Page 61 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

Fortunately, the horses weren’t a worry for their own voyage. Having just unloaded its cargo, and carrying his group only so far as Thurso before continuing on to collect a fresh load in New Aberdeen, the Mary Margaret did have room for their mounts. So at least he wouldn’t have to leave their horses behind and purchase new ones for the six of them when they reached their destination.

“Why did you send Tom with Fearghas and Donnghail?” she asked now, sounding troubled. “You do not suspect him too, do you?”

“Nay,” he assured her quickly. “It just seemed better to have three to guard against attack by brigands or such, and I wanted at least two o’ me men here to guard ye besides Alick and myself.” That was almost the truth.

Afraid of what she might ask next, Rory prevented her from asking anything at all by telling her tales of the troubles he’d encountered on past travels as he rushed through his bath.

“My, you have traveled a lot and had some adventures,” Elysande commented, still laughing softly over a tale he’d told her about his party being attacked while he was bathing in a loch, and his rushing out to fight them naked, hampered by the need to cover himself with one hand for fear his adversary might lop off his manhood.

“Aye. I suppose I have,” he agreed, sounding surprised at the realization.

Elysande hesitated and then asked, “Have you ever fallen in love during your travels?”

“Nay,” he assured her with amusement. “No’ until n—” He broke off abruptly, and then cleared his throat and said, “I was always too busy learning all I could about healing to pay much attention to the lasses.”

Elysande was silent for a minute, considering what he’d said, and what she thought he might have been going to say. She was quite sure he had been about to say “not until now.” At least, she hoped those were the words he’d cut off, because he made her feel loved and cared for and safe. The way he acted with her reminded her very much of how her father had been with her mother, and they had loved each other dearly. Her father had always been following her mother with his eyes, as Rory did with her. Had always been caring and solicitous, as Rory was with her. Even when disagreeing about something, her parents’ love had been unmistakable.

And Mildrede had thought Rory cared for her. The alewife’s comments about it were what had made Elysande notice his behavior toward her, and recognize her own growing feelings for him. Or at least acknowledge them. She supposed she’d been aware of them on one level before that, but hadn’t truly acknowledged them until Mildrede made her with a few comments. She liked the man. She liked how he led the men with confidence and ease. She respected him too, for both his healing skill and intelligence. And she wanted him. Ever since those kisses and caresses in the woods . . . well, they were never far from her mind. Nor was the desire to experience them again. And perhaps more.

“What are ye thinking, lass?”

Rory’s voice directly behind her made her start and glance over her shoulder to find he was out of the bath, clad in his tunic and plaid and settled on the fur behind her. She stared at him blankly, vaguely aware that he was taking the brush from her hand, and then she murmured, “That was fast.”

“Aye. I found I wanted to help dry yer hair,” he said with a crooked smile, and then nudged her chin to get her to turn away from him so that he could begin doing so. “Now tell me what ye were thinking about.”

“You,” she admitted as he drew the brush through her hair in long slow strokes.

“Oh?” She heard the smile in his voice. “And what were ye thinking about me?”

“That I like you, and I like your kisses and would like for you to kiss me again,” Elysande said boldly, and was surprised when Rory suddenly froze with the brush halfway through a stroke and groaned miserably.

“Ah, lass,” he sighed after a moment, and started brushing again. “Ye ha’e no idea how much ye tempt me with such words. But I canno’.”

“Why?” she asked at once.

“Because ye’re a temptation I find hard to resist, and the last time I kissed ye I lost all control. Had we no’ been interrupted by those snapping branches in the woods, I might verra well have taken yer innocence there up against that tree.” When she didn’t gasp in shock or otherwise react to the comment, he added, “And if I started kissing ye here, I’m quite sure I’d again no’ be able to stop.”

“Then do not stop,” she said simply, and the brush stilled again.

“Lass,” he said in warning.

Elysande turned to peer at him over her shoulder, and then shifted to face him properly and met his gaze. “When I left Kynardersley, I felt sure it would be the last time I would see it. I did not expect to survive to reach Sinclair, or warn the king. The odds were stacked against me, after all. One lass and a couple of young, newly knighted soldiers against up to six armies.”

“Six?” he echoed with a frown. “De Buci has six co-conspirators?”

Elysande nodded, but left the subject behind to continue making her point. “As I say, I did not expect to survive, but you and your men make me feel safer. You even give me a little hope that I might survive or at least that my mother’s messages will make it to Sinclair and the king. But most of me still does not expect to survive this journey.”

Reaching out, she caressed his face gently, enjoying the feel of his newly shaved cheek against her fingers. “If there is even a chance that I might die, I should like very much to first experience your kisses and caresses again, and whatever follows should you lose control.”

Rory caught her hand, stopping her from touching him anymore. “Lass, I ken ye fear ye’ll no’ survive and wish to enjoy what ye can while ye can, but I would no’ do anything that ye might regret later.”

“Why would I regret bedding a man I have come to love?” she asked, and the words were not at all hard to say. There was no hesitation, no blushing confession, no expectation that he should return her feelings and no fear that he would not. It was just a simple statement of fact, and Elysande felt that was as it should be. Love was a gift that should be given freely, and without the expectation of gaining anything in return. It was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be afraid of. It just was.

Rory stared at her for a long moment, and Elysande met his gaze unembarrassed, not trying to hide her feelings from him.

“Lass, I—” he began in a voice that rasped along her nerve endings like a caress, and then he fell silent and she could see his honor battling with desire on his face.

Elysande wasn’t interested in his honor, however. This might be her only chance to fully experience the pleasure he had given her a taste of in the woods. She was damned if she was dying without experiencing more of it. Elysande tugged her hand from his and reached up to untuck the plaid she’d wrapped around herself toga-style. Pulling the cloth free, she let the wool drop to pool around her waist and then began to undo the laces that ran down her chest to just above her breasts. Her hands were trembling now, but she managed the task, and then was able to push the wide neck off her shoulders, so that it too fell to pool around her waist. Raising her chin then, she smiled at him unashamed and said, “You introduced me to the innkeeper as your wife. Make love to me like a husband would.”

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