Page 45 of Awoken
All she knew was that as he silently moved toward her, she couldn’t take her gaze from him. An ache rose under her breastbone, a longing for something she didn’t even understand.
And then he was on his knees before her, and his hands were cupping her face. She felt the roughness of the callouses upon his palms against her skin, yet his touch was gentle.
A heartbeat later, he kissed her.
Like his hands, the kiss was soft, as if she was fragile and might shatter. His lips brushed hers, once, twice—testing to see if she’d recoil from his touch.
Heart now thundering, Leanna closed her eyes and leaned into him.
With a swiftly indrawn breath, Ross’s mouth covered hers, and when his tongue gently parted her lips, she welcomed it. The heat of him, the taste of him, consumed her. He kissed her softly, yet deeply, with a tenderness she’d never have expected from the likes of Ross Campbell.
Still cupping her face, he angled it back slightly, so that he could deepen the kiss further. A groan rose in Leanna’s throat as he did so and, shyly, she stroked his tongue with her own. She had no idea how to do this. One of her father’s men had kissed her once—a stolen moment in a stairwell at Duncaith. It had been quick and hard, and had crushed her lips against her teeth. But Ross’s embrace was nothing like that—it was melting, coaxing, and Leanna’s welling groan finally escaped her.
Her body melted, and her lower belly suddenly felt incredibly alive, as if a fire had kindled there.
Breathing hard, Ross drew back.
His gaze was hooded, his eyes almost black in the dimness. Despite the gentleness of his touch, his expression was taut, almost feral. He looked dangerous, and a strange thrill shivered through Leanna in response.
She should be scared of him—especially after her ordeal with MacKinnon the night before—and yet the moment he’d cupped her face with his hands, the opposite had occurred.
She might have roused tender feelings in him that had caused him to throw away his future in order to help her, but his kiss had awoken something wild within her too.
Recklessness surged through Leanna, and the aliveness in her lower belly deepened to an ache. Lord, how she wanted him to kiss her again.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” Ross’s voice, low and sensual, held a husky edge that made Leanna’s breathing quicken further. “Not after what ye have suffered of late.”
“I am well, Ross,” she replied softly. “MacKinnon frightened me … but I stopped him before he managed to inflict any harm.” Her mouth curved into a hard smile. “Lucky for me, he was rotten with drink … it made him careless.”
Ross managed a half-smile, although his gaze was still dark and fathomless. “It was a brave thing ye did.”
Leanna’s smile widened. “Aye … I did Mother Shona proud.” Seeing the confusion that filtered across his face at these words, Leanna realized that, like most folk upon the Isle of Skye, he had no idea what the Sisters of Kilbride practiced behind the sheltering confines of their abbey. “The abbess teaches all the nuns how to defend themselves,” she explained. “Once we learn the basics, we get to choose a specialty … mine is archery.”
Ross sat back on his heels, his mouth quirking. “Before ye left Kilbride, Carr and I watched ye and another nun returning from a hunt,” he admitted. “I remember the longbow and quiver of arrows ye carried upon yer back.”
“Ye were there?” Leanna’s body tensed at this news, her smile slipping.
“Aye,” Ross ran a hand through his hair, his gaze shadowing. “I’d seen yer father’s men arrive and knew it would be only a matter of time before ye departed with them.”
Silence fell between them, and the tender, sensual mood shattered. Although he hadn’t intended them that way, Ross’s words were another sharp reminder of how this mess had all started—and the role he’d played in it.
Leanna tensed. She remembered Ross’s arrogance when he’d captured her. It was hard to believe the man before her was the one who’d abducted her—yet he was.
“I told ye I shouldn’t have kissed ye,” Ross said as he moved farther back from her. The regret in his voice cut into Leanna. “We may overlook the history between us for a few moments … but it can never be forgotten.”
21
The Weight of the World
AS DUSK SETTLED over the camp, the outlaw woman named Fenella brought them some food. The wooden door to the hut creaked open, bringing with it the fading light outdoors, and she entered.
Fenella carried an oil lamp with her, which she set upon the ground before a tray of bannock and hard cheese. Moving away, the outlaw motioned to the clay bottle on the tray. “There is ale to slake yer thirst,” she said, her tone guarded.
Leanna offered the woman a tentative smile. After the kiss she and Ross had shared, she’d been on edge. They’d spoken little since, yet seeing this woman reminded Leanna that she’d revealed herself to be strong-willed and independent of thought earlier in the day—the sort of woman Leanna usually got on with well. “Thank ye, Fenella.”
The woman stiffened, her gaze meeting Leanna’s. However, she didn’t return the smile.
Emboldened nevertheless, Leanna pressed on. “I appreciate the hospitality … worry not, we won’t stay long.”
