Rhiannon lapped at him, her movements similar to how he’d licked her. He had to concentrate hard to stand. What would be worse, collapsing right here, or spending all over her? She tormented him with her tongue, growing bolder, swirling, and flicking around the crown. Then she licked him from base to tip before she nearly killed him by taking him into her mouth, sliding her lips down. Ian groaned, his entire body stiffening in ecstasy.
“I can stop,” she teased.
Ian’s eyes flew wide. He knew he should say, aye, stop, but he couldn’t. “Och, nay, do no’ stop.”
She smiled and then took him deeper into her mouth. Bloody hell… This was utterly incredible and damned him to hell all at once. Up and down, slowly, she worked him into a frenzy. His hips rocked into her mouth with a rhythm steady and as old as time until he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Ian yanked from her mouth as he cried out, taking himself in hand to spill his seed.
Rhiannon slowly stood in front of him, a saucy and satisfied grin on her face. “I believe you said you’d take the first watch?”
He laughed and nodded. “Aye, lass.”
14
Rhiannon slept like the dead.
Who knew that pleasure was a sleeping aid?
When she woke the next morning, stretching on the cot as the sun shone through the missing roof, she rolled over to find Ian sleeping right beside her on the floor. A smile filled her face as she watched him sleep. The soft sound of his breathing, the fluttering of his eyelids as he dreamed. When was the last time he’d gotten a decent night of sleep?
He’d not woken her to take watch as he’d promised, and that was all right. Nothing appeared to have happened. And besides, with her luck, the moment he’d fallen asleep, and she stared out into the darkness, was likely the moment they would have been attacked.
Curled on her side, she studied him, thinking about how he made her feel so alive. Wanted. Even cared for. And how she reciprocated each of those sentiments in return. Desired for him to feel alive in her presence. Wanted him. Cared for him.
These were feelings that her cousin had told her about in letters. Noah made Douglass want to burst with happiness. She claimed those feelings were love. Whenever she looked at him, she felt her breath leave her, and when he was out on rounds, she desperately wanted him to come back again.
Was that what Rhiannon was feeling now? Love? Or was it leftover euphoria from their pleasure-giving the night before?
Rhiannon pushed away the blanket, a smile on her face, certain that she was likely never to frown again. Memories gushed, flushing her skin with what she and Ian had shared the night before. She’d had no idea that what they’d done together could happen between a man and a woman. And it had been utterly glorious.
She stretched in the cool air, keeping as quiet as she could so as not to wake Ian as she slipped off the cot.
He’d been bent on pushing her away for days. Afraid to accept her desire. Until he wasn’t. As she crept past him to go outside and find relief in the bushes, she wondered if today he’d change his mind. Have regrets. She certainly didn’t, but she wasn’t as troubled as he appeared to be from the start.
Beyond his decision to be a bachelor for life, one who sought thrills and rushed headlong into battle, there was a little something deeper going on. Almost as if he didn’t think he was good enough to be someone’s one and only. Rather rubbish, considering he was so incredible. But somewhere along the way, someone must have given him that impression.
As she squatted in the bush, a jingle of horses’ reins had her clenching and freezing midstream. But her fears were immediately assuaged by the realization that Ian must have risen and was getting their horses ready to go. Of course, with his senses, he wouldn’t have remained asleep as she snuck out of the croft. Finishing her business, she started to rise, her skirts falling around her ankles, but again, she froze.
The sound of horses wasn’t coming from the croft but rather from the opposite direction, back toward the road.
Heaven help them.
They had company.
The blood drained from her face as the sounds of approaching riders grew. Every blasted curse word she knew went blazing through her mind. There wasn’t enough time for her to dash back across the croft’s yard and seek shelter.
Only a few minutes ago, she’d thought she’d be unable to drop her smile all day, but this wiped away her joy faster than a slap. In a moment of panic, she searched for Goosie, hoping her cat remained curled up on the cot where she’d left her.
Rhiannon remained crouched low, glad she’d slept in her clothes and boots. The dagger in her boot and the other still strapped to her wrist burned. If whoever was approaching didn’t leave, she wouldn’t hesitate to use one or both. Drawing in her breath slowly and releasing it, she worked to calm her nerves. To concentrate. She’d be no good to anyone if she made a racket or breathed so loudly that she could be heard.
Homing in her senses, she watched and waited, trying to discern exactly where the sound was coming from and how many riders were sneaking through the forest. Was it an army? A band of outlaws? Or simply a caravan of merchants as they’d seen before?
Dawn had barely risen, leaving the forest in hazy light. Anyone who traveled at this hour didn’t want to be seen. And she should know, for they’d done the same thing.
With that knowledge in mind, she slipped the dagger from her boot. Faint movement in the trees beyond shifted the colors of the forest, and then it wasn’t just the jangle of horses’ reins but voices too. Spoken low in an effort not to carry, which failed, as she picked up the subtle tones of male voices. Several of them, at least.
They weren’t English; she could tell that much. They spoke a mixture of Gaelic and English. Scots. Not her brother’s army.
