The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) (28 page)

“You’ll trust me to ride on my own today?” Her lips quirked with mischief. She no doubt remembered him commanding she would ride with him after her galloping stunt yesterday. He was glad she seemed over her spell of sadness.

He checked the girth. “If I put you on the horse with me, I’ll end up mating you again. If we want to reach Chroina before the next full moon, we’ll do well to ride separately.”

She pretended a thoughtful expression. “Mating on horseback. I wouldna mind trying that. But I need a rest. You’ve tupped me sore.”

Worry made him look sharply at her.

“Doona fash.” She laughed and patted his chest. “’Tis a good kind of sore. Verra good.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply before putting her on her horse. They rode at a walk, side by side. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out on occasion to draw her to him for more kisses or to stroke his hand over her shining hair. She didn’t comment on the fact they weren’t “riding hard.”

It was as if she understood things might be uncertain for them upon reaching Chroina. He would figure it all out, though. Everything would be fine. They were pledgemates. She was infertile. They’d done nothing wrong.

They stopped after a few hours for a meal of dandelion leaves and bread for Anya and just bread for him. He’d tried the mushrooms and leaves she liked, but aside from a garnish of dill weed or rosemary along with the salt he sprinkled on his bread, he didn’t care for vegetation in his diet.

At the leisurely pace they were going, they wouldn’t make it to the eastern forest before nightfall. He’d have to settle for plains hare again for an evening meal. Not much of a sacrifice considering how Anya seemed to enjoy the gamy meat.

They sat on the ground in the shade of a reaching yew tree. Anya leaned against him and traced a finger up and down his thigh. His prick made a tent of his trousers, as it usually did when she was near. Her light stroking crept nearer and nearer, but she didn’t touch him there.

His pledgemate was teasing him again.

Tingles of pleasure followed in the wake of her touch. A woman was touching him playfully. His woman. He closed his eyes, enjoying her enjoying him.

He must be the luckiest man on the face of the Earth to have been blessed with her. Blessed. Hmm. Maybe he was beginning to believe in Danu again. Funny how hopeful he felt for his people even though he knew Anya wouldn’t be their savior. If the goddess could bring one woman to them, she could bring another. She
would
bring another.

Anya climbed over his outstretched leg and knelt between his thighs.

He opened his eyes and looked directly into hers.

“I’m still hungry,” she said as she unfastened his trews.

Definitely the luckiest man on the face of the Earth. “Far be it from me to let my lady go hungry.”

“Fortunately for me, my pledgemate has provided an incredible bounty with which
I may sate myself.” She proceeded to make a meal of him.

His head fell back against the trunk of the tree. He lost himself in pleasure. It was like floating on a cloud, above all his cares.

When it was over, he wrapped a hand behind his lady’s neck and told her he loved her.

Her satisfied grin melted into an expression of sweet surprise. Her eyes glistened.

“Come here.” He dragged her onto his lap, pressed her face to his throat. “I love you, Anya.” He’d tell her over and over again until it no longer surprised her to hear it.

She sniffed. “And I love you.”

They held each other for long minutes, and then he stripped them both naked and laid her down.

“I thought we were to make haste today,” his pledgemate teased. “We should be riding hard. Isna that what
you said?”

Truly they shouldn’t tarry any longer. But he couldn’t resist rewarding her for the pleasure she’d brought him. He rewarded her well, causing her to cry out his name so loudly a bird took flight from the tree.

He didn’t want to stop there. It was tempting to spend the rest of the afternoon mating, but he couldn’t justify dallying any longer. She wouldn’t be safe until they reached Chroina. They could make it by tomorrow night if they pressed on and rode ’til dark.

He stretched out beside her as she lay on her back, her breathing gradually returning to normal. “Are you ready to ride, lady?”

She rolled her head to give him an incredulous look. “You expect me to stay upright upon a horse after that? I think all my bones have turned to water. Better you drape me over my mount’s back and let him carry me like a sack of grain.”

Chuckling, he nuzzled her neck. He’d hardly ever laughed before meeting her. Not since his sire went to Danu’s breast. Now, he laughed daily. He was happy. By the smile on Anya’s face, he could tell he made her happy too. Of all he’d accomplished in life, he was most proud of that. He had a pledgemate, and he made her happy.

Anya drew circles on his chest with her finger. Despite knowing they should mount up, neither of them moved to get dressed. “Your peak was brief today, not like last night and this morning,” she said.

He’d noticed. Wonderful as his finish had been this afternoon, when his pledgemate had used her mouth to please him, it had been over in seconds. When he mated with her in body, it took much longer and
felt even more wonderful.

“Why is that, do
you suppose?” She fondled his prick, examining it as though it held the answers she sought.

“I don’t know. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. But I
do
know if you keep touching me like that, I’ll need to have you again before we mount up.”

“Hmm.” She abandoned her exploration and straddled him. “Mayhap we should try to make it happen again.”

Her hair fell around her face in chestnut waves. With a twinkle in her eye, she seated herself intimately upon him.

Ah. Yeah. So lovely.

She wound her arms under his to grip his shoulders from behind.

“Yeah. Yeah, hold on to me, lady. Just like that.” He held on too. He gripped her hips and, mindful of her soreness, he took his lady for a gentle afternoon ride he hoped she’d never forget.

* * * *

Sitting astride a cantering mount after a night and a day of tupping was the cruelest sort of torture. Anya’s privates burned with chafing. Her hips ached from spreading her legs around her pledgemate. Her lips felt bruised from their kissing. Mayhap she was mad, but she cherished every ache and pain. Never before had a man been passionate enough about her to take her so forcefully and so many times in such a short period.

Never before had a man told her he loved her.

She was wed.

She’d asked about pledgemating during the first leg of their ride that day. He’d told her there would be documents to file in Chroina, but that verbal pledges were honored among his people.

“But there were no witnesses,” she’d said.

“Danu was our witness,” he’d told her.

“You
doona believe in Danu.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” he’d said with a smile so genuine the sight had tattooed itself on her heart.

“Leave it to a man to rediscover his goddess after a good tup,” she’d said.

They’d both laughed. She loved the sound of his laughter, deep and full-throated, his eyes crinkling at the corners just so.

She’d never felt as alive as she did with Riggs, as free, as cared for. Her deepest desire, to be truly wanted by another, had been granted. Fate had finally smiled upon her. She could even think of her mother leaving without the usual worm of bitterness boring into her heart.

Riggs made her happier than she’d ever been. She was determined to do the same for him. He’d left his home for her. He’d called
her
his home. She would ensure he never regretted the decision.

She didn’t care how sore she was. She would seduce him into tupping her every chance she got. Nothing she’d ever known in life was better than the look of helpless abandon on his face when he came for her. Nothing was better than kenning she was the first he’d given himself to. And she would be the last.

’Twas almost too good to be true.

Ahead of her, Riggs directed his mount up a gentle slope to scout the plain. She urged her horse to follow, appreciating the powerful line of his shoulders. Even wounded and dressed in a stained and torn shirt,
he inspired her confidence. ’Twas in the way he held himself, posture straight, chin confidently raised, eyes alert for danger.

Pride filled her. He was her pledgemate. Hers.

She drew up alongside him. The sun was behind them, dropping in the sky as they faced eastward, gilding the rolling plain that stretched for leagues. A dark patch far on the horizon must be the eastern forest Riggs had told her about. Kept stocked with prey, the forest served as hunting grounds for those who provided meat to Chroina.

“There.” Riggs pointed to a glistening ribbon winding through a shallow valley not far away. “We’ll camp by that stream tonight.” He looked fondly at her. “We’ll make the forest by nightfall tomorrow. I know a place we can rest where I’ll be able to hear anyone approaching and get you away. We’ll keep the horses saddled and make no camp.”

The forest would be populated with hunters, Riggs had told her. They’d have to take great care not to be seen. Or heard by any sensitive wolf-man ears.

“Y
ou best get in all the tupping you want before reaching the forest then, since we’ll do well no’ to draw attention tomorrow night.”

He grinned. “I’ll never have enough of mating you. We’ll just have to do it quietly.”

A little shiver passed over her. It turned into a ripple of pleasure when Riggs cupped her behind her neck and kissed her.

His gaze tender on her, he let her go and started to ride down to the valley. His back went suddenly rigid. He reined his horse to a stop. “Shite.”

She followed his gaze to the top of a hill a furlong away. A rider crested the hill, followed by another. Two riders became four. While they watched, the party grew. No less than twenty men rode into sight. The riders in front carried a banner. Even from this distance, she could tell it was crimson and gold.

“King Magnus,” Riggs said.

“King Magnus? What would he be doing out here?”

“Don’t know.” His eyes were hard as he watched the king’s party ride closer. There was still a great distance between them, but they would have been seen. She kent as well as Riggs must, there would be no running away to hide.

A sense of foreboding snaked up her spine. Her horse fidgeted. “What do we do?”

“We go meet them,” he said.

She tucked her fingers into his hand and gave a squeeze. “Then let’s go.”

* * * *

Tension made Riggs grip the reins too tightly. His horse tossed its head. This was happening too soon. He wasn’t ready to face his king with Anya by his side.

He was afraid.

He’d done nothing wrong, but that wouldn’t be apparent until he’d had a chance to explain. While they rode toward the party, he worked out what he’d say.

When they were the width of a practice field away, six riders broke off from the group and cantered toward them. He recognized the rider on the lead horse, not because he knew the man personally, but because of his royal regalia. King Magnus. He scanned the other riders, hoping to see Neil’s war helm but not finding it.

His stomach dropped.

“Stay here,” he told Anya. He’d been tempted to tell her to run if things went wrong—her horse was fast, she could escape these men. But that would be foolish. Where would she go? She’d be safer with the king’s party than anywhere else. He should be thankful for this turn of events. Anya’s safety was as good as guaranteed.

He just hoped he’d be permitted to enjoy that safety by her side. That was far from guaranteed.

A peek over his shoulder confirmed Anya had her hood up and her head down. There was no telling she was a female. Unfortunately, their shared mating scent was all over him. The riders approaching would recognize it. Unless Riggs could explain himself quickly, he would be asked to show his breeding contract. Having no contract permitting him breeding rights to Anya, a female obviously of breeding age, he’d be arrested.

Knowing what he needed to say, he tapped his horse’s sides.

The king sat tall and commanding in his ornate saddle. He rode with imperial confidence and reined his horse to a stop neck to neck with Riggs’s. Two of the other riders flanked Riggs and the king. Close up, he noticed the brooches pinning the wraps of their war kilts across their
leather armor. The brooches depicted a golden lion within a silver crescent moon. These two were among the twelve Knights of the Crescent Moon, the elite guard serving the throne of Marann, the most loyal of the loyal, the best of the best. Their gloved hands rested on their hilts.

King Magnus removed his helm and shook out shoulder-length, golden hair. He was called the great lion king. The description was apt. Even sweaty and matted, his hair and beard resembled a lion’s mane.