A lopsided smile curled his lips, and his eyes glinted with something that made her hot all over again. “Nay,” he breathed. “Definitely not unwelcome.”
In one quick movement, he rolled over, pushing Jenna onto her back, and leaned on his elbow, looking down at her. His hair fell forward to curtain his face, casting his expression into shadow. All she could see was the outline of his lips and the way his eyes burned with desire once more. Slowly, she reached up and traced the outline of his lips with the tip of her thumb.
Arran took hold of her hand and kissed each of her fingers, taking them into his mouth one by one. Those embers flared to life in her core like the banked coals of a fire stirred into a blaze. Damn it, but she wanted him again already. What was it about this man that affected her so? She wanted him again, right here, right now. She wanted to—
“Is that them?”
The sudden shout was like being doused with cold water. Arran sprang away from her, uttered a string of curses in Gaelic, and snatched up one of the branches from the fire, brandishing it like a weapon. Heart pounding, Jenna sat up, grabbed her shift, and draped it over her nakedness.
She half expected to see a gang of raiders charging down the beach towards them but all that met her questing gaze was the empty beach, the bird-covered cliff, and the waves stretching out to the horizon.
“Itisthem! Ho! Over here!”
Jenna squinted against the sun on the waves and made out a small boat making its steady way towards them.
“Mal,” Arran breathed, his shoulders relaxing. “He’s found us.” He tossed the brand back into the fire and reached for his plaid.
“Did they see us?” Jenna asked, mortified. “Did they see what we were doing?”
Arran shook his head, that dark glint of desire still reflected in his eyes. “I dinna think so,” he replied. “They are too far away and the sun is behind us.”
“Thank God,” Jenna muttered. She would just about die of embarrassment if anyone had seen what she and Arran had been up to. She dressed quickly, pulling the still-damp shift over her body.
Arran yanked on his breeches and shirt and Jenna couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as his gorgeous body was hidden from view. She also couldn’t help feeling annoyed with Mal and the others. Why did they have to choosethisprecise moment to come rescue them? Couldn’t they have left it just another hour or so? Couldn’t they have allowed her to enjoy Arran’s company—and his body—a little longer?
Would you listen to yourself?she thought.You did not come here to fall into bed with the laird!
But she knew she’d do it again in an instant, given the opportunity. She’d never experienced anything like what she just had with Arran. Ithad been… incredible.
Arran strode down to the water’s edge. “Mal!” he bellowed. “Over here!”
Jenna climbed to her feet and they stood side by side, watching as the boat drew steadily closer. Jenna was careful not to stand so close that they touched but she was acutely aware of his presence next to her, like a candle burning against her skin. She ached to say something, anything, but the intimacy that had been theirs only moments ago had vanished like a puff of smoke in the morning wind, and now they were the laird and the spellweaver again.
The boat was a small wooden dinghy being rowed by four men. Mal stood in the prow, one foot up against the gunwale, and he jumped into the shallows and waded to shore as the boat finally scraped the bottom.
“There ye are!” he bellowed. “Thank the Lord! We’ve sent out every boat we can spare to scour the islets, and Lady Rosaline has invented at least four new swear words!”
Arran walked down to meet his cousin and pulled him into a warm embrace, the two men slapping each other on the back. “Well, I didnae want to make it easy for ye, did I? It does the men good to keep them on their toes.”
“Aye, it does,” Mal replied, putting his hands on his hips and looking Arran up and down. “But I wish it didnae also have to take ten years off my life. When I saw ye being pulled out in that rip…” He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. “All is well that ends well, eh?”
Arran glanced Jenna. “Aye,” he said softly. “It is.”
Mal walked up to Jenna. He was almost as tall as his cousin, and Jenna had to crane her head back to look up at him. “Are ye all right, my lady? Ye are unhurt?”
“I’m fine,” Jenna replied. “Thanks to Arran. I should have listened to you, Mal. I’m sorry.”
Mal waved away her apology. “Dinna fash. But next time, if ye insist on going in the water, I will have ye tied ye up.”
Jenna laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”
Mal grinned and glanced between them both. “Right. Let’s be off. I bet ye are eager to return to Dun Tabor.”
She wasn’t, actually. She was perfectly content where she was, thank you very much. Or she would be if Mal and the others would go away and leave her alone with Arran. He glanced at her, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
In no time at all, Jenna was seated in the middle of the little dinghy, Mal on one side of her, Arran on the other, while the men cast off and began rowing back to shore. The whole way back Mal kept up a constant stream of chatter about mundane things—Rosaline’s fit of temper when she discovered what had happened, the pod of dolphins they’d seen on the way here, the unexpectedly large catch of herring that one of the fishing boats had brought in last night—and his nearness precluded any talk with Arran. Not that she had any idea what she’d say if she could talk to him, mind you.
Already, what had happened between them on the beach was fading, taking on the unreality of a dream, as if it had been two different people who had shared such connection. Jenna couldn’t help glancing back across the choppy waves to the thin strip of beach at the base of the cliffs. It was quickly receding, just like the fleeting closeness she’d shared with Arran.
