Her Highland Defender (7 page)

“I’ve brought some food.”

He snapped his head around to see Kate in the doorway. Who knew how much she’d seen but from the mutinous pout on Kate’s lips, it was enough. In spite of having made some sort of progress with her, the lass still didn’t trust him.

And Ceana likely trusted him too much. What a riddle these women were.

“I’ll bid ye good day, Ceana, and I’ll come check yer ankle later.” He hoped he conveyed his promise to join her in her bed.

“Aye. I look forward to it.”

Blane grinned to himself. She knew well enough he planned to see to all her needs. And his own. He couldn’t wait.

“Ye should be ashamed of yerself,” Kate hissed while they folded the sheets outside.

A brisk wind blew across the mountains and not even Ceana’s thick woollen mantle protected her from it. She shuddered and peered at the yellowed tops of the hills in search of riders. Not that it was likely she’d be able to see them even on a clear day like today.

Still no sign.

“Of what should I be ashamed?”

“Letting that highlander into yer bed.”

Ceana hadn’t been sure Kate knew what had happened between them. Blane had been with them for five days in total now. There was still no sign of their cousin and he’d made no mention of leaving but she awaited those dreaded words every day.

I’m leaving.

Leaving to fight the English. To perhaps die. Her stomach twisted.

And every night, he’d joined her in bed, making her feel more alive than ever before.

Though tempted to deny her sister’s accusation, Kate knew it was futile. She put the sheet in the basket and reached for another, using her fingers to find where it was hung and drawing it off.

“I dinnae wish to speak on this with ye,” she muttered.

Kate dumped a sheet into the basket and though Ceana might not have been able to see she’d done a poor job of it, she’d wager she would have to refold it. She wouldn’t scold her sister. That she had helped out while she’d rested her ankle for a day was quite the miracle and Kate had continued some of those duties.

“What will the villagers think?”

Kate exhaled slowly. “I care not what they will think.”

That wasn’t so true but she refused to think on what they might think of her. Blane would be gone soon enough and her sharing a bed with a handsome warrior would be forgotten. She was no innocent, so why should it concern them?

“Ye should care. They look to ye.”

“And ye, Kate? Do ye care what they think when ye sneak off to see Fraser?”

Her sister sucked in a startled breath. “I dinnae share his bed! Unlike ye.”

That relieved Ceana. She hadn’t known for certain if Kate had given up her innocence to the lad. He was an outcast, forced out after stealing. In truth, their father could have done worse to him. Now he only visited to bring fish to the village. What Kate thought would happen between them, she knew not, but it could go nowhere.

Much like she and Blane. But at least she understood that.

“Ye spend time alone with him. ‘Tis only a matter of time before he wants to take ye into his bed. And ye know full well people think ye’ve bedded him already. Father willnae be able to find ye a suitable match if word of it ever reaches outside the village.”

Kate snatched another sheet and stuffed it into the basket. “Fraser isnae the sort of man to bed a lass before marriage—unlike Blane. And I dinnae want a suitable match anyway. Why should I marry a stranger?”

She didn’t want that sort of marriage for her sister either. Danny had been a good friend before they had married but good men were few and far between these days and alliances had to be made. Their father would likely wish to marry Kate off to another clan member to solidify their strength in numbers.

“Pray tell me ye dinnae have hopes of marrying Fraser?”

“I...He wishes to, aye.”

A pang of sympathy jabbed her. “Oh, Kate, ye know father will never accept his suit. Why should ye wish to marry a thief anyway?”

“Och, he’s a good man. He made one mistake out of desperation and yet no one can forgive him.”

“It doesnae matter what ye think. ‘Tis a fruitless pursuit. Ye must stay away from him, for yer own sake.”

“Like ye’ve stayed away from Blane, ye mean?” her sister spat.

“I’m a widow and I know naught shall come of it. Ye cannae compare our circumstances.”

“Ye dinnae wish to ye mean.” Kate thrust her hands onto her hips and came to stand close enough so that Ceana could see the aggravation in her posture. “’Tis always one thing for ye and another for me. I’m no’ having it anymore.”

“Kate—”

Her sister whirled, a mass of black hair swirling about her. Ceana tried to follow after but Kate was too quick and she couldn’t possibly catch up with her cautious steps. She stopped and watched her dart down past the huts and become lost in the blur of buildings and people. She rubbed her chest as a burning sensation settled in her throat. Foolish lass. She was likely running to Fraser again. Why did her sister refuse to listen to her? What had she ever done to be so disliked?

“Is all well?”

His deep tones licked through her, like fire racing across a thatched roof. She turned in Blane’s direction. With the sun behind her, she was able to make out the dark, slightly long hair, his wide shoulders and the line of his mouth. Her mind filled in the rest for her. She’d touched every part of him so intimately that she knew his features by heart.

“Aye.” Ceana tried not to sigh.

Blane took the sheet from her, folded it and placed it down. “Do ye want me to go after her?”

She shook her head. “I’ll no’ drag her back again. ‘Twill only make her hate me more.”

“I dinnae think she hates ye.”

“She does.”

“Why try to protect ye then? She’s quite fierce when it comes to her big sister.”

“Pray tell me she hasnae said something to ye?”

He chuckled. “Nay, but the cold looks and stares are enough.” A warm arm came about her shoulders. “Dinnae worry about her. She’s no’ daft. She’s just trying to find her place in the world.”

Ceana peered up at him. “Ye speak as though ye know from experience. Do ye have sisters?”

In their time together, Blane had spoken little on his family, save that he had no wife or children awaiting him. She hadn’t asked for fear of finding herself falling further into his thrall. It was easier to think of him as a nomad warrior than a warm, caring man with a family who might be missing him.

“Nay.” His voice was slightly hollow.

The temptation to ask more, to let herself fall a little deeper into his world burned bright, but the stiffening of his body beside her warned her not to follow that treacherous path. Blane Ross was a man with secrets and who knew what she could unlock if she delved deeper.

“I’d better finish these,” she murmured, unwilling to draw herself from the warm protection of his arm.

“Aye, but first...”

Blane turned her in his hold. A rough fingertip came to her chin. It traced along the ridge of her jaw, to her ear and back again. She drew in a shaky breath and peered up at him. Ceana had no way of being certain but the thick, swirling sensation in her belly told her his gaze was upon her, deep and intense. If she could see his eyes clearly, would she understand this man better?

Either way, that imprint of sensation from that finger lingered on her skin so strong that it left her unable to deny the effect he had upon her. This was growing more powerful than a mere need for the touch of a man. This was eating into her very soul. When he left, she suspected he’d leave behind a tiny wound. A wound that would likely scar forever.

It mattered not, however. For she had lived with scars for a lifetime. Those small, insignificant ones that reminded her of her inability to live fully. Those tiny knocks and scrapes she received every day that told her of her limitations. But with Blane those boundaries vanished. He made her feel more alive and free than anyone had ever managed. Even her husband.

The thought frightened her for a moment. Danny had been good and kind and sympathetic. But she didn’t want sympathy. Blane didn’t treat her as someone to be pitied. He treated her like a flesh and blood woman with real needs.

An icy trail of fear trickled through her. These thoughts were dangerous. She shouldn’t be comparing him to her husband.

The finger trailing across her lips soon vanquished the fear, replacing it with simmering tension that coiled in and around her, like a tangled web. It confused and drew her in, aye, but it also cocooned and protected her. Ceana parted her lips when the roughened tip touched the crease of her mouth.

On instinct, she darted her tongue out and tasted the salty tip of his finger. A rumbling groan reached her ears and the web tightened, leaving her trembling with anticipation. Blane hooked his hand around her chin and pressed a thumb into her mouth. She circled it with her tongue and sucked lightly. He groaned again.

A hand came to the base of her spine. He drew her close. “What do ye do to me, wildling?” he asked as he brought his face to her ear. His hot breath tickled the shell and she shivered while fingers of anticipation gripped her.

Ceana couldn’t respond, even when he removed his thumb from her mouth to press his hand into her hair and cradle her head. He urged her to look up at him and she saw his dark brows in two deep slashes, shadowing eyes that she pictured as green. Her mouth grew dry under that intense stare. She didn’t need full sight to know he looked at her as she was likely looking back.

“Why have I never heard of ye?”

She frowned. “What?”

“There should be tales of yer beauty. Why have I never heard them?”

A tiny laugh escaped her but it vanished in a puff. Her husband had called her beautiful but she paid little attention to the words. A man in love always thought a woman beautiful. She’d seen enough of her features to know she was no ugly hag but beautiful enough for tales to travel of her? Nay.

But Blane wasn’t in love with her. So what was the reason behind these honeyed words?

“I think if there were, I would sorely disappoint.”

“Nay, ye wouldnae.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “Though I cannae claim to be saddened that ye have been kept a secret. Yer like a treasure, tucked away in these mountains.”

Her heart swelled. Emotion flared. She ached for more sweet words, or his kiss, or his touch. Ceana couldnae say which. Mayhap only Blane knew what she needed next.

He leaned in, his breath whispering across her face and stirring the emotions inside her. “Hidden away for me,” he murmured before putting his lips to hers.

Hot bursts of need ran through her. She softened into him, their bodies moulding. Hard against soft. Blane bundled her closer until her breasts were crushed to his chest. And still it did not seem close enough. Thoughts of flesh on flesh, of him hard inside her tumbled through her mind.

He coaxed her mouth open with his tongue and tasted the recesses of her mouth. Then he eased the kiss so as to taste the corner of her lips, to tease her.

“Ceana.”

The word, so soft and tender for a man like Blane whirled deep inside her.
Aye,
she wanted to say.
I’m yer Ceana. Do as ye will.

Instead, she offered her body up to him, parting her lips once more and gripping the back of his neck so that she was entirely open and vulnerable to him. She might not be able to say these words—words that would do nothing but wound them both when he left—but she could give him her body. He didn’t need to know her mind and her soul were slowly following.

Didn’t need to know she was so close to falling off the precipice on which he had her so precariously balanced. Ceana knew without doubt it wouldn’t take much. A few more sennights of his company, mayhap even some more misunderstandings. An argument, a heated kiss, a chivalrous action. Any of them could have her tumbling to her doom.

And falling in love with him.

Blane tasted wild and warm, exciting and secure. He offered her all she needed—protection and anticipation. His tongue met hers, over and over. A ribbon of wind sifted through her hair and she tightened her grip on him, felt the flex of his muscles against her. His arms held her secure, his body acted like a cradle to hers. Here she could forget her concerns for Kate, her worries for her people. Here only the two of them existed.

A faint growl reached her ears. Ceana’s body responded, tingles ran from head to toe. She curled those very toes into her leather shoes and moved her hands over the planes of his face to press her finger through his thick, silky hair.

“Ceana!” A woman’s voice ripped through the haze.

They tore apart. Guilt flooded through her. What had she been thinking, kissing him in full view of everyone? She cleared her throat and faced the maid. It took her a moment to establish who it was. When the maids wore their wimples, she struggled to tell them apart. She recognised the height of her and the curve of her figure.

“Bridget, is all well?”

“Nay, milady,” she huffed, sounding as though she’d been running. “Sassenachs. Spotted not far from here, just over the ridge. One of the lads was out herding the sheep when he saw them.”

Blood drained from her face, leaving her feeling as though she’d been dunked into the loch. She instinctively reached for Blane and he clasped her hand tight. The coarse warmth of his palm eased the cold inside but only a little. Particularly when she heard his low curse.

“Do we know how many?”

“A handful. Jamie cannae count but he said no more than two hands.”

Blane cursed again. “They have horses?” he demanded.

“Aye,” Bridget confirmed. “As many horses as men.”