Onyx (18 page)

“Oh, please,” she begged, spreading her legs wider.

“It . . . excites me lassie. Now purr fer me, please,” he said, rolling the r’s off his tongue as he said the word purr.

“I’ll do it if you stop teasing me already. I’ll do anything you want right now, just please don’t pull away.
Purrrrrr,” she said meekly.

“Louder,” he
said, entering her just enough for her to feel it and then pulling back out. He watched her throw back her head and close her eyes.

“Purrrr,” she said louder,
trying to pull him back to her. And then she looked right at him, her eyes wild and dangerous just like his pet kitten, and growled like a wildcat, just about driving him from his mind.  He could no longer hold back, as his teasing and tempting her had only done the same to him. He drove into her deeply, pulling back and thrusting, meeting her hips as she rose up to meet him each time.

“Och, me Lady Love, ye make me more of a madman than I already am.”

She reached out and raked her nails gently against his back, not only sounding like a feline but acting like one too, and raising her legs around him, gripping him tightly with her thighs.

His body tingled and his world spun as he let loose with his pent up emotions and found the release he needed. She screamed out just then, and he knew that she had been sated as well.

Tawpie woke up from the foot of the pallet, and looked at them and let out a purr of her own. They both laughed. He pulled her atop him where she could feel less restrained, falling onto his back. Then she did something that both surprised and please him. She mounted his leg and by nothing more than rubbing against him was brought to climax once more.

“I love you, Onyx,” she said,
as she once again found her release.

Her words shocked him, as no lassie had ever told him that before, and he just stayed silent. She
then collapsed atop him and they held each other in a lovers’ embrace, coming back down from the high peaks they’d climbed.

“I love you,” she whispered against his chest, the feel of her breath warm against his skin.

He knew she was waiting for him to say the words in return, but he couldn’t. Her words scared him, and he didn’t scare easily. But this was something even his mother had never said to him his entire life. These were forces he knew not how to handle, and he felt as if he was no longer in control.

He couldn’t say the words back to her, though he knew if he did, it probably would have been better than saying nothing at all. Still, h
e didn’t know what love was. And he felt that if he said he loved her too, he’d be vulnerable and he could not allow any more hurt lately.

H
e had the most wonderful, beautiful woman in his arms, telling him the words he’d always dreamed some lassie would say to him some day. But instead of feeling joyful and elated, he felt like he was suffocating again. Like he was in a box with no air to breathe, and he didn’t know how to make that feeling go away.

He felt his li
ttle death spell coming on from this whole episode, the anxiety starting to overtake him. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by dying every time they made love, and he knew he had to do something about it quickly before it was too late.

He took a deep breath and released it, but her words kept echoing in
side his head. He didn’t know if he loved her, hell, he didn’t even know if he trusted her. All he knew was that she brought out feelings in him he’d never known, and made him question things about himself he’d never thought twice of before.

He pushed out from under her and
scooted off the pallet. He quickly pulled on his clothes, feeling like he needed to get out of there fast. His head was starting to get dizzy, and he felt as if he were about to retch. It would only be moments before his death spell overtook him, now. Damn, why did this have to be happening now?

“Where are you going?” she asked so innocently, that he wanted nothing more than to climb right back atop her and repeat what they’d just done.

“I need some air,” he said, pulling on his boots and standing and donning his weaponbelt as well.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, and he could see the confusion and the tears in her eyes. He didn’t want to leave her this way, not now, but he just had to.

“Nay, lassie, ye did nothin’ wrong. Now get some sleep as we’ll leave for England first thing in the mornin’.”

He had his hand on the door and his back to her when she stopped him with her next words.

“Onyx. I meant what I said, but you don’t have to love me back. It’s all right.”

Damn, why’d she have to say that? Didn’t she know she was only making this harder for him?
He felt as if the air was knocked right from his lungs, and if she said anything else to him he knew he’d fall dead on the floor.

“Get some sleep,” was all he said, then he left the room
quickly, closing the door behind him.

Chapter 12

Lovelle could have kicked herself for telling Onyx she loved him. But it was what she was feeling at the moment and she just kind of blurted it out. Twice. But when she’d seen how upset he was by it, she knew he was feeling confused. And rightfully so, as the man had gone through so much in the last day alone, finding out about being abandoned by his true family.

She understood that mayhap he wasn’t ready for this. That’s why she tried to tell him that it was fine if he didn’t love her too. But she only seemed to make things worse, and instead of spending the night in each others arms as she’d hoped for, he’d now left her. She felt so alone.

She jumped off the pallet and dressed quickly, knowing she needed to find Onyx and be with him right now. She only hoped she could convince him to come back to the room, and straighten out this whole mess before he did something crazy.

She pulled open the door and ran down the steps, entering the busy pub, looking around for him.

“What’ve we got here?” asked a Scot well in his cups, reaching out for her, but she dodged him and ran to the drink board where Callum MacKeefe was pouring a drink for another Scot. The whore she’d talked to earlier, whom Onyx had said was Morag, sat on the man’s lap, playing with his long hair.

“Excuse me,” she said, getting Callum’s attention. “Did you see Onyx come down here at all?”

“Nay,” answered the pubkeeper, too busy pouring drinks to talk.

“Did ye do the laddie wrong,
ye fool?” asked Morag, looking up to her in question.

“Well, I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I . . . I’m not sure. But I need to find him and talk to him quickly.”

The Scot buried his face in the whore’s cleavage, and she laughed and pushed his head away. “No’ afore ye pay, ye tight arse.” She slipped off the man’s lap and straightened her gown, looking around for another customer.

“Please,” Lovell
e said, walking up and tapping the girl on the shoulder. “Do you know where I can find him?”

“Well, if I ken
Onyx, he’s somewhere in the outdoors. He disna like te be enclosed fer long. Try outside. Mayhap the stables, as I’ve had a guid time there once or twice wit’ him meself.”

It sickened her to think Onyx had coupled with this whore, b
ut she didn’t have time to worry about it now.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to go, but Morag stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Take this, as yer fair skin will freeze fast since ye’re no’ used te the weather.” She took her own cloak from the back of a chair and handed it to Lovelle. “And whate’er ye do, stay away from the MacDonalds, as they are all drunk tonight. If ye need te talk te anyone, the MacKeefes are the only ones te be trusted.”

“But how do I tell them apart?” she asked, seeing the sea of tartans in the pub
, every one of them looking not much different than the other since they all looked black, white and grey to her.

“By the color, lassie. The MacKeefes are the only ones with a purple tartan here tonight.
” She went back to her clients before Lovelle could relay to her that she couldn’t tell the difference.

She decided to go anyway, as
Onyx needed her right now. She threw the whore’s cloak over her and pulled the hood over her head and quickly headed out to the stables.

She
got to the stables and once inside, saw the back of a Scot that looked like Onyx. She rushed up to him, and without thinking, grabbed his arm. “Come back to the room with me,” she pleaded. But when he turned around, she realized she’d made a bad mistake.

“It’s me lucky day,” said the man she thought was Onyx. But this Scot was ugly and big and smelled strongly from whisky.
“Aye, we can go te the room or why no’ jest do it right here, hoor?”

“What ye got there, Ross
?” came another voice, and two more Scots walked out from inside a stall.

“I got meself a hoor fer free.”

“I’m sorry, I mistook you for someone else.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around. His eyes were angry and his teeth broken and black.

“Ye’re no’ goin’ anywhere lassie til me and me friends have had yer services.”

“I’m not a whore. I’m an English lady,” she tried to convince him.

“I know that cloak,” said o
ne of the others. “She’s a hoor alright.”

Lovell
e realized they thought she was Morag, and she also realized there was no way she could fight off three lusty, drunken Scots, especially since she hadn’t even had time to don her dagger.

Before she knew what was happening, the Scotsman threw her down against the pile of hay and pushed up her skirts and was pressing up against her.

“Let me go first,” said another of the men, lifting his tartan, and she could see they were not like Onyx, as they wore nothing underneath.

“Leave me alone!” She fought against them, but the third one grabbed her arms and held them over her head.

“Go ahead, I’ll hold her fer ye and ye can do the same for me,” he told his friends.

“Help!” she cried out, tears streaming down her eyes. “Someone,
please help me.”

Onyx was saddling his horse in the stall, planning on going for a ride to clear his head when he thought her heard a lassie’s voice calling for help, and it sounded a lot like Lovelle.

He peered across
the darkened stables and saw Morag’s cloak, and figured she was just pretending to need help to excite the men as she did her tricks with three of the Lowlanders at once. He turned around and just shook his head, but when the girl called out his name next, he knew exactly who it was.

“Love? Is thet ye?” He mounted his
horse quickly and busted out of the stall directly toward the Scotsmen.

“Onyx!” she cried when she saw him, and he only hoped he wasn’t too late. He pulled on the reins and his horse reared up, taking down the man who was holding her arms. Then he dove atop the second one, and since the man’s hands were raising his
plaid instead of on his weapon, he was able to get him to the ground, punching him repeatedly in the face until he passed out.

He felt the third Scot’s tight grip as his hands came around his throat, and anxiety coursed through him when he realized he couldn’t breath
e.

“Leave him alone,” shouted Lovell
e, picking up a pitchfork and rushing toward him. The man easily unarmed her, giving Onyx time to pull his sword from his belt.

He fought the Scot who had also pulled his sword, only it was a claymore and twice as big.

“Stay back,” he told Lovelle, worrying for her safety. Then when he realized he was no match for the man, he pulled his dagger with his other hand and jumped atop a wooden stool, slashing his weapons through the air like a madman. He fought with both hands, trying to unarm him. And when he got nicked and started to bleed, he heard Lovelle scream.

He lunged forward, managing to bring the large man to the ground, and was just about to driv
e his sword into the Scot’s heart when Lovelle stopped him.

“Onyx, no! Don’t kill him.”

“He deserves te die fer even touchin’ ye, Love. Are ye all right?”

“I’m fine. They didn’t succeed. There is no need to kill him.”

“I’ll kill them all,” he said, and raised his sword for the final plunge, watching the man’s eyes open wide.

“Please,” she said again. “It was my fault, I was wearing Morag’s cloak.”

He stopped, and slowly lowered the sword, giving into her pleas. And when the men noticed his eyes, they got up and ran from the stables, shouting he was the devil. Lovelle fell into his arms and he pulled her in close, looking around to make sure no one else got any ideas of touching her.

“Let’s get the hell outta here,” he told her, replacing his blades in his belt and taking the reins of his horse. “We’ll collect our things and I’ll pay Callum and we’ll head on out te England tonight.”

“No, Onyx. Let’s stay and leave at first light.”

“I dinna think so,” he said, holding her to his chest tightly. “I’ll no’ have anythin’ like that happenin’ to ye again.
”