Chapter 11
Rob squatted down to peer into the cabin. It was a neat little space, compared to Angus’s cluttered house. There was an inviting pallet and a couple plush wolf pelts to soften the plank floor. A badger-skin pouch hung from a hook on the back wall. Rob guessed that was filled with provisions, since a wineskin swung near it. A covered chamber pot rested in one corner.
Elspeth was seated on one of the wolf pelts in the other corner with her knees drawn up, her forearms propped across them, and her head bowed down. Her shoulders shook like a lost child.
Guilt made him snort out his breath in self-disgust.
She looked up at him, her eyes and lips swollen with weeping. Her expression of abject misery made his chest constrict. Then she swiped her face with her sleeve, and misery was quickly replaced by cold fury.
He could have kissed her. Tears rendered him defenseless. Wrath was something he understood and could return with little effort.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
He crawled into the low space and stretched out on the pallet. “What does it look like?”
“Go away. Haven’t ye spied on me enough for one day?”
“I’m no’ here to spy.” He rolled onto his side and propped himself on one elbow. “’Tis a small boat and I’m tired and this is the only place to rest.” Then he smiled at her, because he knew it would annoy her. “But how kind of ye to remind me how pleasant it was to watch ye at your bath. Mayhap I’ll see ye again in my dreams.”
He lay back down, folded his hands across his chest, and closed his eyes.
“Ye’re lucky I havena got a knife, MacLaren,” she muttered darkly.
“My thanks once again.”
Rob sat back up and pulled out his belt knife and boot knife. Then he flung each of them toward the tall neck at the front of the vessel. The blades dug into the wood and quivered there, well out of her reach.
“Canna have ye using my own weapons against me as I sleep. Now come.” He patted the pallet beside him. “Join me.”
“No.”
“Angus will take it badly.” He opened one eye and peered at her. “He’s gone to all this trouble of making the place comfy for ye.”
“No.” Her chest heaved with a deep breath, and her breasts rose, straining against the borrowed bodice.
That tender curve of skin called to him. “Mayhap your bodice is done up too tight for your comfort. I’ll be happy to unlace ye.”
She was on him in a heartbeat, scratching and kicking. “How dare ye!”
He quickly subdued her, clamping her arms to her sides and wrapping his legs around hers. “Easy, lass. Be mindful of where ye are.”
She thrashed and made a sound like a cornered barn cat.
“Everything well, Rob?” Angus called up to them.
“Aye, Angus, fine as frog’s hair. I’m just trying to keep my eyes in their sockets.” Then he lowered his voice. “Now settle, lass, and I’ll let ye go.”
He eased his grip when she stopped struggling. She looked up at him, and the anger drained from her features. Then the worst possible thing happened.
Her little face crumpled, and a tear slid from the corner of one eye.
Oh, Lord. Against a woman’s tears, there was no defense known to man.
“Now, lass, I’ve no’ brought an ounce of real harm to ye, have I?”
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, and her tears fairly burned his skin.
“Did I no’ fight a wolf pack for ye?”
She sobbed on the shoulder of his shirt, leaving a growing wet spot.
“Your father knows ye’re alive. That should give him and ye a measure of peace,” he said with hope that she’d take comfort from having seen her sire, however briefly.
She wept a fresh torrent instead.
“I promise ye, lass, I’ll keep ye safe. No one will harm ye.” He grasped at anything he could think of to dry up her tears. “I offer ye the protection of my body and my sword arm for as long as we bide together. And any time ye might have need of them after.”
Her whole frame shuddered with a silent sob.
“Please, lass.” He stroked her from the crown of her head to the base of her spine. She shivered under his touch, so he didn’t do it again. “Elspeth, sweetheart, ye dinna have to cry so.”
She quieted and sniffled for a moment. Then she raised herself up and looked down at him, her hazel eyes going dark in the dim cabin.
“I hate ye, Rob MacLaren,” she whispered. “I hate ye verra, verra much.”
Then she kissed him.
***
Elspeth pressed her lips to his, damning herself for a light-heeled wanton. But she couldn’t be near the man without wanting to taste him.
She’d been all jumbled up since he caught her naked. When his hot gaze ran over her, her insides melted like a dish of butter in the sun.
He’d stolen her from her wedding. Ruined her reputation. Put her parents through the torments of hell, worrying over her. And yet she was drawn to him, and there was no escaping. What was wrong with her?
When she first realized he was there watching her, she couldn’t believe it was happening. There she was, bare as an egg, and his intense gaze made her lose the will to move.
His stare had lingered at her breasts. She’d had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from covering her nipples with her hands to still the ache. And when his gaze traveled down her body, little flames seemed to lick her skin. When he smiled at her private parts, she caught fire completely.
No wonder her priest always said it was better to marry than to burn, but she never imagined she was about to self-immolate in Lachlan Drummond’s arms. No, for some inexplicable reason, her body had chosen to lust after Mad Rob MacLaren.
Rob seemed to think she wept for her lost bridegroom or her parents’ pain. She wished she were as dutiful a daughter and bride as he thought her.
Instead, she wept for her lost innocence. She’d have believed herself the model of chaste womanhood, a paragon of self-control all her days if she’d never laid eyes on Rob MacLaren. Now she knew the truth of her own nature.
She was desperately wicked.
And unrepentant to boot. The knowledge grieved her, but she couldn’t deny the truth.
Elspeth palmed Rob’s cheeks and deepened their kiss. She welcomed his tongue. She gave him her neck to nibble and suckle, loving the rough stubble of his beard as it tickled across her skin. His hands brushed through her hair, stroking and smoothing.
Her laces loosened, and she realized he’d untied her bodice.
She didn’t care.
She lifted her arms in surrender to help him slip the bodice over her head without unlacing it completely. Her breasts swung free beneath the thin chemise. A little thrill coursed over her sensitive skin.
Rob rolled her over and pinned her beneath him. The weight of his body on hers was heaven. A ribbon tied at the neck of her chemise held it closed. He caught the end of the bow between his teeth and gave it a tug. The knot unraveled, and the fabric parted to bare one of her breasts.
He stared down at it, clearly fascinated. Her nipple was drawn tight. He circled it with the tip of his finger as his gaze shifted to her face.
Her first instinct was to look away, to shield her wicked thoughts and feelings from his penetrating gaze. But if ever there was a time for truth between a man and a woman, this was that time.
She met his eyes steadily and didn’t care whether he saw the abandon and bliss she felt. His face held a cross between the wonder of a boy on Christmas morn and the knowing look of a man who was exquisitely aware of what wicked things he was doing to her. He enslaved her with pleasure, and she had no defense.
Her cheeks heated, and her breath hitched, but she couldn’t look away. He might stop, and she didn’t think she could bear it if he did.
Instead, she moved. Just a little, so his finger would brush her sensitive tip. A jolt of longing shot through her body from her breast to her womb.
“Merciful God!” she breathed.
“Aye, lass, and ’tis a good thing He is,” Rob said with a wicked grin, “for I am no’ merciful in the slightest.”
As if to prove his point, he lowered his mouth to her breast and licked her taut nipple. She went all soft and liquid inside. Between her legs, she ached in time with the flicks of his tongue.
It was unbearable. It was torment. She prayed it wouldn’t end.
His mouth was everywhere. Suckling her breasts, nibbling her neck, and licking at her earlobe, showering her with soft kisses on her jaw, cheeks, eyelids, and temple. When she started to make a noise of unrestrained pleasure, he covered her mouth to catch the sound. Then he kissed her again, a deep drugging kiss that shattered any hope of defense and weakened her last resolve.
He shifted to lie beside her, and she felt the hard evidence of his arousal against her hip.
She’d never seen a man in the altogether before. She assumed their parts were somewhat like stallions, sometimes dangling harmlessly, sometimes a thick, stiff organ designed for rutting. Rob was definitely stiff, and the ridge of him beneath his kilt was thick. She moved against him and enjoyed the way his breath hitched for a change.
What would he do if she reached under his kilt to investigate matters further?
But before she could act on her curiosity, he launched a blistering sensual foray.
His hands caressed every bit of her, smoothing over her arms and her belly. She wallowed in the delicious sensations, letting them wash over her like summer rain.
But when his hand slipped under her skirt, she stiffened.
“Easy, lass,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I’ll do ye no hurt.”
“I expect that’s what the Serpent said to Eve,” she whispered, her body tensed.
“Have a done aught ye wish I had not?”
She worried her lower lip. What would she take back? His mouth on hers? His hand at her breast?
“No,” she admitted.
“I’ll no’ take anything from ye that ye dinna wish to give,” he said softly. “But I would give something to ye, if ye’ll allow it. Show ye things about yourself, an’ ye let me.”
She felt herself tumble into his eyes.
“Aye, Rob.” Elspeth swallowed hard. “Show me.”