Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) Page 12

  ’Twould be a blessing if she saw Edward the way Scots saw him, that damned voice insisted.

  Was that possible?

  • • •

  As she stepped into the clearing and approached Raeb, a twig broke under Jessamyn’s foot. He whirled and drew his sword all in one motion.

  Startled, she dropped the load of berries carried in her raised skirt. She tried to move back but tripped over an unseen obstacle. Fruit flew, and she landed hard on her rump. Beneath her, the berries squished, the juice oozing through the cloth of her dress.

  “Oof.” She found herself without air to give Raeb MacKai the dressing down he deserved for scaring her.

  Raeb sheathed his blade and rushed to her side. “Are you hurt?”

  Still unable to breathe, she shook her head and slapped her hand against her chest.

  “Lie down.” Raeb pressed her shoulder, forcing her back to the ground. Concern lit his gray eyes. His large hand found her smaller one, and the vise that held her chest immobile eased. She inhaled huge gulps of air.

  “You scared the breath from me,” she accused.

  “I am most truly sorry. My only excuse is my own failure to hear your approach.”

  Using her grip on his hand, she pulled herself into a sitting position. “You must have been concentrating very deeply. Is your mount’s injury worse than you imagined?”

  “Nae, the horse will be well enough with rest and some treatment, but I doubt I’ll be able to replace him, which will leave me without a mount for quite some time to come.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “What errand brought you to the riverside? Did you have need of me?” His voice was low and rumbled along her skin like the rush of the river over stones.

  “Oh, um ... ” Feeling breathless again, she searched for words. Why had she come here? “I remember now. I came to tell you I had started the fire and to bring the blueberries I gathered ... Oh no, the berries!”

  His brows lowered. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She rose to her feet. “I dropped them. When you drew that blade, I tripped. Berries went every which way, and I landed atop some. No doubt I’ve ruined the one split-skirted dress I own, and I’ve no other clothes with me.”

  She lifted her skirt, pulling it sideways, attempting to examine it in the fading light.

  Raeb studied her backside.

  “We use blaeberry juice to make ink because ’tis near impossible to remove. I’d say your gown is ruined. Why were you bringing them here?”

  She cast one more glance at her ruined skirt and sighed. “I want to make a poultice for your horse. He cannot stand in the river all afternoon. At home we treated strains like his with a warm poultice made of blueberries and St. John’s wort. The poultice is alternated with bathing the joint in cold water. The combination is very effective, and we managed to save a number of steeds that might otherwise have been put down. We have no St. John’s wort, but the berries alone will provide some ease for your horse.”

  “Aye, I’ve heard of that. Had I been less distracted, I might have thought of the blaeberries myself.”

  “No doubt.” Jessamyn wriggled as berry juice gathered at the tops of her thighs and slid downward.

  Feeling his gaze on her, she resisted the urge to rub at the tickling liquid. She raised her chin and challenged him with her eyes. “What?”

  “I was thinking that now might be a good time for you to bathe in the stream. ’Twould be cold.”

  His voice was low, and she could scarce see his face. Did he feel as oddly about the moment as she? Sort of shivery and uneasy with an under edge of anticipation.

  She studied the stream before looking back to him. “Yes, but cold and clean is better than sticky and warm. If I could just figure out what to wear, I’d act on your suggestion.”

  “I believe I may have a solution to that problem. You could use the spare tunic and breeches I always carry in my saddle pack.”

  Wear men’s clothing, especially this man’s? She planned to do much more scandalous things with him this day. Why hesitate over such a small breach of convention? She gave a nod. “Thank you.”

  He went to his saddlebag, withdrew a bundle of cloth, and then moved to lay the bundle on a large rock nearby. “I’ll put them here. Take as long as you like. I feel a need for better sustenance than a couple of apples and some wine. I’ll go hunt up some dinner and more berries for that poultice. You should be dry and dressed long before I return.”

  She watched him lead his courser toward the waterfall. The horses would be kept just within the cave opening, where they would be safe but far enough from the fire that they would not be frightened by the flames and smoke.

  When Raeb was out of sight, Jessamyn stripped off her dress and laid it on the rock near the clean clothes. She’d use the unstained portion of the skirt to dry herself. After she dressed, she’d wash the ruined garment. Some part of it should be worth saving. At last she took her courage in both hands and ran into the river.

  When Jessamyn finally returned to the cave. She decided to wear her stained but now dry shift beneath the borrowed tunic, which covered her to just below her knees. Then she donned her garters, stockings, and boots to protect her feet. Of Raeb there was no sign. The horses were settled, and farther back in the cave the small, bright fire burned with two rabbits spitted above. The scent filled the air, making the rough space seem cozy and welcoming. She frowned at the lack of any comfortable place to rest. Had Raeb changed his mind, or was he giving her an easy way to back out of her request without having to bring the topic up for discussion? Hmph. Either way the man was wrong. She would have this one afternoon to remember for the rest of her chaste life.

  She set about creating a single large bed of pine branches located between the fire and the cave’s back wall. While she arranged and rearranged branches, she thought about Raeb. How his skin would feel beneath her fingers. How solid his hard muscles would be against her softness. How he would fill her. She knew it would hurt, but afterward, if Raeb was half the man she suspected him to be, he would soothe her and show her all the pleasures of mating she’d heard her brothers talk of.

  A sound behind her made her spin and reach for the dagger at her belt. Her breath halted in her chest, and she froze at the sight that greeted her.

  Across the fire stood Raeb, his damp shirt in one hand, naked from the waist up. His breeches clung to his thighs. Water droplets gleamed like diamonds among the dark hairs dusting his chest and arrowing below his belt. His black hair was sleeked back from his forehead. His eyes smoldered like smoke around the reflected fire at their centers.

  Mouth and throat suddenly dry, Jessamyn swallowed then licked her lips. With a cough she found her voice. “I see you decided to bathe as well.”

  If her response to his kiss had been ill-considered, the effect of his bare flesh showed her to be completely mad, for she longed to touch him, stroke his muscled arms, sink her fingers into his hair, and lick the water from his face and form. And now she had no intense sun to blame her madness. Yes, she was crazed, and it was a fine thing, too.

  • • •

  Raeb eyed the bed of branches. Jessamyn’s message was unmistakable. She had not changed her mind and clearly intended to lay with him. He gave a single, slow nod. So be it.

  “The rabbits are nearly done,” she announced.

  He shifted to find her staring at him. Her cheeks colored, and she dropped her gaze.

  He wished he knew what she was thinking. Clearly, she was embarrassed. But was it his lack of shirt, his observance of the makeshift bed, or was she beginning to regret her request altogether?

  He studied her as she removed a rabbit from the spit, placed it on a small rock, and used her belt dagger to carve the meat.

  His spare shirt covered her as well as her dress had and just as loosely. Nonetheless, he could see the shape of her breasts as she moved. The neckline lay open in invitation to the dark valley between those mounds. His
groin tightened. Would she taste of the river, fresh and achingly sweet, or would her busyness with the pine boughs flavor her body as well as her hands?

  A log broke on the fire. Sparks spouted, and light gleamed in her sun-gold hair.

  Her hands stilled, and she lifted her head. For a long moment, her stare caught with his.

  “Our meal is ready.” Their gazes remained locked, and she lifted a rabbit leg to her lips. She set her teeth into the tender flesh and tore off a bite of meat. As her lips closed on the tidbit, she blinked. Released from whatever spell was cast between them, Raeb turned.

  “I’ll be just a moment.” He went to his saddle packs set on one side of the bed and withdrew the cloak of mink pelts that his sisters had sewn for him. Even a Scot got cold in the mountains from time to time.

  He spread the cloak across the bed, imagining Jessamyn’s alabaster body and shining locks spread against the soft, dark fur.

  “Here.” She held out the long, blue cloak she’d worn the day she arrived. The garment was trimmed in silver thread and edged in fox fur.

  How had she come up so close without him hearing her?

  “We can use this to cover us, should we get cold after ... ”

  After. Aye, after their first loving she would need to rest, but his body would shelter hers until she was ready again. Neither one of them would suffer cold. Nonetheless, he took the cloak. He didn’t want to explain and frighten her.

  “Thank you.”

  Their fingers touched as the garment changed hands. He heard her breath hitch before she turned and fled back to her dinner.

  He came and sat beside her, as they ate. He was hungry and demolished his part of the first rabbit.

  “Do you mind if I start on the other hare?”

  “N … not at all.” Her rabbit haunch lay untouched on a rock platter. Her eyes were wide, her face was pale, and her hands fluttered as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

  He didn’t blame her for being nervous. She had to have doubts. A wise woman would withdraw her request. Sweet heaven, he prayed she would be unwise. What was the best means to set her mind at rest and help her make a final decision? He chewed his meat, and at long last he swallowed.

  “I lied when I said that once you are in my bed, I’d no let you change your mind.” Which was true. He would never force a woman at any time.

  Her brows lowered. “Then why did you say it?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you might be dazed from our kiss and no thinking of the consequences. I wanted to shock some sense into you.” He kept eating as if the conversation was of little consequence.

  “Well, that threat was shocking enough, but I’m not sure it had the effect you desired.”

  His brows rose, and he set down what was left of the rabbit. “Really?”

  “I saw it as more of a challenge that you would think I’d want to change my mind when I know very well what I want and what I ask of you.”

  He wiped his fingers on his breeches, then stood and held out one hand to her. “Then perhaps ’tis time to fulfill your request.”

  She looked up at him for a long spell before taking his hand and allowing him to help her stand. He led her to the bed. She turned. Her fingers went to the laces of the tunic she wore.

  He placed his palm over her hands. “Nae. Allow me, please?”

  She nodded, and her hands fell to her sides.

  She shivered beneath his fingers as he plucked at the ties of his spare tunic eager to see the long length of her. Would the tips of her breasts be rosy or pale? He knew they were not large, but ’twas the texture and weight that intrigued him almost as much as how she would respond when he suckled her. He laid the tunic aside and stared at her form scarcely hidden beneath the gossamer shift. She was beautiful. His cock leapt to life, and he struggled not to ravish her then and there.

  He knelt before her. “Put your hand on my shoulder and raise your left foot.” He slipped off her boot, repeated the process with her right foot, then slid his hands beneath her shift and along her legs to unknot her garters and whisk away her stockings.

  Embracing her limbs, he drew her close and placed a kiss on the cloth of her shift where it covered a dim triangle of hair. He lingered there, letting his breath warm her until her hips twitched and she made a small moan.

  As he stood, he lifted the thin cloth from her body and stood back. He resisted the urge to touch, simply drinking in the curve of her cheek, breasts, hips, calves. Savoring the glow of her pale brow, shoulders, and the rosy pink of her lips and nipples. The thatch of sunlit gold that matched her upper tresses. His gaze lingered or roamed without reason or rhyme. The pounding of his heart drowned the noise of the falls behind him.

  “You truly are a beautiful woman.”

  Her blush deepened. “No, I am too tall, and my mouth is too wide.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll prove you otherwise.” I’ll prove you perfect for me. He banished the fool’s thought in the moment it sprang to mind.

  He took her in his arms, bringing her against his chest. Her nipples pebbled against his heated flesh, and his cock grew blade hard. He lifted her chin and sipped at her lips, using the lightest pressure.

  Her eyes went wide in delight then closed on a sigh. She surged upward, opening her mouth beneath his, and his lips answered in kind. Then she swept her tongue across his, and his entire body shivered. She would undo him if she went much faster.

  He raised his head.

  She settled back onto her feet with a moue of disappointment.

  He grinned, stroking her back and feeling her relax against him. “Slower, a chiallaich, I would no cause you more pain than I must.”

  “Thank you, but I care naught for the pain.” She nipped at his lips. “’Tis soon past, and I have hope that much pleasure will follow.”

  He smiled and threaded his hands through her hair, bringing her close for another kiss. Her lips were sweet. Pungent, like the incense burned at Mass. Soft as the mist in the trees. He lost himself then, sunk beyond rescue in the sea of delight and passion that was Jessamyn Du Grace. Lured by his own longings—for release, for intimacy, for even one moment of peace. The consequences be damned, he would take heaven now and deal with hell later.

  • • •

  Time and place faded to nothing. Only Raeb’s arms existed, only his touch, his kiss. Then his clothes, like hers, were gone. Skin slid against skin, and need moved with need. Warmth flooded her belly at his caress. Heat ached through her nipples. She rubbed her breasts against him, seeking to increase that delicious fire. She wanted, needed, more and slipped her palms along his hips aiming for what she desired most.

  Raeb groaned, and his arms fell away.

  She stilled. Raising her head, she looked into his face. Suffering was writ clear in his clenched jaw and dazed eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye. I am in pain with longing for you. Your very touch is agony so sweet, I cannot bear to be without it.”

  She grinned. “Really? I did not expect such flattery when I first made love.”

  “’Tis no flattery, a chiallaich. At this moment, you are my greatest desire.” He settled onto the makeshift bed and pulled her down beside him.

  His words reminded her that the moment would end, must end, just as her time at Dungarob would cease. All the more reason to wring every drop of pleasure from the here and now. Rising on one elbow, she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Then let us end this agony we share and find bliss together.”

  He settled her palm over his erection, showing her how he wished her to stroke him. “Aye, touch me. Let me touch you.”

  He trailed his fingertips over her breast, caught the nipple between thumb and forefinger, easing the bud toward his lowering mouth to lick, and blow and suckle it.

  “Ah, yes, please.” Her womb contracted. Her hand clutched around his penis, causing it to buck and jerk. His hips thrust against her grip. His lips tugged on her nipple. She loved what he was doing to her, what she was
doing to him, the heated, heady mix of surrender and power. But it was not enough.

  “I—I need … ” So much, she could not begin to say. Restrained by indecision, her hands paused above his body.

  “Jessamyn, please, touch me.”

  “Where, how?”

  “Everywhere, anywhere. With your hands, your mouth, your sweet body, anything you wish, just touch me, I beg of you. I shall surely die if you do not.”

  She smiled. “Now that is the most foolish thing I have ever heard. You are far too strong to die from lack of my touch.”

  He smiled back at her. “Nae, even now my brow burns, and my heart races fit to burst from my chest.”

  “Surely not.”

  “Touch me. Discover the truth for yourself.”

  She placed a hand on his forehead. He felt hot to her touch but not feverish. She stroked her hand down his cheek to his throat, letting her fingers rest there. The blood beat fast beneath her fingertips. His skin was moist, another sign of possible malaise, but the scent of him made her mouth water. Everything about him made her hunger.

  She gave in to an odd urge and feathered rapid licks from his pulse to his earlobe, as she might savor a rare treat.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured low. “Who knew such delight could be found on a man’s skin?”

  Raeb’s chuckle rumbled soft against her belly. “’Tis no the only taste we’ll savor.” His fingers grazed the side of her breast.

  She gasped, as those same fingers found her nipple again and tugged lightly. An answering tug twinged between her legs where she knew no fingers teased because his other hand busily stroked her bottom.

  She squirmed, trying to ease the growing ache in her lower belly and felt the steely ridge of his flesh against her softness.

  “What think you, Jessamyn?” he whispered against her lips. “Is that not also delicious?”

  She frowned into his passion-dark eyes. “’Tis a strangely painful delight.”

  “Aye, that it is, my lady. And ’twill be a most toothsome exercise to ease that pain. But first let me make it worse.” He matched his lips to hers then teased her with feather-light licks of his tongue, until her mouth tingled and burned with wanting to be closer.