Authors: Carmella Jones
Will held her close as he dropped to the blanket, laying her out below him. His hands found her pert breasts as she instinctively parted her thighs, allowing him to settle between them. Sparks shot through her when he pulled his lips from hers to wrap one around her aching nipple, and she arched toward the heat of his mouth.
“Will!” she gasped, and he growled against her skin, teeth catching on her nipple, drawing another shivering groan from Isobel.
Though she’d been thinking of this all day, she could hardly believe it was truly happening, that she was allowing it. When his mouth slid further down her body, leaving a warm, wet trail down her belly, she knew she wasn’t going to stop him. Not any time soon, at least.
His head lifted slightly, and for a long moment, he held her gaze, and then he was dropping his head again, and licking between her legs, teasing through her curls at first before delving beneath them.
Despite her recent climax--or perhaps because of it--her body was poised on the edge again already. The goosebumps over her body were no longer from the chill. She felt, if anything, overheated, and she thought she should be embarrassed for him to see her so wanton, but when his lips closed over her clit and his fingers slid into her, she could do nothing but arch her hips up and breathe, “More...please,” fingers twisting in Will’s hair.
He made a deep, growling noise that was almost possessive, and his fingers stroked her from within, sliding over something that send a shudder through her. His tongue continued its work over her pulsing clit, and in another moment, she was gasping and crying out her second climax.
While she was still squirming from her release, Will surged up her body, catching her lips in a kiss that tasted of her own arousal. He tugged her thighs up around his hips, and she felt the hot, blunt tip of his erection at her entrance a moment before he pushed hard into her, stretching her virgin opening, making him clench around her.
“Fuck,” he whispered, and she laughed, not even knowing why.
“Yes,” she managed after a moment. “Yes, please….”
“My god, yes,” he groaned, and he began to move inside her, pulling back, leaving her strangely empty, and then rolling back in, pushing deep, filling her more than she’d have thought possible.
It wasn’t long before his thrusts came faster, pushing again and again over the same spot he’d stroked earlier, making her whole body tremble as her muscles tensed, preparing for another climax.
As she reached her release, a groan of pleasure torn from her throat, she felt him pulse within her, and he gasped her name as his release filled her yet more.
They shuddered in unison, both trembling as their senses returned. Isobel kept her arms looped around his shoulders, not letting herself worry about what they’d just done, too worn out from her intense release to think of anything but the weight of Will above her, the hot rush of his breath against her skin.
When he finally moved off her, he kept his arms around her, drawing her close against his chest. Isobel curled against him, and his body seemed to frame her petite self.
“Forgive me,” he murmured into her hair. “I...I have wanted that….”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she assured him. “You...I...wanted it as well.”
“You were so perfect,” he said with a breathy laugh. “So beautiful in the water, I...I’m afraid I lost myself.”
“I think we both did,” Isobel agreed, lifting her head to look at him, see what was in his face.
It seemed like awe.
Isobel couldn’t keep that in her gaze, so she tucked her head against his neck and tried to relax back into his warmth. It wasn’t as easy as it had been before he’d looked at her like that.
“Is the fish ready?” she finally asked, unable to speak about the weight in her heart.
“Yes, of course,” Will said, pushing himself up with a laugh. “I daresay we both need a good supper.”
Isobel nodded, trying for an easy smile as she pulled herself to her feet. She felt his gaze on her even stronger now, and it made her whole body flush. “I’ll get our clothes; you get the fish.”
It took all her stubborn control not to run for the stream.
#
Isobel was quiet the rest of the evening, through the night and into the morning. She would answer Will when he spoke, but she didn’t offer conversation of her own.
Will worried he’d pushed too far. He knew what the loss of virtue could cost a woman, and he didn’t know how to tell Isobel that he wanted to sanctify their love in the church, not when he knew it wouldn’t be allowed. She would never abandon Scotland for him.
He would have thought she regretted his touch, except that when they mounted the horse again, she leaned back into his embrace and allowed him to press a kiss to her beautifully pale throat.
They made good time, and before Will would have liked, they were back on the road, Carlilse just visible in the distance.
Isobel’s eyes stayed fixed on the city, and when they’d been almost a mile on the road, she finally spoke.
“If your word means so much to you,” she said, her voice gentle, thoughtful, “why do you let them use you as a spy?”
Will’s arms tightened around her, and he kissed her shoulder. It was not an easy question to answer. It was his duty, but as she’d said the night before, duty meant less than honor.
His duty bound him to finish his mission, even after such a delay.
His honor bade him return to the Scottish army with Isobel, to ask her father for her hand.
It was not such an easy choice to make.
About half a mile from the city, Isobel reined in the horse.
“You should go,” she said. “I can’t bring an Englishman along with me.”
“I’ll wait for you here,” Will offered.
“But your mission,” she said, shaking her head.
“Perhaps I won’t finish it.” He didn’t know if he would. Holding her now, the warmth of her body against his, the softness in her voice, it was not so easy to simply leave. He raised his hand to her chin, turning her face back to his, and kissed her slowly before sliding from the horse.
“And perhaps you will,” she finished for him. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. If you’re here….” She trailed off, and Will wished he had a concrete plan to fill in for her.
She shook her head. “Goodbye, Will.”
“Farewell, Isobel,” he said, watching her go with a heavy, bewildered heart.
#
Isobel put off leaving the next day as long as she could.
It was mid-morning before she rode her horse back out of Carlisle, onto the northern road. Finley had been easy enough to find, and she’d spent the night on the floor of his kitchen, though he’d offered his bed none too subtly when she said she needed to rest before going back.
She was in no rush to leave, truly. She had no illusions about what would be waiting for her down the road: a long ride back to the camp and no company to sweeten it.
The memory of Will’s hands on her skin, his lips tasting her, the hot stretch of his cock inside her…. None of it was tainted by the way things had ended. She would hold the sweet pain of that memory her whole life, she was certain.
But Will was an Englishman, and he had the loyalties of his countrymen. She knew he would not be waiting for her.
She set her horse to a gallup, wanting to shorten the road as much as possible, so she almost missed the figure sitting on the rock about half a mile from the city, elbows on his knees, chin in hands.
The horse saw him, though, and pulled himself up short, nearly tossing Isobel from the saddle.
“That eager to leave me behind?” Will asked sliding off the rock with a too-pleased grin.
“I...I didn’t expect you’d be here,” she admitted.
Will approached the horse, laying a hand on its flank and stroking gently. “I thought about what you said. About turning spy. I hadn’t ever thought of it as breaking my word. I’ve given no Scot my word.” He looked up, and she met his eyes, almost frightened of what she would see in them.
“Except you. I gave you my word not to run.”
“You needn’t keep it now,” she said softly, surprised by his determination on the matter.
“Then I’ll give it again,” he said, reaching up to pull her from the saddle, setting her on the ground in front of him, his hands on her hips. “Isobel Darrow, I give you my word not to run from you. For all my life.”
She was smiling. She didn’t remember starting to smile, but she was. Her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders, and she raised herself up on her toes to kiss him.
“Well,” she murmured against his lips. “We shall see what the word of an Englishman is worth.”
THE END
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1.
Pulling the string taut on his bow, Killian quietly stepped out from behind the large oak and stilled his breathing. He narrowed his eyes on his target and exhaled, letting the string go. The arrow flew slightly to the left, whizzing through the undergrowth and hitting the dark, brown buck square in the side of the neck. The animal howled in pain and twitched a few times before thudding to the ground. Killian approached it just as quietly as he had slain it and made short work of cleaning and butchering the carcass. As he was working, he gave a prayer of silent thanks to the creature and the nourishment it would provide to him and his camp. He was a very spiritual and patient man, despite his hot-blooded tendencies in battle.
Making a shallow grave in the forest for the remainder of the animal and covering it with twigs and soft moss, he took another moment to kneel before the grave, then strapped his supplies along with his bow and arrow on his back. He traversed the terrain quickly, as he was sure of his footing and completely at home trapesing through the dense forest branches and thick undergrowth. He climbed up the hills easily. Killian was smaller in stature than some of his military counterparts, but he was extremely strong, his shoulders taut and muscle-toned from years of training and work with his bow. His back and core were rippled as well. He practiced training rituals ever day, as well as breathing techniques, as it helped him in steadying the bow when facing an opponent. His long, black hair hung by his face and partially obstructed the view into his eyes. They also were partially covered by his cloak, which he oftentimes used as a battle technique as well; if an enemy couldn't see your eyes then they couldn't anticipate your next actions.
As he reached the top of a hill, he paused briefly and placed his weight against an ancient oak tree, allowing his breath to come out in puffs for a moment. He was making good time and would make it back to their camp right at dusk. Killian was a man of the people, yet even though he possessed a vast amount of leadership skill he never boasted or bragged about his prowess. He found that it helped to catch enemies off guard if he was underestimated. He was a deep thinker, but never said much; he preferred mainly to defer to others and listened to their stories. He found that people often would reveal their true natures when they were left to speak about themselves. His keen observation skills and patience had often saved his life in some tougher battles. He was the perfect choice for the mission they had recently undertaken because he didn't look like the type to wear his status on his sleeve in the army. He never gave up his secrets or his strategy easily.
Continuing his trek back to their makeshift campsite, he wondered how others saw him; he assumed that they only saw a brute-like man with stringy hair and wild eyes, yet there was so much boiling under the surface that no one bothered to see. It was a mixed blessing because, while it was good for strategy, it often was a downfall in matters of the heart. He was mistaken for an oaf or an ogre who only gave into his baser instincts, when deep down there was so much more he wanted to share with the right woman. As he saw the campsite on the horizon he smiled. Had he found a woman who finally understood all that his soul held? He certainly believed so.
Seeing Katherine sitting with her arms crossed in the distance, he marveled at her radiance. Even in the fading light of the dusk, she had an ethereal glow about her. She was not what he had expected, but exactly what he seemed to need. She was bred to be a proper English lady with manners and culture, speaking of things noblewomen spoke about such as teacups and crocheting, yet he knew that under the surface Katherine had a wild side that only longed to roam the countryside and go on adventures. She was tall and wispy with long, blonde tresses. She was graceful in her movements, yet her bone structure was thick. Her eyes were grey, almost the color of forged steel, and they hid much passion, he had discovered.
He felt a great sense of comfort in the fact she could be left alone with his best friend and first officer, Langley. They had become close and felt a kinship, almost like brother and sister. Continuing toward the campfire, he couldn't help let a broad grin cross his lips. He was pleased he was able to bring supplies to the campsite. When he was in the forest and his muscles ached from making the hike, or when he was standing in a cold downpour, waiting for the perfect moment to attack an enemy, he only had to stop and think of Katherine to feel as if he had purpose again. From the moment he saw her and caught that glint of passion in her grey eyes he knew that she was his companion. Readjusting his supplies, he pressed onward and could feel the warmth of the fire. He would be grateful to have some time to rest while the evening meal was being prepared. Langley walked over to him and greeted Killian first, taking the supplies and his gear from him. Langley then stepped away, separating the hides and pelts from the different cuts of meat that Killian was able to procure.
Taking Katherine into his arms, Killian felt the warmth of her fair skin and her heartbeat against him. He breathed in her scent and lovingly stroked her hair. Feeling its softness against his rough fingertips, he shut his eyes. No matter how far he traveled, he would never forget the way that her hair felt like fine silk. He would never forget the feeling of completion when he felt her chest rise and fall with his own. Taking her face in his hands, he touched his lips to hers in a kiss. The kiss was soft at first, tender and gentle, then quickly deepened as he wanted to impress upon her how much he missed her during his time out hunting. Above everything else, though, Killian wanted to make certain that, if he should perish at some point in the night, as was a possibility in any warrior's life, she would have the memory of his kiss.
Exiting their embrace he looked into her joyous eyes, and it gladdened his heart when he saw her eagerness to welcome him home. Speaking in a rich Gaelic tongue he looked down at Katherine and simply said, “My love. I have returned. Thank ye for welcomin’ me home.”