To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull #1)

Chapter Fourteen

S honey stretched her arms out, fanning her fingers wide. The leaves of the Hazel tree above were abundant and obscured the blue sky with green finery. She smiled at the shadows of leaves that littered her arms. Then her gaze returned to the man asleep with his head in her lap. A leaf shadow danced on his cheek, and she traced its outline with her finger, causing him to stir. He smiled but did not open his eyes.

“Yer slightest touch has the power to soothe me to sleep like a babe,” he smiled. Then he sprung to life and pulled her beneath him. “Or fill me with a fire that pulls me from my dreams.”

She felt the muscled weight of him cover her as she breathed his scent and reveled in his strength. The day so far had been wonderful. She could not remember having ever been so content. “I did not, my love, but graze yer cheek.” Her finger traced a path down his neck as he lowered his lips to hers. She had expected his kiss to hold the demand of his body, but his lips only brushed hers, and then he froze as darkness crept into his eyes. She sensed he was searching for something. He seemed to be desperately trying to see into her mind, but what he sought, she could not say.

Could he still even now doubt she was real?

“Ye’re, indeed, a sorceress,” his rasped. “For ye muddle my mind and plague my body with insatiable need.”

A slow smiled curved her lips. “I am only a woman, and need I remind ye that it was ye who taught me how it was between a man and a woman.”

His eyes brightened as a slow smile curved his lips. “I believe ‘tis time for another lesson.”

He covered her mouth with the warmth of his kiss, and she finally felt the full force of his desire. His tongue stroked a languishing path through her mouth as his fingers dug into her hair. He pulled down, forcing her back to arch. His hands swept waves of heat over her body as he caressed her breasts through the fibers of her tunic, causing her to moan with pleasure.

Again, he held himself aloft, resting his weight on his elbow. He thought his size too much for her small frame to handle, but she wanted to feel all of him. She tore at the skin of his back and pressed their bodies closer. Then she seized his arm and pulled until it finally gave way. His full weight slid over her. He groaned. His kiss intensified as if his last restraint, the last of his self-control were gone. His kiss stunned her by its overpowering force. His mouth and hands devoured her, and she returned every hunger-infused stroke as her fingers threaded through his thick hair, urging his tongue to plunge deeper. He yanked her tunic and kirtle until they were bunched at her waist. The warmth of the sun mingled with the heat of his hands, branding a pathway down her stomach to her thighs.

She trembled at his touch. Sensation overwhelmed her. He stroked her warmth, igniting fiery ripples of pleasure, which tantalized as she melted beneath his caress. Her hands rushed over his back. She groaned as she felt his strength and heat.

“I want ye now,” she begged.

Suddenly, he swore and pulled away. Her eyes flew open. She started to voice her protest, but her words were lost in folds of fabric as he pulled her tunic over her head.

He quickly unbelted his plaid, and then once more, his body covered hers. She shoved against his chest, and he rolled over. She followed, straddling his bronzed torso. Her lips and tongue enticed and tormented as she traveled across his rugged physique. His ragged breathing and groans of pleasure drove her wild. She explored and reveled in the salty taste of his skin and the allure of his musky scent. Then he swept her gently onto her back. She strained to open herself to him. Her body ached to be filled, but he did not take his pleasure swiftly. He slowly pressed into her. With deliberate constraint he drove her to writhe beneath him. The exquisite ache intensified. It was too much to bear. She lifted her hips, pleading for relief as her body throbbed with need. Finally, he took her with the force she craved.

She was a windswept wave, charging toward shore. And as he drove deeper and deeper, the storm inside her body raged on until she suddenly seized, erupting with sensation that spread throughout her being like the broad fingers of lightning slashing the sky.

But her cries of pleasure were silenced by the gentle din of an unwanted intruder.

The tolling of a bell came floating over the moors, cutting through her euphoria. With the peal of each passing chime, the reverberations of ecstasy coursing through her body were replaced with shudders of foreboding. The sound was so distant—barely audible—but its obtrusive meaning blasted in her ears.

Then it was no longer the sound of a bell at all but a chorus of voices chanting Witch, Witch, Witch in her mind as she was lost to a vision.

Ronan was once again walking away from her on the beach, only this time he did look back. With a cruel sneer twisting his features, he laughed and called her a whore.

She did not know herself as she succumbed to the doubt her vision implanted in her heart. She beat her fists against his chest and cried out, “Ye’re a bastard—a liar.”

“Shoney, what is the matter with ye?” He lay atop her, pinning her arms above her head. Still, she continued to thrash and scream.

“Shoney, ye’re crazed. I cannot do this right now. Do ye not hear the alarm?” he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, looking in the direction of the village.

On her hands and knees, she grappled with her clothing. “The only alarm I hear is the one in my heart telling me ye have no honor.”

“Ye speak of honor when my village may be under attack, and yet ye would delay my return.”

“There will always be a bell or a council meeting,” she shouted. Tears stung her eyes, but she did not care. She was tired of being tossed aside.

“Ye’re ashamed of me. If ye truly loved me, ye would fight for me, for us.”

“Ye doubt me even now?” He grabbed hold of her arms. “Ye will be my wife. Ye will bear my children.”

“Ye’re lying to me and to yerself,” she cried.

“I should not have to keep defending my life to ye. Ye know I have my duty.” She winced as his grip on her arms tightened. “What more do ye want from me?”

She sought his gaze. “I want ye to aid yer family and yer people. I want ye to ride hard and answer the call of the alarm but take me with ye.” She began to pull him in the direction of the village. “Come, Ronan. Let us ride now, together.”

“Nay, Shoney, ‘tis too risky. The village may be under attack.”

“In case of an attack is why ye should bring me now. Ronan, I can fight. Ye know my skill with a bow. I—”

But before she could finish her defense he interrupted. “Never, Shoney. Ye will never fight. Perhaps ye’re right and at one time women were indeed warriors, but that time has long since passed.” He bent his head and brushed her lips with a kiss. Then he started toward his mount.

“Ronan,” she called after him.

He turned and faced her with fire in his eyes. “Enough, Shoney. I must go!”

But she ran ahead and stood in front of him, blocking his path. “I am a healer. Please take me with ye. Ye will need my skill if any within yer clan has suffered injury.” Her voice was pleading, and she hated the sound of it. But she was desperate to be included. He gave her no quarter as he grabbed her shoulders and lifted her out of the way.

“The bell rings. I must answer its call. I will return to ye this night, to this very place.” He cupped her face and kissed her slowly. “I will not fail ye,” he whispered.

Then he was gone.