Page 64 of Sins of the Highlander

She’d already started unwrapping the wound, so he continued, reaching around between her legs to remove the muslin strip. His fingertips brushed her inner thigh, that soft skin so near the tempting place between her legs. Her breath hitched on each pass.

“The entry wound looks good,” he said once he dropped the soiled cloth into the ewer.

There was no hint of redness around the scab, and he could smell only her warm, healthy scent. Her body was working to repair the damage his plan for revenge had caused. But she would always bear a scar.

He shifted to check the exit wound on her inner thigh. It, too, was healing nicely. He caught a glimpse of shadowy paradise beneath her skirt, just a hint of soft nether lips and silky curls.

He was going to hell without doubt. He should have been concentrating on her injury, but all he could think was how close her delicate womanly parts were to his hands.

“We need to apply the salve Hepzibah gave me.”

Her voice pulled him back to the matter at hand. He rummaged in her bag and came up with the small jar. The unguent didn’t have a foul odor as most medicines did. There was a hint of bayberry and mint, and when he smoothed the salve over her injury, it glittered silver on her skin.

He lingered a bit over the application, spreading the excess on her uninjured parts, reveling in gliding his fingers over her flesh.

“I can wrap the fresh dressing,” she said.

“Once I begin something, I like to finish,” Rob said, taking the length of muslin from her.

He brought it around her leg several times, taking care not to bind it too tight, but making sure it was snug enough not to slip down. Her skin was incredibly smooth, unbearably soft. He tortured himself by trailing his fingertips on each pass along her inner thigh.

He noticed a subtle shift in her scent. She was no longer just warm and healthy. There was a definite hint of musk in the air. The whiff of her arousal went straight to his groin.

“There, lass.” He tied off the dressing but didn’t move his hand from her thigh. “Looks like you’ll do.”

“Will I?” She was looking down at him, her lips softly parted, her eyes hooded.

His fingers inched closer to her mound. He bent and pressed a kiss on her knee. She didn’t protest.

“Elspeth.” Her name escaped his lips like a prayer as he slid his hand the rest of the way under her skirt.

“Oh, Rob.”

She was damp and tender and swollen. He covered her with his palm, and she throbbed into it with a long sigh. He could feel her heart beating in his hand. Such a knot of caring rose in his chest, he almost couldn’t breathe.

His cock stiffened to rock hardness as he stroked her gently, teasing her curls. Her knees edged farther apart. He kissed along the inside of her leg from her knee to the crease of her inner thigh, hitching her skirt higher with each one. Then when she was totally exposed to his gaze, he covered her mound with open-mouthed kisses.

She made a soft moan and slumped in the chair, edging her bottom closer to the edge of the seat. It was a clear invitation to stay.

He invaded her with his tongue.

Was there anything more miraculous on earth than a woman’s pliant wetness?

He was drunk on her scent. He wallowed in her, in every sigh, every moan, every shiver of muscle under taut skin.

Her legs trembled. He wrapped his arms around her hips and drew her closer. He nuzzled the soft lips of her sex, reveling in her obvious need for him.

Her hands smoothed over his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. She twisted and pulled, but he didn’t mind. She was too far gone to realize what she was doing.

From a distance, there came a rapping sound.

Elspeth’s breath came in short pants as he drove her on, closer and closer to completion. He ached to feel her unravel under his hand.

The rapping grew more insistent.

Her body stiffened as her release drew near.

“I say,” a woman shouted on the other side of the door. “D’ye want yer supper or no’?”