Tyler, Lynn - For Her Honor [For Her] (Siren Publishing Classic) (4 page)

She held herself stiffly and at attention, as if she would flee at the slightest provocation. Well, maybe she wouldn’t flee. If the fight she had put up mere minutes ago was any indication, he would have a banshee on his hands again. Perhaps he should have a care of his cock tonight. While he hadn’t made use of it much lately, he rather fancied his penis. He wouldn’t want to go to his new bride a eunuch.

Leading her back to his men, he was grateful to see they had started a fire. Robbie urged her to lie down by the fire and left to speak quietly with the others. “We will stay here until morn,” he confirmed, nodding in thanks for the fire.

“What is she doing out here alone?” asked Colin Gunn. Colin was his best friend and was the only one not trying to talk him out of his decision to marry. He hadn’t said anything at all, really.

Robbie shrugged and gazed thoughtfully at the girl, whose shaking was visible even from this distance. “I will ask her in the morning. It is best if she sleeps right now.” With that, he gathered up his saddle blanket and walked back to the little hellcat.

“How are you feeling, lass?” Robbie asked as he sat on the ground beside her.

“Cold,” she whispered, huddling into a tight ball.

A sudden need to protect and provide for this small female swept over him. The immense desire to wrap her up in his arms and cradle her against him was pounding through him. He literally ached to hold her close.

The shock of her experience seemed to be settling in, and she shook violently “I am so cold,” she repeated fretfully.

He lay down beside her, spreading the blanket over them both. “Hush, loving,” he murmured when she stiffened, “I will keep you warm.”

“That is exactly what I am worried about. My brother-in-law showed me how to render a man’s privates useless and I will not hesitate to do it should I find myself in a questionable position.”

Robbie positioned her so that her back was to him, her head pillowed on his upper arm. He draped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close, pleased to note her shivering slowed almost immediately. “I assure you, banshee, you are completely safe with us. We are men of honor and will not defile a maiden, even if she does insist on keeping the dead awake with her constant chatter. Now go to sleep.”

“I do not seem to have much choice in the matter, do I,” she snapped.

He tightened his arm around her when she began struggling to free herself. “No, you do not. Now, quit your caterwauling and sleep.”

Grumbling, the little hellcat shifted around, muttering about behemoth men and how they should all be careful of her dagger. He fought the small smile of amusement that tugged at his lips. She seemed to have run out of actual temper and was now just making herself and her stance known.

She slowly relaxed against him, snuggling closer to his warmth as sleep stole over her. His body reveled in the sensation of this small female melting against him, and he held her as if he had been holding her for years. This was what he had been missing all these years. What would it be like to fall asleep like this every night? How would it feel to wake up to a small bundle of woman in his arms every morning?

Robbie closed his eyes and tried to imagine his life as a married man. He pictured his keep full of laughter, the sounds of the little footsteps of his children echoing off the walls, and a wife who looked at him with affection, desire, and love in her eyes.

Lord in Heaven, he wanted that life so badly. The only problem with this new vision was that his dream wife was not a faceless Jocelyn MacKenna but this sweetly ferocious woman.

Robbie kept as still as possible, not wanting to break the spell as he pondered his new problem. Now that he had held this woman in his arms, would he ever be satisfied with Jocelyn MacKenna?

Chapter
3

It was the cacophony of sound that woke Jocelyn. A storm had to be brewing in the distance for the thunder was loud and often.

She wrinkled her nose and nuzzled into her pillow and inhaled its unfamiliar scent. It smelled of pine and wind and musk. Not an unpleasant smell. A very appealing smell actually. She made a note to ask Catriona what she had done differently with the bed linens. This would be a wonderful scent to wake up to every morning, except for the strong horse-like odor she caught every time the blanket got near her face. That was something she could do without.

The painful object digging into her hip was something else she could do without. While Jocelyn was used to the straw from her mattress poking at her through the material, this was a different matter entirely. It was as if someone had slipped a rock into her bed. Sighing irritably, she shifted closer to the warmth emanating at her front. Her leg slipped over something large, and her knee nudged against something smooth and hard.

Frowning, she reached down under the blanket and under a bunched up wad of material to move the strange object out of her way. Her fingers closed around a hot, hard length. Curiously, she trailed her fingertips to the base. Still unable to identify it, she grasped it lightly, sliding her palm up to the tip, which only served to wring a long, drawn-out moan from her pillow.

It suddenly dawned on her that pillows didn’t moan. Her eyes snapped open just as the warm bulk she was resting against shifted in his sleep. God’s blood, she was sprawled over a vaguely familiar man.

Her arm was wrapped around his muscular middle, and her leg draped over his thigh while her head rested comfortably on his chest, tucked under his chin. She froze, unsure what to do, afraid that if she moved at all he would wake and find her stretched across him with her hand intimately wrapped around him.

Jocelyn almost groaned as the events of the previous night came flooding back. She remembered the attack and her rescue by a group of men. She remembered waking up from a dead faint and wielding her dagger at the man currently holding her in his strong arms. Sweet Lord, it had been so easy for him to disarm her. She had tried to fight him, but he had been too strong and her body had quite simply given up. Soon she had been standing in his arms, naked as the day she was born, depending on him to care for her and keep her safe. Something in the manner in which he’d held her assured her he meant her no harm. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he’d have done so immediately instead of treating her wound. Still, she’d kept up her prickly, downright combative behavior.

She had never been so embarrassed in her life. She hated being vulnerable, and these men had found her in her most vulnerable moment. It mortified her that she had fainted like a girl, never mind the fact that she was a girl. She had been treating the villagers’ aches and pains for years. She had certainly seen her share of blood in the past. Farming could be dangerous work. A misplaced swing of a scythe or an out of control animal could do a lot of damage. It was just that she had never seen a man gutted before her eyes.

She was thankful though. If it hadn’t been for the man next to her and the other men, she would have died by the hands of those horse thieves or worse once they discovered she was actually a female.

The man shifted again and murmured in his sleep, throwing off the blanket. His kilt had ridden up past his hips, leaving his lower body vulnerable to her gaze. Strong fingers gripped her hand and held it in place as he gently rocked his hips into her palm. A virgin she may be, but she was far from innocent, and it occurred to her exactly what was happening. Her hand was wrapped around his cock, and he seemed to be deriving a great deal of pleasure from the combined stroking, if the breathless moans he kept uttering were any indication. She stroked her fingers over him experimentally, enjoying the way he felt in her hand. He was hot, all soft velvet and damp silk over an iron rod. The sensation stirred strange feelings between her legs.

One of the other men grunted. She pulled her upper body away from the man and looked around, relieved to see the other still fast asleep. Suddenly aware that what they were doing was not exactly proper, she shifted her gaze from the hard length in her hand to the man’s face. His eyes were closed, and his features were drawn tight in an expression of agonized ecstasy. She allowed him to continue their caress. She certainly wasn’t one to follow proper social protocol, after all. She recalled peeping on one of her sister’s sleeping quarters one night while she was visiting her and her husband. Her sister had been handling her husband’s cock the very same way Jocelyn was stroking this huge man. Her brother-in-law had shouted and had spurted some kind of liquid all over his belly and chest. The look on his face had been one of complete and utter satisfaction. She wondered if she could give this man the same conclusion.

Jocelyn examined his face inquisitively, her eyes roving over him hungrily. He was a beautiful man, really. It had been too dark last night to get a good look at him. But now, in the first rays of morning light, she was able to view him properly.

He had high cheekbones, a strong but crooked nose that looked as if it might have been broken a time or two, a square jaw covered in a few days’ growth of beard and a full, soft mouth. A long, white scar ran from his temple, down his jaw and ended at his collarbone, though it didn’t detract from his masculine beauty. If anything, it served to make him more unique. And God, he felt good. His body was all bronzed skin stretched over hard muscle covered with a fine pelt of hair that tickled the bare skin of her thigh where her plaid had ridden up.

His face contracted suddenly, and those beautiful lips parted to admit another almost desperate moan. The penis in her palm hardened even further and seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

Dimly aware of what was about to happen, she tried to pull her hand away and sit up, but he tightened his fingers and pumped his hips harder. Unable to do anything else, she watched him in fascination. His cock was huge and cherry red at the top with its head shaped like a plum. Drops of liquid were forming on the tip and leaking over the side of her hand. Curious, she swiped her thumb over the tip to capture one of the drops and had to concentrate on keeping her position when his whole body jerked.

Deciding his reaction was one of passion, she passed her thumb over the head again, this time circling around its ridge before allowing him to push her hand back down to root of his cock. Suddenly his grip and rhythm changed, and she found him passing her hand in quick, tight strokes directly over the head, which by now was a deep purple.

His lips stretched tight over his teeth, and a hiss escaped his throat. His head tilted back as his breath caught on a guttural groan and his hips arched sharply off the ground. Suddenly a warm, silky fluid shot from his cock and pooled over his belly and chest in long ropes. Eventually, the fluid eased over the side of her hand to drip on his tanned skin. The man sighed contentedly, loosened his grip on her hand, and settled back into sleep.

Jocelyn removed her hand and rubbed the quickly cooling liquid between her fingers. She abruptly became aware of her own body’s reaction to the man’s pleasure. She was hot and shivery all at the same time. Curiously wet between her legs, the small, previously hidden nubbin at the top of her mound felt swollen and somehow neglected.

Jocelyn stirred restlessly, and her mound pressed briefly against his hip. Sensation blasted through her, and she barely held back a whimper of need. She moved against him again, this time deliberately, and felt the same thrilling feeling creeping up her spine. Again and again and again, she pressed her aching mound to his hip, desperate for some sort of relief. It was like an itch she couldn’t reach, only much more frustrating. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her body as she fought for something she didn’t know how to get.

Finally, desperate for some sort of relief of the steadily building pressure, Jocelyn slid her hand between their bodies and touched the swollen, burning ridge. She gasped at the feeling and flicked at herself restlessly. Dear Lord, this couldn’t proper, but she couldn’t force her stroking fingers away from her flesh. Finally, frantic for some kind of release, she pinched the button lightly between her forefinger and her thumb.

Pleasure rocketed through her, an exquisite throbbing of flesh and a clenching of internal muscles she didn’t even know she had.

Her body settled slowly, her breathing gradually returning to normal. She felt languorous and strangely satisfied, though oddly empty. It was as if the feelings and sensations she had just experienced were meant to be shared.

Slightly uncomfortable with what had just happened, she sat up quickly and adjusted her borrowed clothing as she looked around. It quickly became obvious the noise that had woken her was not thunder after all, but rather the snores of four huge men.

A feeling of extreme appreciation filled her as she surveyed her sleeping guards. These men had saved her from certain death and, quite possibly, from a fate far worse. She shuddered to think of what the horse thieves would have done to her if they had found out she was actually a female. But these complete strangers had come to her aid, cared for her when she needed them and protected her when she could not protect herself. A rueful smile crossed her face. Perhaps her father was right. Maybe she did need a keeper.

Determined to do something nice for her saviors and to salvage her wounded pride, she wiggled out from the man’s grip. He muttered under his breath but settled back into sleep.

Spying her bow and arrows lying with her sword and knife a short distance away, she scooped them up and headed farther into the trees. If nothing else, she could at least try and catch them something to break their fast with.