"That feels much better," he said, taking the salve from the floor where she'd set it. "Now, I'll put some on your neck."
His words surprised her. Imagining him massaging the medicinal balm into her neck, she shivered. "'Tis not necessary."
"It pains you. I saw you rubbing it earlier." His stark blue gaze challenged her to deny it.
"Well… aye." She glanced down, her heart rate accelerating at the thought of him touching her again.
He faced her. "Turn a wee bit more."
She did as he said, lifting the stray strands of hair off her neck and sitting straight to give him access.
At the first touch of his fingers, a chill slid over her. The salve felt cool, but the more he stroked it over her skin and massaged it deep into her taut muscles, the warmer she became. He tugged at the back of her neckline and rubbed the base of her neck. His fingers felt marvelous. She sighed.
Soon, she realized he was massaging her neck and shoulders with both hands and herarisaidand smock had slipped down. She grasped her clothing in front to hold it in place.
"Never have I received such a wondrous massage," she whispered, forcing herself not to moan in delight.
His large, strong fingers gently caressing her, he leaned into her and breathed warmth against her hair, her ear. Tingles covered her, trailing down her neck to her breasts and beyond. Heavens! What was he doing to her?
Unable to believe the way he held her in thrall, she heard an unintentional moan escape her mouth.
"Anna," he breathed. In that one simple word, he'd expressed a thousand thoughts and emotions, deep yearnings. She did not comprehend it with her rational mind. 'Twas something that touched her soul. A connection that linked them. She leaned back into him, against the hard wall of his chest. His arms surrounded her and he drew her closer still. His lips grazed over her cheek.
Coming to her senses, she realized she should not be doing this for several reasons, one of which was the madman hunting her down. She pulled back, eyeing Neacal cautiously, gauging his seductive gaze in the dimness.
With one finger, he stroked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Are you afraid of me, lass?"
She shook her head. "Of course not. But, because of Blackburn…"
"To hell with him. You are not his wife." At close range, Neacal's fierce eyes searched hers. "Are you?"
"Nay. 'Twas never consummated either."
He released a breath. "Thank the saints. I feared he might have forced you."
She shook her head. "I was sick and frail after I lost the bairn, very wan because I'd lost so much blood. He could barely stand the sight of me. He kept telling the healer and the servants to fatten me up. He wanted me to be curvaceous and healthy before he had his way with me."
"The bastard," Neacal hissed. "I'll make him regret every pain he inflicted upon you."
Iciness trickled through her veins. "Nay! I wish you to stay away from him."
"Only if he never shows his face. But if he comes here, I'll destroy him for what he's done to you."
The vehemence and passion in his voice and his gaze struck her heart with fear. "Nay, Neacal. I want you to stay safe."
"If no one else will see justice served, I will."
Tears burned her eyes. How could he want to risk his life for her? She stroked her hand up his scarred cheek into his thick dark hair. Pushing it out of the way, she pressed a kiss to the jagged scar on his face.
He turned his head, placing his unmarred cheek next to her. Why had he done that? Did he think his scar bothered her?
"Nay," she said, pushing his square, bristly chin in the other direction and brushing her lips across the roughened scar again. "You are a beautiful man," she whispered, placing tiny kisses over the puckered skin of the old injury.
"Hmph," he grunted and kissed her temple. "Nay, Anna,youare the one who is beautiful, like an angel consigned to earth." His warm lips and sweet words completely seduced her. She closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe normally. He kissed each of her cheeks.
She turned her head slightly, seeking his mouth. When her lips touched his, so firm and smooth, her breath halted and need grasped hold of her. She dug her fingers into the plaid over his thigh. She wanted to rip the garment from his steel-hard body.
Slowly, gently, his lips explored hers. She dared not even breathe for fear he would stop. This felt like the rarest and most special moment she had experienced in years.
When his tongue flicked between her lips, she thought she might expire on the spot. She turned, facing him more and slid her hands around his neck, into his midnight hair to grasp handfuls of the thick locks.
He kissed her slow and easy, patiently seducing her mouth open with subtle flicks of his tongue. She drew in a sharp breath, lest she pass out from the lightheadedness overcoming her, and offered her mouth to him to do with as he would. He did not disappoint. He gained entrance and teased her tongue into a silent banter.
A soft moan escaped him as he buried his hands in her hair and massaged her scalp with gentle fingers. His mouth grew more persistent, more determined to taste and devour every inch of hers. He was sinful seduction itself, the type no woman could resist.
She knew she should not be doing this. A blade of guilt struck her but she could not pull away from him.
