"Please." She threw her thighs apart.
"You drive me mad," he growled and wasted no time positioning himself just where she wanted him.
She lifted her hips off the ground, wishing he would hurry.
When he teased the smooth, velvety tip of his shaft against her, she thrust her hips, imbedding him partway inside her.
His forehead pressed against hers, he muttered words she couldn't understand.
"Aye. More," she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips and her arms around his shoulders.
He drove himself deeper until he was fully within her.
"Aye, so perfect," she whispered.
"You're perfect." He withdrew and thrust again and again. Each moment, his pace increased, as did her pleasure.
"Oh, Rebbie," she breathed, meeting each of his thrusts.
Still within her, he lifted his upper body, placed her ankles upon his shoulders, grasped her hips and hammered into her like a man possessed. His jaw hard and clenched tight, his midnight eyes locked on hers, penetrating into her soul. "Want you, Calla, so damn bad," he growled.
The pleasure storming in upon her, hovering at the brink, she arched her back and waited for it, craved every ounce of pleasure he would give her. The passion broke over her, bending her to its will, showering her with tingles of euphoria. "Rebbie!"
He pounded harder against her, driving deep, taking every inch of her. The pleasure twisted through her, refusing to let her go, pummeling her with wave after wave of a near painful ecstasy.
Finally, he drove deep and held himself there, shoved hard against her, his body pulsating within her as he spilled his seed. Aye, 'twas what she wanted. Looking into his passion-filled eyes now, loving the emotion she saw there, she suspected he would see how much she loved him. But she didn't care. What they shared was beyond her wildest imaginings, beyond her comprehension. How could she feel as if she belonged to him when he'd made no formal claim on her, simply by sharing an explosive passion?
Spent, he collapsed beside her on the ground. Breathing hard, he muttered curses, Gaelic and English.
Devil nickered on the opposite side of the boulders, but she ignored him. Turning to Rebbie, she wrapped an arm around him and pressed her face to his chest. He pulled her tight against him. "Och. Damnation, Calla. You leave me speechless." Dropping silent, he abruptly turned his head. "Listen," he hissed.
In the distance, she heard the sounds of many horses' hooves striking the ground in dull thuds. Ice water flooded her veins. They leapt to their feet, adjusted their clothing and peered through the trees. Dozens of riders approached, strung in a long line across the moor. A shock of alarm slammed through her.
"Who the hell is that?" he asked. Before she could answer, he rushed her forward, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto Devil's back, then mounted himself.
Chapter Twelve
Heart thudding, Calla squinted through the green leaves into the distance at the approaching garrison. Who were they? Several of them were dressed in plaids and metal-studded leather armor.
"'TisLachlan," Rebbie said, sitting in the saddle before her. "And my father. Damnation. They must have ridden with all haste."
"Aye." Calla now recognized the two he'd mentioned, along with Lachlan's dark-haired brother, Alasdair, whom they'd met on their way north. Two or three dozen men accompanied them.
Devil danced beneath them, and Calla tightened her arms aroundRebbie'swaist. He guided the stallion from the wood.
What if the men had come a few minutes earlier?Heavens!They might have heard her cry out in passion. She checked her hair, encountering a leaf. She tossed it aside and checked for more. At least the tightly braided style had stayed in place for the most part. She pulled her cowl over her head to hide any bedraggled appearance. She inspected her clothing, what she could see of it, for any remaining dirt or leaves, but found none.
On horseback, Lachlan broke away from the party and raced ahead. Reaching them, he drew up. "What in blazes are you doing out here? I thought you'd be at Tummel Castle."
"Giving Devil his run. I thank you for coming so quickly."
"Aye. We're glad to help." Grinning, Lachlan darted his gaze between Rebbie and Calla. She could easily discern what the mischievous laird was thinking. Could he tell that she and Rebbie had just made love in the wood? Heat scorched her skin. Would they see her as a strumpet, riding alone with a handsome man? Likely. But she was a widow, not an unmarried maiden. Besides, she sensed Lachlan's mirth was directed at his friend, rather than at her.
"Are you well, m'lady?" Lachlan asked in a respectful tone.
"Aye,m'laird. I thank you."
"I trust that this scoundrel has protected you well?"
