Chapter Fourteen

The muscles in Shaw’s stomach contracted. Damn it all! Had the woman been attacked, raped? Was that why she carried so many weapons? She watched him closely, but he kept his features still.

“Ye have been with a man before?” he asked softly. It was another question, but more elaboration was needed, like whether the act was what she wanted or the bastard’s name so he could hunt him down and geld him.

“No,” she said. “Not a man. A horse.”

Shaw’s breath caught, making him cough hard into his fist. When he could draw a full breath again, he looked at her. Did she not know what it meant to lose her virginity? “A horse?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Many women lose their maidenhead while riding in the saddle. I grew up riding horses.” She nodded. “I am certain that my maidenhead is gone.”

It wasn’t, at least not from what he’d felt last night. The memory of her hot, wet tightness sent a rush of blood through him below the table. “Being pure from a man’s touch is different from losing your maidenhead,” he said. “Riding a horse does not make ye less of a virgin.”

She frowned. “If being impure because of a man’s touch is what makes a woman lose her virginity, then I would say you did that last night.”

His palm slid down the side of his face. What could he say? Nothing that wouldn’t stir more anger in her. So, he flipped his third card. A black king. Fok.

What big secret could he tell her that wouldn’t make her hate him? Only one secret came to mind. He looked across to her expectant face, so beautiful and masking a clever mind that would pick up on lies immediately. Best to steer completely away from his past.

She leaned forward, her fingertips wrapped over the edge of the table. “Something true. Something big. A king demands the most.” As if he didn’t know that. He could call her a cheat, accuse her of laying out the cards she wanted, but purposely making her angry wasn’t how he wished to spend their time tonight.

And how do you want to spend the time tonight? His conscience and jack warred within him. Blast it all.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I want nothing more than to love ye here in this cabin all night long.” Was that true, though? Didn’t he want Girnigoe more? He opened his eyes to see her wide ones staring back at him. “But giving yourself to me could jeopardize my mission to reclaim my clan’s lands and castle,” he said. “And it could jeopardize your future.” He swallowed. “With the man ye wish to wed.”

She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look down when she flipped another card. It was a five of diamonds, but she hadn’t seen it. “We will likely not have this opportunity again, Shaw.” Her voice was soft but strong, a whisper full of determination and conviction. “I would give myself to the man I want.” She shook her head, her unbound hair moving along the skin of her shoulders. “Not to bring two clans together or to do my duty of bringing a babe into the world. I would give myself to one who makes my blood boil with want, my skin tingle, and my body soar. And that man is you.”

Her words hit harder than a battle ax, vibrating through his discipline, cracking it open to lay his want bare. His hands fisted on the table before him. “Alana… I am the chief of the clan that your clan has been battling for a decade.”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Stop saying that. Tonight, in this cottage, in the deep woods, without men or students or babes or even dogs, we are free of all that. No one need know what conspires between us, what has been consuming our rational thoughts.” So, she had felt the pull between them all day, too. “What happens here is just between us,” she ended on a whisper.

Sitting higher in her seat on the bed, she inhaled and straightened her shoulders. The golden shades of firelight from the hearth slid over the smooth skin of her collarbone. Slowly her fingers uncurled from the blanket wrapped around her, and she let it loosen, inching down.

His breath stopped as the blanket slid lower, and her beautifully full breasts were bared. Perfectly round and lush, with dusty pink centers around peaked nipples. The skin looked as soft as he remembered feeling last night in the darkness, their size and weight perfect in the palms of his hands. “Och, lass,” he murmured but didn’t move.

“Something else you should know about me, Shaw,” Alana said, rising, her blanket falling to the curve of her hips. “Once I decide on a course of action, whether that is to demand I be allowed to participate in a festival game, kill a man to protect a babe, or seduce an honorable man into showing me what complete passion feels like…Once I decide…” Her hands reached up under the heaviness of her breasts, lifting them, her thumbs strumming against her already pebbled nipples. “It becomes my mission, one that I will see finished.”

Mission. See finished. The words surfaced in Shaw’s mind like leaves blowing on the wind, but they blackened into ash as the fire within him exploded, lighting his blood. If he had a mind to question what was happening to him, he’d wonder if Alana were a witch. She was certainly a temptress.

His fingers curled around the edge of the table as he stood. He meant to shove it aside, but the light table went flying with the restless energy in his muscles, the cards scattering like the leaves falling on the thatched roof above them in the deserted forest. But his focus didn’t leave Alana standing proudly before him as the blanket fell down her legs to her feet.

…

The air in the cottage was cool on her bare skin, but the heat in Shaw’s stare swamped her with warmth. She shivered anyway, her toes curling against the swept floorboards. The chill in the room was forgotten in the wash of wildness swirling within her. She’d never done anything like this before, had never even been naked before a man. But she’d also never felt anything close to this heat inside her.

The table and cards were tossed away, just like she’d tossed away all Shaw’s reasons for leaving her alone and untouched. For she wanted to be touched by him, to feel the magic he’d kindled as they strained together in the darkness last night. She wanted to be felt and seen and remembered by this mountain of a man. When he looked at her, she no longer blended away into nothing, and she wanted something to remember forever when their missions were done.

She stepped forward into the place where the table had separated them and raised her hand to lay a palm flat over his heart. Shaw truly saw her; the proof was in the wild thumping under his skin. She tipped her head back, feeling the cool brush of her drying curls slide along her bare backside, and met his gaze. Shuddering under the intensity of his stare, she tried to keep her breaths even. “Shaw, I want you. Give yourself to me,” she said, changing around the words. “Make the world outside these walls melt away. Just for tonight.” She swallowed as she stared up into the darkness of his eyes.

Before she could draw in her next breath, his arms came up around her, pulling her against him. Heat ignited a fire for which she yearned instead of feared. She slid her splayed hands up his thick arms, over the dark lines of the horse etched there. She skimmed them across to the muscular curves of his chest and upward over his broad shoulders. Chill bumps rose on his skin, and his nipples hardened under her touch. He bent over her, kissing her, tasting her, ravishing her mouth as she slid her head to the side, welcoming everything that he gave. She would take it all, every last sensation and detail of the magic coursing between them, locking it all up inside her memories forever.

Breathing against each other, they kissed, and Alana felt the stroke of Shaw’s hands down to her naked backside, palming each globe; he lifted her to fit intimately against his hardness, only the blanket wrapped around his hips keeping them apart. She moaned into his mouth and pressed her pelvis against him, the spark of pleasure spreading into a heavy ache there.

With a tug, he pulled the blanket loose, letting it drop. She glanced down to see the length that she’d felt last night. Large and powerful, he stood erect, making the flutter in her stomach twist with a mix of concern and raw want. Shaw didn’t give her long to worry, pulling her back in to sweep her away in more kisses. The heat of him pressed against the curve of her stomach, his hands catching her cheeks as they broke apart, both of them breathing hard.

“Alana, lass?” he said. She heard the question and saw it in the small part of his gaze that wasn’t totally consumed with their passion.

“Yes, Shaw, yes, I am certain. I want this, and I want you.”

His hands slid along her face to cup her head, and she closed her eyes as the warmth of his kiss turned wild. His hands caressed her shoulders and down her arms, as if he were trying to touch every square inch of her naked skin. She raked his back gently with her nails down to his toned backside. He groaned deeply into her mouth, and his hand slid across her collarbone and lower to cup her breast. She moaned with need as he palmed one and then the other, tweaking the raised, sensitive buds.

Shifting, he kicked off his boots and lowered his mouth to one aching nipple. “Yes,” she hissed, throwing her head back. His hands held her arched back as he feasted on one taut breast and then the other, loving each with nibbles and hot kisses, sucking them into his mouth until she felt the sensation course down her body to the damp place between her legs.

Alana pressed against his hardness, her fingers curled into the thickness of his massive shoulders. He took two steps, carrying her with him backward until she felt the bed against the bend of her knees. Shaw trailed kisses down between her breasts as he held them, tweaking her nipples which were wet and cool from his mouth, until he was on his knees before her. Feather-light kisses down her stomach and abdomen sent shivers of heat and sensation up and down her.

“Sit, love,” he whispered, the endearment sending spirals of tightening through her chest to speed her heart. His large hands captured her hips to urge her down on the edge of the bed. She watched through half-closed eyes as he continued a path of kisses lower, the heat from his mouth matching the heat growing like an out-of-control wildfire within her body.

“Shaw.” He was beautiful in a mountainous, powerful way. Like a barbarian of old, full of masculinity and strength, but with the gentleness and honor of a gallant knight.

“Lean back and feel,” he said, his northern accent thick, and he lifted each of her legs to rest on his broad shoulders. She was completely spread and bare to his gaze. “So lovely,” he said, his gaze moving up to meet her eyes before he bowed his head.

Alana couldn’t tear away from the sight of his bent head, the dark brown hair drying in waves, as he lowered, his fingers slipping below, finding her secrets again. She gasped with the heat of his kiss, watching him love her. Sensations spiraled upward, connecting the sweet ache building in her core to the wild beating of her heart, and her eyes flickered closed. Fingers twining in the thin throw that she’d laid upon the bed, her body strained toward the ecstasy she’d climbed to last night. But this was more, more intimate, more intense. He played her with his fingers while loving her with his mouth, his tongue.

“Oh God, Shaw,” she breathed, the end of her words bending into a groan. She lay back on the straw-filled tick, arching and clasping her breasts as he moved rapidly below, stroking the fires within her until sparks of light fringed the darkness behind her eyelids.

“Yes, bloody hell, yes,” she called, her words filling the small world of the cottage around them. The release of the words and her loud moans built on the rhythm that Shaw had set below, her core pressing upward in time with it until… The peak broke suddenly, sending pleasure shooting off within her writhing body. A high-pitched moan billowed up from her throat, and she let it come, let all of her fall over the edge of reason, her toes curling as her knees bent deeper where they latched onto his shoulders.

He slid up her body, kissing her stomach and breasts until he hovered over her on the bed. Somehow, he’d lifted her to the center. He wiped a hand along his mouth, his gaze fastened to hers. It was fierce and intense and sent another jolt of heat through her, making her core clench again with anticipation. She reached down to capture his hard length, sliding her hand along it.

“Mo chreach, Alana,” he groaned. He leaned on one elbow as his other hand teased her nipple while lifting her full breast, and he kissed her. Their lips fused together, sliding, giving and taking as he continued to stroke her body until she was again writhing against him. Her hand kept up a rhythm, and his fingers trailed to her heat below. Ready and completely wanting, she spread her knees far apart.

“Please, Shaw,” she said against his mouth, her words breathless and needy. Had she ever begged before in her life? No, but she had never felt such sweet fever. She raised her knees, locking her legs around his hips, and pulled the tip of him close to her heat. “See me,” she said, her words a breathless whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

He leaned over her, his face tense as they locked their gazes. “I will always see ye.” His hips surged forward, and she let go as he plunged into her. Large, so incredibly large. A sting of pain shot upward, and she inhaled. He stilled, buried deep inside.

She felt him brush hair back from her temple and realized that she’d squeezed her eyes shut. Apparently, she hadn’t lost her virginity in the saddle. “Alana,” Shaw said.

“It is no matter,” she replied, opening her eyes. “Already fading.”

He studied her face as if trying to read the truth. She smiled, her fingers going around his neck to pull him back in. “Kiss me senseless again,” she murmured and pressed upward against him.

He sucked in breath. “Good God,” he whispered, and slowly withdrew to press into her tight body again. “Ye are like wet fire and heaven mixed together,” he said at her ear, his words so full of passion and reverence that she shuddered, moving against him in the slow rhythm he’d started.

“Keep talking,” she said, feeling the erotic power of the words.

In and out, he moved, his body strong and sleek with muscle. “Do ye feel me way up inside ye, lass?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, squeezing around him and marveling in his groan.

He leaned into her ear, whispering, his hot breath sending wild pictures through her mind. “I want to take ye from behind,” he said. Unable to form words, she nodded vigorously, trusting him to guide her.

She almost cried out in disappointment when he rose, leaving her body, but he turned her around, pulling her up onto her hands and knees. She felt him there again, where she ached, the emptiness feeling hollow. She panted loudly as he slowly pushed back inside her from behind, filling her a different, excruciatingly wonderful way.

Shaw leaned over her, covering her entire back with his chest and stomach as he rocked into her. His fingers wrapped underneath, finding her sensitive spot, strumming it, making her moan and shift against them as she bucked backward. His other hand held tightly to her breast, the roughness of his thumb sliding over her nipple, pinching it to send another shot of passion flying down through her, connecting with her hot core. “Good bloody hell, Shaw,” she said, her voice loud and keening.

“Keep talking,” he said, and she felt him kiss and nip the back of her neck, his hot breath sending more shivers along her skin.

“Yes,” she yelled. “More.”

“More what?”

“More…everything.”

He picked up the rhythm, thrusting into her open body, playing across her sensitive nub, squeezing her breast. Alana reared backward, feeling him slap against her until the fire built higher and higher. “Shaw,” she screamed as she came apart, shattering into a thousand sparks of sensation.

Over her, Shaw growled, thrusting into her as he, too, exploded, his heat filling her. Her body clenched along his length as they continued the rhythm, over and over again with the waves of passion, until her head fell forward to hang between her shoulders.

His hand stroked up her stomach as they slowed. Finally stopping, he pulled her to the side with him, their legs intertwined, his thighs supporting hers from behind. She had never felt so protected, so wanted, so seen before.

She nestled backward into him, watching the shadows and light from the hearth flicker across the walls of the tiny room, loving the feel of him all around her.

As the silence continued, worry began to seep in. She swallowed. Was he regretting the whole thing? “I guess… I was a virgin,” she said softly.

He kissed the side of her neck, hugging her, and relief uncoiled a notch in her stomach. He pulled her gently over onto her back, looking down to stare directly into her eyes. A slight smile touched his lips. “I knew, from the feel of ye last night.”

“Oh,” she said. “But that did not stop you.”

His gaze moved above her head and then back to her eyes. “Once ye asked—”

“Demanded,” she said and ran her fingers over a wave of his hair that hung around his solid jawline.

He snorted softly. “Aye, once ye demanded, there was no way I could stop.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Are ye a witch, Alana Campbell?”

She smiled. “Maybe I am. I seem to have quite a bit of power over you,” she said, reaching down to find him already growing hard again.

He laughed and passed a leisurely kiss across her lips before rising, his gaze going to the hearth. “Ye have been so full of passion that ye did not notice the hare and pheasant are burning.” She turned on her side, watching him step out of their little nest, and reached down to the floor to grab the blanket that she’d dropped. Without Shaw’s body against her, the room was cold. She watched him walk across the room, completely naked and comfortable with it, as he crouched before the hearth to turn the spit. The bandage that he’d wrapped around his hip had been torn away. A dab of blood beaded out of one of the stitches, but the thread had held through their madness.

“Well done on one side,” he said, seemingly unfazed by his wound.

“I don’t mind,” she said, mesmerized by the play of light and shadow across his nakedness. The muscles of his shoulders and back contracted and lengthened, showing the long scars across his skin. The white lines where he’d been lashed stood out against his tanned skin, muscles moving under them as he worked the spit around.

“One of your stitches is bleeding,” she said, her voice soft.

He stood and her breath caught at the raw beauty of the man as he twisted to look down at the long gash. Toned and full of muscle, the lines and sinew of his body were smooth and full from obvious training with the heavy swords and hammers. He wiped the spot with his thumb. “’Tis nothing. The thread held.”

Her gaze traveled over the scars along his back. She didn’t say anything, but her heart hurt for the boy Shaw had been. Where she had grown up surrounded by love, he had grown to manhood under the cruel thumb of an abusive man who may have killed his mother.

“They do not bother me.” His voice was low and caught at her breath. He was watching her.

“I am sorry,” she said, looking away. Sorry that he caught her staring. Sorry that pity showed in her face. And exceedingly sorry that he suffered so much as a boy, and even now, that he had to bear the scars from such brutality.

He walked over, crouching before her, his hand going to her foot. He picked it up, rubbing his knuckle slowly along her scarred arch. Her toes curled as it tickled.

He lifted it to his mouth and kissed the side where the burn scars wrapped up and around. “Ye can look all ye want,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Just do not be sorry for me. The marks mean that we survived something fierce and lived to carry the scars. They show how strong we are. ’Tis not something to mourn but a testament to our endurance.”

She swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat and nodded, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “You are a wise man, Shaw Sinclair.”

He leaned back, his smile quirking to the side. “Some would argue against that.” He stood to go back over to the spit in the hearth. “Including me.”

Her gaze dipped to the mounding of muscle in his arm as he turned the meat. The sharp points and swirls of the tattooed horse on his upper arm reminded her of something ancient and magical.

“Is the horse on your skin Rìgh?” she asked.

His arm flexed as he lifted it to look at the tattoo, and her breath hitched a little. Lord, just a simple gesture stirred the fire within her.

“Nay,” he said, striding back. “It is the symbol of the Sinclairs from long ago. We have always revered the strength, stamina, and speed in horses.” He sat on the edge of the bed, glancing down at his hip as if just checking to see if it still bled. “A century ago, there was a legend that the four sons of Sinclair were the biblical four horsemen of the Apocalypse.” He reached forward to slide a knuckle down her cheek.

“Since we are all still here, I guess they were not,” she said, though her words came breathless under his light touch. They had just stroked, kissed, and loved each other to shattering peaks, and yet she could feel her blood warming quickly.

He smiled, a real one that reached his eyes. She loved it when he smiled. She hadn’t realized how much heaviness he was carrying until he let the frown and tense fierceness drop away from his face, leaving behind a look full of hope and contentment.

“True,” he said. “Even if they were not magical warriors sent from God, they revered and trained horses, and our clan has continued to do so.” He leaned in, capturing her lips with his own, and all thoughts of horses and legends dissolved under the warm pressure.

She felt the bed dip as he climbed over her, pulling her into him to continue the leisurely kiss. When he pulled back, she opened her eyes to see him watching her, a hunger etched into his features. “We should eat and then sleep,” he said.

She shifted, feeling his hard length against her stomach. “That is not what your body suggests.”

Swallowing, he slid a hand through her hair to cup her head. “Your body needs time,” he said, his voice hoarse with struggle. He was right.

“But,” she said, sliding her hand down to find him; a groan rumbled up from his solid chest. “That does not mean we have to just eat and sleep,” she said, and pressed her naked, well-loved body up against his, their mouths sealing together for another wild dance. The heat and need blocked out the world beyond the walls of their little forgotten cottage in the woods.