The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (25 page)

“You can’t be serious. This is your surprise?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “The surprise is afterward, and I’m very serious.”

Despite the relative warmth of the day, she shivered. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“The cold water didn’t stop you before.”

She gave a sharp laugh, eyeing the deep-blue pool below. It was hard to believe Candlemas had been just nine days ago. “And look where that got me. Not to mention that it took me two days to feel warm again.”

He grinned. “It won’t take you that long this time. I promise.”

Something about the way he said it peaked her curiosity. She eyed him speculatively, but he just sat there with a knowing glint in his eye.

Irresistible
, she thought. Almost.

“Come on, Ellie. You love swimming,” he said. How could he know that? “You must; you swim like a mermaid.”

Her cheeks heated. The compliment pleased her too much—especially coming from the best swimmer she’d ever seen.

He removed his weapons, placed them under a rock where they wouldn’t be visible from the path, and then started taking off his clothes, carelessly tossing them to the side. She was so transfixed, she didn’t even feel the urge to fold them for him.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She couldn’t form a response; her pulse was beating too fast, watching as he peeled off each layer of clothing. The man had no shame. Why should he, with a body like a finely honed weapon of war? He started to lift off the plain tunic he wore under his
cotun
, and she knew the linen braies would come next.

“Don’t!” she cried with a burst of maidenly alarm (and that innate sense of self-preservation).

He grinned, and she realized he’d only been testing her.
Incorrigible
. But at least she wasn’t being forced to contend with his bare chest and … more.

He chuckled, the husky sound reverberating in her bones. “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “You can watch if you’re too scared.”

She scowled. “I’m not too—”

The wretch!
He was already gone, leaping off the cliff, somersaulting in the air, and plunging into the water with the effortless grace of a man who’d been diving off cliffs his whole life, which he undoubtedly had.

She stood there for a few minutes, tapping her foot, gazing out to sea, up to the sky, doing anything to avoid looking at the man swimming in the water below.

As always, a steady stream of boats patrolled the waterways—a number of them appeared to be English galleys. On their expeditions around the island it was something she’d grown used to seeing. But there seemed to be more of them than usual. She felt a prickle of apprehension, wondering what was happening. At times it was hard to remind herself that there was a world beyond this island.

She gazed down at the sword he’d tucked into a rock near her foot. Squinting against the glare from the sunlight, she noticed writing near the handle. Knowing it was common practice for warriors to inscribe their swords with something meaningful, she pulled the blade out enough to read the rest:
dìleas an còmhnaidh
. Always faithful. She frowned. Strange motto for a womanizing pirate. She’d expected something more along the lines of “bloodletter” or “beheader.”

She heard a splash and glanced back down. He looked as though he was having the time of his life, drat him.

Her forbearance lasted all of five minutes.

She mumbled a few of her brothers’ favorite curses and removed the plaid from around her shoulders, then her borrowed shoes, hose, and cotte, carefully folding them in a neat pile.

Wearing only the chemise she’d arrived in, she inched forward on the rocks until her toes gripped the edge. She shivered—and not just from the gust of wind. Her heart was fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. She hoped it was like riding a horse, because she hadn’t done this in at least five years.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and fell forward.

For a moment she felt buoyed by a swell of air. It held her weightless for a long heartbeat, before rushing past her in a blast of wind as she plunged downward. She arched her back, twisted, and then tucked her knees into her chest, rolling over before reaching forward as her body extended to a dive just as she hit the water.

The shock of cold penetrated to her bones. She dove a few more feet, then came back up, bursting to the surface in a spray of water.

He was at her side before she could catch her breath. She grinned excitedly, surprised to see the fierce expression on his face. He had that scary Viking look again, except that he was a little pale beneath his dripping face and slicked-back hair. “What in Hades do you think you were doing? You were supposed to jump. You could have broken your damn neck!”

She laughed, which only seemed to make him angrier. “That was fun. I haven’t done that in years.” She shot him a look. “And I really must insist you stop cursing around me.”

She heard the angry string of expletives lashing after her as she dove away from him, narrowly avoiding his grasp.

But outswimming him was impossible, and her escape was short-lived. He snaked an arm around her waist and drew her against him, bringing them back to the surface together.

She felt as if she was plastered against a big stone wall. A stone wall with lots and lots of rock-hard muscle. She didn’t bother trying to pull away; struggling was useless. She was all too aware of the power in the body pressed so intimately to hers. Legs entwined, her breasts crushed against his chest, it felt … perfect.

His eyes locked on hers, and she felt the force of it like a blow to the lungs. This was why women loved him so much. He made them feel as if they were the most important person in the world. The
only
person in the world.

“I think you’ve had enough fun for today,” he said softly, his voice gruff.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” she couldn’t resist taunting back at him.

“Back there with my heart after that dive,” he said dryly.

Her mouth tugged, but he sounded so upset that she decided not to press her luck by laughing at him again. Not this close. Not when she was fairly sure what her teasing could unleash.

He desired her. She could feel him hard against her stomach and it made her cautious. Her good sense warred with the not-so-gentle stirrings of her body. It wasn’t much of a war—not really.

He gazed down at her, his jaw locked, hard and forbidding. She gasped when his rough fingertips swept her cheek. She swore his eyes filled with tenderness. Not knowing what he intended, she couldn’t breathe for the entire time it took him to tuck a sopping strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered for an agonizing moment, tracing the curve of her chin.

Her heart beat frantically in her chest. He had to feel it, to be aware of what he was doing to her.

Of course he did. He’d done this a thousand times.

But why was he looking at her so … intently. Tenderly. As if she were special.

She wasn’t special. No matter how much he made her feel as if she was. He did this with everyone. It didn’t mean anything.

But the look in his eyes …

She was so confused, wanting what she desperately knew she should not. His eyes searched hers, as if he were probing for an answer to an unanswered question. She felt his arm tighten around her as he drew her even closer.

She knew he was going to kiss her, and she didn’t stop him. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, to see if it was as incredible as she remembered.

It was.

It felt right. As if it were meant to be. As if her mouth had been made for exactly this purpose: to be joined with his.

His lips were warm and silky soft, pressing gently, brushing over hers in a smooth caress, then holding for one long heartbeat before breaking apart.

Its brevity was its very devastation. She wanted so much more. One taste only reminded her of the passion that had flared between them before. Passion that was coiled and tight and ready to break free.

He let her go, and her heart lurched at the sudden separation. Her body craved the contact. But the moment was gone.

“Why did you do that?” she blurted.

He shook his head, amused. “Does everything have to have a reason?”

Her reply was automatic. “Yes.”

He laughed. “Can’t you just relax and enjoy the moment, and do something because it feels right?”

Passion for passion’s sake? Desire for desire’s sake? The idea was utterly foreign to her, anathema to her duty and position. Of course, she couldn’t … could she?

“Come,” he said. “I think I’d better show you that surprise. Let’s see how fast you can swim. I’ll race you back to shore.”

“It won’t be much of a race,” she said, still trying to collect her jumbled thoughts. “I’ve seen you swim.”

His mouth lifted on one side. “I’ll give you a head start.”

He still won. Ellie dragged herself up the beach beside him, shivering and exhausted after the exertion of the swim. The subtle warmth of the winter sun could not penetrate her frozen limbs.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed, trying to get the sensation back. “Next time instead of a head start, I’m going to insist you not use your legs.”

He only laughed, and she had a feeling he’d still win.

“You’re fast,” he said. “For a—”

“Don’t say it,” she warned threateningly, though the effect was lost by her chattering teeth. “My brothers learned very quickly not to make that mistake. I might be only a lass, but I can be quite inventive when it comes to revenge.”

He gave her an appraising look, his eyes scanning her scantily clad form in a way that made her chilled blood warm and her prickling skin tighten. Her nipples beaded under her damp chemise.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said.

Abruptly, he grabbed her hand and started to lead her back to the cliff.

“Can we jump again?” she asked.

“Hell—” He stopped himself. “Nay. Don’t you want to see the surprise?”

She looked around. “Where is it?”

“Right in front of you.”

She glanced around, at first seeing only the wide spans of sandy beach sloping gently to a grassy hillside on one side and the rocky cliff on the other.

Then she saw it. About fifty feet up the shore from the water’s edge, nestled between the hillside and the cliff, was a small building. Except for the narrow wooden door and plume of smoke, billowing gently from above, it was nearly impossible to see on a quick glance. Too small to be a house, its earthen roof and walls seemed to blend into the hillside.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I promised you would be warm, didn’t I? This is how my ancestors used to come in from a winter swim.”

Her eyes widened with excitement. “A sauna?”

He nodded, surprised that she’d guessed so easily. “You’ve seen one?”

She shook her head. “Nay, but I’ve always wanted to.” She hurried after him, trying not to notice the way the linen of his damp tunic and braies clung to his powerful frame or the flex of his leg muscles as he walked.

He opened the door, and the blast of heat hit her like a smith’s bellows. “Hurry,” he said, hustling her in. “Don’t let the air out.”

He ducked under the door frame, and she quickly followed him in.

The heat was overwhelming. Stifling. It felt as though she’d just stepped into a bonfire. At first it was difficult to breathe. The steamy air was thick and humid, filling her lungs. But her icy skin immediately warmed with a tingling, drenching heat.

After the bright sunlight, it took her eyes a moment to grow accustomed to the semidarkness. She glanced around the small room. It resembled a round earthen cave. The ceiling was low—less than six feet, she’d guess, as Hawk couldn’t stand up straight—and the walls were no farther than eight feet apart. The floor was set with large flat stones, but everything else looked as if it had been carved into the earth. There was a stone oven on her left, piled high with rocks. Straight ahead, opposite the door, two benches had been built into the wall—one at normal seating level and one a little higher. A few large buckets of water sat by the door.

“What are those for?” she asked.

He shook his head. “So impatient. You’re supposed to wait until the end, but I can show you now if you wish.” She nodded. “Stand right here.” He led her to the middle of the stone floor over what appeared to be a small opening. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to show you or not?”

She made a face and closed her eyes. She could feel him beside her, and her senses flared with awareness, wondering what he would do. Part of her hoped—

“Ready?” he asked. She could hear the laughter in his voice and started to suspect …

But it was too late. A moment later, a bucket of cold water was dumped over her head.

She stood there in a moment of stunned shock, letting the water drip over her. The small opening at her feet was obviously a drain. From behind the curtain of hair, she could hear him rolling with laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t resist.”

She pulled her hair back from in front of her eyes, sputtering angrily—which only made him laugh harder. Realizing how ridiculous she must look, her mouth started to twitch and she couldn’t help but join him.

Now that the shock had worn off, she realized how refreshing the water had felt. It would be even more so, she suspected, after sitting in the heat for some time. She squeezed the water from her hair and shook out her chemise. At least her hair and skin no longer felt caked with salt.

She eyed the other bucket. “May I?” she asked.

He grinned. “It’s all yours.”

It was heavier than it looked and she needed him to lift it over his head, but a few moments later a deluge of cool water gushed down over him like a heavy spring waterfall. He shook his hair, spraying her with water, then raked it back from his face. It was amazing how gorgeous he looked even sopping wet.

“Ah, that felt good.” He pointed to the lower of the two benches set in the earthen wall. “Sit. In a few minutes you’ll be wishing for another bucket.”

He was right; her skin was already dry, though her hair and chemise would take awhile longer. She did as he asked and sat on one of the benches, not surprised when he sat beside her. It was strangely relaxing. Sitting beside him in comfortable silence, enjoying the cleansing heat. When it grew too hot, he tossed a cup of water on the rocks and the room filled with a wonderful cool steam.