Page 22 of Pretty in Plaid
“I was hoping I didna...I…” She didn’t know what to say. Her whole body heated all over again because she’d liked the way it had felt against her and enjoyed even more hearing him say something so naughty against her ear.
Kenna did the first thing that came to her mind. She moved against him, slid her fingers over the muscles of his chest and touched her mouth on his. “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his lips. “But I canna help myself.”
“Och, lass, but neither can I.”
His hand came around the back of her, gripping her arse and hauling her close, so that the rigid part of him was now pushed to the very heat of her. She sighed with tantalizing pleasure, as he possessed her lips with his searing kiss, more demanding this time. He rotated them until the heat of his body was fully on top of hers. His hand was on her breast, the other on her thigh, caressing down to the back of her knee and lifting it around his hip.
“I want ye, and I canna have ye,” he groaned, burying his face against her neck.
Shivers of desire made her tremble all over, her nipples throbbed, and the place between her thighs where his rigid cock delved pulsed with wanting.
“Then marry me, Sorley. We’ll go mad with wanting together.”
“Marry…” His lips skimmed along her collarbone. “Ye dinna know what ye’re saying.”
“I do.”
“Lassies want more than rutting from their husband.”
“Aye, they want intrigue and protection.”
“And what about feelings?” His gaze locked on hers, and emotion welling in their depths that she couldn’t fathom but which tugged at her someplace deep inside.
“I am feeling plenty.” She lifted her chin and licked his lower lip. “And I know ye are, too.”
Sorley groaned and kissed her with passion, declaring in the joining of their mouths, the rocking of his body, that he was indeed experiencing feelings, though neither of them could quite say what they were.
He rolled to the side, tucking her against him, both of them panting. “Sleep,” he said. “Before we do something that we regret. And we’ll discuss it again when we are awake.”
7
They were awoken before the sunset by one of the men in camp. “Psst. Wake. Wake, quick.”
Sorley burst through the opening of the tent, sword drawn, ready to join the fray, only to find the people milling about as they had been before. “Why did ye wake me?” he said with a frown.
“Ye’re headed to Kyle of Lochalsh?”
“Aye.” Sorley narrowed his eyes, wishing the man would get to the point.
“There’s a dragoon raid planned in the next day or two of the small ferry village. No’ sure when but thought to warn ye. If ye leave now, ye might arrive in time to avoid it.”
“Where did ye hear of it?”
“We’ve eyes and ears all over, but the news came now from her.” The man pointed behind him to a fiery-haired woman who sat by the fire eating stew.
Sorley was fairly certain he recognized her. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Aye. Fiona. She’s the best damn messenger in this whole organization.”
“If she says it, then the word is good.”
“Indeed. Best be on your way then.”
Sorley nodded, then woke Kenna. “Time to go, sleeping beauty.”
She grinned. “Ye are one for flattery.”
Sorley chuckled and helped her up. She stretched her arms up to work the kinks from her body, but all he could do was stare at her breasts and the way they pushed against the front of her shirt.
