Page 23 of Never Kiss a Scot
She studied the tall dark-haired man in front of her—eyes that promised understanding, hands that promised tenderness, and lips that promised wild passion. Yes, she was quite sure.
She stood up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. A sinuous light passed between them, and a new urgency drove her to kiss him even more deeply, flicking her tongue against his. He moaned and pulled her tighter in his arms. She felt almost weightless when he held her, as though she might drift up to the heavens with pleasure if he wasn’t holding her down. When their lips broke apart, she buried her face against his throat, inhaling the soft scents of the horses, the hay, and the scent of man,herman.
“I’m sure,” she whispered.
“Thank the Lord,” he said with a chuckle. “After a kiss like that, it wouldna be easy to let you go.”
She smiled as they finally broke apart.
“The horses are ready. I have your bag strapped to mine.” He led her to the horses outside. They were wet from the misting rain and shifted restlessly in the darkness. Joanna sucked in a breath as Brock grasped her waist and lifted her up into the saddle. She tried to settle herself to ride sidesaddle, but she realized there wasn’t a proper saddle for it.
“You need to be steady and fast. You’ll ride astride.” He guided one of her legs over the horse’s body so she could ride more steadily, and her skirts rose up to her knees.
“Oh…” She felt a flush of embarrassment and was relieved that it was too dark for him to see it. Shifting to get more comfortable, she did indeed feel steadier riding like this, with one leg on either side of her mount. She grasped the reins and waited for Brock to mount up in front of her. As he did, she caught sight of his broad back and muscled legs in his riding trousers, and her heart began to pound heavily with anticipation. This man, this powerful, beautiful man, was soon to be hers. Hers to share a bed with. Her entire body flushed with a sudden rush of heat.
“Stay close to me, lass. We want to put as much distance between us and your brother as we possibly can tonight.”
“I understand.” She guided her horse forward, and once she was alongside him, they broke into a fast trot until they were off Lennox’s land to the main road leading north. They used the woods to shield them, keeping their mounts at the edge of the road where grass grew partially over the dirt, concealing their tracks a little.
When they were at the farthest point from her home where she could still look back and see the house, she did so. It was a distant pale stone shadow in the darkness with dotted gold lights of candles in the windows.
Regret pinched her heart, but she didn’t hesitate in leaving with Brock. She wished she wasn’t facing marriage alone in a Scottish town without her family. Brock slowed to ride alongside her. Their eyes met, and he tilted his head as though to silently ask if she was all right. She answered with a firm nod, and he smiled proudly back at her.
Then they broke into a fast trot. Joanna wound the reins around her gloved hands, holding on hard as she imitated Brock’s natural horsemanship skills and leaned forward over the horse’s neck. Her horse, Kaylee, kept pace with Brock’s mount, and she felt a surge of pride that her English mare was as fast as his Scottish stallion.
Four hours later, her back was aching and her shoulders were rigid with tension. She felt a little dizzy, but she dared not call out to Brock. She had to prove she could keep up with him and not slow him down. Her fingers burned from gripping the leather reins too tightly. The rain continued to fall, making her clothes as heavy as lead, and her lashes collected droplets that constantly dripped into her eyes, but she couldn’t risk wiping them away lest she lose hold of the reins.
Brock suddenly slowed his mount to walk, and she nearly cried in relief as she slowed Kaylee down beside him.
“We’ll rest the horses. ’Tis well past midnight.” He nodded to a grove of trees a small distance off the road. She followed him as they guided their horses in the direction of the grove.
Brock dismounted and then came over to her. He was dripping with rain, and his clothing was cold, but his face was sharp with a masculine vigor at defying nature. Their gazes locked, and she trembled with excitement as he gripped her waist and lowered her to the ground. They were alone, and no one would stop him now if he decided to kiss her. She certainly wouldn’t have stopped him if he did. She almost moaned at the glorious feel of his large warm body close to hers.
“Will you be all right for a moment while I tend the horses?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, not sure why she felt she had to be quiet. Perhaps it was the nature of their flight, the danger, the excitement, but she didn’t wish to speak too loudly.
He stepped back and led the horses deeper beneath the low-lying trees, tying their reins to a branch. He pulled two apples out of the pockets of his coat and quickly fed one to each. The horses munched on their treats, and then, after giving them each a quick pat, Brock returned to Joanna and guided her to a big tree. They eased down on the ground. He removed his greatcoat and pulled her against him as he stretched out near the grooves between the vast roots. His coat made for a decent blanket for them, yet Joanna shivered, pressing her face into his chest.
“It will be a rough night,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for that. I wish I could give you a warm bed and a cozy fire.”
“I’m all right,” she insisted, but her chattering teeth made him laugh.
“I’ll keep you warm.” He rubbed one hand up and down her back in a soothing way. She didn’t think she could fall asleep, not being so cold and uncomfortable, but soon she heard Brock humming a song, and the pleasant sound distracted her.
“What’s that?” she asked drowsily.
“An old song. ‘The Mist-Covered Mountains.’ Would you like me to sing it?”
Joanna smiled. “You sing?” The thought of him doing so filled her with unexpected delight.
He laughed, the rich sound rolling through him as he answered. “Every good Scotsman sings.”
“Yes, please sing to me.” She hesitantly curled an arm around his waist as he held her closer still.
O chi, chi mi na morbheanna
O chi, chi mi na corrbheanna
