Highland Lover (15 page)

against the back of her neck. This time the movement against her backside was not so subtle.

Gregor had woken up very hungry indeed.

For a moment Alana reveled in the feelings coursing through her. The touch of his hands and his

lips felt so good. The way he rubbed against her caused a pleasurable aching in her groin. She

remembered that she had decided to succumb to the passion between them and was just about to

give herself over to it when she recalled his wound. One night of rest was not enough for it to heal.

If she let him do what he wanted to now, he would probably bleed all over her. That thought was

enough to give Alana the strength to move away from him.

She nudged Charlemagne out of the way, but instead of immediately fleeing the bed as she did

every morning, she turned to face Gregor. It was easy to see the desire in his face. She had felt it as well. His passion, his need, seeped right inside of her and strengthened her own. Alana decided it

was time to give him a hint that he would soon get what he needed, what they both needed. She

wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him the most wanton kiss she could. The moment she

felt her wits start to flee her head, she pulled away and scrambled out of bed.

“Alana!” Gregor called as she started to walk away.

“I must find some more wood for the fire,” she said, and kept on walking. “Call if ye need any

help.”

What he needed was for her to come back and fulfill the promise of that kiss. Gregor was feeling

both frustrated and confused. Alana had never been so bold, had never taken that first step. He had

always coaxed her into his arms, wooed or stolen every kiss out of her. Her first bold step had been

a big one as well. His blood was still burning from the heat of that kiss. It had declared a passion

and a fire he was eager to taste more fully. It had declared acceptance; he was certain of it.

Gregor cautiously sat up, the wound in his side making each move painful, but he was relieved to

find that he was no longer light-headed. Unfortunately, he was also in no shape to act upon what he

was sure was an aye from Alana. Despite his weakened condition, the mere thought of finally being

allowed to make love to Alana had him hard and aching. He felt as if he had waited for her for years

instead of just a fortnight.

A few yards away from camp, he slumped against a tree and relieved himself. As he waited a

moment to regain enough strength to return to his bed, he looked all around and listened very

carefully, but caught no sign of anyone else in the area. He wondered if they had finally reached

lands the Gowans did not want to venture onto. It would please him beyond measure if that were

true, and not just because he was tired of constantly watching for them. He would need a little

longer to regain his strength, and when he did, he intended to spend a few more days on those

blankets answering the invitation of Alana’s kiss.

Deciding he had rested enough to make his way back to the blankets, Gregor started walking back

to their camp. He was so weak in the knees by the time he reached the bedding, only the thought

that he could add to his injury kept him from just falling on top of them. As he sprawled on his back trying to catch his breath and will away the burning pain in his side, he ruefully admitted that it

might take more than a day or two to regain enough strength for all he planned to do with Alana.

“I cannae believe that worked,” Alana whispered, staring down at the three fish she had caught.

As she had collected wood for the fire, she had found the river. It was not a big one and could be

easily forded in several places, but it was big and deep enough for fish. At first she had simply

enjoyed the sound of the water tumbling along over the rocky slope and then savored its crisp, cold

taste. Then she had caught sight of the fish. Years ago her cousin Logan had shown her how to

catch a fish with her hands, as well as which fish were the ones she should catch. These certainly

looked like the fish he said were good and, although she could never recall the names of the

creatures, she had learned how to cook them.

Her success had surprised her and she was feeling quite proud of herself. Even the fact that her

hands and legs were only just starting to warm up again could not dim her pride in her

accomplishment. Only the way the poor things had lain on the ground gasping for so long cast a

shadow over her joy, but her stomach was obviously merciless. It was growling in anticipation of

the meal these fish would make. Hunger was making her a good hunter. She was, however, going to

be very glad to return to a place where someone else had to hunt for the food.

“Oh, Charlemagne, dinnae ye dare,” she said when the cat drew close to the fish. “Ye will have

your share once these beasties are cleaned and cooked. And I believe I shall have Gregor tend to the

cleaning of them. That shouldnae trouble his wound or weaken him.”

Charlemagne sat down near the fish, his tail swiping the leaves as it flicked back and forth.

“No need to look so ill-tempered, m’lad. I said ye would get some, but later.”

Alana put the fish into the small sack she had brought with her in the hope of finding something to

add to their food supply as she had gathered wood for the fire. At several points along the path she

had taken there were now little piles of wood she could simply pick up at her leisure and take back

to camp. Looping the handle of the sack over her shoulder, she picked up the pile of wood nearest

her and started back to camp, Charlemagne walking by her side. The animal rarely let her out of its

sight, she realized, and she was not sure if she should be touched by that or a little wary. Shaking

aside a brief moment of superstitious unease, something she had always considered herself far too

clever to suffer from, she fixed her thoughts upon Gregor.

“Ah, Charlemagne, I think I am soon to make a great fool of myself,” she told the cat.

Charlemagne swatted at a leaf that floated down from the trees.

“Aye, a fool who talks to cats as weel as a fool who plans to give away her weel-guarded innocence

to a mon who may ne’er love her as she loves him.”

Charlemagne paused to sharpen his claws on a tree trunk.

Alana sighed, heartily wishing she had one of her kinswomen to talk to. Considering the romantic

history of many of her kinswomen, however, they would probably just advise her to do exactly what

she was planning to do. She was going to take Gregor as her lover and pray, very hard, that his

desire for her held the seed of love.

A heated anticipation raced through her at the thought of having Gregor make love to her. She was

clearly beyond redemption now. It was a huge risk she was about to take, one that could leave her

alone yet unweddable, and she simply did not care. She loved Gregor, she wanted him, and she

needed him. For once in her life she was going to do exactly what she wanted and pray that the

consequences would not be too great. She just hoped she did not cause her parents too much

disappointment.

As she entered the camp and watched Gregor slowly sit up, his winces telling her that the

movement pained him, she knew she would have the time to prepare herself well for the very large

step she was going to take. Alana placed the wood near the fire, opened the sack, and set the fish

down next to Gregor. She grinned at his look of astonishment.

“How did ye catch these?” Gregor asked.

He listened to her tale with growing surprise as she handed him a knife, clearly intending that he

should clean the fish. Stunned, he did so silently while she readied the fire and a spit to cook them on. Being cared for by Alana Murray could well prove to be a very humiliating experience, he

decided. He had never been able to catch a fish with his hands, let alone three.

“Where did ye get them?” he asked as she collected the cleaned fish and carefully set them on the

spit to cook.

“There is a lovely wee river nay far from here,” she replied. “’Tis a welcome source of water,

though it is a bit colder than I like. I saw no sign of the Gowans or anyone else whilst I collected the wood, either.”

Gregor slowly nodded, not really surprised. “I think we have finally lost them for good. At some

time during our flight from them we must have finally crossed a boundary they willnae cross.”

“But ye intend to keep a wary eye for a while yet, I suspect.”

“Och, aye. They hunted us for longer than I had thought they would. I was so certain that they

would have to give up at some time, but ’twill be a while ere I believe this chase is finally o’er.”

“I shall keep a close watch as weel, but I truly believe we have gone beyond their reach. Will ye

watch o’er these fish for me? I think I will go and collect some of the wood I stacked in wee piles

all along my path.”

“Aye, I can do that much, at least.” He heard the sour note in his voice and was not surprised to see her lips twitch as she fought to suppress a smile. He sounded like a sulky child even to his own ears.

“Hand me my pack ere ye leave, if ye would. I mean to shed these clothes and wear my

plaid. ’Twill be easier on my wound.”

Alana handed him his pack and hurried back into the woods. She strongly resisted the urge to spy

upon him as he changed his clothing. It had taken all of her willpower to hold back the shameful

advice that the best way to spare his wound any irritation from his clothes would be to lie about

naked. Alana shook her head as she walked to the pile of wood that sat the farthest distance from

the camp, determined to give Gregor enough time to change his clothes without her gawking at him.

She never would have thought that she could be so enamored of the sight of a man’s naked body,

but she suspected she could happily stare at Gregor’s for days. Years, a voice in her head whispered, but she ruthlessly silenced it. When she returned to the camp, Gregor sat by the fire. He was dressed in a simple white linen shirt, his plaid, and deer-hide boots. She decided she liked the look of him in this simpler attire. His other clothes had been very fine, but they had marked him too strongly as a

man of the world, a courtier. Although he was still so handsome he made her heart ache, somehow

he now looked more attainable.

There was a look in his eye as he watched her that told Alana the kiss she had given him might not

be being spoken of, but it was not forgotten. Alana was certain he had read the invitation she had

tried to give him by acting so boldly. If not for his wound, she suspected Gregor would be showing

her just how clearly he had understood her silent message. She forced herself not to blush as she

served him his share of the fish.

Every instinct she had told her that the Gowans were no longer a threat. That meant that she and

Gregor could take their ease for a while and allow his wound to heal properly. Weather permitting,

they could linger here for several days in comfort. Glancing around at the trees, the many violets

winding colorfully around the bases of the tree trunks, and the clear view of the hills in the not-so-great distance, Alana decided it was the perfect place for a woman to be introduced to all the secrets of passion. Glancing at Gregor again, she decided she could not have chosen a finer teacher. All she

had to do was wait for his wound to heal enough for him to commence with her lessons.

Chapter 10

“Alana.”

Startled by that deep voice, Alana nearly dropped the fish she had just caught. She quickly tossed

the fish up onto the bank and then looked at Gregor. He was leaning against the trunk of a tree, his

arms crossed over his broad chest. She wondered how long he had been watching her and hoped he

had not been close enough to hear her conversation with Charlemagne concerning the success, or

lack thereof, of all her attempts to make Gregor know she was ready to be his lover. The fact that

Charlemagne was draped over his boots did not detract from Gregor’s manliness at all, Alana

thought in bemusement.

“Ye had best step out of that water, lass. Your legs are turning blue.”

She scowled at him, thinking that a very poor way to seduce her, but she got out of the water and

hastily lowered her skirts. “A gentlemon wouldnae be peeking at a lady’s legs,” she said piously.

“Weel, I have ne’er claimed to be a gentlemon, and I have plans to be looking at a bit more than

your bonnie legs.”

Even though she blushed over those bold words, Alana felt her desire stir. It was clear that Gregor

really did not have to try very hard at all to seduce her. For three days they had lingered in this place, enjoying the peace and the unusually fine weather. Gregor had gotten stronger each day. He had

also gotten bolder with his kisses and caresses, as had she, but he had always pulled back before

they had gone too far. She knew he had done so because of his wound. The look upon his face now

told her that he was as tired of pulling back from their desire as she was.

“Ye are a verra bold mon, Gregor MacFingal Cameron.”

“And I plan to be a lot bolder,” he drawled as he gently nudged Charlemagne off his boots.

“’Tis always good for a mon to have a plan,” she whispered and could not fully repress a squeak of

surprise when he lunged at her and pulled her into his arms. “We must take the fish back to camp.”

“Who says we are gong back to the camp? This is a fine place.”

“’Tis still daylight.”