Page 26 of Never Kiss a Scot
“Ladies in Scotland have more freedom,” he explained. “You may do anything you please. I want our marriage to be one of equals.” It was vital that she understood that. He had no desire to order her about or lock her inside the castle and control her the way his father had controlled his mother. The very thought of it made his stomach knot with painful memories.
Her eyes darkened as she stood up on tiptoe, kissing him. It was not a kiss to inflame desire, nor did he wish for it to be. It was an expression of gratitude. Still, it flamed the desire within him, and he couldn’t resist the temptation she presented. He caught her by the waist, lifting her out of the shallows and carrying her into the protection of the trees, where he pressed her against a sturdy ancient oak. Then he kissed her the way he wanted to, the way a man can when no one is watching. With fire and hunger and longing. He explored the delicate shape of her mouth, the shell of each ear, and the back of her neck, making her shiver and moan in his arms.
Before he could stop himself, he was sliding a hand up her thigh, questing eagerly for that sweet spot between her legs. When he found it, he slid a finger inside her. She jumped, digging her fingers into his shoulders. She was wet and hot and already unbearably tight.
She hissed and threw her head back in startled surprise as he gently thrust his finger in and out of her. He wanted her to know this, to feel him inside her, even in this limited fashion for now. This was how she would be, wild and wanton, clawing at him for more as her passion exploded.
“Brock!” She screamed his name in surprise and fright as her passion overtook her so abruptly that it caught them both off guard.
He kept her pinned to the tree, holding her steady, holding himself steady too. Her channel clamped down around his finger in little aftershocks, and she whimpered as he withdrew his finger and put it to his lips. He sucked it clean and moaned at the taste of her.
“My God, lassie,” he uttered hoarsely. He shouldn’t have done that. His body was rigid with need now, but he’d have to calm himself or else he’d be unable to ride today.
“That…you…” Her blue eyes were searching his, as though trying to comprehend what they’d just shared.
“That was us, together, lass. Soon it will be even better, I can promise you that.” He kissed her then, soft and sweet, just as she had done to him moments ago, before he’d gotten carried away.
She and I will soon know each other in bed and outside of it.It was just as important to him as having a strong passion between them in bed.
She stepped back from him on trembling legs and returned to the grassy shore, where she dried her feet and put her stockings and boots back on.
He stood there, watching her. His blood hummed sweetly, and his hands ached to drag her back into his arms. But he had to resist. There would be time enough yet for all the things they could share.
“Ready to go?” he asked when she’d finished.
“Yes.” She rubbed her neck while a wild blush stained her cheeks, but she made no protest as he helped her back onto her horse. They were making good time. As long as they didn’t delay, they would reach Gretna Green in another day.
They rode several hours, taking only brief breaks to let the horses rest. As dusk fell, they entered more hilly countryside, and Brock kept a sharp eye out for a good place to find shelter for the night. He spotted some rocky outcroppings, and the two left the road and moved into the denser underbrush by the rocks. Brock dismounted and helped Joanna down.
“Stay here a minute.” He left her holding the reins of both horses while he did a quick investigation of the area. He found a small cave on the opposite side of the rocks, perfect for tonight. He returned to Joanna and showed her where the cave was. Then he tended to the horses while she saw to her personal needs. Then he broke the bread and cheese up between them, and they shared the flask of ale again. He could tell by her eyes and her face that she was weary from the travel, but she made no protest, not even a whimper.
Brock made a comfortable nest of his coat. He hadn’t thought to bring extra blankets except for the ones to put over the horses after he had unsaddled them.
I’m a bloody fool for not thinking ahead.He’d been so focused on avoiding Ashton and getting safely away from the estate that he hadn’t seen to his wife’s basic needs. He vowed to find a way to do something special for her when they reached his home to make it up to her.
“Come and rest,” he beckoned as the night closed in on them. Joanna could barely see him in the dark, but she managed to find him and lay down beside him. He wrapped the greatcoat over them and pulled her in tight. He’d never been more thankful to have a sunny day following the previous night of rain.
Joanna slid one hand over his shirt close to his throat, her fingers twirling the fabric of his shirt before she fell deep into slumber. Brock smiled in the darkness, unafraid to let his affection show given that the only witnesses were the stars and the two horses. He had grown protective of this woman in a way he never had about anyone else. It was frightening to care about her like this, but he knew he could never go back. He could not erase these feelings inside him.
He began to drift off to sleep himself, his mind settling into that hazy place between dreams and conscious thought.
Suddenly he was alert, his eyes flashing open. His heart beat fast, and he searched the darkness, trying to find what had disturbed him. A full moon cast its milky light over the trees outside their hiding spot. The silhouettes of the horses at the mouth of the cave were unchanged. What had woken him? Brock watched the trees, noting the shadowy sway of branches in the night breeze. He closed his eyes again.
His only fear was being caught by Lennox, and he was certain Lennox wouldn’t leave the road to find them.
Snap!The distinct sound of a twig breaking had him sliding Joanna gently to the ground so that he could get up. He pressed his body flat against the wall of the cave, on the side that was darker with shadows. If anyone came inside, they would not easily see him, and it would give him a brief advantage if he had to fight.
An interminable silence passed before he heard a second snap and a soft whisper almost too quiet to be heard. A trio of figures moved into the mouth of the cave. They were decent-sized men, and any struggle with them would not be easy. He leapt at the man at the back, knocking him into the opposite wall of the cave. The man grunted and fought back, kicking Brock hard in the stomach. Air rushed from his lungs and he stumbled, fighting off a brief wave of pain. He had only a second before the other two men launched themselves at him. He bellowed and threw one of them off his back, but not before he heard Joanna’s startled cry.
“Brock, help!” she screamed. The shout was cut short. Terror shot through his body, and he punched the man trying to choke him from behind.
“Hold him!” the first man hissed.
“Trying to!” the man behind Brock snarled, squeezing tighter. Brock clawed at his neck, his breathing dangerously shallow. He flung himself backward, ramming the man on his back against the cave wall. The man cursed in pain, and Brock repeated the move a second time. His vision was blurring now. Shadows darted across his eyes as he prepared to crush the man trying to choke him a third time.
Joanna needs me.
“Stop that right now or your woman dies.” One of their attackers moved into view at the mouth of the cave. He held Joanna against his chest. Her mouth was gagged, and her wrists were pinned in the grasp of one hand while he pressed a knife’s edge to the vulnerable column of her throat.
