Page 27 of My Scot, My Surrender
It wouldn’t be long before the meal was ready, so Sorcha gathered a cloth and scooped some soap from her saddlebag with the intent of making use of the pool she’d spotted before. Her skin felt gritty, and she wanted to wash the layers of dust from her body. Unlike while she was hunting, she knew Ronan would not let her bathe alone, not in open territory. As she searched through the men, Brandt met her eyes, but she looked away.
“Duncan,” she said as she reached him. “I need you to accompany me to the river for a moment to stand watch.”
Duncan’s lips parted to reply, but then shut again as his eyes settled on something just beyond her.
She hadn’t heard Brandt approach. “I will go.”
“I wish for Duncan to go,” she said.
“He is not your husband.”
Duncan snorted a laugh before walking away. She shot Brandt a glare, her voice a cutting whisper. “Neither are you.”
Irritated, Sorcha did not wait for him to follow. She glanced over her shoulder a few times as she stalked into the woods toward the pool. Brandt followed at a distance. When she finally reached the water, she turned to see he’d stopped some ways back. He stood, rooted to the spot, staring at her.
Men. They were so obtuse. Without bothering to shout at him to turn around, as Duncan would have already done, unbidden, she pulled her dress over her head and waded into the water in her shift, gasping at its biting chill on her bare legs. She soaked her cloth and wiped the grime from her face and arms before moving to her legs and torso. The brisk scrubbing and cold water were exactly what she’d needed.
Sorcha longed to go for a swim, but it would not be wise to tarry with Ronan’s men so close. She knew most of them and trusted them. However, she was not naive to their unscrupulous urges. She’d seen many a drunken Maclaren grasping the arses of the giggling serving girls at the keep, and she knew exactly what bedding entailed thanks to the loose lips of her maid, Kira, at Maclaren.
The air suddenly turned heavy with tension, and Sorcha knew Brandt had approached the pool. She felt his gaze settle on her back. Awareness, and not the cold, made chill bumps rise all over her body. She was grateful for her shift, though it clung damply to her skin. Horrified, she realized how revealing the drenched fabric would be. Would it show the hideous map of scars that traversed her body underneath? Would he gape in disgust?
She peered over her shoulder, but his gaze was politely averted.
“What did you mean when you said I wasn’t your husband?” he asked as she hurriedly climbed the bank and shook out her clothing. She would have preferred something clean, but it could not be helped. There would be more grueling riding the next day. Keeping an eye on him, she stripped off the sodden shift and dragged her dress over her head too quickly, managing to get tangled in the yards of fabric. Thank God, she’d forgone stays. They were a nuisance on the road.
He stepped closer to her. “Sorcha?”
“I meant nothing,” she said in a low voice as she lined up the openings and tugged her skirts into place. “You’re leaving, so what does it matter?”
“We both knew I would. You’re safe now. With Ronan.”
She fastened the front-facing hooks just as he turned to look at her. “So why are you still here pretending?”
“It’s not all a pretense.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” His gaze swept her, and the desire burning in his eyes made her weak. Made her bold. She stepped forward until her breasts almost grazed his chest.
“Sorcha,” he began as if to stall her approach, but she silenced him with her fingers, holding them against his lips. Perhaps it was the fact that he was leaving, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed more to remember him by. She craved his touch, hiskiss, one more time.
Boldly, she explored the contours of his mouth with her fingertips. Brandt’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, most likely to protest. Before he could utter a word, she rose to her toes and pressed her lips to his. His entire body went ramrod still, but she did not let that stop her. Bravely, foolishly, desperately, she traced his mouth with hers…delighting in the smooth feel and the heady scent of him. When she darted out her tongue to taste him more fully, with a defeated sound, he gathered her into his arms.
The tentative kiss exploded as Brandt parted her lips with his, his fingers sinking into her hair to cup her nape. Sorcha couldn’t string two thoughts together when his tongue found hers, licking the insides of her lips and exploring all she offered. Greedily, he devoured her, and Sorcha gave no quarter…biting and sucking and stroking.
She was lost in a furor of lust, her entire body made of heat and flame, stoked by his mouth and his hands. Her limbs were useless, but she was braced so tightly to him that she knew she wouldn’t fall. The kiss gentled as he brushed her bruised lips with soothing grazes, sending feathery ripples of sensation down through to the tips of her breasts and between her thighs.
Sorcha sighed as Brandt’s lips traced a hot, wet path down her jaw to her throat. He bit gently at her flesh, and heaven above, she almost swooned at the erotic pressure of his teeth. She clutched at him, pressing her full length against his, and feeling his arousal grind against her hips in the most thrilling way…the most scandalous way. Moaning, she closed her eyes and was startled when he detached his mouth from her skin and set her firmly away from him. His eyes, splashed with green and gold, were the vibrant color of the forest around them, his lips delicious and swollen.
“Enough, Sorcha, I cannot do this.”
It was as if he’d dunked her in the icy river water.
She blinked and sucked in a harsh breath. Hurt pushed through the layers of passion still clouding her senses. His gaze was unreadable, and Sorcha couldn’t stop herself. “Why do you not want me? Is it because of the scarring?”
The pathetic words echoed between them, making her cringe and wish she could take them back. Brandt opened his mouth and closed it, his face growing pinched. Mortified, she spun on her heel and ran back toward the camp. She didn’t look over her shoulder this time to see if he followed.
She couldn’t imagine meeting his eyes ever again.
