Scoundrel’s Redemption (Highlander’s Pact #3)

Chapter Seventeen

T eagan tried to hold back, he really did, but a man could only be so strong.

“Och, ’tis not a good time, lass,” he whispered against Greer’s plush lips, grappling with protecting those in his care and the quicksand of her sweet taste. An overwhelming need that, in the end, he was defenseless against. Cupping her cheeks, he tilted his mouth more firmly over hers and finally showed her exactly how a lass should be kissed.

How she should be kissed.

Though tentative at first, she blossomed readily enough under the coaxing of his lips and gentle seeking of his tongue. For if he was going to taste her, he would have all of her. The deep recesses of her soft mouth. The play of her tongue against his.

Something she took too far quicker than he anticipated.

So quickly and so well, for that matter, he knew he was in trouble. If he let this go on, his desire might be unstoppable. More than that, he sensed she would open up to him. He could pull her onto him now and lose himself in her heated sheath. Drown in the pleasure and escape she could afford him.

She didn’t deserve that, though.

Not here.

Not like this.

And certainly not until they were married .

She may think this a grand adventure, but it was dangerous and her emotions more fragile than she realized. He would not have her look back on her first time with him as a stolen moment without meaning. Nor him as someone who would steal that moment so callously.

“We cannae,” he whispered, breaking off the kiss before it was too late, and he couldn’t stop himself. He rested his forehead against hers. “Not here. ’Tis far too dangerous.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Nay.” He pressed a finger to her kiss-swollen lips. “No being sorry. Especially not for this…never for this.”

Needing her to understand, he looked at her and remained truthful. It wasn’t all about his inability to protect everyone if he lost himself in lust.

“With or without yer virtue, and pious or not, if I keep kissing ye ’twill soon become impossible to stop,” he confessed. “And I willnae lay with ye the first time unwed out in the middle of nowhere on the cold, hard ground.” He was more honest still. “When I take ye, and I will if ye’ll have me, ’twill be on a proper bed after the wooing ye deserve.”

Her lips curled up. “Wooing?”

He met her smile, caught yet again by how easily it came. How he liked the feel of it once more. Especially when it was for her. “Aye, wooing .”

Something better done once honesty lay betwixt them. He should tell her that he’d lied to get her away from Randolph and Bartholomew. That he would have saved her friends whether or not she agreed to marry him.

Yet, he hesitated, not wanting to ruin the lighthearted moment.

“Was what I enjoyed the past few weeks not wooing?” A soft smile lingered on her face. “The long conversations? Laughter? Your kindness? Even, I dare say, your flirtation? ”

“Aye,” he acknowledged. “But ’twas only a few weeks’ worth. Ye deserve more than that.”

Just as soon as he told her the truth. What sort of man would he be if he didn’t? In all honesty, what did it say about him that he hadn’t already?

“That you are the kind of man who puts getting innocent lasses away from monsters before all else,” Edmund would say.

“I cannot speak to what I do and do not deserve,” she said softly. “I can say, however, that I’ve enjoyed our time together thus far and look forward to what lies ahead.” She surprised him with her forthrightness. “That said, whilst wooing is always appreciated, I’m of the mind ’tis not necessary nor prudent to experiencing…more.”

He might have seen many things coming, but not that.

Not that she was eager to make love.

The fact that she’d never been kissed before and lost her virtue to an old man was unfortunate. In truth, he was somewhat shocked she wasn’t turned off to the act altogether after that. But then there was a fire in Greer. Passion struggling to break free. A lass who, by the grace of God, had not yet been crushed by monsters.

Day by day, she reminded him more of her mother with her straightforward talk, and he liked it immensely. Not just because she grew more comfortable with him, but because he genuinely liked how she saw things. How she said things.

In turn, he found himself saying how he felt, too.

“We will take things as they come.” He trailed his finger along her jaw. “As to wooing, it comes in many forms.” He traced the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, eager for the moment he could explore the rest of her body. For when he could show her how bonnie a lass could feel simply by the way a man touched and looked at her. How wooing and seduction could cross over so very easily. “Soon, lass. When ’tis right, aye?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “When ’tis right.”

Before he grew too fixated on her lips again, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tucked her against his side, and rested his dagger on his lap.

“You won’t sleep, will you?” she said softly. “Like you rarely did during the war when watching for the enemy?”

“Nay,” he replied. “I willnae sleep, but ye will.” He tucked the blanket more firmly around her. “Sleep, so ye are rested for when Edmund comes, and ye truly begin yer grand adventure, aye?”

“Yes,” she murmured on a yawn. “Though ’twould be better if I kept you company, would it not?”

“Nay, ’tis best I remain vigilant.” He kissed the top of her head when she cozied down against him. “And I dinnae think so clearly when ye speak.”

Or do much of anything, really. Everything about her was distracting. Overly alluring.

“’Tis good to know I’m still interesting,” she whispered.

“Oh, ye are,” he assured. “More so than most.”

“I don’t know about that,” she whispered drowsily. “I once knew someone more interesting. You would have liked her as much as she likes you, I think.”

Something about the sad tone in her voice caught his attention.

“I’m sure I would.” He rested his hand over hers. “Ye must miss her verra much.”

“You have no idea,” she whispered so softly he almost didn’t catch it. “Though the pain has lessened some these past few weeks. I think I have you to thank for that, too.”

While tempted to ask her more, to understand the sadness in her voice, he did not. He wouldn’t take advantage of her exhausted state but wait until she shared more later if she were so inclined.

As it happened, he spent every waking moment that night thinking about her. Of what he hoped lay ahead for them. First off, teaching her how to fight. He knew how frustrated she was that she knew so little. She wanted to learn how to wield a blade better. To defend herself and others if need be.

While part of him rebelled at the idea of her being anywhere near battling, he found her ambitions admirable. Her need to become more of a protector than she already was. For she was very much one when it came to those she cared about. So said her every action around Ada and her wee bairns.

Though his eyes remained open, he never had a more restful eve than he did with Greer tucked against his side. Every so often, she murmured to Margery but inevitably cuddled closer to him, breathed deeply, and drifted back off.

“Ah, but a mother could not ask for a more heartwarming scene upon waking,” Cecille said softly when she appeared in the wee hours of the morn. Her knowing gaze went from Teagan to her slumbering daughter. A small, teasing smile ghosted her face. “Nice to see you continuing to merely ‘like’ her.”

Rather than move and risk waking Greer, he quirked the corner of his mouth, may she make of it what she would. Naturally, she took that as an invitation to go on.

“You make a lovely couple, just as I knew you would.” Her smile wavered as she looked at Greer, her gaze suddenly different. Mayhap a tad haunted. “Truly a perfect fit for one another.”

Without a doubt, whatever Greer had experienced put that look there. A look that saw the demons plaguing her daughter’s past. Demons with sharper teeth than those of the pompous, ignorant men who’d been in her life since.

On several occasions, he’d been tempted to ask Greer what happened in the hallway the first eve he’d arrived at the castle. When she thought herself alone and spoke with such angst to who he now knew was Margery.

Though inclined to comfort her, he knew better. Even if Bartholomew hadn’t interrupted, she wasn’t ready. Not yet. When she was, she would tell him. Whatever it was, the voice in her head walked hand and hand with her demons. For he’d never seen such torture on a lass’s face. Torture he recognized because he carried the same.

Self-blame and self-loathing.

“Good morn,” Greer murmured, pulling him from his thoughts. She blinked against the dim morning light before she realized her mother was there as well. “To you both.”

“Good morn, daughter.” Cecille smiled softly. “How do you fare?”

“Well, thank you,” Greer said on a yawn. “But then I was quite comfortable.”

When she looked at him sleepily, her eyes half-mast and dewy, he swore his heart skipped a beat. More than that, he realized just how much he wanted to see such every morning. Her against him, warm and safe in his arms. Not only that, but beautiful in every sense of the word. A type of beauty he knew would never fade, no matter her age.

“Oh, yes,” Cecille murmured. Her astute gaze never left them. “Very comfortable indeed, I imagine.”

Though she never elaborated, he knew Cecille saw what he felt.

The first stirrings of love.

In truth, he suspected he’d felt them far sooner, if not the moment he laid eyes on Greer when she protected Duncan at the castle. But when she awoke that morning in his arms, and her gaze turned to his face first thing, he began to get a sense of something much deeper. Something that finally made him understand what he saw between his brothers and their lasses.

Was such possible, though? Or was it too soon? Where Keenan and Fionna had known one another for years, Malcolm and Isabella found love rather quickly. Genuine love at that. Love seen plain as day when they looked at one another.

“So do ye think we will see yer Sassenach today?” Ada said, appearing at the entrance of the cave. She stretched and grinned when Greer finally pulled away. “Och, dinnae move on my account.”

He agreed because his arms felt too empty when Greer wasn’t in them. A sensation he’d never experienced with a lass. A sensation he didn’t much like.

“Unless something detains him, Edmund should arrive today,” he replied to Ada. “Until then, we wait right here. ’Tis too risky to do otherwise.”

She nodded and eyed the area. “Is there water to be had? My bairns will need some.”

“Aye.” He nodded. “Bring me yer skins, and I will see them filled.”

He would see to food, too, be it whatever he could find in the immediate vicinity.

As it turned out, the day proved blissfully uneventful, their fare that of river water and hare meat. Nevertheless, none came upon them, and the day wore on.

Though he worried how he would care for everyone if Edmund didn’t show up, time still passed pleasurably. How else could it be with Greer and her inquisitive mind? With the real her surfacing even more now that she was free of her uncle’s estate? He taught her how to lay a trap and skin an animal, which though she turned a wee bit green, she followed readily enough.

“It gets easier each time,” Duncan assured, giving pointers to Teagan all the while. “Ye’ll see.”

“Should she have to, though?” Besse scrunched her nose. “For Mistress Greer is a true lady.”

“And true ladies should know how to take care of themselves,” Greer counseled, flinching when Teagan showed her how to spear the hare on a spit and put it over the fire.

Besse sighed. “If ye say so.”

“I do.” Greer nodded at Teagan with reassurance when he wondered if mayhap her stomach was going to upturn altogether.

She was about to say more to Besse when he sensed something and put a finger to his lips. He gestured that everyone stayed put, unsheathed his blade slowly, and made his way toward the entrance of the cave. God above, let it be Edmund and not Randolph or Bartholomew. Let him get these lasses and bairns out of here safely.

Would it be his friend?

Or would it be his enemies?

Half a breath later, he found out.