True Highland Spirit (25 page)

She charged him, and he backed onto the bridge. She followed, her footing unsure on the icy wooden plank.

“Andrew’s fever has returned.” She shouted. “He will probably die because o’ ye.”

“I am sorry to hear it. I swear to you he was leaving to go to McNab Hall. I thought I could be of help if I went with him.”

“And find the location of the Templar treasure.”

“Yes, but never did I intend to hurt anyone.”

“Well, ye did. Now silence yer treacherous words and repent yer sins, for I will see ye dead!”

They clashed swords, bringing them close for a breathless moment. She pushed him back with all her might and lost her footing on the slick wooden bridge. Tangled sword to sword, she suddenly went down, one foot sliding sideways, the other sliding back. The sudden loss of resistance toppled him forward. He tried to catch himself, but his feet also slid out behind him, and they both fell over the edge of the bridge.

Morrigan and Dragonet crashed through the river ice to the frigid water below. The cold hit Morrigan with physical force. For an agonizing moment she was shocked into frozen oblivion. She could not move. Fighting to retain consciousness, she struggled to prevent herself from being entirely submerged and pulled herself up onto the ice toward the shore.

She was soaked through, frozen to her very core. Every muscle in her body screamed in pain and then went silent as numbness spread. Her many cloaks were so heavy with the weight of the water she could barely move. Dragonet slowly pulled himself onto shore and reached out his hand to her. She accepted the offered hand and allowed him to haul her to the bank. It did not matter. She looked him dead in the eye.

“We are both going to die.”

Dragonet and Morrigan struggled to stand, helping each other up as they went. The wind cut through their clothes like knives. Dragonet began to shiver uncontrollably. Morrigan was likewise afflicted.

“C-come,” said Morrigan through chattering teeth. The freezing temperatures had effectively chilled her anger. It did not matter anymore.

Dragonet followed her as she stumbled forward. She struggled to move through the snow. After a few feet she grabbed her horse, which was waiting for her behind a large snow-covered bush. She did not bother to mount but pulled the beast forward to the hillside. She reached some white mounds and disappeared behind them.

Dragonet followed, and behind the snowy boulders and thick brush was the entrance to the cave. He was so cold he was finding it difficult to think, but it was clear he would have never found the entrance to the cave. Morrigan may have shared some details, but she had not given away all.

He ducked his head to enter. The cave opened up into a large cavern with a sandy, frozen floor. Morrigan was struggling to open the satchel on her saddle. Dragonet moved to help her but he, too, found it difficult to move his fingers. He tugged and opened the satchel with brute force. Inside was some food and two precious, dry blankets.

“W-we must get out of these w-wet clothes,” said Morrigan starting to remove her cloaks.

Dragonet nodded and began to do the same. He wished to say something to her, but he had no words and was not sure he could speak with his teeth chattering with such ferocity. He focused on removing his clothing, a difficult task with hands that were stiff and clumsy, but he knew remaining in wet clothes was a death sentence. Metal clanked as Morrigan tossed down her weapons. He did the same. He removed his leather boots, which were starting to freeze, his multiple cloaks, his hose, and his tunic. Down to his wet breeches, he paused. What was he to do?

Morrigan was also down to her breeches and a wide linen strip of cloth that she had wrapped around her chest. She tugged at the cloth but he could see that it had frozen in place. He moved to help her, pulling at the fabric until it began to give way. The cloth began to unwrap, and Morrigan turned in circles until it dropped to the floor.

Her naked back was to him. Despite the freezing cold, he stopped shivering for a moment, his heart pounding inside his chest. Her muscular back tapered into a small waist, revealing both her strength and her femininity. Never before had he desired a woman more.

She grabbed a wool blanket and wrapped it around her, bending over for a moment to remove her breeches. She turned to him, still shivering but wrapped in a blanket.

“T-take the other blanket.”

He wanted to, desperately. He had never been so cold. His body and mind moved slowly as if in a fog. And yet he did not wish to take from her. “B-both blankets are yours. T-take it and be warm.”

Morrigan glared at him. “T-take everything off. Ye canna warm yerself if ye are wearing wet clothing.”

Dragonet knew she spoke the truth, but still he hesitated. A faint glimmer of vanity warned him that freezing temperatures were not kind to the male physique. He pushed the fear aside and his breeches down. Morrigan looked him up and down; her face revealed no emotion, but her eyes gleamed. He wished for instant death. It was not granted.

“W-willing to take the blanket now?” she taunted.

He grabbed the extra blanket and wrapped it around himself. He was still cold. Very cold. They needed to get warm and fast or they would freeze to death. No wood was in the cave, eliminating the possibility of starting a fire.

“I-I must get something from this cave to exchange it for medicine for A-Andrew, ye ken? If I die, so also will he.”

Dragonet tried to figure how a relic could be related to medicine, but his brain was not up to the task.

Morrigan stared at the floor. “There is only one way I k-ken to warm ourselves so far from a fire and a mug o’ hot brew. ’T-tis for my brother’s life, no’ yers nor mine.”

“I-I will do as ye command.”

“I have heard two people together can…” Morrigan faltered and shivered more violently. “D-damn I’m c-cold.”

Dragonet knew what she needed. He too had heard that two people together could generate body heat. Heat they desperately needed. Yet it was the one thing he could not give her. His vows. His honor. He would die for it. She shivered beside him, staring at the floor. He would die for it, but he would not kill for it.

“P-please, let me warm you if I am able.” Dragonet stepped toward her, but she did not look up.

“Ye d-did not want me when I offered.”

“I-I did want you. V-very much. I did not wish to hurt you.”

“Ye did hurt me.”

“I b-beg your forgiveness. To save your life I would d-do anything.”

“And Andrew?”

“Andrew is a f-fine lad, but for you I care a good deal more.”

Morrigan’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Y-ye do?”

What had he said? Stupid brain, it was moving slowly and forgot some things he said out loud and others he kept to himself. He closed his eyes and nodded. She pushed at his arms, and he opened his arms and the blanket, his eyes still closed. She pressed her naked body to his and wrapped her blanket and arms around him as he did the same with his. He wished she were warmer. More than that, he wished his skin was less numb so he could feel her better. Ironic that for the first time in his life he had a naked woman pressed against him, and yet he could barely feel it.

“H-how is this supposed to help?” asked Morrigan.

“I believe we are supposed to generate our own heat.”

“I am n-not experienced wi’ men. Ye must show me. And hurry, I’m f-freezing.”

“I-I fear I have no experience either.”

Morrigan pulled back enough to look up at him, startled. “Are y-ye saying yer a virgin?”

Dragonet nodded, his heart starting to pound.

“I dinna ken what to believe wi’ ye.”

“It is not the thing a man would lie about.”

“Nay,” said Morrigan thoughtfully. “Kiss me like ye did before. That made me hot.”

Did it? Her blunt praise sprung life back to parts of him he feared had fallen off with cold. He leaned down and kissed her, putting his frozen lips to hers. He felt nothing. He opened her mouth with his tongue and deepened the kiss, searching for warmth. Together they found it, their lips locked in a desperate need for heat.

With Morrigan in his arms everything else slid away. Nothing else mattered. With her touch, life swirled within him again. The fire within her, the fire she kindled in him, it was their only chance to survive the night. And even if he should die, holding the woman he adored was how he chose to face his death.

Morrigan clutched him tight, pressing herself against him. He broke the kiss for air and, catching his breath, turned his attentions to her breasts. They were generous in proportion and tweaked with cold. His heart pounded with anticipation. He brushed a clumsy hand over one, but could feel little with his numb fingers.

With sudden insight, he kissed down her neck to her chest. Feeling his way with lips and tongue, he finally kissed what had so tempted him from the moment he saw her exposed cleavage in a gown. Swirling his tongue, he tasted heaven. Ah, she was so sweet. He suckled more, and she threw her head back and went limp in his arms. He smiled and moved his attentions to her other breast.

Breaking contact he said, “Morrigan, I—”

“I swear if ye stop now, I’ll gut ye and use yer entrails to keep me warm!”

“Uh…”

She glared at him with such malice he believed she would make good her threat. He was not generally afraid of her, but there were times she could give him pause.

“I was going to suggest that we lie down.”

“Truly?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Truly.” It was the truth. And if it had not been, he would have lied.

“’Tis a goodly idea.” She smiled.

He smiled back. Cheating death was exhilarating.

She took her blanket and triple-folded it to create a cushion between them and the frozen ground. He indulged in frank admiration of her naked body. She bent over arranging the blankets, and he saw stars, which meant he was either dying of the cold or overcome by the magnificence of her perfect white
derrière
. He only hoped he would live long enough to make good on the prospect her rounded backside offered.

She turned as she sat on the blanket, stretching out her long legs before her. She was perfect.

“Let down your hair.” He kneeled before her and threaded his hands in her hair to release her beautiful locks. Fortunately, she had not submerged entirely and her hair was still dry. It meant she had a chance to survive.

“Careful!” she chided, batting away his hands and removing the pins herself. “If ye prick yer finger on this one, ye will sleep for hours.”

Dragonet smiled and wrapped his hand in her thick hair, helping to set it free with clumsy fingers. None could take her against her will, of that he was certain. Her hair unbound, it fell down around her long and thick. His breath caught in his chest. She was everything he imagined, and better. Her large, brown eyes raked over him as he kneeled before her. Emboldened by the spark of desire in her eye, he let her have a good look.

“I speak to you the truth, you are most beautiful,” he said.

“I like the way the muscles in yer stomach ripple.”

He let her praise wash over him, warm and inviting. He knew she would not speak the words unless they were true, giving power to her praise. He gently lay down on top of her, pulling the blanket over them. He snuggled as close as he could without crushing her and wondered what to do next. After spending many years defending his celibacy, he wished he was not so inexperienced at that crucial moment. He knew in general terms what should happen next, but how did one get there? Besides, despite his interest he had another problem.

“I-I fear I am too cold,” he admitted.

“Aye, ye’re cold; hurry and warm me.”

“I… I am not sure that I can. Things are really cold.” His first time, and it was going to end in failure. He might as well jump back in the lake.

“What do ye mean cold? Ye mean ye’re no’ interested?”

“No! I am very interested. It is when a man, he is cold, he gets…” He was not going to say “small.” Nothing in the world could force him to finish that sentence.

“I want to be on top,” demanded Morrigan. He complied instantly, rolling them around. Maybe she knew what to do.

Morrigan put her hands against his chest, feeling her way down. He sucked in air.

“No’ good?” she asked.

“Your hands are cold, but do not stop, I beg you.” The fact that he noticed her cold hands meant he was warming.

She replaced her hands with her mouth and he gasped again. This time she did not stop. She worked her way down; his heart pounded harder with every inch lower she traveled. She kissed the muscles of his abdomen, his navel, and kept going lower. He grabbed the blanket in his hands to keep himself still. It was sweet torture.

Moving farther down, she kissed the inside of his thigh. His breathing came in short gasps, his body tingling in anticipation. She turned and kissed… him. He groaned uncontrollably, and he felt himself growing with her exquisite touch until he throbbed with need. The blood was probably leaving vital organs he needed to survive, but he cared not a whit. He would happily die for that pleasure.