Page 14 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

Geordie let her nipple slip loose then, and raised his head again, one hand moving to tangle in the hair behind her head as he drew her face down for another kiss. Dwyn kissed him back almost desperately, her wet nipple tingling in the cool night air, until his hand covered it, the rough skin of his fingers abrading it and sending more shocks of excitement through her as he palmed and kneaded her eager flesh.

When he broke their kiss again, and growled, “I want to see ye,” she released a small laugh. It was too dark to see much of anything, Dwyn was sure, but didn’t protest when he urged her upper body back until she leaned against the branch she’d been sitting on, her body now splayed before him.

“Beautiful,” Geordie growled, and she glanced down with confusion to see that the moon was up now, lightening the darkness and leaving her pale skin visible where the rose gown didn’t cover her. Both breasts were fully out, the neckline caught beneath them and pushing them together and up as if offering them to him.

When Geordie took up the offer and closed his hands over them both, squeezing and urging them even tighter together, Dwyn let her head fall back. She closed her eyes, only to have them pop open again as she lifted her head with confusion when he pressed a gentle kiss to first one nipple, and then the other, before tugging the cloth up to cover them.

“We should get ye back inside.” The words were a pained growl that sounded almost reluctant, but that didn’t ease her disappointment. Obviously, he hadn’t been enjoying their interlude as much as she had, Dwyn supposed sadly, and then gasped in surprise when he caught her at the waist and set her back on her branch.

“I’ll go first and help ye down,” Geordie said, and suddenly slid out of sight.

Leaning forward, she watched him climb quickly to the ground and then peer back up at her expectantly. Dwyn hesitated, but then sighed and found handholds and started to climb down on her own, reassuring herself that surely it was dark enough he couldn’t really see up her skirt as she feared.

She was halfway down and searching blindly for a lower foothold when she felt his hand on her ankle under her skirts. Dwyn froze briefly, until he shifted her foot to a branch, and then she made herself continue down, her heartbeat tripping when his hand stayed there, moving up the side of her leg as she climbed lower. She stopped again though when his hand reached her outer thigh.

“M’laird?” Dwyn said then, her voice shaky with the queer feelings racing through her.

Dwyn thought he groaned then, but the hand was removed. Releasing a small sigh, she started to move again, only to suck in a quick startled breath when he caught her at the waist and lifted her down. Her feet had barely touched the ground when he spun her around, urged her back against the tree and kissed her again. It was a quick, hard, almost punishing kiss, and Dwyn didn’t even get the chance to recover enough from her surprise to begin to kiss him back when he suddenly ended it and stepped back.

“Ye’d best go in now, lass. They’ll be looking fer ye.” His voice was deep, and rough, and made goose bumps rise on her skin, but she murmured assent and whirled, her long hair flying out. Dwyn felt a brief tug at her head as she started away, as if her hair had caught on something, but then she was free. She didn’t glance back as she hurried through the trees; she wasn’t even really looking forward. Mostly she was looking inward, her mind pulling up his kisses and caresses and the feelings they’d engendered in her. If she’d been looking where she was going, she wouldn’t have crashed into the man on the path.

Gasping, Dwyn stepped back abruptly and would have stumbled over her own feet had Aulay Buchanan not reached out to steady her.

“Careful, lass. ’Tis dark enough to make the uneven path treacherous,” he said gently.

“Aye,” Dwyn breathed, and offered a shaky smile as he released her.

“What were ye running from?” he asked before she could skirt around him and hurry away. “Were those lasses giving ye trouble again?”

Dwyn’s eyes widened at the displeasure on his face, but she shook her head quickly. “Nay, m’laird. I was just . . .” She gestured vaguely behind her, unable to answer. She could hardly tell him what she was running from when she didn’t know herself. There had been no reason to run. Geordie had not given chase or threatened her in any way. But once he’d stopped touching and kissing her and said she should go, she’d hurried away and then broken into a run as if the devil himself was chasing her. That was something she didn’t understand herself. Especially since she’d really rather have stayed there with him. Perhaps if she had he would have kissed her again. Maybe he would have bared and touched her breasts again too, something she’d found incredibly pleasurable, which was rather surprising to her. Dwyn had never thought them useful for anything but feeding a bairn. She was learning a new appreciation for the silly large things, and beginning to understand that perhaps men didn’t like them merely because it meant their bairns would be well fed.

Aware that Aulay was staring down at her, waiting for a response, she sighed and shook her head. “I just thought I should go inside before me father started to worry.”

“Ah. I will no’ keep ye, then.” Nodding, he straightened and stepped to the side, but then added, “Howbeit if those lasses trouble ye again, ye’ve but to tell me. I’ve warned them to behave else I’ll send them on their way, and will no’ hesitate to do so do they bother ye again.”

“Oh.” Dwyn stared up at him wide-eyed. “That’s . . . er . . . Thank ye, m’laird, but ye needn’t . . . I mean, I would no’ want ye sending them away on me account. What if one o’ yer brothers desire them to wife?”

“If they do, they’re no’ the men I think they are,” he assured her. “In fact, I suspect the two women are doing naught but taking up space here. I’d send them away altogether except I did no’ wish to humiliate them that way. But I will if they ignore me warning and continue to harass yerself or any o’ the other women.”

“Thank ye, m’laird.” Tipping her head, she smiled faintly and said, “Ye’re a kind man, m’laird.”

Aulay Buchanan snorted at that. “Away with ye, lass. I’m no’ kind. Have ye no’ heard? I’m a monster, more like to make women and children weep and scream than anything else.”

Dwyn’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she recalled the tales she’d heard of the fierce warrior and his ruined face. The tales were all exaggerated, she’d decided when she saw him. While the man had a scar that almost divided his face in half, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d been led to believe, and she thought he was still an attractive man. That being the case, Dwyn snorted right back at his claim, and said, “Oh, aye, m’laird. Why, just look at yer wife. Lady Jetta is obviously terrified o’ ye.”

Aulay grinned at her teasing. “Me wife does no’ have the sense to be afraid.”

“Then we should get along well,” she assured him. “Because I do no’ fear ye either.”

“And I hope ye never have reason to, lass,” he said solemnly, and before she could think too hard on that, he added, “Now, ye’d best go in, Dwyn. Yer father and sisters will be looking fer ye.”

Dwyn clucked with irritation at that, and moved around him muttering, “You Buchanan men, ye do like to order me inside.”

She was so exasperated Dwyn didn’t notice the way his eyebrows rose or that his gaze then slid to search the depths of the gardens as she walked away.

Geordie turned from watching Dwyn disappear down the garden path and let a small sigh slide from his lips. She was a tempting little bundle. He could still see her lying back across the branch, her bare breasts arched upward invitingly, her pale skin glowing in the darkness. He could feel her soft skin under his fingers, taste her on his tongue, and again felt the urge he’d had then to drag her to the ground, throw her skirts up and plant himself in her eager body.

Dwyn would have been eager, Geordie had no doubt. There was no subterfuge with this woman. She’d admitted she’d liked his kisses, and had responded honestly to his every caress, shuddering, sighing and moaning in his arms, her nails digging into his shoulders and urging him on, unintentionally stirring his own desires to a fever pitch.

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