could see just how hard he was. The entire front of his plaid was tented like he were a lad only just come into his own. He also prayed she didn’t wake, else she’d see him standing over her with the bloody erection. When he went to grab the other half of his plaid, he realized she was lying on it, burrowed deep into it.
This was not going to end well, he was fairly certain of it.
“Lass,” he murmured. “Let me have the plaid back. I’ll find ye another.”
“Nay, ’tis mine,” she murmured, burrowing deeper. “Ye canna have it.”
He narrowed his gaze. Had he heard correctly? Roderick gave the plaid a little tug, but she only clutched it tighter. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her if she didn’t give it back, he was going to thrash her hide.
The struggle went on for a few minutes until he bent back down and whispered in her ear. “If ye dinna give me back my plaid, I’ll be forced to unbelt it, and then I’ll be quite naked,” he exaggerated, for he’d still have on his shirt. However, with the spear jutting out of it, she was certain to get a scare. “Is that what ye want, lass? A naked Highlander beside ye?”
As he’d hoped, she gasped, and her eyes popped open to see him smiling quite confidently beside her—and thankfully, she did not stare at his groin.
“Nay! I dinna want ye naked beside me.”
“Ye’d not be the first lass who did. ’Tis nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Faster than he could blink, she’d unrolled herself from his plaid, and he quite happily pinned it back in place.
“Do ye want me to fetch ye another?” he asked.
“Nay. I need to…” She bit her lip, suddenly shy. Gingerly, she stood. She kept her gaze toward the ground, the other plaid she’d used as an extra blanket tucked around her shoulders. “I need to make use of the woods.”
“Come now, ye’ve not been shy before. I’ll escort ye to a private place.”
She neatly folded the extra plaid and then smoothed out her tousled hair.
He found it endearing. “Suits ye, lass, the tumbled look. Your hair knows quite well the disposition of its mistress.”
“Do nae think I’ve not heard that afore, Grim. My ma, da, and entire clan have been talking about me being a hellion since the day I was born.”
“And they must love ye for it.”
She smiled up at him. “I should hope. But I dinna pretend they wouldna wish for a calmer child. My younger sister Blair is quite calm. So I suppose they got their wish after all.”
“Dinna discount that some like an element of surprise.”
Greer snorted.
With a wink, Roderick took her hand in his and led her toward the wood. “I think I saw some berries back here last night. Want to pick some when ye finish your business?”
“Oh, aye! I love berries.”
“We’ll just have to make certain they are nae the poisonous kind.”
“I know which is which.” She nodded confidently.
“As do I.”
“Then we should be in good hands, aye?”
“Indeed.”
He left her at a thick tree and went in search of his own only a few feet away.
“Thank ye for keeping me warm last night,” she called from her place.
“I would not have ye freeze.” No lass, not even his sisters or his previous mistresses, had ever spoken to him while in the midst of relieving themselves. He didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned. He thought it was a good sign she was comfortable with him. He had, after all, told her he didn’t want her to feel shy about such things.
“I hope ye slept well.”
“Aye,” he lied with a smile on his face. Even though he’d hardly slept at all with desire tunneling through him, he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.
They met between the trees, and it seemed a transformation had come over her. Gone was the shy lass from the morning, replaced with the same vixen he’d been getting to know more over the past day than he had in the near fortnight he’d spent at Dunrobin before. There was a constant twinkle in her eye.
She was truly enchanting.
“Let’s find those berries. I’m starved.” She rubbed her hands together in glee, which made him laugh.
Roderick led her to the brambles full of berries, both black and red.
“Ah, we can eat these.” She pointed to a cluster of purple-blue berries climbing from the bushes. “Bilberries. Delicious.”
“Are ye certain?” He stepped closer, wary as she plucked several berries from their limbs. They did indeed look like bilberries.
“Why do ye nae try and see what ye think?” She held out her palm filled with several berries.
Roderick eyed them. “All right, but if I fall into convulsions, ’twill mean ye never make it home.”
Greer rocked on her heels, leaning toward him, taunting him. “And what if that was my plan all along, Sir Grim? To get ye out in the woods where I could poison ye with berries and finish the job I started with the spear…” She let out a haunting laugh that told him exactly how serious she was—which was not at all.
He plucked a berry from her palm, intent on playing this game out.
“I’ll tell ye what, Grim, I’ll eat one at the same time as ye, and then when your warriors find both our convulsing bodies, neither one of us will be blamed.”
“A test. I like it.” Roderick grinned and brought the berry close to his lips. “On the count of three?”
“Aye. One.” She brought the berry as close as he had. “Two.” She opened her perfectly shaped pink lips, making his mouth water, but not for the taste of a berry, but for her kiss, one he’d almost taken the evening before. “Three.” They both popped a berry into their mouths.
Chapter Nine
Sweetness burst onto Greer’s tongue, and with it, relief that she did not immediately die. She’d been pretty certain they were bilberries, but there was always the chance she was wrong and had confused deadly nightshade with an edible fruit.
“They are good,” she said, plucking several more and popping them into her mouth.
Roderick did the same. “Aye,” he spoke around a mouthful. “A sweet breakfast treat.”
“Ye sound surprised.” She stuffed another handful into her mouth.
Roderick shrugged. “I dinna normally go for berries.”
“Oh?”
“I much prefer a hearty meal.” He winked, sending a frisson of heat running through her. How could he make the idea of eating a meal sound so…sensual?
Greer’s face heated, and she turne
d slightly away, picking more berries in hopes he couldn’t see her cheeks growing redder. “So ye’d rather have had a stale bannock and dried leather?”
He chuckled. “Nay, I’d have rather had a fresh-baked scone, poached eggs, and bacon.”
Eggs… That sounded delicious. “I’d take the first two, along with a bowl full of berries and cream.”
“Berries and cream?” He, too, picked more, leaned his head back, and tossed them into his mouth.
Greer stared at him in shock. “Dinna tell me ye’ve never had berries and cream?”
“I’ll nae tell ye then, but let ye draw your own conclusions.”
“I canna believe it. We shall remedy this. Once we’re at Dunrobin, ye will have my mother’s fruit pasties and berries with cream.”
“A dream.” But then his eyes went wide and frantic as he searched her face.
“What?” she asked, her hand stilling near her mouth.
His mouth popped open, his tongue flapping out, and he gripped his neck, making a chocking sound. Within a breath, his face was turning pink, and then red.
“Grim!” Greer dropped her berries. “Are ye choking?”
He shook his head, pointed at his tongue, which was stained purple from the berries. Was it swollen? She couldn’t tell. What did he want her to see? She didn’t know.
“What?” Panic flooded her. Had she made a mistake? Were they indeed poisoned berries? Her hands came to her face as she racked her brain for options. Should she pound him on the back? Somehow figure out how to make him retch? “Oh, Heaven help us, I dinna know what to do!”
Then he chuckled, his hands falling from his neck. “I’m only teasing ye, lass.”
“That’s not funny.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “I thought ye were dying.”
“But ye said ye brought me out here to poison me. I thought it only fair I gave ye a wee bit of a fright, dinna ye?”
“Ye really are a brute. Death is never something to joke about.”
The laughter left his eyes, the muscle in the side of his jaw ticking. Was it something she’d said? Suddenly, Roderick looked as if he’d seen a ghost, or rather been reminded of one.