When she dared look again, that smile was still there. His eyes gleamed green in the light of a clear day, as if they’d been dipped in icy water before being placed in his head. But her own eyes were more interested in those lips. With the tan of his skin, they looked to be carved from dark, soft wood that made her want to kiss them just to prove they were indeed flesh and blood, as she remembered.
He licked them, and she stopped thinking altogether.
She fumbled for something to say, then remembered what he’d said to Queenie. “Your turn?”
“Pardon?”
“You told Queenie it was your turn. For what?”
He inched closer and studied her eyes. “Perhaps I meant it was my turn to throw you to the ground.” He suddenly pulled her against him. She reached out to save her balance and her hands tried to grasp his arms. But they were too large to wrapher fingers more than halfway around. So she grabbed at the thin fabric instead.
“No armor today,” she breathed.
“No armor. Nothing to protect me…from you.”
She laughed. “From me?”
“Aye. Ye’ll be gentle with me, will ye not?”
She rolled her eyes, but then she caught sight of his tongue darting out to wet his lips again, just before he crushed his mouth against hers. He bent her backward just enough that she had to wrap her arms around his neck and hold tight.
New, bright, and shiny tingles coursed through her body, and she was happy, so happy that the two of them were alone. No one clearing their throat, suggesting they stop.
“Oh, my,” she said against his mouth, when he gave her a chance to catch her breath. But then he stole that breath away again when his lips began laying a trail down the side of her neck. And when she could inhale, it was with a loud gasp.
Tearloch growled in answer, then bent to sweep up her legs and lift her off the ground. “Hold tight,” he said, and pulled the rolled blanket from the back of her horse and flung it on the ground. Then he kissed her again, urged her lips apart, and distracted her with his tongue.
With her eyes closed, she felt him get down on one knee before setting her away from him, onto the blanket with a thick cushion of flowers beneath. She turned her head to gain her bearings and stop the world from swaying.
The horses munched noisily nearby. They were well and truly alone.
“Or perhaps,” he said, recapturing her attention, “I was telling Queenie it was my turn to give you a ride.”
Instantly her wits returned. She had been in this situation before. Ten years before. How could she have been so stupid as to be alone with a man again? Nevermind that she preferred thisone to that slithering snake, Balloch. Apparently, men were all alike in their interest in her. It would pain her to hurt him, but she would do it.
She struggled to get out from beneath him, batted away his gentle caresses, and thrashed her head from side to side, to avoid those perfect, warm lips. She must never let them touch her again.
His smile gone, he brought a hand to the side of her face, held her gently but firmly while he looked deep into her eyes…and tried to kiss her again.
She had no choice. She screamed with all her might. He winced to the side from the bells ringing in his ears, no doubt.
“Listen to me, Lass,” he purred.
“Nooo!” she screamed again. Surely those men would come back. She took a deep breath and gave a blood-curdling scream just in case they were deaf or very far off.
Tearloch rolled to her side to rub his ear but kept one leg over hers to hold her down. He caught both her hands, held them in one of his own, and with his free hand, forced her to look at him.
She realized he wasn’t worried about anyone stopping him. He didn’t expect anyone to rescue her. Now she knew what that look on Jamie’s face meant as he left her in the care of her laird and master. He knew what was going to happen to her. He knew and he left. They all left.
Suddenly she felt foolish for believing she’d made any friends among them. Like Agatha had told her all her life, she truly had less worth than a horse.
If she couldn’t find the strength to get away from Tearloch, he would do his worst, take away the only thing with which she could barter, and force her to join the others, to sit among them. She could just imagine their faces across a campfire, grinning with what they knew, disgusted at what she had become.
She would rather die…
Tearloch knewthe exact moment the lass realized his intentions. The flash of fear in her eyes was not unlike the previous evening, when his men had howled in the woods to discourage her from fleeing in the night.
Then she fought him. Had no qualms about using her screams as a weapon to deafen him. And she’d nearly succeeded. But then he’d watched as her mind worked, and whatever conclusions she’d landed on…changed her.
