"Very well," she said, "if you don't think I'll be in the way."
"Of course, you'll not be in the way." How could she even think such a thing? "Meet me at the stables as soon as you're ready."
She nodded and disappeared up the stairs.
Outside in the stables, Rebbie saddled Devil himself while the stable lads darted here and there, bringing him various items before he even asked for them. Clearly, they were not accustomed to a laird doing anything for himself. But he enjoyed saddling a horse at times. Besides, if he did it, he knew it was done right.
At least he hoped that was the case. His mind kept drifting back to Calla and theirbedsportof the previous day. When he'd stripped the clothing from her body and revealed her tasty curves, he'd been near speechless. How could anyone be so beautiful? Her creamy, full breasts with their beaded rosy nipples were a carnal delight, and he wanted to do naught but suckle and kiss them until she cried out her pleasure. And the rest of her was… Saints! He couldn't think of that without hungering to rush inside and toss her upon the bed again.
He was as hard as he'd been yesterday. He ground his teeth, trying to push the irrational need away.
Though he'd yearned to spend the whole night with her, he'd forced himself to stay away. He didn't want her to think the reason he intended to help her with the debt had anything to do with them sharing a bed. It certainly didn't. He simply wanted to keep her safe from that knave. But he suspected, as she'd said, Claybourne didn't want the money as much as he wanted Calla. If that was the case, paying him off would do no good.
Besides that, Rebbie sensed she was hiding something. At times, she withdrew from him and closed herself off.
When she said naught was wrong, he didn't believe her. She was not a gifted liar and clearly dishonesty did not come naturally to her. Whatever she was keeping from him made her highly uncomfortable. He wanted to break down that wall and get to know every facet of her soul. How could he do that?
"You ken how to saddle a horse,m'laird?" she asked behind him.
Releasing the stirrup, he turned, warmth and amusement filling him at her wee coy smile. "I do indeed. Shocking, is it not?" Finished with the task, he motioned her forward. "Come."
Once they were both mounted, him in the saddle and her on a pillion cushion made of blankets behind him, he walked the horse through the portcullis. It closed behind them. He'd already asked the guards to keep an eye on MacFadden, and to be ready to open the portcullis again immediately upon their return.
He loved the feel of Calla's hands resting at his waist but, one by one, he pulled them further around and had her clasp them in front. "Hold tight. I don't want you falling off if Devil gets rowdy."
"Very well."
As soon as he loosened the reins and tapped his heels, Devil surged forward into a gallop and then a run. Energy and excitement fairly danced off the horse.
Calla smiled, exhilaration surging through her as she held on tight to Rebbie as he and Devil took her for a wild ride across the heathery moor, the rose-colored drifts lovely amongst the bright green patches of grass. The loch glimmered in the distance, reflecting the blue sky.
Who was she? She didn't even recognize herself, participating in such breakneck adventures. It reminded her of the day before, making love to Rebbie. The risk and excitement was something she didn't usually indulge in, but she couldn't help herself. Joy and fun had been absent for most of her life, but Rebbie kenned well how to bring it back.
She had expected him to knock on her door the night before, too, but he hadn't. She'd stayed awake until late, waiting on him. Hoping. She could've gone searching for him, but wasn't one to look for trouble—and Rebbie was definitely trouble.
Had he meant what he'd said the evening before about paying the debt to Claybourne? She would love for the debt to be off her shoulders, of course. And repaying Rebbie wouldn't be nearly as torturous as repaying Claybourne. Maybe Rebbie would hire her to be his chatelaine or housekeeper at Castle Rebbinglen. She knew, as a lady, she shouldn't want such a position, but 'twouldbe much more tolerable than being Elena's chaperone. Besides, once Elena married, she would no longer need one. And Calla could visit with her son frequently.
The only problem was… how could she keep Rebbie from finding out about Jamie? Although Jamie's hair was much lighter thanRebbie's, he might perceive a family resemblance because Jamie's eyes were a replica ofRebbie's, as was his smile, and all would be a disaster. As long as Jamie was with his aunt and uncle, he was safe and protected, and her secret remained hidden.
When Devil finished his run, Rebbie guided him back toward the castle at a slower pace. Abruptly, he turned the horse toward the wood. Anxiety clutching at her, she glanced up at the trees. Since that dead tree had almost fallen on her a couple of weeks before, she was leery of the forest.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"I'll show you." He stopped Devil and leapt off near a few boulders and bushes, then reached up to help her down. Once her feet were on the ground, he didn't remove his hands from her waist, but instead stepped closer until their bodies were flush. With soulful, deep brown eyes, he gazed down at her for a long moment. "I've been craving a kiss all day," he murmured.
She couldn't help the smile and blush that spread over her face. "So have I," she confessed in a whisper. 'Haps that made her unladylike, but 'twas the truth.
He leaned down and took possession of her lips.'Twasno meek kiss, but one that immediately lit her passions afire. Moaning, she buried her hands in his hair and pressed her breasts against his chest. His hands beneath her derriere, he lifted her from the ground and feasted upon her mouth.
"Saints, Calla, I must have you. Now," he growled.
"Aye."
She was only vaguely aware that he laid her upon the soft, dry leaves of the forest, near the rocks. She didn't care. She only wanted his mouth upon hers, and his body inside her, claiming her.
"Rebbie." She frantically pulled at his kilt and burrowed beneath. When she grasped his rigid erection within her hand, she couldn't believe how wondrous he felt. Hard as granite.
Cursing, he dug beneath her skirts and through her layers of petticoats. Finally, his warm palms slid up her bare thighs above her stockings, then his fingers raked through the hair of hermonsand rubbed in gentle circles over that most sensitive spot.
