Authors: Carmella Jones
Will frowned, tilting his head. “I gave my word.”
She scoffed. “A word is easily given.”
“But not as easily broken,” Will argued. “A man loses a part of himself each time he does so.”
“Then the English must have an army of empty men.”
“Perhaps they do,” Will offered, taking a bit of pleasure in her look of surprise. “I am sorry for whatever words they have failed to keep with you.”
“It is not for you to apologize.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I can still feel sorrow for it.”
“And I don’t need your pity,” she said harshly, untying the horse and leading it to Will. “You’ll ride behind me,” she said as she mounted, offering Will an arm to help him into the saddle behind her.
“I would never dream of pitying you, Miss Darrow,” he said quietly as he settled in. “I’d be frightened to.”
“Hmph,” she said, but he thought he caught a glimpse of a smile.
He attempted to steady himself by gripping the saddle behind him, but as the ride continued on, cutting through the forest rather than sticking to the road, he found he couldn’t keep his grip, and he cautiously slid his arms around Miss Darrow instead. She stiffened at the first touch but it wasn’t long before she let herself relax against him. He found the warm weight of her against his chest far too pleasant, and though he rested his hands on the saddle, the temptation to let them wander was great.
He could tell the moment the exhaustion of the journey began to catch up with her. Her weight settled more firmly against him, and her head lolled onto his shoulder, exposing the slender, pale line of her throat, leading down to the hint of cleavage that her clothing showed.
For a brief moment, he considered taking control of the horse and turning it back northward, but he thought of her distrust of his word and knew he couldn’t. Instead, he let the animal have its head until they came to a small clearing near to a stream, and he pulled the horse to a halt, jostling the girl awake.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, turning her face to glare at him.
“You’re falling asleep in the saddle,” he said. “And my head aches,” he added, gesturing to the bandage still bound to his forehead. “I thought it would be an ideal time to stop for a rest and refreshment.”
“Well,” she said, quickly losing her indignance. “I suppose we might as well.”
Will nodded and dismounted, holding his arms up to help her from the saddle. Somewhat surprisingly, she allowed it, and Will tried not to think of the way her body slid along his, lest his cock decide to make itself known again.
Her cheeks were pink, and he allowed himself the thought that it was because she felt his touch as much as he felt hers. “I’ll see to your head,” she told him, taking a step back and indicating a large rock for him to sit on.
“I think it’s fine,” he protested, but took a seat all the same.
“You’re as bad as my brothers,” she said, tying the horse before coming to undo his bandage. “It will be fine, but you’ve got to take care of it first.”
Will was quiet as she took a cloth to the stream to wet it and was his face. Her fingers were light on his face as she moved it this way and that. More whiskey was dabbed on, and Will hissed a bit. She gave him an apologetic shrug and then deftly bound the wound again with a clean strip of cloth.
“How many brothers?” Will asked when she’d finally finished.
“What?”
“You said you’ve brothers. I wondered how many?”
She frowned at him, suspicious, and he laughed softly. “I’m hardly trying to judge the strength of Scotland’s forces by asking one girl at a time how many brothers she has.”
The blush came back to her cheeks, and Will found it lent a softness to her fierce features that brought them from the harsh beauty she normally carried back into something sweeter, pretty even.
“Four older brothers,” she said.
Will smiled and settled into a more comfortable seat on the rock. “I’ve two myself, and a younger. No sisters, though.”
It was why he’d joined the army in the first place. He wasn’t going to inherit any land from his father.
“And this is how you bring honor to your family?” she asks. “By stealing horses from a people you’d fight to enslave?”
Will frowned. “I must have an occupation.”
“A blacksmith has an occupation that takes no man’s home from him.”
He sat back, looking her over. Slight, to be certain, but with steel beneath her skin. “You fight yourself,” he pointed out.
“To save my home, not to take another’s.”
“The English king would argue your home belongs to him.”
“And you’d fight to see that made truth.”
His frown deepened. He’d seen some excesses from the soldiers, liberties taken that the officers allowed. He hadn’t, thought, though of what was left behind after a battle. Whose homes were destroyed by their fighting.
“I fight for my king,” he said. “And for the living he grants me. It is my duty.”
“A man may do much for his duty,” she argued. “But he should not lay aside his honor.”
“You think I’ve no honor.” The thought stung a bit.
“I think you’ve been giving it up too easily.”
“At least you think I had some to begin with.”
“I’m considering the possibility,” she said, and to his surprise, her lips quirked themselves into a wry smile, teasing and coy.
Will laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As you should, Mr. Davenport.”
“Will,” he said, offering a bit of familiarity, hoping it would be welcome.
“Will,” she repeated, seeming to turn it over as an idea. “Isobel,” she offered when she’d accepted his name.
“Isobel,” he echoed, feeling the taste of it in his mouth. “That’s much more pleasant than Miss Darrow.”
“Will is easier than Mr. Davenport,” she allowed, and Will laughed, finding her stubbornness strangely pleasant as well.
“It is, that.”
She was smiling, watching him, and then she seemed to realize what she was doing and she turned, moving to her pack, rifling through it. “We should go on,” she said, and she sounded weak and tired.
“You’re heading to Carlisle?”
Her spine stiffened, and she didn’t turn to look at him. “What makes you think that?”
“You’re in a rush, and we’re heading toward the border. You’ve kept from the road today, so it seems unlikely you’re staying on the Scottish side. I’d guess you’ve a message for someone in Carlisle.”
She turned to look at him, her gaze sharp. “And what has you headed north in such a hurry?”
Will considered the question a moment. He was unlikely to be able to finish it by this point anyway, and there was not much he could do to change that now he’d given his word not to run. “I’m to go to Edinburgh and keep an ear to the ground for any dissent in the ranks.”
“And if you find it?”
“Help it to fester.”
She frowned again and repeated, “We should be going.”
“You’re exhausted,” Will pointed out. “What are we? A day’s ride from Carlisle? You’ll reach it tomorrow whether we stay here for the night or get a few miles under us before dark, and you’ll travel better tomorrow for the rest.”
He could see she was hesitant to agree, and he wondered what the message was that she needed to deliver. He wondered if she knew herself.
“Yes, all right,” she said finally. “We can fish in the stream for dinner.”
“You ought to bathe,” Will suggested, and her head shot up to look at him.
“Why?”
He laughed softly. “I’ve never met such a suspicious woman. You ought to bathe because there is a stream and you’ll be at your destination. You don’t want to arrive looking as though you’ve been racing across the countryside.”
“Ah,” she answered, looking sheepish. “I suppose you’re right.”
Nodding, he pulled himself to his feet. “I’ll get the fish and cook supper. You can bathe.”
“I’ll help with the fish,” she insisted, and Will didn’t argue. He was beginning to enjoy her company, and he’d gladly keep it longer.
#
Isobel was glad of the chance to bathe, even in the cold stream. Davenport--no, Will--was proving to be all too charming a companion, and she was more and more aware of being alone in the woods with a strange man. The way his eyes followed her as she moved, the way his heat lingered in her skin when he touched her….
Some space from the Englishman was clearly necessary.
She was careful to make sure Will could not see her from their camp before she slowly stripped off her dress and the shift beneath it, laying both carefully on the shore before wading naked into the stream.
The chill of the water seeped into her, sending goosebumps across her body, making her nipples tighten.
It didn’t seem to reach the heat between her legs that had been building since she woke this morning with her leg pressed against Will’s cock. She had too often allowed herself to ponder what might have happened if their circumstances were different. Would she have allowed him to hold her, touch her? Would she have lifted her skirts for him, giving him access to the throbbing center of her desire?
Even now as she thought of his hands on her, she let her own hands wander over her skin, teasing at her hardened nipples, letting a hand slide further, the rush of cold water against her clit drawing a deep groan from her.
Her fingers delved between her legs, through her wet curls, finding the throbbing clit and rubbing hard against it. Will would finish their supper at any moment. She didn’t have time to linger over the pleasure of her body.
Thrusting fingers deep, she flicked her thumb again and again over her clit, her head thrown back in silent ecstasy. It took hardly more than a moment before she was crying out softly, pleasure flooding through her.
At the sound of a rustling from the shore, her eyes flew open, and she was shocked to see Will there, peeling off his clothes, a dark look in his eyes that frightened and excited her in equal measure.
She couldn’t tear her eyes from his lean, powerful body as he slid out of his clothes, dropping them to the ground and striding into the stream. His cock stood out, thick and proud, from a nest of curls at its base.
“What...what are you doing, Will?” she gasped, taking a step back.
“I need a bath,” he said, though the low rumble of his voice suggested something else entirely.
“The water’s cold,” she offered, watching his skin break into goosebumps, sucking in a breath at the way his nipples drew tight.
“So it is,” he said, and then he reached her, and his arm slid around her waist, pulling her close against his naked form. The chill of the water seemed to have dampened his erection some, but it still burned hot against the cold skin of her belly. “I wouldn’t want you to catch cold,” he added, drawing her back to the shore.
She didn’t know what had possessed him to touch her like this, but she was powerless to pull away. She pressed herself close to his body, and he led her naked from the water and back toward the fire of the camp, where she saw he’d already laid out a blanket.
“You’ll need to warm up,” he mumbled, but he could not keep the pretense any longer, and Isobel watched with wide eyes as he bent low to kiss her, crushing his lips to hers as she crushed their bodies together. His hands slid all over her dripping form, and the heat in her belly reignited, making her throb with desire once more.