Return Of The Highlanders: The Guardian Part 14

Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy as he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks.

"Did ye bring me to this spot thinking the memory would make me soft on ye?" she asked.

"Aye," he said, nuzzling her ear. "Did it work?"

Beneath his vanity and that dangerous edge that seemed to make the air crackle around him, she caught glimpses of the good-hearted lad he used to be. Remembering that boy's blind disregard for his own safety to protect her, she could almost trust him.

Yet it wasn't the boy who had left her, but the man.

"Ye didn't used to smell so good," Ian said, kissing her hair. He ran his hands up her sides under her cloak, making her feel light-headed and breathless. "I like the feel of ye even better."

It was hard to think with his hands on her and his breath in her ear. Finally, she forced herself to brace her hands against his chest.

"I paid ye the kiss," she said. "Now it's time we were on our way."

"That kiss was for scaring me that day," he said, as he brushed light kisses along her jaw. "I'm afraid ye owe me several more for getting ye off the log."

Her heart raced as he brought his mouth back to hers. His lips were soft and warm and, once again, she turned liquid in his arms. When he ended the kiss, she peeled herself away from him, feeling flushed and confused.

"I'm verra glad I waited to collect the debt," he said, smiling at her with the devil in his eyes.

"I am not a trinket to be played with." Sileas attempted to push him away, but he was as immovable as the rock at her back.

"I don't know what ye mean by that remark." he said, his smile gone and the edge of anger in his voice. "What makes ye think I take ye lightly?"

"Perhaps because ye ignored me and your vows for the last five years," she said. "And don't try to tell me ye had no women in France, for I'll no believe it."

"I didn't think of ye as my wife then." He took her chin in his hand and fixed intense blue eyes on her. "But I do now."

"Well, I don't." She darted under his arm and started around the boulder, but he caught her around the waist and hauled her back.

"Ye are my wife, like it or no," he said, towering over her. "So ye may as well like it."

"I don't like it," she said. "Not one bit."

"Ye lie, Sil," he said, his eyes hot on hers. "Ye like it when I kiss ye. If ye have forgotten already, I'll have to show ye again."

Ian pulled her into his arms and proceeded to kiss her senseless. Every argument faded under the a.s.sault on her senses. It was as if she had been starving for his kisses without knowing it. Now that she had discovered what she craved, she had to taste it, touch it. She wanted to swallow him whole, take him inside her, and never lose him.

She clung to him, unable to get close enough.

"I want to feel you," Ian said, pushing back her cloak.

Wherever he touched, his hands burned her skin with a heat that drew her ever closer. He dropped his head and pressed his lips to where her pulse was beating madly at the base of her throat. She sucked in her breath as his hands covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Ahhh," he breathed. "Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s were made for my hands."

He dipped his head lower, running his tongue in the valley between them. His lips were warm and wet on her skin. When he took her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pure l.u.s.t shot through her body and down her limbs, like whiskey on an empty belly.

Her head fell back against the boulder as she let the new sensations take her. When she felt the moist warmth of Ian's mouth on her breast, she started. He found the nipple through the cloth and flicked his tongue over it, and it felt so good she didn't want him to stop.

When he sucked her breast into his mouth, she felt it down to her toes. She had a fleeting sense of embarra.s.sment when she realized she had groaned aloud, but it was soon lost in the swirl of sensations Ian was pulling from her. She was panting by the time he released her breast to move up her throat with hot, wet kisses.

"Ach, I love the sounds ye make," he said against her ear. "I want ye beneath me, Sileas. I want to bury myself inside ye and bring ye such pleasure that ye cry out my name."

He kissed her until her lips felt swollen. When he pulled away, cold air chilled the heated skin beneath her clothes, leaving her with a physical longing for the body that had pressed against hers. She felt stunned, disoriented, and too aware of her body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tingled, she felt wet and achy between her legs, and her fingertips itched for the silky feel of his hair and the rough cloth of his shirt.

"See, ye do like my kisses," Ian said, looking altogether too sure of himself. "And I promise ye, ye will like it still better when I take ye to bed."

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. "That doesn't mean I'll like being wed to ye."

"It's a verra good start," he said, with a gleam in his eye.

"Ye are a vain man, Ian MacDonald," she said, and turned her attention to straightening her gown.

She felt Ian go still and looked up to see his gaze fixed on something behind her. Holding a finger to his lips, he nodded in the direction of the road. She turned around and saw twenty men heading up the road toward them. Judging from the blades she could see, they were prepared for trouble-or to cause it.

At the front of the group, was none other than Hugh Dubh MacDonald.

She felt Ian's tension in the taut muscles of his body as he leaned against her, pressing her into the boulder.

"They're coming for Connor," he said next to her ear, as the group started around the bend in the road.

"G.o.d, no," she whispered. "What can we do?"

" 'Tis quicker to Tearlag's along the cliff path." He spun her around and gave her a quick, hard kiss. "I must warn Connor and Duncan. Wait here, and I'll come back for ye as soon as I can."

"I'm going with ye," she said. "Ye might need me."

"No, you're staying here. I don't have time to argue." He started to leave, but halted. "d.a.m.n it!"

She turned to see what had caught his attention. Four of Hugh's men were settling themselves down at the side of the road, instead of following the others.

"What are they doing?" she whispered.

"Hugh has remembered we used to take the goat path," he said in a hushed voice. "He's left these men to cut off Connor and Duncan's escape by this route."

When she looked up at him, Ian's jaw was set and his eyes cold-blue steel.

"Come," he said, taking her hand. "I can't leave ye here now."

CHAPTER 14.

Ian stepped onto the log as if he were going up a doorstep instead of walking off a cliff. When she told him earlier that she wanted to go with him, her only thought was that she didn't want to be separated from him. But fear gripped her belly now.

Ian stood sideways on the log and held his hand out to her. "Hold on, and we'll cross together."

Despite the chill in the air, her palms were sweaty. She wiped them on her cloak before reaching out to take his hand. The hand that enveloped hers was dry and warm and rea.s.suring. Gingerly, she put one foot on the log.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Just remember not to look down," Ian said. "We'll be on the other side before ye know it."

She took another step, and now both feet were on the log-and over the cliff. Although she kept her eyes fixed on Ian, she could hear the rushing water below.

"You're doing fine," Ian said. "I won't let ye fall."

She took another step.

" 'Tis easier to keep your balance if ye move quickly," he said, urging her along.

She took another step and another. It was getting easier. She dared to breathe again.

When she was halfway across, her foot hit a clump of moss and slipped. Though she recovered her balance almost at once, her gaze dropped to the churning water far below. Panic shot through her limbs and sweat p.r.i.c.kled under her arms. Her feet would not move again.

"Look at me," Ian said in a tone that said everything would be all right. "I have ye, Sil. I have ye."

With an effort, she wrenched her gaze from the crashing waves below to Ian's face. His expression was confident, rea.s.suring.

"That's a good la.s.s," Ian said. "We're nearly there."

Step by step, she followed him, squeezing his hand until her fingers ached. An eternity later, she reached the other side, and Ian was lifting her down. The feel of solid earth beneath her feet made her light-headed with relief.

"Ye are going to owe me a hundred kisses for that," he said, his voice hard and urgent. "We must hurry now."

Her trial was not over, for they still had to follow the cliff path the rest of the way to Tearlag's cottage.

"Can ye let go?" she asked, as Ian pulled her along. "I've no feeling left in my fingers."

"No."

The path narrowed until it was a ledge barely as wide as her foot. They sidestepped over loose stones with the rock face at their backs. Beyond the toes of her shoes was nothing but air-and the gray swells and white foam far below.

Sileas's heart pounded in her ears as she scanned the sheer cliff below for shrubs growing out of the rock that she could grab hold of if she fell.

And then her heel slipped on the loose rock, and her foot shot out from under her. She screamed Ian's name as she fell to her death.

She continued screaming as her feet dangled in the air.

"I've got ye," Ian said, his voice strained.

She stopped screaming and looked up. Ian's knees were bent, and he had one arm spread across the rock wall for balance; his other hand still held her wrist. His jaw was clenched, and the muscles of his neck were taut with the effort of holding her.

With a grunt, he hoisted her back up onto the path. Her knees were shaking so violently she would have fallen again if Ian was not holding her up.

"We can't stop here," Ian said, looking hard into her eyes. "I told ye I would not let ye fall. Ye need to trust me."

She nodded. Ian had a firm hold on her arm; he would not let her go.

"Just a wee bit farther, love," Ian said, coaxing her along. "I can almost see Tearlag's cottage now."

Sileas's heart was in her mouth, but she moved with him.

"That's a good la.s.s. Three or four more steps is all."

When the footpath finally opened onto the clearing behind Tearlag's cottage, Sileas wanted to sink to her knees and kiss the gra.s.s.

"For that, ye owe me a good deal more than kisses," Ian said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Now we must find Connor and Duncan."

They ran into Tearlag's cottage and found the two men sitting at her table eating stew from large wooden bowls.

"Time to run, lads," Ian said in a dead calm voice. "Hugh and twenty armed men are coming up the road."

Connor and Duncan were on their feet before Ian finished speaking.

"We'll be in the cave," Connor said, as he strapped on his claymore. "Make some noise to warn us if they start down to the beach."

"I will," Ian said. "Just go."

"Sorry, Tearlag," Connor said over his shoulder, as he went out the door.

"Save my stew," Duncan said, as he grabbed an oatcake. He waved it at them as he followed Connor out.

Sileas sank into the chair that was still warm from Connor sitting in it.

"Where's your whiskey, Tearlag?" Ian asked.

"I'll get it," the old woman said.

Sileas's limbs felt melded to the chair as she watched the other two go about their tasks with quick, controlled movements. In a blink, Ian dumped the stew from the bowls into the pot hanging over the hearth, wiped the bowls clean with a cloth, and set them on the shelf above the table.

While Ian did that, Tearlag unearthed a jug from beneath her mending in the basket in the corner and poured a healthy measure of it into two cups on the table.

"Drink it down," Ian ordered Sileas and tossed his own back.

Sileas choked as the fiery liquid burned down her throat.

Ian wiped the cups clean, set them back on the shelf, and took the chair beside her. "Now, we are here having a nice, relaxing chat with Tearlag."

A moment later the door burst open and several foul-smelling men crowded into the small room. The first was Hugh Dubh.

Sileas had not seen him this close since she was a bairn. As Hugh surveyed the tiny cottage, she was struck by how much he looked like his brother, the former chieftain, and Ragnall. He had the same square face, impressive frame, and commanding presence, but there was something dark and sinister in Hugh's sea-mist eyes. The chieftain and Ragnall had been hard men, but they didn't have this evil in them.