Highland Hellcat (2010) (18 page)

“It seems I have waited forever for ye to touch me.”

The skin of his neck was warm and soon chased the last of the chill from her fingers. She trembled because the touch felt more intimate than any she had shared with him.

“We have nae known one another very long, Connor,” she whispered, because the cell was so tiny that it made every sound louder and more noticeable. She heard his breath and could feel his heart beating beneath her forearms where they lay against his chest.

“And yet I discover that it seems like it has been a year since the last time I tasted yer kiss.”

Just the word “kiss” made her long for another one. Her heart accelerated with anticipation, while her body seemed no longer to feel the cold. The reason was Connor; he was warm and his embrace sheltering. The hand on her back gently smoothed from the center of her shoulder blades to her waist. Tiny ripples of delight spread out from the motion, and she shivered, her eyes closing so that she might become immersed in the sensations moving across her skin.

She felt his breath against her lips before he kissed her. A soft warning that sent a bolt of awareness through the delicate skin. The moment between when she felt that brush of warm air and the first touch of his mouth on hers felt like an hour. She quivered and stretched up onto her toes to gain what she desired.

The contact made her knees weak, but she forced them to support her, refusing to relinquish the kiss to her inability to endure the flood of delight flowing through her body.

And it was her kiss. Connor didn’t take command of it, only tilted his head so she could press her lips fully against his. She gripped his neck tighter so that she might deepen the kiss, allowing her lips to part and the tip of her tongue to tease his lower lip.

He shuddered and his chest rumbled with a low growl. He took command of the kiss, his mouth moving across hers in a steady motion that drew a small hum of enjoyment from her lips. That sensation flowed down her body, and she felt her nipples contracting behind the pair of gowns that she wore. She didn’t seem to be close enough to him, her body yearning to be pressed even tighter against him. The sturdy wool of his doublet frustrated her, and she pulled her hands down until she could unfasten the first button. It gave with a soft popping sound.

She pulled her head back and listened to the sound of her breathing. It was agitated, and her lips were wet from his kiss. She expected Connor to follow her, and his hand clasped her nape, but his fingers merely massaged the tense muscles. It was such a gentle motion but made it impossible to think. She didn’t want to anyway. She wanted to allow the delight to continue flowing and discover how much more intense it became. Her fingers could feel his warm skin hidden behind the doublet and shirt that he wore. She pushed them inside the opening, sighing when she was rewarded with a soft sound from his lips.

It was stunning how empowering that sound was. Deep inside her, a sense of confidence rose up she had never anticipated having or enjoying so much. She smoothed her hands up to his neck again, sliding her fingers along his skin and smiling when she felt him tip his head down so that she might reach all the way to where his hair began and even up into the silky strands.

“I enjoy yer hands on me, Brina.”

The tone of his voice left no doubt that he did. She shivered as she contemplated how to touch him. The desire to please him was growing strong, and along with it came a yearning to be stroked in return. Her nipples ached. They were hard points, but not because of the temperature. Both soft globes clamored for attention from his hands, and she found herself pressing up against him in an effort to gain that contact.

“But I confess that I want to return the favor and put mine on ye.”

She shivered in response to his words, her feet refusing to remain on her toes. She sank down, her hands gliding down across the wide planes of his chest.

“Tell me to touch ye, Brina. Tell me that ye crave it and that it is nae something forced upon ye.”

Her breath caught in her throat, betraying how much she enjoyed his request. He plucked one of her hands off his chest and turned it over so that the delicate skin of her inner wrist was facing up. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against it that unleashed such a wave of need, it made her gasp.

“Ye are nae forcing me…”

“Ah… but that isna telling me to touch ye, sweet lass.” He lifted his head, and the firelight bathed his features in scarlet and orange, making him look as barbaric as the stories of wintertime liked to paint ancient warriors.

She found him fascinating…

“I… do nae know what words to use…”

He drew in a stiff breath.

“So… ye tell me… Connor…” Her words were bold, but she felt desperate to continue.

“I enjoy the sound of my name on yer lips.” The husky tone of his voice made her shiver, but it also sent her lips curving with satisfaction.

“I want to cup yer breasts in my hands and glide my thumbs over those hard nipples that ye pressed against me. Tell me ye desire that.”

“Ye could feel my nipples?”

The last word came across her lips as a mere whisper, but he chuckled as he heard it.

“I can see them too, and the sight pleases me, Brina. I’ll no’ lie about that. I want to touch them and show ye how much ye’ll enjoy having my hands on ye.”

“But why have me tell ye to do it?”

He chuckled again and kissed her wrist once more. But then he opened his mouth and grazed her skin with his teeth, bestowing a gentle bite that made her jump.

“Maybe I’ve decided to listen to ye command me for a change.”

He reached out and captured her, though, picking her up and placing her where he had stood, which was farthest from the fire. Her skirts swirled around her ankles along with the fabric of the cloak, and she felt her eyes widen as she realized how close she had been standing to the flames.

“So ye want me to command ye, but only so far as it pleases ye to have me tell ye what I wish.”

He shrugged. “There are some things about me that ye shall just have to accept as my nature, lass. I’ll always look after yer well-being, but it’s harsh of ye to think unkindly of me for that.”

“I do nae think unkindly of ye.” The words were spoken before she thought about them. “That is no’ to say that I am complacent with this plan of yers.”

There was a soft chuckle from him that sounded very much like a promise.

“By complacent, do ye mean to tell me that ye are nae ready to submit yet, Brina? Be careful, lass. I do enjoy a challenge from time to time.”

One of the smaller pieces of wood broke and fell. Connor turned to make sure that it did not roll away from the corner where he’d built the fire. He reached out and began snapping the branch into pieces. Brina stared at the demonstration of strength in his hands.

And yet he’d been so tender when touching her…

“We need to conserve our body heat.”

He turned back to face her.

“Of course, that would be wise.”

His gaze studied her for a long moment, his expression giving her no hint as to what he was thinking about. Disappointment was lashing at her for starting a conversation that had interrupted their kissing.

The word “interrupted” sent heat into her cheeks, because thinking about it in those terms meant that they would be resuming their kissing at some point.

Her nipples tingled in response to that idea.

“There is really only one way to pass the night ahead, since there is snow falling.”

He reached up and untied the lace that held the pommel of his sword at his left shoulder. Once it was free, he unlatched his wide belt so that he could set the sword aside. He placed it against the ledge where the pallet had been. His plaid was loose now, but Brina ordered herself not to blush, because his shirt was long enough to cover him down to his thighs, and it was only logical that he would use the length of wool to wrap around himself.

But even with the fire, the night promised to be too cold for their location. Wind whipped in through the space that the door was open, and it ruffled her hems, making her shiver when it touched her ankles. There was a reason that raiding was a springtime event, and that was due to the deadly reality of being out in such weather.

“We’ll have to share our body heat if we plan to survive.”

Her eyes widened even as her mind confirmed that he spoke the truth. Bran had told her such once on an afternoon that seemed so very long ago. Families often huddled together in the winter for the same reason.

“Yes, I’ve heard that said.”

“Good.” He reached forward and unlatched the cloak where it was closed around her neck. The leather closure opened easily, and he lifted the cloak off her back. She felt it become loose instantly, her arms going around herself to keep as much heat as possible.

“It will be easier if I wear this and wrap it around you.”

His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in it. Connor had raised his plaid up to cover his head, and now the deep hood of the cloak rested on top of the Lindsey colors. He shook the heavy wool out before lying down on the hard stone bed the cell afforded them. The scarlet light from the fire bathed him, sending her heart beating at a near-frantic rate when he lifted his arms and the wool in invitation toward hers.

“Come here, Brina, and I’ll keep ye warm.”

***

Chattan Castle

“Ye frown too much for such a sweet-looking lass.”

Deirdre turned around and scowled when she discovered just how close she was to Quinton Cameron. The man was huge, and still she’d practically walked right into his chest where he was lurking in the shadows.

“That’s on account of the fact that I am nae sweet nor a lass any longer.”

The man emerged from the shadows concealing him, and a tingle went down her back. That little sensation annoyed her completely, for it was exactly the sort of thing that she loathed about her body now.

Her flesh had a weakness toward men that would be her downfall if she failed to quell it. The fact that she was more of a woman made her notice that he wasn’t looking at her with the sort of innocent knowledge he would have sent toward her sister Kaie. No, the man was interested in taking her back into the darkness for something that lasses had no knowledge of. Quinton Cameron was a fine example of what she liked, his body large and hard, but that was exactly the sort of trap that nature enjoyed seeing women fall into, a trap she would not fall prey to again.

“So go on with ye. I have nothing kind to say to ye.”

He chuckled at her insulting words.

“I agree. Ye are nae sweet, but that does no’ stop me from wondering if yer lips taste like honey. I’m no’ a lad interested in playing the games of youth.”

“Ye’ll never know—”

He sealed out the rest of her response with a kiss that was as hard as he was. His hands bound her against him, while her body twisted and strained to escape. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders but only gained a snort from him, which died when he renewed his assault on her mouth.

His kiss was hard but not brutal. Deirdre discovered that she knew the difference, thanks to Melor, and that renewed her determination to escape from Quinton’s embrace. She raised her knee, but this man was prepared for her attack. He turned her away from him so that her knee only struck air, and she was forced to stumble to regain her balance.

“Yer lips are sweet, but ye’re a hellion, and no mistake about it.”

Deirdre tossed her head to swing her hair behind her shoulders. “One with naught to offer ye, thanks to yer words to me father.”

Quinton’s eyebrow rose. “Oh, ye have something to offer me, lass.”

“No, I do nae, nor will I ever, for there is one blessing to no’ having a dowry, and that will ensure that I will nae have to suffer a man trying his hand at mastering me.”

Those words were torn from her soul, and she spit them out like the foulest of curses.

His eyes narrowed. “Be very careful, lass, for I am a man who does nae pass up a good challenge. Toss one at me, and ye might just discover how wrong ye can be proven.”

Deirdre hissed at him and propped her hands on her hips in defiance. Arrogance was rising off him so strongly, she was practically nauseated by it.

“I shall never lie with a man again. Ye are all the same with yer possessive nature toward women. I’ll go to the abbey in my sister’s place and right happily. I shall be glad to go where I will never have to tolerate a man’s touch again.”

She flounced down the passageway, never looking back at the man who watched her. Quinton Cameron didn’t sleep alone unless he wanted to or he was too busy to charm what he wanted from the lass of his choice. There were two maids in the kitchen who were sending him hopeful glances every time he entered the hall, which proved that he wouldn’t have to suffer a swollen cock tonight either.

But he was uninterested in anyone but the woman who had just cursed him and every other man. He chuckled because he’d insulted her as well, but he wasn’t too sure that Deirdre Chattan wouldn’t come to enjoy being known as a hellion, for she was no lass, but a woman who had grown past the need to have the world agree with her.

Quinton chuckled again because that was something they had in common. He might just tell her too, for the entertainment of watching what she made of it.

Aye, maybe he would.

***

Brina trembled.

She felt the vibration moving down her limbs, where her knees felt unsteady. Her mouth went dry, but her feet began moving before her muddled mind made any sense of the situation.

Of course there was nothing to do but go to Connor and allow him to wrap his body around hers.

Her belly twisted with anticipation, but something else made her blood move faster, and she realized that it was excitement.

It took her only another step to reach the ledge. She turned her back on him and sat down. She could feel the heat from his body before she was completely lying alongside him. He wrapped his arms around her, easing her back until she felt him touching her from her toes to her head, the heavy wool of the cloak closing around her to seal the heat from his body next to her own. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, so similar to her own, except that hers was more agitated.